She studied the sorting room again and wondered who had designed the Liaison’s Office. For a room that was supposed to be private, private, private, the sorting room had an awful lot of doors, not to mention a window that would accommodate illicit access.

  Not her problem. As long as she kept the delivery doors locked when they weren’t needed, she could avoid being eaten. Maybe. Hopefully. Right now, she had to get ready for business.

  Turning on the lights in the front part of the office was easy—the switches were on the wall next to the Private door. Getting to the outside door to open it was a problem because she couldn’t figure out how the short left end of the counter opened to let someone into the main part of the room. So she got the stool from the sorting room and used it to climb over the counter. She turned the simple lock to the open position and then realized the simple lock was augmented by a heavy-duty dead bolt that required a key—which might or might not be on the key ring she’d left in the sorting room.

  Caw caw

  Three black birds were perched outside on a flat piece of wood, maneuvering to get a better look through one of the windows. She almost dismissed their presence, then wondered if they were terra indigene Crows that had come to take a look at the new Liaison.

  Trying for a happy smile, Meg waggled her fingers and mouthed the words Good morning. Then she went back to the counter and tried to boost herself up enough to swing her legs over.

  The Walking Names didn’t tell the girls anything about themselves, but she had overheard some things. She was twenty-four years old. She was sixty-three inches tall. She had black hair, gray eyes, and fair skin. Her cheeks had a light rosy hue that would show scars to advantage, but her face was still unmarred by the razor. The girls in the compound were kept healthy and were walked daily, but they were not allowed to do things that would give them unnecessary stamina or make them physically strong.

  Sometimes determination could make up for stamina and strength. But sometimes it couldn’t.

  The fourth time she landed back on the wrong side of the counter, a voice quietly said, “While this is highly entertaining, why don’t you just use the go-through?”

  Meg backed away from the counter as a lean man stepped through the Private doorway. He had light brown eyes and brown hair that was made up of a variety of shades, including gray.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Name’s Jester. Henry thought you could use a little help figuring out what to do, and since Simon’s chewing his own tail this morning, and I look after the ponies, I was elected to help.” He held up both hands. “No tricks. I promise.” Then he gave her a smile that was both friendly and sly. “At least, not today.”

  “I have to get the door open before the deliveries start arriving,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound so anxious. “The keys I was given are on that ring in the sorting room, but I’m not even sure there’s a key on it for this door.”

  “There isn’t,” Jester replied, disappearing into the sorting room. “You have a key to the back door,” he continued when he walked into the front room and vaulted over the counter. “I’ll show you where the office keys are kept.”

  He unlocked the dead bolt, studied the Crows for a moment, then grinned as he walked back to the counter. “You’ve been on the job for less than an hour and you’re already the most entertaining Liaison we’ve had.”

  “Thanks,” she said, trying not to sound sour. She could imagine what Simon Wolfgard would say if he heard about this. “You won’t tell anyone about the counter, will you?”

  “Me? No. Them?” Jester tipped his head toward the windows. There were Crows vying for a spot on the wooden sculpture, and a couple were standing in front of the door, looking in. “Most of the Courtyard will hear about this within an hour.”

  She sighed.

  “Come on. I’ll show you the trick with the go-through.” He pointed to the slide bolt that connected the go-through with the long counter.

  “I tried that,” she said.

  “That one keeps it closed during the day when you might be going in and out a lot.” He reached under the wide top. A moment later, Meg heard a bolt drawing back, then another. “There are two bigger slide bolts that keep the go-through closed the rest of the time. Those are locked when you leave the office for a meal break or at the end of the day.”

  Jester pushed the go-through open, then stood aside to let her enter. He followed her in, closed the go-through, and used the visible slide bolt to secure it. After showing her where the other bolts were located, he pointed out the supplies and other items that were on the shelves under the counter.

  A clipboard with a pad of paper. A round ceramic holder full of different color pens. Paperclips and rubber bands. A telephone at the other short end of the counter and its directory on the shelf underneath. And catalogs. Lots of merchandise catalogs from various stores, as well as menus from local eateries.

  “We have a little bit of most everything in the Market Square, but not a lot of anything,” Jester said. “There is a plaza a few blocks from here that serves the humans who live in this part of Lakeside. It has all sorts of stores and more variety in terms of merchandise. A Courtyard bus provides transportation twice a week for anyone who wants to shop there.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” she asked, remembering training images of fighting, blood, and slashed bodies.

  He gave her an odd look. “It’s always dangerous when there are only a few of us among the humans.” He waved a hand to indicate the Crows, then touched his fingers to his chest. “Remember this, Meg Corbyn. We’re the ones you can see, but we’re not the only ones who are here. Which is why we have so many catalogs,” he continued in a lighter tone. “Our shops order things directly from manufacturers, just like human stores do. Some of it stays here; some is sent on to our kin who enjoy the things but want no contact with humans. But there are plenty of other bits of shiny that are ordered from a human store and delivered here, which is where you come in.”

  Meg nodded, not sure what to say. So many warnings layered in his words. So many things to think about.

