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  Blair took the largest turkey—a black-feathered male—and trotted off to deliver the special order. Nathan and Simon took the other two turkeys to the Hawkgard Complex. One would provide food for the Hawks. Boone would dismember the other and take the pieces to the butcher shop to sell to other humans who might want some poultry—once he figured out what parts of the bird the humans would, and wouldn’t, eat.

  Nathan said.

  Simon said. This hunt reminded him of playing with the badminton shuttlecock—sending it into the air for the Hawks to catch.

  What about a pack with only three or four members? Something to think about, along with deciding which pack member would have to learn how to cook the meat. He’d wait and see if Meg wrinkled her nose at this kind of turkey the way she did when he brought home a hunk of bison.

  Pleased with themselves, Simon and Nathan ran to the Market Square to start the humans’ idea of a workday.

  • • •

  Meg sharpened pencils, lined up pens according to color, arranged the order of the CDs she was playing as that week’s musical selections. She checked the back door, the sorting room’s side door, and the office’s front door.

  She even looked under the Wolf bed in the front room, which she knew was ridiculous because there would be a Nathan-size lump under it if the Wolf was playing a trick and trying to hide from her.

  Nathan wasn’t there, and he was never late.

  But Simon had left early to do some Wolfy thing with Blair this morning. Maybe Nathan had gone with them. Wouldn’t he have called? If he was going to be late for work, he should have called so she wouldn’t be worried about him.

  She wasn’t sure he received any pay for being the watch Wolf for the Liaison’s Office, but there had to be some way to impress on him that not showing up wasn’t acceptable. And then she knew exactly what to do. She would tell him that the next time he was late and didn’t call, she would dock a couple of Wolf cookies from his quota of weekly treats. So there.

  Then she saw Blair trotting across the delivery area, hauling a big black-feathered bird, and forgot all about Nathan. She pushed the door open and dashed to the sidewalk as the Wolf turned right, heading for Crowfield Avenue.

  Turkey. Her brain kicked in to supply a training image of the bird as she trailed behind Blair, who ignored the people on the sidewalk and the cars that were in danger of becoming part of fender-bender gridlock because the drivers were staring at him instead of paying attention to traffic. With Blair’s jaws clamped around the base of the turkey’s neck, its head swung like a metronome and its toes bumped along on the sidewalk.

  Blair reached the corner. He looked at a woman standing near the crosswalk, then pointed a front paw at the “walk” button on the pole and made a sound. Meg wasn’t sure what the sound was supposed to mean, since Blair had a mouthful of turkey neck, but the woman pushed the crosswalk button and received a milder sound in response.

  The light changed. The crossing sign lit up, and Blair and the turkey trotted across the street and turned down Crowfield Avenue.

  Meg kept pace with him on her side of the street, then stopped when he trotted up the walk to the Denbys’ residence. He hauled the turkey up the porch steps and pressed a paw against the doorbell, then stepped aside to avoid getting smacked in the nose when someone finally answered the door.

  “Meg?” Merri Lee poked her head out the door of Howling Good Reads. “What’s going . . . ? Oh goodness. Is that . . . ?”

  Eve opened the screen door after Blair whacked the doorbell a couple more times. When she didn’t say anything—probably couldn’t with her mouth hanging open like that—Blair dumped the turkey on her porch before retracing his route back to the Courtyard.

  Eve disappeared for a moment, then came outside, calling someone on her mobile phone.

  “Come on,” Merri Lee said. “She’s not calling us, so we’ll have to find out what’s going on some other way. Besides . . .”

  “Arrrroooo!” Nathan, howling from the currently empty Liaison’s Office.

  “Arrooooo!” Simon, upstairs in HGR’s office, howling for the Wolfgard to hunt down one little human who might not be at her office as expected, but had not been late for work, thank you very much.

  “Someone has noticed you’re not at work,” Merri Lee finished.

  Meg followed Merri Lee inside HGR and yelled, “I’m here!”

  “Arr—” Human found; hunt canceled.

