In the alternate reality created by Anne Bishop in her new
Others series, humans are a weak yet dangerously
clever minority in a world governed by wild creatures, the
terra indigene, through their control of natural
resources and territory. Within each wilderness-surrounded
human territory exists a Courtyard where the Others oversee
the boundaries and agreements humans made to exchange
specific goods and services for the land they occupy as well
as the water and resources necessary for those industries
allowed by the Others.
Meg Corbyn knows little of the world except those small and
disconnected glimpses allowed by her handlers. In desperate
escape, she is drawn to the warmth of Howling Good Reads, a
bookstore within an Others Courtyard, where human law does
not apply. Luck seems to be with her when she notices a job
listing on a placard in the window. Only here among the
unpredictable and powerful creatures who may see her only as
prey does she have a chance at safety from those who seek to
take her back to the slavery of blood humans have created
around her kind. She has foreseen her death, but better to
face it on her own terms than trapped within her former
As leader of the Lakeside Courtyard, Simon Wolfgard is
responsible for seeing that the residents of the Courtyard
are unharmed by the humans surrounding them, as well as the
smooth running of those businesses where Other and Human
interact. This includes the hiring of the few human
employees as positions open. There is a fairly high rate of
turnover, so when a half-frozen female comes in at closing
and asks to be considered for the Human Liaison position he
hears her out, even as his instincts tell him she is not
what she seems.
With WRITTEN IN RED, Anne Bishop delves into Urban fantasy,
bringing her stellar world building skills to a new arena.
It is an amazing novel, one that kept me thoroughly engaged
from the moment I read the prologue through the intensely
exciting conclusion. I have been a fan of Bishop's more
standard fantasy fare for a number of years, but I already
know this will become my favorite series of hers, and
perhaps my favorite Urban Fantasy series overall. I've
mentioned Anne Bishop's world-building skills, hand-in hand
with those she brings characterization to a level not all
achieve. Those who people her novels are far from perfect,
yet always engaging. They become real to the reader within a
very short span of time, and I find myself thinking about
them long after closing the back cover.
Aspiring fantasy authors could do no better than to follow
her lead, and study her work to learn how to build a
compelling story set in a seamlessly crafted universe. For
those who read without the dreams of publication, they can
count on Anne Bishop to provide a story worthy of their time
and book budget. WRITTEN IN BLOOD is the first in her new
No one creates realms like New York Times bestselling author
Anne Bishop. Now in a thrilling new fantasy series, enter a
world inhabited by the Others, unearthly entities—vampires
and shape-shifters among them—who rule the Earth and whose
prey are humans.
As a cassandra sangue, or blood prophet, Meg Corbyn can see
the future when her skin is cut—a gift that feels more like
a curse. Meg’s Controller keeps her enslaved so he can have
full access to her visions. But when she escapes, the only
safe place Meg can hide is at the Lakeside Courtyard—a
business district operated by the Others.
Shape-shifter Simon Wolfgard is reluctant to hire the
stranger who inquires about the Human Liaison job. First, he
senses she’s keeping a secret, and second, she doesn’t smell
like human prey. Yet a stronger instinct propels him to give
Meg the job. And when he learns the truth about Meg and that
she’s wanted by the government, he’ll have to decide if
she’s worth the fight between humans and the Others that
will surely follow.
A Brief History of the World
Long ago, Namid gave birth to all kinds of life,
including the beings known as humans. She gave the humans
fertile pieces of herself, and she gave them good water.
Understanding their nature and the nature of her other
offspring, she also gave them enough isolation that they
would have a chance to survive and grow. And they did.
They learned to build fires and shelters. They learned
to farm and build cities. They built boats and fished in the
Mediterran and Black seas. They bred and spread throughout
their pieces of the world until they pushed into the wild
places. That's when they discovered that Namid's other
offspring already claimed the rest of the world.
The Others looked at humans and did not see conquerors.
They saw a new kind of meat.
