Marked in Flesh - Page 123

Something pulled one of the barn doors open an inch or two.

“Arroo!” Meg howled. Now Sam and Skippy howled with her.

More howls now from the Wolves keeping watch in various parts of the Courtyard.

We are here. Wasn’t that the message that had been silenced in other parts of Thaisia? But not in Lakeside. The Wolfgard was still here.

“Arroo!”

A snuff. A huff. A . . . laugh?

The barn door closed—and something moved away, leaving behind an odd silence.

Meg blinked. “Was it . . . were they laughing at us?”

Grinning, Jester collapsed in the straw beside her. “They had never heard the howl of a not-Wolf, and they were curious.”

“They were laughing at us.”

“That too,” Jester agreed cheerfully. He sprang up. “Want some food, Meg?”

“Is it done? The storm and . . . after?”

“For us it is.”

He seemed sure of that.

She stood and brushed off her backside. “I’m going to wash my hands first.”

“Don’t use too much of the toilet paper. I wasn’t planning on having a female here when I brought in supplies.”

Grabbing the carry sack that held her personal items, Meg went to the toilet in the back of the barn. She closed the door, opened the sack, and smiled. There, on top, was a roll of toilet paper that Merri Lee or Ruth had packed.

“Ha!” Meg said, setting the roll on the toilet tank.

As she took care of business, she wondered if her little “arroo” would become another story that traveled to other Wolf packs.

• • •

Nathan shouldered his way through the crowd of humans who were between him and the front door, careful to avoid the shoed feet that could stomp on his paws.

“No one is going anywhere yet.” Even with the mutters and mumbles and, in a few cases, loud curses, Burke’s voice boomed, making it easy to locate the man.

Gresh had his pack to help him guard the back door, but Burke was facing down these humans alone. He pictured Burke with fur and decided he would have made an acceptable Grizzly.

Reaching the front door—and Burke—Nathan looked out the glass at the fog. The Elders were out there, thinning the herd. He could feel them. If he could convince Burke to open the door just an inch, he could sniff the outside air and get a sense of how close they were to this police den. Since he didn’t think Burke would open the door, he’d do his job another way.

“Arroo!” Nathan howled. “Arroo!” He continued howling to the other terra indigene.

“Burke!” a human shouted. It sounded like that Wallace man. “Make that . . . creature . . . stop that racket.”

“I think he’s trying to save the lives of everyone here by warning off the other predators,” Burke replied. “Do you really want me to tell him to stop?”

Nathan, and Burke, waited for an answer. Met with silence, Nathan resumed his “I am here” howl.

A voice, deep and powerful—and too nearby.

Something came close to the glass door. Something on two legs that towered over Burke, who was a large human. Couldn’t really see the shape—it seemed clothed in the fog—but the claws that suddenly raked the glass, scoring it, were clear enough.

Humans gasped. Some fell in an effort to move away from the door. The police in uniform stared at him, at Burke, at the glass—and finally, maybe, understood.

“Captain?” one officer said. “When . . . ?”

Burke looked at Nathan, who thought for a moment. The Elders were moving away from this den, but they weren’t far enough away yet that they wouldn’t return if prey suddenly began pouring out the doors.

He took up guard position in front of the door and returned Burke’s look.

“Not yet,” Burke said. “But soon. Patrol officers, work with dispatch and start prioritizing the calls so we can move as soon as we get the all clear.”

Burke holstered his weapon and studied Nathan. “I need to make some calls. Will you be all right here?”

“Arroo,” Nathan replied softly. He didn’t think any humans would bother him while he was between them and the terra indigene who were hunting on the streets.

• • •

Tess walked out of the Liaison’s Office, took two steps away from the building, and stopped. She couldn’t see a damn thing in this fog, and she didn’t want the embarrassment of tripping over something—or someone.

Taking a step back, she held one hand behind her and felt the reassuring metal handle on the door.

Main Street should be directly in front of her, just beyond the delivery area and the sidewalk. But she didn’t hear the sound of cars; she heard fast-running water.

Meg would be disappointed if the young plants in the kitchen garden drowned or were smashed beyond recovering by the hail and pounding rain. The rest of the human pack would be disappointed too, but they didn’t quite belong with the terra indigene in the same way that Meg did, and their disappointment wouldn’t ripple through the Courtyard.

Nothing she, or anyone else, could do about saturated ground and runoff and streets turned into streams.

Whispers. Muffled curses. The splash of an animal fording water. The yelp as one of them lost his footing and was swept away.

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