Murder of Crows: A Novel of the Others Page 3

  “He doesn’t usually use our fitness center in the mornings.” Simon gave Monty a questioning look, confirming that the Wolf knew the work schedule of Monty’s team almost better than Monty did. It also confirmed that the Others didn’t ignore anything that changed the routine of anyone who dealt with them.

  “He took a couple of hours’ personal time today,” Monty said. Wolfgard didn’t need to know that Captain Burke considered personal time spent in the Courtyard as on-duty time since dealing with the Others was dangerous even under the best circumstances.

  “Dr. Lorenzo is sniffing around the medical office in the Market Square,” Simon added.

  “Then I’ll say hello to the doctor before I pick up Officer Kowalski,” Monty said.

  Simon returned to the display, acting as if Monty were no longer there. But he said, “Go out the back door. It will be quicker.”

  Something else Wolfgard wouldn’t have considered offering a few weeks ago, Monty thought as he went through the stockroom to HGR’s back door. He had no illusions that the Others thought of humans as allies, let alone equals. Humans were still clever meat. But this was the first Courtyard to be so accessible to humans since … well, since humans crossed the Atlantik Ocean centuries ago and made their first bargains with the terra indigene on this continent.

  He just hoped that accessibility remained after Simon figured out he’d been dosed with the drug known as gone over wolf.

  Jenni Crowgard walked into the front part of Howling Good Reads wearing nothing but a winter coat that smelled like Heather and covered the Crow’s bare legs to midthigh.

  Simon studied her. Usually cheerful and curious, she seemed wary this morning.

  “You’ve heard something,” he said.

  It wasn’t a question. Every kind of terra indigene had its own strengths. While some called them gossips, few things sent information from one place to another faster than the Crowgard. Even now, the only thing faster than the Crows was the telephone humans had invented a few decades ago. And the computers, since Vlad said you could send the same message to a lot of people.

  “Walnut Grove,” he prompted, watching her.

  Jenni wrapped her arms around herself. “Something bad. Not sure what. Don’t know why.”

  She knew things about the what and the why—things he was sure the human news didn’t know yet. Piece by piece, he got it out of her. Fresh food in the snow, a temptation at this time of year. Young crows and Crows flying in to grab a bite. Then dogs and death and many humans.

  “Meg had a dream about Crows this morning,” he said after Jenni told him what she knew. “It scared her a lot.”

  Jenni frowned. “Why would our Meg dream about Walnut Grove?”

  “No reason for her to dream about the Courtyard there—unless it’s a warning for us.” He stared at Jenni until she squirmed. “You and your sisters and the rest of the Crowgard in Lakeside need to be careful. Walnut Grove is about one hundred fifty miles south of this city. If the sickness that touched humans and Others in the Midwest and in Jerzy on the West Coast has reached this part of Thaisia, we all need to be careful. It’s easy enough to travel to Walnut Grove by train. It’s easy enough for the sickness to travel back to Lakeside with someone.”

  “We’ll be careful.”

  “If you see Meg rubbing her arms the way she does when visions start prickling under her skin, you tell me. And you pay attention to anything she says.”

  “I’ll pay attention,” Jenni promised. “Even if what our Meg says isn’t about Crows.”

  Choosing to be satisfied with that, Simon sent her on her way and went back to arranging the display of new books. There had been a noticeable lack of customers since the storm, despite the unprecedented assistance the Others had given to some of the humans who had been stranded.

  They’ll come back or they won’t, Simon thought as he read the back copy on a couple of books and set them aside for himself. And today we don’t want unfamiliar monkeys in the Courtyard anyway.

  Hearing the rattle of wheels, he turned and watched Heather push a cart up to the checkout counter. The Lakeside Courtyard supplied goods to all the terra indigene living in the surrounding wild country. What HGR had lacked in human customers lately was more than balanced by the number of book orders sent in from all the settlements.