Wars were fought to possess the wild places. Sometimes
the humans won and spread their seed a little farther. More
often, pieces of civilization disappeared, and fearful
survivors tried not to shiver when a howl went up in the
night or a man, wandering too far from the safety of stout
doors and light, was found the next morning drained of blood.
Centuries passed, and the humans built larger ships and
sailed across the Atlantik Ocean. When they found virgin
land, they built a settlement near the shore. Then they
discovered that this land was also claimed by the terra
indigene, the earth natives. The Others.
The terra indigene who ruled the continent called
Thaisia became angry when the humans cut down trees and put
a plow to land that was not theirs. So the Others ate the
settlers and learned the shape of this particular meat, just
as they had done many times in the past.
The second wave of explorers and settlers found the
abandoned settlement and, once more, tried to claim the land
as their own.
The Others ate them too.
The third wave of settlers had a leader who was smarter
than his predecessors. He offered the Others warm blankets
and lengths of cloth for clothes and interesting bits of
shiny in exchange for being allowed to live in the
settlement and have enough land to grow crops. The Others
thought this was a fair exchange and walked off the
boundaries of the land that the humans could use. More gifts
were exchanged for hunting and fishing privileges. This
arrangement satisfied both sides, even if one side regarded
its new neighbors with snarling tolerance and the other side
swallowed fear and made sure its people were safely inside
the settlement's walls before nightfall.
Years passed and more settlers arrived. Many died, but
enough humans prospered. Settlements grew into villages,
which grew into towns, which grew into cities. Little by
little, humans moved across Thaisia, spreading out as much
as they could on the land they were allowed to use.
Centuries passed. Humans were smart. So were the Others.
Humans invented electricity and plumbing. The Others
controlled all the rivers that could power the generators
and all the lakes that supplied fresh drinking water. Humans
invented steam engines and central heating. The Others
controlled all the fuel needed to run the engines and heat
the buildings. Humans invented and manufactured products.
The Others controlled all the natural resources, thereby
deciding what would and wouldn't be made in their part of
There were collisions, of course, and some places became
dark memorials for the dead. Those memorials finally made it
clear to human government that the terra indigene ruled
Thaisia, and nothing short of the end of the world would
So it comes to this current age. Small human villages
exist within vast tracks of land that belong to the Others.
And in larger human cities, there are fenced parks called
Courtyards that are inhabited by the Others who have the
task of keeping watch over the city's residents and
enforcing the agreements the humans made with the terra
There is still sharp–toothed tolerance on one side
and fear of what walks in the dark on the other. But if they
are careful, the humans survive.
Most of the time, they survive.
Half–blinded by the storm, she stumbled into the
open area between two buildings. Hoping to hide from whoever
was hunting for her as well as get some relief from the snow
and wind, she followed an angled wall and ducked around the
corner. Her socks and sneakers were soaked, and her feet
were so cold she couldn't feel them. She knew that wasn't
good, wasn't safe, but she had taken the clothing available
just as she had taken the opportunity to run.
No sound of footsteps that would confirm she was being
followed, but that didn't mean anything. Blocked by the
wall, even the sounds of the slow–moving traffic were
She had to find shelter. It was too cold to be out here
tonight. As part of her training, she'd been shown pictures
of people who had frozen to death, so she knew she couldn't
stay out here much longer. But the city shelters that
provided a place for the homeless would be the first places
the hunters would look for her.
Was she going to die tonight? Was this the storm that
was the beginning of the end? No. She wouldn't consider that
possibility. She hadn't done this much and come this far for
it all to end before she had a chance to begin. Besides, she
hadn't seen other parts of the prophecy yet. She hadn't seen
the dark–haired man wearing a green pullover sweater.
She didn't have to worry about dying until she saw him.
That didn't mean she could afford to be stupid.
The building at the back of the open area drew her
attention, mostly because it provided the only light.