  “Ready to start?” Jester asked.

  “Yes.”

  They went into the sorting room. Jester took the top bag from a pile of bags, opened it, and dumped the contents on the sorting table.

  “The mail truck comes in the morning,” he said. “Give them back their bags as you empty them. You’ll get used to sorting the mail more specifically, but to start, sort by gard or location. Then . . .”

  Caw caw

  Jester smiled. “Sounds like your first delivery.”

  Meg went out to the front room, closing the door partway. She put the clipboard and pad on the counter, tested a pen to make sure it worked, and carefully noted the date at the top of the page—and hoped the calendar under the counter had the days crossed out accurately.

  The Crows scattered, most heading out while a few settled again on the brick wall and the sculpture sticking out of the snow.

  As a man got out of the green van and opened its back door, Meg wrote down the time, the color of the truck, and the name Everywhere Delivery.

  He was an older man whose face had been lined by weather and years, but his movements looked efficient as well as energetic. He elbowed the van door closed, glancing at the Crows as he pulled the office door open. Balancing four packages, he hesitated at the doorway.

  “Good morning,” Meg said, hoping she sounded friendly but businesslike.

  He relaxed and hurried to the counter. “Good morning. Got some packages for you.”

  Suddenly remembering that every face could belong to an enemy, she fought to hold on to the businesslike demeanor. “It’s my first day. Do you mind if I write down some information?”

  He gave her a smile wide enough for her to think his teeth weren’t the ones he’d been born with.

  “That is a very good idea, Miz . . .”

  “Meg.”

  “Miz Meg. I’m Harry. That’s H-A-double-R-Y. I’m with Everywhere Delivery. Not a fancy name, but a true one. I’m usually here closer to nine on Moonsday and Thaisday, but the plows are still clearing the streets and the driving is slow this morning. Four packages today. Need to have you sign for them.”

  She wrote down his name, the days and time he usually made deliveries, and the number of packages she signed for.

  Harry looked at her clipboard and let out a happy sigh. “Warms the heart to see someone behind the counter doing the job proper. The last one they had here?” He shook his head. “I’m not surprised they gave him the boot. I’m surprised they kept him as long as they did. Couldn’t be bothered to care about anything, and that’s just not right. No, that’s not right. Say, it can get pretty chilly out here with that door opening and closing all the time. You might want to get a pair of those fingerless gloves. The wife wears them around the house and swears they help her stay warm. You should look into getting a pair.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “You take care, Miz Meg.”

  “I will. See you on Moonsday, Harry.”

  He gave the Crows a friendly wave as he walked to his van.

  Meg put the ceramic pen holder on the counter but put the clipboard on a shelf out of sight. Then she returned to the sorting room.

  Jester grinned at her. “He’s not peculiar, if that’s what you were wondering. He’s just relieved to be dealing with someone safe. So being concerned about you catching a chill is as much for his sake as yours.” He eyed her. “Besides, he’s got a point.”

  “Does he?” She didn’t like the way he was eyeing her, especially when he grabbed her arm and gave it a squeeze, letting go before she had a chance to protest.

  “You’re not fat, but you don’t have much muscle. You need to work on that. Run and Thump has treadmills and—”

  “I don’t like treadmills.” She heard panic rising in her voice. Don’t think about the compound. Don’t think about the Controller or the treadmills or anything else about that place.

  “Plenty of places here for you to walk.” His voice was mild, but something sharp filled his eyes as he watched her. “But you couldn’t get over the counter, so I’d say you could use some exercise to strengthen muscle. And the second floor of Run and Thump has classes for dancing or bending or some such thing.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Sort by gard, then by individuals,” Jester said after an uncomfortable pause. “I’ll be back with some of the ponies in a couple of hours.”

  “Ponies?”

  “They act as couriers around the Courtyard when they feel like it.”

  He left her—and she wondered if she had already said too much.

  Jester quietly closed the back door and looked around. The Crows were on the move, spreading out to watch and listen—and to hear what the regular crows had to tell them. The Hawks were soaring high above, also watching.

  And inside the Human Liaison’s Office?

  Secrets. Fear.

  He wanted to poke his nose into the reasons for both.

  Couldn’t talk to Simon. Not today. Henry had already warned him about that. But Tess? Yes, Tess might know how they had acquired their new Liaison. And she kept a supply of long-grass tea for him. A Little Bite wasn’t open to human customers yet, so she might have time to gossip—if he phrased his comments and questions in the right way.

  He was glad Henry had told him that Meg didn’t have the prey scent that was typical of humans. He would have felt a lot more wary of their Liaison if the Grizzly hadn’t already known there was something peculiar about her.

  He wanted to know how and why Simon hired Meg Corbyn. And, most of all, he wanted to know what it was about her that made him feel she could be a danger to them all.

  CHAPTER 3

  Monty paid the cab driver and got out at the corner of Whitetail Road and Chestnut Street. Taking a cab wasn’t a luxury he could afford every morning, but he didn’t want to be late on his first day. He’d have to check out bus routes and schedules until he had time to consider if he needed to purchase some kind of car.