  “You could trade Wolf cookies for information,” Merri Lee whispered as they hurried to the back door.

  “I was going to dock Nathan a couple of cookies for being late.”

  “Do that next time.”

  “Meg!” Simon appeared at the foot of the stairs, wearing jeans that were zipped but not buttoned—and nothing else. In that moment, he looked more, and less, human in a way that made her heart beat a little bit faster. But her heart might have been beating faster because of the teeth, which were definitely Wolfy.

  “Have to go.” Meg gave him a wide smile as she opened the door. “Delivery just pulled in.”

  “I didn’t hear—”

  “You can tell me all about it after work.”

  “Tell you about what?”

  She ran to the Liaison’s Office and scooted inside in time for her imaginary delivery to become a real one.

  • • •

  Telling Katherine Debany she would be back in a few minutes, Twyla Montgomery hurried to Eve Denby’s house. Usually unflappable, Eve sounded close to panic—or hysterical laughter.

  As Twyla caught sight of the mound of feathers on the porch, she understood why Eve had called.

  “Come inside,” Eve said, opening the door as soon as Twyla stepped onto the porch. “There are cats in the neighborhood, so I don’t want to leave . . . that . . . unguarded, but I don’t want to be in public view right now.”

  Twyla stepped inside. “How did you end up with a dead turkey on your porch?”

  “A Wolf brought it over a few minutes ago.” Eve raked a hand through her short hair.

  “Why?” She would have thought he’d want the meal for himself. Or herself.

  “Boone only receives shipments of pork and beef twice a month, and we’re all getting tired of venison and rabbit. We’re even getting tired of beef. So I asked Boone if he had any poultry for sale. He said he’d try to get some.”

  “He did that,” Twyla said, looking out the screen door.

  “I was hoping to buy a chicken, not a turkey the size of a minivan.”

  An exaggeration, but it was a big bird—and looked bigger with the feet and feathers and everything else still attached.

  Eve sagged against the doorframe. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

  “Well, you can’t tell them you don’t want it—especially if they went out and caught it just for you.”

  “I know that!”

  A neighborhood cat, a big tom from the look of it, must have caught the scent of meat. Twyla wasn’t sure if the animal didn’t see her through the screen door or didn’t care. He sauntered toward the porch, too focused on the free meal to notice the Crows until they struck. Twyla wasn’t sure which of the Crowgard she enjoyed more, the one who flew in and grabbed the cat’s tail, giving it a yank before letting go and flying out of reach, or the one who flew over and dropped a rotten tomato on the cat’s head. Either way, she didn’t think that cat would be looking to scrounge a meal at Eve’s house anytime soon.

  Having successfully routed the thief, the Crows returned to their sentry post.

  “You have a roasting pan big enough to hold it?” Twyla asked.

  “No,” Eve replied. “I don’t have an oven big enough to hold it either.”

  Twyla nodded. “They have big pans
at Meat-n-Greens, and big ovens too. So this is what we’ll do. After work, we’ll have one of the boys help us take the bird back to the Courtyard. There must be a place where they prepare some of the game they sell at the butcher shop. That would be the best place to deal with the turkey. And anything we would waste, the Others might be able to use. In the meantime, let’s put some newspapers or cardboard under that bird so you don’t have to do more than hose off your porch.”

  “That bird is going to be the family’s meat quota for weeks,” Eve said after they tugged the turkey onto a pad of newspapers.

  “No, it’s not. You’re going to supply the meat for a residents’ potluck. The rest of us who want to come will each bring a dish. You’ll invite Mr. Simon and Miss Meg so they can have the experience of this kind of meal with friends. Better invite the Wolf who brought the bird too.”

  “Not sure who he is.”

  “Mr. Simon will know. I’d best get back to work.”

  “Twyla? I’m good with tools. I like working around the house. But I’ve never lived in a country hamlet or on a farm. I don’t know the first thing about plucking that bird or doing anything else that’s needed to get it ready to cook.”