Peeking around the corner to reassure herself that she was
still alone, she hurried toward it. Maybe she could figure
out an excuse to stay inside for a few minutes—just
long enough for her feet to thaw.
But the light, which had seemed so bright and hopeful a
moment before, was merely the overnight lighting. The place
was closed. Still, there was enough light for her to see the
sign above the glass door—a sign that would have
chilled her more than the snow and wind if she hadn't felt
Human Law Does Not Apply. She was standing on land that
belonged to the Others. She might be momentarily safe from
human predators, but if she was caught here, she was at the
mercy of beings that only looked human, and even someone who
had lived a confined life knew what happened to humans who
were imprudent in their encounters with the terra indigene.
A second sign was taped to the inside of the door. She
stared at it for a long time, despite her numb feet and the
Apply at Howling Good Reads
(around the corner)
A job. A way to earn money for food and lodging. A place
where she could hide for a while. A place where, even if she
was found, the hunters couldn't take her back because human
law did not apply.
Howling Good Reads. It sounded like a name for an Others
She could die here. Most people who tangled with the
Others died, one way or another. But based on what she had
seen in the prophecy, she was going to die anyway, so for
once in her life, what happened to her would be on her terms.
That much decided, she tromped back to the sidewalk and
hurried to the corner. When she turned right on Crowfield
Avenue, she saw two people walk out of a store. Lights and
life. She headed toward both.
Taking his place behind the checkout counter, Simon
Wolfgard glanced at the clock on the wall, then said,
The howl from the back of the bookstore produced the
expected female squeals and more manly grunts of surprise.
Raising his voice to be heard by the humans within
sight, he said, "Ten minutes to closing."
Not that they didn't know that. The howl was the
ten–minute warning—just as the Wolf who took up
a position at the door was the bookstore's own brand of
security. A would–be shoplifter having his hand bitten
off instilled a strong sense of honesty in the rest of the
humans who came to Howling Good Reads. Having to walk over
the blood—and walk past the Wolf who was still
crunching on a couple of fingers—left a lasting
impression, not to mention a few nightmares.
Didn't stop the monkeys from coming back the next day to
stare at the bloodstains and whisper to each other as they
browsed the contents of the store. The thrill of rounding a
shelving unit and coming face–to–face with one
of the Others in its animal form—and the more chilling
thrill of sometimes seeing swift and terrible
violence—tended to increase the sale of horror and
thriller novels and helped the bookstore maintain an
Not that any store in the Courtyard needed a profit to
stay in business. The stores were run for the convenience of
the terra indigene who lived in the Courtyard and provided a
way for the rest of the Others to receive the
human–made goods they wanted. It was more his own
desire to understand the way businesses were run—and
test the honesty of the human companies he dealt
with—that gave Simon the push to keep his store in the
black every month.
But Howling Good Reads didn't follow human retail
practices when it came to hours of operation. HGR closed
promptly at nine p.m. on the evenings it was open to humans,
and some of the staff didn't hesitate to shift shapes and
nip lingering customers who thought the store's listed
closing was a suggestion rather than a firm time.
He rang up a few sales, more than he'd expected on a
night when the sensible would have been tucked in at home to
avoid subzero wind chills and wind–whipped snow that
had as much bite as any Wolf. Of course, some of the monkeys
lived nearby and used the bookstore and adjoining coffee
shop, A Little Bite, as their social gathering places when
they didn't want to spend an evening drinking at the taverns
on Main Street.
Humans, Simon reminded himself. He adjusted the
wire–rimmed glasses that he didn't need for vision but
thought made him look a little gawky and more approachable.
Call them humans when you're in the store. That way you're
less likely to use the slur when talking to an employee.
It's hard enough to find help we can tolerate. No sense
driving away the ones we have by insulting them.
The word had traveled across the ocean from Afrikah,
where the Liongard referred to humans as hairless, gibbering
monkeys. After the terra indigene in Thaisia saw pictures of
monkeys, they adopted the word because it fit so many of the
humans they encountered. But he was a member of the Business
Association that ran the integrated stores and Courtyard
shops, as well as being the leader of the Lakeside
Courtyard, so he tried not to be insulting—at least
not out loud.