  “You going to work on the orders?” he asked. She’d said she was when she went into the back for stock, so he was just trying to be polite and make up for snarling at her earlier.

  Heather didn’t answer him. She just gave him A Look.

  Grunting, Simon went back to arranging books. A bunny trying to intimidate a Wolf? How ludicrous!

  As that thought took hold, he moved so he could watch her while he arranged books. Just how often these days did Heather remind him of a bunny? That comparison had always been there, an assessment of personality as well as how she responded to the Others. But he realized that he thought of her that way more often since the storm.

  Something had changed in many of the humans who worked in the Courtyard. Some, like Lorne, who ran the Three Ps—the shop for paper, printing, and postage—went on as they had before. Other humans, like Merri Lee, were showing some Wolf in their personalities and, while still sensibly cautious, were more determined to work with the terra indigene. And others, like Heather, had become too aware that they would never be the predators.

  He couldn’t fire her for being a bunny. Well, he could, but he didn’t want to. For one thing, he would lose a good worker. For another, it would be a hardship for her if she couldn’t find another job right away, and that would make Meg and the human pack unhappy. He didn’t want Meg to be unhappy.

  Stifling a sigh, Simon forced his attention back to the display of books.

  It didn’t matter if he had human customers or not. As long as Meg and her pack were in the Courtyard, he still had plenty of human behavior to study and puzzle over.

  Monty found Dominic Lorenzo walking through a first-floor office space in the Market Square.

  “Dr. Lorenzo.”

  “Lieutenant Montgomery.”

  “So you’re serious about opening an office in the Courtyard? I had the impression that you didn’t think that well of the Others.”

  “I’m not sure I do,” Lorenzo replied. “But there isn’t another doctor anywhere on this continent who has the opportunity to interact this closely with the terra indigene. I’ve checked.”

  “And being able to interact with a blood prophet?” Monty asked softly.

  Lorenzo looked him in the eyes. “That was a big part of the reason I proposed an office here and want to be the doctor in residence, so to speak.”

  “You’re giving up your work at the hospital?”

  “No. I talked to the hospital administrators after the Others lifted the water tax as thanks for caring for Meg Corbyn. That’s a substantial savings.”

  Monty nodded. “They lifted the water tax on the Chestnut Street Police Station too.”

  “While there is plenty of concern about having the Others around sick or injured people, it can’t be denied that having a hospital that is willing to provide care to any Courtyard resident could make a big difference for all of us in the future. As you pointed out to me during the storm. Right now I’m proposing to have office hours here a couple of mornings a week.”

  Winter had made Meg’s recovery a condition of the storm ending, and Lorenzo, despite his reservations about the Others, had given the Human Liaison the very best care possible. In a real sense, the doctor’s actions had saved everyone in the city.

  “Basic medicine,” Lorenzo said, sweeping a hand to indicate the office. “The Courtyard’s Business Association is willing to purchase any additional equipment that’s needed, although I don’t think much will be required for the kind of medical care I have in mind. They are being stubborn about my having a nurse to assist or an office manager to help with paperwork.” He gave Monty a speculative look. “Anything you could do about that?”


  Monty shook his head, then thought about it. “They have some kind of healers here already, don’t they? Maybe one of them could assist you and learn a bit about human medicine in the bargain. And isn’t there a massage therapist using part of this office space?” He’d seen the Good Hands Massage sign next to the door.

  “Yes, she uses one of the rooms for her work. I don’t think she has many clients here, so her hours are limited.”

  “You could inquire how she handles appointments. Maybe the Business Association would agree to hiring one administrative assistant for the two of you, someone to make appointments and handle the paperwork.”

  “It’s a possibility,” Lorenzo said. “I’ll add that to my notes. I’m making a formal presentation to the Business Association and the consul tomorrow.”

  Monty finally broached the main reason he’d wanted to see Lorenzo. “You’ve dealt with cassandra sangue before. As soon as you saw Ms. Corbyn’s scars, you knew what she was.”