  She smiled. “Good thing for all of us that I know a bit about that. Best have Ruth and Merri Lee join us for this. They should learn too.”

  Twyla hurried back to the consulate to help Katherine Debany with reorganizing the files. Throughout the morning, Elliot Wolfgard was uncharacteristically quiet about the amount of time she’d been gone on a personal errand. But just before her lunch break, he paused near the filing cabinets and said blandly, “At least, being human, you don’t have to pluck the damn thing with your teeth.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Watersday, Messis 18

  Returning from Ferryman’s Landing, Kowalski pulled his car into the Courtyard’s customer parking lot and looked at Monty. “Did we just bend some rules or buy from the black market?”

  “Neither,” Monty replied. “Ferryman’s Landing isn’t under human control. Butchers and grocers may be limited when it comes to selling foods that are grown outside our area, but there are no purchase limits for anything grown or produced on Great Island or the land used by the Intuits who grow crops around the mainland part of the village.”

  Kowalski looked at the stuffed carry sacks in the backseat. “Even so.”

  Monty nodded. “Even so.”

  They’d gone to Ferryman’s Landing to purchase dinner rolls from Eamer’s Bakery since Nadine was busy making muffins and desserts as her contribution to the residents’ potluck, as well as making the pastries, muffins, and other food for A Little Bite to sell since Meat-n-Greens was closed to everyone else in order to host their private party. Ruthie had asked them to check at the open market for potatoes because the female pack didn’t have quite enough to make the mashed potatoes for the potluck and the potato salad Nadine wanted to make for the coffee shop.

  After buying the rolls, they wandered around the open market, looking for the other items on the girls’ list. Somehow, in the course of explaining that they were buying ingredients needed for the turkey and potluck dinner that some Lakeside Wolves and humans were putting together, Monty noticed that the quarter pound of butter he’d asked for turned into a full pound so that there would be enough for the corn on the cob that would be served, a dozen eggs became two dozen, a pound of sugar ended up weighing more than a pound, and a five-pound bag of flour from a shipment fresh from the Midwest was added to their purchases when they weren’t looking. Vendors began calling out suggestions of dishes that would go well with turkey, even on a hot summer day.

  Despite numerous assurances to everyone in the market that the Lakeside Courtyard did have fruit trees and the terra indigene and their human tenants had plenty of fresh fruit, Kowalski ended up lugging a large basket of assorted fruit to the car.

  “Why do you think the vendors gave us so much extra food?” Kowalski asked.

  “What we do in the Courtyard sets a precedent for Ferryman’s Landing as well as human-Other interaction in Talulah Falls,” Monty replied. “All those vendors at the market were Intuits. Maybe they had a feeling that what they were contributing to this meal would make a difference for everyone in the long run.”

  “That’s a lot riding on one meal.”

  Monty looked at his partner, who was sitting in a rapidly heating car, staring straight ahead. Yes, there was a lot riding on this meal. “My brother and his family weren’t invited,” he said quietly. “Jimmy isn’t an official resident.”

  “Is he pissed about that?”

  “He is, but my mother and Eve were firm in their decision about whom to invite. Mama will make up a plate for Jimmy’s family.” Not that he’ll appreciate it, Monty added silently.

  Jimmy had had all kinds of things to say when he’d learned about the potluck—and learned he wasn’t invited. Tess and Vlad had declined the invitation, saying they would take care of their respective businesses. Captain Burke had also declined. So had Greg O’Sullivan, who was on his way back to Hubbney for a couple of days to speak to Governor Hannigan privately about the task force doctors who were missing. But Simon, Nathan, and Henry would be there, and, gods, so would Blair, who’d surprised everyone by accepting Eve’s invitation. Putting Jimmy, with his posturing and attitude, in the same room with the four of them was a recipe for slaughter.

  And putting Jimmy in a room where he had time to study Meg Corbyn and realize what she was would hurt everyone eventually.

  Monty got out of the car. “Come on. Let’s get this food inside and let the girls figure out what needs to go where.”