He turned toward the voice that sounded like warm syrup
as the woman shrugged into a hooded parka. The movement
lifted the bottom of her short sweater, revealing a couple
of inches of toned belly that still looked softly bitable.
Plenty of human females came sniffing around the store,
hoping to be invited for a walk on the wild side, but there
was something about this one that made him want to sink his
fangs into her throat instead of nibble on her belly.
"Asia." He tipped his head, a gesture that was both
greeting and dismissal.
She didn't take the hint. She never did. Asia Crane had
set her sights on him from the first day she walked into
Howling Good Reads. That was part of the reason he didn't
like her. The harder she pushed to get close to him, the
more he felt like a challenge to be conquered and the less
he wanted her around. But she never pushed so hard that he
could justify attacking her for being in his store.
A couple more people were shrugging into winter coats
and scarves, but there was no one else by the register.
Giving him a Bite me, I like it smile, she said, "Come
on, Simon. It's been over a week, and you promised to think
"I didn't promise anything," he said as he straightened
up the counter space around the register.
She had blond hair and brown eyes, and he'd been told by
a couple of human males who worked in the Courtyard that she
was beautiful. But there were things about Asia that
bothered him. He couldn't point a paw at any particular
thing, besides her pursuing him when he'd made it clear he
wasn't interested, but that feeling was the reason he'd
refused to give her a job at HGR when she first came around.
It was also the reason he wouldn't let her rent one of the
four efficiency apartments that the Courtyard sometimes made
available to human employees. Now she wanted to be the Human
Liaison, a job that would give her access to the Courtyard
itself. He'd eat her before he gave her that job. And
Vladimir Sanguinati, who was the store's other manager, had
offered to help more than once if Simon looked at Asia some
night and felt peckish. A fair arrangement, since Vlad
preferred the blood while Simon liked ripping off chunks of
"We're closed, Asia. Go home," he said.
She let out a theatrical sigh. "I'd really like the job,
Simon. The one I've got barely pays the rent and it's boring."
Now he didn't even try to sound friendly. "We're closed."
Another sigh, followed by a pouty look as she zipped up
her parka, pulled on gloves, and finally left.
John, another member of the Wolfgard, left his spot by
the door to do a check for any stragglers. So Simon was
alone in the front of the store when the door opened again,
letting in a blast of cold air that he found refreshing
after all the scents humans used.
"We're—" He glanced toward the door and swallowed
the word closed.
The woman looked half–frozen. She wore
sneakers—sneakers, for pity's sake—and her jeans
were soaked up to the knees. The denim jacket was a light
covering suitable for a summer night, and she was wearing a
T–shirt under it.
She looked so painfully cold he didn't have the
automatic consideration of whether or not she'd be edible.
"Is there something I can do for you?" he asked.
She stared at him as if she'd seen him before, and
whatever had happened made her afraid. Problem was, he
didn't recognize her. Not by sight or smell.
Then she took a couple of steps toward the counter. He
suspected that was to get farther into the store, where it
was warmer, than to get closer to him.
"I s–saw the sign," she stammered. "A–about
Not a stutter, he decided. Her teeth were beginning to
chatter. How long had she been out in that weather? It was a
natural storm, coming off the lake. The first one of the new
year. Being a natural storm didn't mean it wasn't a bitch.
"H–human Liaison," she chattered. "The sign said
to apply here."
Moments ticked by. She lowered her eyes. Probably not
brazen enough to meet his stare now that she'd said what she
Something about her troubled him, but it wasn't the same
feeling he had when he was around Asia Crane. Until he
figured out what that something was, he didn't want to kick
her back out in the snow. And except for Asia, this was the
first human to ask about the job. That was reason enough to
give her a few minutes of his time.
