Written In Red: A Novel of the Others Page 6

  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.”

  “Yes, sir,” Monty said. That had been one of Elayne’s objections to moving to Lakeside: there was no way to believe social connections meant anything when you couldn’t forget you were nothing more than clever meat.

  “This Chestnut Street station covers the district that includes the Lakeside Courtyard,” Burke said. “You have the assignment of being the intermediary between the police and the Others.”

  “Sir . . .” Monty started to protest.

  “You’ll have three officers answering to you directly. Officer Kowalski will be your driver and partner; Officers MacDonald and Debany will take the second-shift patrol but will report any incidents to you day or night. Elliot Wolfgard is the consul who talks to the mayor and shakes hands with other government officials, but you’d be better off becoming acquainted with Simon Wolfgard. For one thing, he manages a terra indigene store that has human employees and tolerates human customers. For another, I believe he has a lot more influence in the Courtyard than our governing body thinks he does.”

  “Yes, sir.” Deal directly with the Others? Maybe it wasn’t too late to go back to Toland and find some other kind of work. Even if Elayne wouldn’t take him back, he’d still be closer to Lizzy.

  Burke stood and came around his desk, gesturing for Monty to remain seated. After a long look, he said, “Do you know about the Drowned City?”

  Monty nodded. “It’s an urban legend.”

  “No. It’s not.” Burke picked up a letter opener from his desk, turned it over and over, then set it back down. “My grandfather was in one of the rescue teams that went to find the survivors. He never spoke of it until the day I graduated from the police academy. Then he sat me down and told me what happened.

  “From what was pieced together afterward, three young men, all full of loud talk, decided getting rid of the Others would put humans in control, would be the first step in our dominating this continent. So they dumped fifty-gallon drums of poison into the creek that supplied the water for that Courtyard.

  “The Others caught the men on land that was under human control, so they called the police. The men were taken to the station, and their punishment should have been handled by human law and in human courts.”

  Burke’s expression turned grimmer. “Turned out that one of those young men was the nephew of some bigwig. So it was argued that while those boys were standing next to the drums, no one saw them dump the poison into the creek. They were released, and the city government was foolish enough to let them publicly declare their ‘actions without consequences’ as a victory for humankind. And the terra indigene watched and listened.

  “Late that night, it started to rain. The skies opened up and the water came down so hard and so fast, the underpasses were flooded and the creeks and streams had overflowed their banks before anyone realized there was trouble. Precise lightning strikes knocked out electric power all over the city. Phone lines went down about the same time. Middle of the night. No way to see in the dark, no way to call for help. And it kept raining.

  “Sinkholes big enough to swallow tractor trailers cut off every road leading out of the city. Bridge supports that had held for a hundred years were torn out of the ground. Localized earthquakes shook buildings into pieces, while sinkholes swallowed others. And it kept raining.

  “People drowned in their own cars trying to escape—or in their own homes when they couldn’t even try to get away.

  “The rain stopped falling at dawn. Truckers coming into the city for early-morning deliveries were the first ones to realize something had happened and called for help. They found cars packed with women and children floating in fields on either side of the road.”

  Burke cleared his throat. “Somehow cars that just had women and children got out. And most men who were around the same age as the ones who had poisoned the Others’ water supply didn’t die of drowning.”

  Monty watched Burke’s face and said nothing. This was nothing like the version of the Drowned City he’d heard.

  “As the water began to recede, rescue teams in boats went in to find survivors. They weren’t many beyond the ones who had been washed out of the city. There wasn’t a government building or a police station still standing. My grandfather’s rescue team got close to the Courtyard and saw what watched them. That was their first—and only—look at the truth about the Courtyards and the terra indigene.”

  Burke took a breath and blew it out slowly as he returned to his chair behind the desk and sa
t down. “The Others, like the shape-shifters and bloodsuckers? The ones who venture out to shop in human stores and interact with humans? They’re the buffer, Lieutenant. As lethal as they are, they are the least of what lives in a Courtyard. What lives unseen . . . My grandfather said the term used in confidential reports was Elementals. He wouldn’t explain what they were, but a lifetime after he saw them, his hands still shook when he said the word.”