  “Michael’s on patrol,” Kowalski said. “Since he’s not here for the prep work, he said he’d help with the dishes.”

  “Did he see that turkey?”

  Kowalski laughed. “Lieutenant, half of Lakeside saw that turkey.”

  • • •

  “We’re making a spinach salad?” Since he was in human form, Simon didn’t sniff the colander of greens Meg was washing and patting dry the way he would have in Wolf form. He took one of the leaves and sniffed it before eating it. Then he looked at Meg. “Why?”

  “Because that is what I was asked to make,” she replied. “When I finish washing the spinach, I’ll clean the mushrooms. Then you’ll slice them.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you whine whenever I use a knife to slice or chop things.”

  “I do not.” He didn’t feel easy when Meg held a knife for any reason, but he didn’t whine about it.

  “Let’s call it a sound of concern,” she said. “Ruth says she’ll hard-boil some eggs to add to the salad, and Merri Lee is making a warm bacon dressing to pour over it.”

  If the girls put enough bacon and grease on the leaves, the spinach might be tasty enough for a Wolf to eat.

  He studied Meg, who seemed to be concentrating awfully hard just to wash a few leaves. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to go to this potluck thing?”

  “I do. Ruth, Merri, and I have talked about it, about what to expect. They’re excited. So am I. So is Sam.” She shut off the water and stood with her hands over the sink, drops of water falling from the tips of her fingers.

  Simon waited.

  “Skippy spends a lot of time with me and Sam. And he eats a few meals with the three of us every week.”

  “He can’t join us for this meal,” he said quietly. “We’re all going to be in human form, and this is different. None of us have shared food with humans in this way before.”

  “I know. But he isn’t going to understand why he’s being left out.”

  She sounded sad, but she shook her head and went back to drying the spinach leaves.

  They worked together to prepare the salad, saying little, not really needing words. And if Meg also noticed the odd silence that passed by the Green Complex, neith
er of them mentioned it.

  • • •

  Grr Bear sat in a chair that had been turned to look out at Crowfield Avenue, which made Monty wonder if the stuffed bear had been put in a time-out for some reason. Taking the other chair on the porch, he wasn’t surprised when Lizzy came over and leaned against him. Pulling her into his lap, he put his arms around her.

  “Did Grr Bear do something I should know about?” He’d returned home to find Lizzy, Fanny, and Sarah on his porch playing jacks, watched by three Crows and a female Sanguinati he didn’t recognize. Well, the Sanguinati was watching the girls; the Crows were watching the game—or waiting for an opportunity to “borrow” some of the shiny jacks.

  Lizzy shook her head and said very quietly, “But he wanted me to ask you if Frances can come live with us.”

  “You call her Frances instead of Fanny?” Only his mama called Jimmy’s daughter by her proper name.

  “She doesn’t like being called that word, Daddy. Especially . . .” Lizzy looked at Grr Bear as if for courage.

  Monty felt a chill, despite the summer heat. “What is it, Lizzy girl?”

  “Clarence is mean. He shakes his bum and slaps it and says things like ‘Fanny kisses fanny’ and makes a smacking sound like big kisses. When they lived in Toland, he told her he’d give her a quarter if she kissed his friends’ bums. And one time, a boy said he’d give Clarence a dollar if Frances kissed his boy stuff.” Lizzy wrinkled her nose to show her opinion of doing such a thing. “Frances doesn’t want to be bad, Daddy. She told me and Grr Bear that she doesn’t want to help Clarence when he does bad things. But if she doesn’t, he pinches her really hard until she cries, and then Uncle Jimmy calls her a crybaby and says mean things.”

  Monty felt sick, dizzy, shaken. Clarence was a boy who might be growing up too fast and in the wrong way, but he was still a child. Was he really trying to pimp his younger sister? Had he learned that behavior from his father? Had Jimmy, who always preferred to use someone else in order to make money, tried to pressure Sissy into providing sexual favors to his friends or to acquaintances who had something he wanted?