Movement at the edge of his peripheral vision. John, now
in human form and dressed in a sweater and jeans, tipped his
head by way of asking What now?
Simon tipped his head slightly in turn and looked at the
"Want me to close up?" John asked, giving the shivering
woman a smile as he approached.
"Yes." He looked at the woman. "Let's go next door and
have a cup of coffee while we discuss the job."
She turned toward the outer door and hesitated.
"No, this way." He took a couple of steps past the
counter and pointed to an opening in the wall.
The archway between had a lattice door that could be
latched when one store was closed and the other was still
open to customers. On the wall beside the door was a sign
that read, PAY FOR THE BOOKS BEFORE ENTERING A LITTLE BITE,
OR WE'LL TAKE A BITE OUT OF YOU.
The sign on the other side of the door said, SURE, YOU
CAN TAKE THAT MUG. WE'LL JUST KEEP YOUR HAND IN EXCHANGE.
He didn't think the woman's brain was thawed enough to
take in the words. After the first jolt of seeing him, he
didn't think she had taken in anything.
Tess was wiping down the glass display case when he
walked in. The friendly smile she started to give him
shifted to guarded when she noticed his companion.
"Could we have some coffee?" he asked as he took a seat
at a table closest to the counter—and away from the
door and the pocket of cold that seemed to settle around the
tables close to the windows.
"There's still some left in the pot," she replied,
giving the woman a sharper look now.
Simon leaned back in his chair, resting one ankle over
his other knee. "I'm Simon Wolfgard. What's your name?"
He heard the breath of hesitation that told him it
wasn't a name she was used to. Which meant it wasn't a name
she'd had for long. He didn't like liars. Humans who lied
about small things tended to lie about a lot of other things
And a name wasn't all that small a thing, when all was
said and done.
But when Tess brought the mugs of coffee to the table
and he saw the way Meg cupped the mug to warm her hands, he
let it go.
He thanked Tess, then turned his attention back to Meg
Corbyn. "You know what being a Human Liaison entails?"
"No," she said.
"So you don't have any experience with a job like this?"
"No. But I can learn. I want to learn."
He didn't doubt the sincerity of her words, but he did
wonder if she wouldn't die of pneumonia or something else
before she had a chance to learn anything.
Suddenly he remembered the scarred old woman sitting in
the sun, offering to read her cards and tell people their
fortunes. But she didn't use her cards that day, not for
him. What she had done was the reason her words had
whispered through his thoughts for the past twenty years.
And now her words rang in his memory as clear as if he'd
heard them yesterday.
Be a leader for your people. Be the voice that decides
who lives and who dies within your Courtyard. The day will
come when a life you save will, in turn, save someone dear
His being the leader of the Lakeside Courtyard hadn't
saved his sister, Daphne, two years ago. But thinking about
the old woman when this shivering young woman was waiting
for his decision made him uneasy.
Tess set one of her earthenware soup bowls on the table,
along with some crackers.
"Last bowl in the pot," Tess said.
"Thank you, but I can't pay for it." Meg's voice was
barely above a whisper—and full of longing as she
stared at the food.
Giving Simon a hostile look, Tess said, "On the house."
"Eat it," Simon said when Tess resumed her cleanup.
"It's hearty and will warm you up."
He turned his head and drank his coffee while he watched
Tess go through her closing routine, giving Meg a little
time to concentrate on the food in front of her.
Tess was a worry. Tess was always a worry, because there
was too fine a line between her being amused by humans and
being unwilling to tolerate their existence. He didn't know
what she was, only that she was terra indigene—and she
was so dangerous even other species of terra indigene feared
her. But when she arrived at the Lakeside Courtyard a few
years ago, there was something in her eyes that made him
certain that if she didn't get some kind of companionship,
she would become an enemy of everything that lived.
Inviting her to stay had been his first official
decision as the new leader of the Lakeside Courtyard.