  Monty shivered.

  Burke linked his fingers and pressed his fisted hands on the desk. “I don’t want Lakeside to become another Drowned City, and I expect you to help me make sure that doesn’t happen. We’ve already got one black mark. We can’t afford another. We clear on that, Lieutenant?”

  “We’re clear, sir,” Monty replied. He wanted to ask about that black mark, but he had enough to think about today.

  “Stop by your desk to pick up your cards and mobile phone. Officer Kowalski will be waiting for you there.”

  He stood up, since it was clear that Burke was done with him. With a nod to his captain, Monty turned to leave.

  “Do you know the joke about what happened to the dinosaurs?” Burke asked as Monty opened the office door.

  He turned back, offering the other man a hesitant smile. “No, sir. What happened to the dinosaurs?”

  Burke didn’t smile. “The Others is what happened to the dinosaurs.”

  * * *

  Officer Karl Kowalski was a personable, good-looking man in his late twenties who knew how to handle a car on Lakeside’s snowy streets.

  “Hope the salt trucks and sanders make a pass pretty soon,” Kowalski said as they watched the car in front of them slide through a traffic light. “Otherwise, we’re going to spend the day dealing with fender benders and cars that spun out and are stuck.”

  “Is that what we’re checking out?” Monty asked, opening the small notebook he carried everywhere.

  “Hope so.”

  An odd answer, since their first call was to check out a car abandoned on Parkside Avenue.

  Monty checked the notes he’d made. “A plow spotted the car late last night but it wasn’t reported to us until this morning? Why the delay?”

  “Car could have slid off the road and gotten stuck,” Kowalski replied. “Owner could have called a friend and gotten a ride home, intending to deal with the car in the morning. Or he could have called a towing service and found shelter somewhere, since every towing business would have lists of calls in weather like this, and it could have taken the truck hours to get to the owner of this car.”

  “But the car is still there.”

  “Yes, sir. The car is still there, so now it’s time for us to take a look.” Kowalski pulled up behind the abandoned car and turned on the patrol car’s flashing lights. He looked toward the bushes that provided a privacy screen behind a long stretch of fence. “Ah, sh— Sorry, Lieutenant.”

  Monty looked at what might have been a trail from the car to the fence. “What is it?”

  “Nothing good,” Kowalski replied grimly as he got out of the patrol car.

  Monty got out, testing the ground beneath the snow to make sure he wasn’t going to tumble into a ditch. Reassured, he plowed through the snow next to the indentation that might have been another person’s footprints.

  Caw caw

  He glanced to his right at the handful of birds perched in the nearby trees.

  The chest-high fence didn’t have those decorative spikes to deter someone from scrambling over. The bushes wouldn’t be much of a wall, especially if someone hopped the fence to look for help. Noticing the broken tops of two bushes, Monty reached over the fence and parted them.

  Caw caw

  “Oh, gods, there’s a lot of blood,” Monty said, catching sight of the trampled snow beyond the bushes. “Give me a boost. Someone’s hurt and needs help.”

  “Lieutenant.” Kowalski grabbed Monty’s arm and hauled him back a couple of steps before saying in a low voice, “That’s the Courtyard. Believe me, there is no one wounded on the other side of that fence.”

  Hearing fear beneath the conviction in Kowalski’s voice, Monty looked around. The handful of Crows had swelled to over a dozen, and more were flying toward them. A Hawk perched on top of the streetlight and another soared overhead. And all of them were watching him and Kowalski.

  Then Monty heard the howling.

  “We need to go back to the car now,” Kowalski said.

  Nodding, Monty led the way back to the car. As soon as they were inside, Kowalski locked the doors and started the engine, turning the heater up all the way.

  “I thought the barrier between humans and Others would be more . . . substantial,” Monty said, shaken. “That’s really the Courtyard?”

  “That’s it,” Kowalski said, studying Monty. “You didn’t work near the Courtyard in Toland?”

  Monty shook his head. “Never got near it.” He noticed that Kowalski’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking. “You sure there’s nobody hurt on the other side of that fence?”