  “I’ve seen girls like her before.” Lorenzo gave Monty a long look. “Meg Corbyn is healthier and saner than the girls I treated when I was a resident. Wherever she was before she came here, they knew how to take care of girls like her.”

  “From what I was told, that care included forced lessons, forced cutting, and no chance or choice to experience life. The girls were kept safe, yes, but they were used for someone else’s profit.”

  “I was told pretty much the same thing when the Wolf allowed me to ask Ms. Corbyn a few questions while she was in the hospital,” Lorenzo replied. “But even the girls I saw before were in a controlled environment, a privately run house that was an annex to a school. I’m not sure cassandra sangue can survive without someone else controlling their lives. Even with supervision, too many of them cut themselves into death or madness.” He paused. “There is a group of humans out there who are a danger to themselves, and I want to help. With the kind of care these girls need, someone has to know how to handle them and their addiction to cutting. But there is too little information available.”

  “The lack of information would help discourage people from establishing group homes and trying to cope with the girls,” Monty said. “I imagine several good-intentioned facilities have closed down over the years because of deaths caused from cutting.” That was something he could check when he returned to the station.

  Lorenzo nodded. “Having a chance to interact with Meg Corbyn could be the first step in finding a way for all of these girls to have longer and healthier lives.”

  After wishing Lorenzo good luck with the meeting tomorrow, Monty took his leave, pulled out his mobile phone, and called Kowalski. After confirming that the younger man would meet him, he headed for the coffee shop.

  Using the back entrance, he walked in and greeted Tess, the terra indigene who ran A Little Bite. As he watched her arranging plates of cookies and pastries in the glass display case, he wondered if anyone would come in to buy them.

  “What happens to the food that’s left at the end of the day?” he asked.

  “Usually what can’t be kept for the next day is passed along,” Tess replied. “Meat-n-Greens gets some of it to include in the evening meals served there. The rest is divided among the gards and taken back to the complexes for anyone who wants the food.”

  Footsteps coming from the back of the store.

  Tess lowered her voice. “And on a residents-only day like today, terra indigene who have been curious about what it’s like to be in a coffee shop will venture in for the experience.”

  How many of the Others living in the Courtyard wouldn’t come to the coffee shop because it was open to humans? Did they resent the human employees who worked in the Market Square and were allowed to shop there? Or was it a case of numbers? A handful of humans posed no danger and therefore could be tolerated, but a shop filled with humans was a place to avoid?

  Did the terra indigene who lived and worked in the Courtyards feel the pressure of being surrounded by an enemy day after day? Or did they find relief in knowing at least some of their kind would always survive a conflict simply because they were so devastatingly lethal?

  And what did that say about Simon Wolfgard’s unprecedented decision to allow even a few humans beyond the Human Liaison to interact with the Others living in the Courtyard?

  He saw them enter the main part of the coffee shop—six males and two females. Based on general rules of coloring, three males had the amber eyes of the Wolves, one male and one female had the black hair and eyes of the Crows, and he couldn’t tell whether the rest were Hawks or Owls or a kind of earth native he hadn’t seen before.

  “I won’t disturb your guests,” Monty said quietly. “I’ll wait for Officer Kowalski outside.”

  “Stay,” Tess said. It was more command than request.

  Monty hesitated a moment, then, with a nod to the group still huddled near the back hallway, he took a seat at a table close to the archway leading into Howling Good Reads.

  Tess pointed at the other tables. “Sit.”

  Wary, always watching him, they split up and sat at tables that were the farthest they could get from him. And all of them chose chairs that kept him in sight.

  Kowalski opened the front door and came in. He gave the Others a startled glance, confirming Monty’s suspicion that these terra indigene weren’t usually seen by the humans who were allowed in the Courtyard. Giving them all a nod, Kowalski joined his lieutenant.