Watching her change from a brittle loner to an individual
capable of running a public business, he'd never regretted
That didn't mean he always trusted her.
"What does a Human Liaison do?" Meg asked.
Simon glanced at the bowl. Half gone. He wasn't sure if
her question meant she couldn't eat anymore or just needed
"By the agreements established between humans and the
terra indigene, every city in Thaisia has a Courtyard, a
tract of land where the Others reside. These Courtyards are
also places where products manufactured by humans can be
acquired. But humans don't trust the Others, and we don't
trust humans. A lot of the products are delivered by humans,
and there were enough incidents early on to convince the
human government and our leaders that it was prudent to have
someone receiving the mail and packages who was not inclined
to eat the messenger. So a receiving area was built at each
Courtyard and is manned by someone who acts as the liaison
between the humans and the Others. Each Courtyard's Business
Association decides on the pay and perks. By the agreements,
the human government is required to penalize any delivery
service that refuses to deliver merchandise to a Courtyard.
On the other hand, there is a limited window of time when
the position of Human Liaison can be unoccupied before
companies can refuse to enter our land without penalty.
Those kinds of interruptions tend to fray the tolerance each
side has for the other—and when tolerance frays,
people tend to die. Sometimes a lot of people die."
Meg ate another spoonful of soup. "Is that why you allow
humans to shop in your store? To build up the tolerance
between humans and the Others?"
Smart woman. Her conclusion wasn't accurate—most
terra indigene weren't interested in being tolerant of
humans—but it did indicate an understanding of why a
Liaison was needed. "The Lakeside Courtyard is a kind of
experiment. While the shops in our Market Square are
exclusively for our own people and our human employees, the
businesses facing Crowfield Avenue have hours when they're
open to humans in general. The bookstore and coffee shop are
two of those businesses. There is also a fitness center that
has a few memberships available to humans, the
seamstress/tailor shop, and a gallery on Main Street, which
is open to anyone when it's open at all."
"But human law doesn't apply in those stores?"
"That's right." Simon studied her. He didn't trust Asia
Crane. His reaction to Meg wasn't that simple. Because of
that, he decided to hire her. It wouldn't hurt the Courtyard
to have her around for a few days, especially if someone
kept an eye on what she was doing, and it would give him
time to figure out why she made him uneasy. But before he
told Meg, he needed to say one more thing. "Human law does
not apply. Do you understand what that means?"
She nodded. He didn't believe her, but he let it go.
"If you want the job, it's yours."
She looked at him with eyes that were the clear gray of
a Wolf, except she wasn't a Wolf. The pale skin blushed with
a hint of rose on the cheeks. And now that it was drying, he
realized her hair was a weird shade of red—and it stank.
They would have to do something about that.
"I can have the job?" Meg asked, her voice lifted by
something he would have called hope.
He nodded. "It's a basic hourly wage—and you're
responsible for keeping a log of your hours. You also get
the use of one of the efficiency apartments above the
seamstress/tailor shop, and you can purchase items at any
store in the Market Square."
Tess returned and dropped a ring of keys on the table.
"I'll fetch a few basics from our stores while you show Meg
the apartment. Leave the dishes on the table. I'll take care
of them later." She left as quickly as she arrived.
Meg ate one more spoonful of soup and drained the coffee
mug. "Is she angry with me?"
"You? No." With him? Sometimes it was hard to tell with
Tess. Other times it was all too easy to see the warning signs.
He held up the keys. "We have rules, Meg, and we enforce
them. Access to the Courtyard is restricted. You don't bring
guests to your apartment without us knowing about it first.
If we smell a stranger, we'll kill him. We aren't interested
in excuses, and we don't give second chances. The storefront
on the corner is the place where humans and Others can
socialize without needing a leader's permission. You can
bring guests there. Is that understood?"
She bobbed her head.
"All right. Come on. We'll go out through the bookstore."