  “I’m sure.” Kowalski tipped his head to indicate the open land on the other side of the four-lane avenue. “Once the tow truck arrives, we can check the cairn to find out who went over the fence.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Every Courtyard has its own policy when it comes to dealing with humans. The Wolfgard have been running this one for the past few years, and their rules are clear. Kids who hop the fence to look around on a dare get tossed back over the fence and sat on until we pick them up and arrest them for trespassing. Teenagers will get roughed up, maybe get a bad bite or a broken bone before they’re tossed back over the fence. But any adult who goes in without an invitation doesn’t come back out. And if any human—kid, teen, or adult—hops that fence and is carrying a weapon . . .” Kowalski shook his head. “The Others will leave wallets, keys, and other belongings at the cairn so we know that person isn’t coming back. We fill out a DLU form. You know about those?”

  Monty shook his head.

  “DLU. Deceased, Location Unknown. A family needs one of those to get the death certificates when a body can’t be produced.”

  Monty stared at the bushes and thought about the trampled snow and the blood.

  Kowalski nodded. “Yeah. With a DLU, we all try hard not to think about what happened to the body, because thinking about it doesn’t do anybody any good.”

  How many people in Toland who had been listed as missing were actually DLU? “What’s so special about the cairn?”

  Kowalski checked the trees and streetlight. Monty didn’t think there had been any change in the number of Others watching them, but his partner would have a better sense of that.

  “Two years ago, Daphne Wolfgard and her young son were out running. Right around here, in fact. She was shot and killed by one man. The other man shot at her son but missed. They drove away before the Wolves reached her or had a chance to go after the men. But the Wolves found the spot in the park where the men had waited to take a shot at whatever might get within range. They followed the men’s scent, but lost the trail where a getaway vehicle must have been parked.

  “That spring the Others planted all those junipers to limit the line of sight, and our mayor and Lakeside’s governing body changed the parkland directly across from the Courtyard to a wildlife sanctuary that is off-limits to people, except for guided walks and restricted hunting. Anyone caught in the park at night is arrested and fined. Anyone caught with a weapon at any time goes to jail unless it’s deer season and every person in that party has a permit for bow hunting.

  “Captain Burke pushed hard to find the men who killed Daphne Wolfgard, but it looks like they left Lakeside right after that. Speculation was they weren’t from Lakeside to begin with—just came in for a trophy kill and then disappeared. It’s still an open case.”

  “Why keep it open?”

  Kowalski’s smile was grim. “Did you wonder about the water tax, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, I wondered.” He’
d been shocked when his landlady explained her strict rules about water usage. Other tenants in his building told him about using the water in the rain barrels for washing cars and watering the little kitchen garden. It had struck him as odd that no one wanted to tell him why there was a tax on water when they lived right next to the lake that supplied it.

  “The Others control all the fresh water. Rates for water and the lease for the farmland that supplies most of the food for Lakeside are negotiated with this Courtyard. The year Daphne Wolfgard died, a water tax was added to the standard rates. Nothing was said then, and nothing has been said since, but the captain keeps the case open because what also isn’t said is that if the men responsible for the murder are caught and punished, that tax will go away.”

  Monty drew in a breath. “Is that why you took this assignment? For the hazard pay?”

  Kowalski nodded. “I’m getting married in six months. That extra check each month will help us pay the bills. You take a risk every time you encounter one of the Others, because you never know if they’re going to look at you and see a meal. They’re dangerous, and that’s the truth of it, but a person can deal with them if he’s careful.”

  “The fence is the boundary?” he asked.

  “Nah, their land comes right up to the road. The fence is more a warning than a barricade. In between the road and fence is considered an access corridor for utilities and city workers.”

  “Who are watched,” Monty said, looking at the Hawk who stared right back at him.

  “Always. And they watch a lot more than the Courtyard and the park.” Kowalski checked his mirror. “There’s the tow truck and another patrol car. If that team can stay with the truck, we can leave.”

  As Kowalski opened his door to go talk to the other officers, Monty thought of what would happen after they checked the cairn. “When there’s a DLU, who informs the families?” Please don’t let it be me.

  Kowalski paused with the door open. “There are a special team of investigators and a grief counselor who take care of that.” He closed the door.