  Tess brought a tray to their table. She set out two mugs of coffee, along with a small bowl of sugar and a little pitcher of cream. She also gave them silverware and napkins. Then she handed them both a sheet of heavy paper that had a printed menu.

  No doubt intending to make a comment about being given a menu, Kowalski opened his mouth, took one look at Tess’s hair, which suddenly had green streaks and started curling, and said nothing.

  “Our sandwiches today are sliced beef or chicken. I also have a quiche with a side of fresh fruit,” Tess said. “Those are in addition to our usual menu.”

  We’re a demonstration, Monty realized. A live training film showing what to do in a particular situation. That’s why Tess wanted us to stay. “I’ll have the quiche and fresh fruit.”

  When Tess looked at Kowalski, Karl said, “I’d like the beef sandwich.”

  “Would you like a side of fresh fruit with that?” Tess asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  Merri Lee came out of the back and slipped behind the counter. The human woman looked a little bruised around the eyes. Could be nothing more than lack of sleep. Like Heather Houghton, Merri Lee was a student at Lakeside University, and Monty remembered the late nights of studying for a test or writing a paper that was due the next day.

  So it could be nothing more than lack of sleep. Or it could be something else. Since Karl was making an effort not to notice, he would find out later if his officer had heard something.

  Tess took the orders from the terra indigene, then helped Merri Lee get everyone served.

  They watched him, those Wolves and Crows and the rest. They watched how he spread a napkin on his lap, then, after a moment’s hesitation, did the same thing. They watched what utensil he used and what, like Karl’s sandwich, could be eaten with hands. They watched Merri Lee walking around the tables, refilling coffee mugs and water glasses.

  They watched, and as he listened to Karl chatting about the workout equipment at Run & Thump and the new book his fiancée, Ruth, was waiting for, Monty slowly realized these terra indigene weren’t from the Courtyard. At least, not this Courtyard. Maybe they’d made some of the deliveries of meat and produce and had decided to stop in the coffee shop before heading home. Maybe they were here for a meeting with Simon Wolfgard. Maybe they had come in from a settlement in the wild country that had little or no contact with humans.

  Whoever they were and wherever they came from, it wasn’t just the coffee shop that was a new experience for them. Just being around a human was something they’d nev
er done before. At least, it wasn’t something they’d done when they weren’t intending to kill and eat the human. Now here they were, drinking coffee and consuming pastries and sandwiches while responding to Merri Lee’s friendly comments with stiff, precise words, like travelers who used a foreign-language phrase book to communicate.

  Would they go to Howling Good Reads next and purchase books to learn how to use human money?

  For the first time since he started coming into A Little Bite, Tess gave them a bill. Feeling more and more like an actor in a play, Monty pulled out his wallet, refusing Kowalski’s offer to pay for half. Tess brought back the change, and he and Karl discussed the correct percentage for a tip. They didn’t raise their voices. In fact, he spoke more softly than usual. But he knew every one of the terra indigene heard what they said and filed it away.

  It was a relief to leave and get into the patrol car. Kowalski started the car but didn’t put it in gear.

  “That was weird,” Kowalski said. “I remember my dad taking a bunch of us kids to an ice-cream parlor and doing much the same thing, talking about tips and reminding us of the correct behavior we’d discussed on the way to the shop. Only, none of the kids he was teaching could have bitten his arms off if they didn’t like what he said.”

  “Have you ever wondered how the Others choose the teachers who show them how to be human?” Monty asked.

  Karl gave him a wary look. “They’re never human, Lieutenant. They just mimic us to get what they want.”

  Monty nodded. “Yes. They mimic. And you’re right. They will never be human. But it occurred to me that who the Others choose as a template determines if they mimic the best or the worst of what it means to be human.”

  Karl sighed. “I guess that makes us templates.”

  “Yes, it does,” Monty agreed. “And that makes me hopeful for all of us.”

  As they pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the Chestnut Street station, Monty wondered if the visitors at the Courtyard were somehow connected to the deaths in Walnut Grove.