He led her back through HGR, picking up his winter coat,
which John had left on the counter for him. Shrugging into
it, he pushed open the door, holding it against the wind
until Meg slipped out. Then he locked the door, took a grip
on her arm to keep her from slipping, and walked her past A
Little Bite to a glass door in the seamstress/tailor's building.
"First key is for the street door." He pulled out the
ring of keys and slipped the first key into the lock. He
opened the door, nudged her into the small entry, then
locked the door behind him. Remembering that humans didn't
have the same night vision as Wolves, he flipped on the
light switch, revealing the stairs that went up to the
She went up the stairs, then stopped on the landing to
wait for him.
He went ahead of her, checked the apartment number on
the key, and made an almost soundless grunt of surprise.
Tess had given him the key for the front apartment that was
farthest from the Crowfield Avenue door—and closer to
the stairway that led into the Courtyard.
He opened the apartment door and flicked the switch for
the overhead light, automatically toeing off his wet boots
and leaving them in the hallway. While he waited for Meg to
wrestle her feet out of the wet sneakers, he looked around.
Clean and basic. Bathroom and closet at one end. A kitchen
area that held a half fridge, a wave–cooker, a small
counter and sink, and minimal cupboards for storage. A
single bed and a dresser. A small rectangular table and two
straight back chairs. A stuffed chair and hassock and a
reading lamp next to an empty bookcase.
"There should be a set of towels in the bathroom," he
said. "You look like you need a hot shower."
"Thank you," Meg whispered.
"Bathroom's over there." Simon pointed.
She was shivering so hard, he wondered if she'd be able
to get out of those wet clothes. But he had no intention of
The bathroom door closed. Couldn't hide much from
animal–sharp hearing, but he ignored the sounds. While
he located the extra blankets in the dresser's bottom
drawer, the toilet flushed. A moment later, the shower
He was staring out the window, watching the
still–falling snow, when Tess walked in carrying two
big zippered bags.
"I put it all on your account," she said. Her hair,
usually brown and straight, now curled wildly and had green
streaks—a sign that Tess wasn't feeling calm. At least
the streaks weren't red, the indication that she was angry.
When her hair turned black, people died.
"Put what on my account?" he asked.
"Two sets of clothes, sleepwear, toiletries, a winter
coat and boots, and some food."
The coat was a bright red, which was a color that
attracted a lot of the Courtyard's residents because it
usually signified downed prey. Since that was the most
likely reason no one had bought it, he wondered why Tess
would bring it for Meg.
"I thought we could offer the midday meal as part of her
pay," he said.
"You might want to discuss this with the rest of the
Business Association before you make so many decisions,
especially since you just hired a new Liaison without
talking to the rest of us," Tess replied with a bite in her
"You brought me the apartment keys before I asked for
them, so you must have made a decision too," Simon countered.
She didn't respond. She just set one of the bags on the
bed, then took the other into the kitchen area. After
putting the food away, she joined him by the window. "You're
not in the habit of taking in strays, Simon. Especially not
"Couldn't leave her out in the cold."
"Yes, you could. You've left other humans to fend for
themselves. Why is this one different?"
He shrugged, not wanting to talk about the scarred old
woman whose words had shaped so many of his choices.
"We need a Liaison, Tess."
"A fool's idea, if you ask me. The only humans that want
the job are thieves who think they can steal from us or ones
hiding from their own law. The last one you threw out for
being a lazy bag of shit, and the one before that . . . the
Wolves ate the one before that."
"We weren't the only ones who ate him," Simon muttered.
But he had to admit that Tess had a point. Liaisons
barely had time to learn the job—if they even bothered
to learn the job—before a replacement needed to be
found for one reason or another. Humans always had a reason
for wanting the job that had nothing to do with the job.
Wasn't that one of the reasons he wouldn't give it to Asia?
Wanting the Liaison job was just her next attempt to make
him notice her. He didn't need her sniffing around him more
than she already was.