  He looked at his watch and hesitated. The Chestnut Street Police Station was in sight, and he had half an hour before his meeting with Captain Burke. Across the street from the station was a diner, the kind of place that served hearty meat-and-potatoes meals and coffee strong enough to help a man stay upright when he was too tired to stand on his own. In the middle of the block was a small Universal Temple.

  Checking his watch once more, Monty crossed the street and walked to the temple. Whether it was true or not, it eased his heart to think there was something beyond the physical plane, something that felt benevolent toward humans, because the gods knew there wasn’t much on the physical plane that felt benevolent toward them.

  He opened the door to the entranceway, stomped the snow off his boots, then went into the temple itself.

  Soft natural light filtered through snow-dusted windows. Vanilla candles delicately scented the air. The random tones of meditation bells drifted through the temple from the hidden sound system. The padded benches could be arranged in various patterns. Today they were scattered to provide seating at each of the alcoves that held representations of guardian spirits.

  Mikhos, guardian of police, firefighters, and medical personnel, was in an alcove nearest the door, which made sense with the temple being so close to a police station.

  Taking a match from the holder, he lit a candle in front of the alcove, then settled on the bench and practiced the controlled breathing that would clear his mind of busy thoughts in order to hear the quiet voice of wisdom.

  It wasn’t wisdom but memory that filled his mind.

  You shot a human to protect a Wolf.

  I shot a pedophile who had a girl imprisoned in his house. He had a knife and threatened to kill her.

  You left a wounded human with one of the terra indigene.

  I didn’t feel a pulse. I didn’t realize he was still alive when I went to check out the rest of the house.

  He hadn’t known the girl was a terra indigene Wolf. He hadn’t known the bastard he shot was still technically alive when he called for help and a medical unit and then left the girl so he could quickly check the rest of the house. He hadn’t known how much destruction a starving young Wolf could do to a human body in so short a time.

  He shouldn’t have gone in alone. He shouldn’t have left the girl. There were a lot of things he shouldn’t have done. Considering what it cost him afterward, he regretted doing the things he shouldn’t have done. But shooting the pedophile? He didn’t regret that choice, especially after he found the bodies of six other girls.

  If the girl he saved had been human, he’d still be living in Toland with his lover Elayne Borden and their daughter, Lizzy. He’d still be reading a bedtime story to his little girl every night instead of living in a one-bedroom apartment a few hundred miles away.

  But he had shot a human to protect a Wolf, and no one was going to forget that. The Toland police commissioner had given him a choice: transfer to Lakeside or resign from any kind of police work forever.

  Elayne had been furious, appalled, humiliated that he had brought the scandal down on her by association, making her a social pariah, making Lizzy the victim of teasing and taunts and even pushing and slaps from schoolmates who had been friends the week before.

  No legal contracts bound them together. Elayne hadn’t wanted that much structure—at least until he proved his work could provide her with the social contacts she craved. But she’d been quick enough to call a lawyer and turn his promise of support money for Lizzy into a legal document after she flatly refused to consider coming with him and starting over. Live in Lakeside? Was he insane?

  Lizzy. His little Lizzy. Would Elayne allow her to visit him? If he took the train back to Toland for a weekend trip, would Elayne even let him see his daughter?

  I didn’t see a Wolf,Lizzy. I saw a girl not much older than you, and for a moment, I saw you in the hands of such a man. I don’t know if a policeman or a father pulled the trigger. I don’t know if you’ll ever understand. And I don’t know what I’m going to do in this place without you.

  Taking a last deep breath of scented air, he left the temple and went to the police station to find out if he had a future.

  Captain Douglas Burke was a big man with neatly trimmed dark hair below a bald pate. His blue eyes held a fierce kind of friendliness that could reassure or frighten the person meeting those eyes across a desk.

  In the moments before Burke gestured to the seat in front of the desk and opened a file folder, Monty figured his measure had been taken: a dark-skinned man of medium height who stayed trim with effort and tended to bulk up when he ate bread or potatoes for too many meals in a row, and whose curly black hair was already showing some gray despite his being on the short side of forty years old.

  “Lieutenant Crispin James Montgomery.” Giving Monty a fierce smile, Burke closed the file and folded his hands over it. “Toland is a big city. Only Sparkletown and two other cities on this entire continent match it in population and size. Which means people living there can go their whole lives without knowingly encountering the Others, and that makes it easy to pretend the terra indigene aren’t out there watching everything humans do. But Lakeside was built on the shores of Lake Etu, one of the Great Lakes that are the largest source of freshwater in Thaisia—and those lakes belong to the terra indigene. We have a few farming communities and hamlets that are within thirty minutes of the city boundaries. There is a community of Simple Life folk who farm on Great Island. And there is the town of Talulah Falls up the road a piece. Beyond that, the nearest human towns or cities are two hours by train in any direction. All roads travel through the woods. Lakeside is a small city, which means we’re not big enough to forget what’s out there.”