"What is Meg Corbyn running from?" Tess asked. "She
didn't start out around here. Not with the clothes she was
He didn't respond because he didn't disagree. Meg might
as well have runaway stamped on her forehead.
The green streaks faded from Tess's hair. She sighed.
"Maybe she'll stay long enough to clear out some of the
backlog of mail and packages."
"Maybe," he said. He didn't think Meg Corbyn, or whoever
she really was, would stay beyond receiving her first
paycheck. But she had said she wanted to learn, and none of
the other humans had said that. Not even Asia.
An awkward silence.
"You should go," Tess said. "Naked girl in the shower.
Strange man. I read these kinds of stories in books the
Simon hesitated, but Tess was right. "Tell Meg I'll meet
her at the Liaison's Office at eight thirty tomorrow
morning. That will give me time to go over a few things with
her before deliveries start at nine."
"You're the boss."
Setting the keys on the table, he left the
apartment—and wondered if, by leaving Meg alone with
Tess, he'd just murdered the girl.
The hot water pouring over her hurt, and it felt
wonderful. She used the shampoo and soap that was in the
shower rack, then just stood there with one hand braced on
Safe for now. The wind and snow would have scoured her
tracks away. She would be seen by humans, and that was a
danger, but as long as she stayed within the boundaries of
the Courtyard, no one could touch her. Not even . . .
Shaking, she held out both arms. Thin, straight scars
marched down the tops of both arms from shoulder to elbow,
one–quarter inch apart. The same kind of scars marched
down the top of her left thigh and on the outside of her
right thigh. There was a line of them down the left side of
her back—precise in their execution. They had to be
precise or the cut was worth less—or even worthless.
Except for punishment.
Ignoring the crosshatch of scars on the upper part of
her left arm, she studied the three scabbed lines on that
forearm. Those scars she wouldn't regret. The visions she'd
seen when she made those cuts had bought her freedom. And
had shown her a vision of her death.
A white room. A narrow bed with metal railings. She was
trapped in that room, in that bed, feeling so cold her lungs
couldn't draw in a breath. And Simon Wolfgard, the
dark–haired man she'd seen in the prophecy, was there,
pacing and snarling.
She turned off the water and opened the shower stall door.
A moment later, someone tapped on the bathroom door.
"Meg? It's Tess. I'm going to open the door and leave
some pajamas for you. Okay?"
"Yes. Thank you."
Meg grabbed a towel and held it in front of her, glad
the mirror had steamed up so that no one would see the scars
the towel didn't hide.
When Tess closed the door again, Meg got out of the
shower, dried off as quickly as she could, and dove into the
pajamas. Wiping the condensation off the mirror, she
double–checked to be sure she wasn't showing any
scars, then opened the door and stepped into the rest of the
"Give me your wet clothes," Tess said. "I'll get them
dry for you."
Nodding, Meg fetched the clothes she'd left in the
bathroom and handed them to Tess.
"There's a bit of food in the cupboards and fridge,"
Tess said. "And two sets of clothes. I guessed at the sizes,
so you can exchange them at the shop if they don't fit.
Simon will meet you at the Liaison's Office at eight thirty
tomorrow morning to go over your duties."
"All right," Meg said. Now that she was warm, staying
awake was almost painful.
"Keys are on the table." Tess headed for the door.
"You've been very kind. Thank you."
Tess turned and stared at her. "Get some sleep."
Meg counted to ten before she hurried to the door. She
wasn't sure it was possible to hear anything by pressing her
ear against the wood like people did in movies, but she did
it anyway. Hearing nothing, she locked the door and switched
off the overhead light. The streetlights on Crowfield Avenue
provided enough light for her to make her way to the
windows. She pulled the heavy drapes over one window, then
hesitated and left the second window uncovered. Feeling her
way to the bed, she got in and lay shivering until the
sheets warmed from her own heat.
Death waited for her somewhere in the Courtyard. But it
wasn't coming for her tonight. No one was coming for her
Breathing out a sigh of relief, Meg closed her eyes and