Etched in Bone
Page 132
“Mr. Wolfgard has more information,” O’Sullivan boomed.
The chattering human squirrels shut up and stared at him. That annoyed him enough that he wanted to nip someone, but he decided to take advantage of the momentary quiet and told them about Meg’s dream.
“A white hand,” O’Sullivan murmured. “Not Cyrus Montgomery, then. As a member of the governor’s Investigative Task Force, I can mobilize the police in every city in the Northeast.”
“Hasn’t the governor already done that?” Ruthie asked.
“Yes, but my being part of ITF means they’ll give any requests coming from me or the other agents top priority.” O’Sullivan looked at Simon. “Any sense from Meg if the body was adult? Male or female?”
Simon tried to think. Couldn’t remember.
“Well, I’ll do what I can,” O’Sullivan said.
Simon understood what wasn’t said: there were a lot of humans missing these days. Some had disappeared by choice, while others hadn’t survived the Elders’ wrath. A lot of those bodies would never be found.
O’Sullivan hurried back to the consulate to make his phone calls, leaving Simon with the female pack.
“We’ll find her,” Ruthie said.
“She didn’t see anyone else in the dream?” Merri Lee asked. “Then she got away from that man.”
Alone and thirsty and scared. Was that better? “When?” he countered. “A day from now? A month? A year?”
“Why not an hour ago?” Merri Lee demanded. “Meg is smart.”
Simon retreated to HGR. Yes, Meg was smart and had escaped a bad human once before. But he also knew better than the female pack how many “smart” blood prophets had died in the past few weeks when they could no longer cope with the outside world.
• • •
The Elders’ anger rippled beneath the skin of the world, making big trees shiver, scaring flocks of birds into flight. The Elementals’ fury was a scent in the air, a taste in all the creeks and streams that flowed in the Northeast.
That anger, that fury, became a message to all the terra indigene.
The sweet blood. The howling not-Wolf. Broomstick Girl. Taken away from the terra indigene by a human.
Find the human.
But more important, find the not-Wolf.
• • •
Jimmy backed into what looked like a farm road—dirt with no road sign or marker at all. Taking a bottle of water, he walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk.
“You want some water, cha-ching?”
“My name is Meg!”
“Now it’s cha-ching. You know why? Because that’s the sound of money.” He opened the bottle of water and tipped it so the water began to pour onto the ground.
“Stop!” Meg said.
“Ask nice.” He saw the defiance in her eyes. Well, he could fix that. He dropped the water bottle, shoved her back in the trunk when she tried to scramble out, and pulled the razor out of his pocket. He pinned her down with one hand, flicked the razor open, and held it over her face. “You sass me, I’ll cut your face. I’ll cut you so much you won’t look human anymore and people will run from you, screaming. You want that? Do you? Answer me!”
“N-no.”
“Then do what you’re told.” Remembering the way she became a hot pussy after speaking prophecy, he added, “And maybe I’ll give you something nice.”
Yeah, he could haul her out of the trunk and put her on the backseat for a few minutes. Maybe even let her stay there for a while as a reward.
He grabbed her right arm, moved it into position, and made another cut across the old scars. “Where do I go to keep ahead of the cops? Speak!”
“Crows watching roads. Photo of Cyrus Montgomery. Crows looking at cars. Calling police.”
“Where?” Jimmy shouted. Fuck! They had a photo of him? “Where?”
She sighed, her visions revealed.
He pulled her up and made another cut. “How do I avoid the fucking birds?”
He listened hard, too scared to be distracted by lust as she spoke route numbers and a name. He listened, looked at his wristwatch. “Shit.” Had to get moving right now if he was going to stay ahead of the search.
He closed the trunk, got back in the car, and drove off as fast as he dared. He had to find that roadside diner where he could blend in. If the cops put up a roadblock before he reached it, he didn’t know the names of any places where humans were living around here—if there were any places. But as sure as shit, the cops would know. No reason to think they knew about the car yet, so he just needed to find a place to catch his breath. Needed to get ahead of the freaking birds and the freaking cops.
Jimmy drove, glancing in the rearview mirror, looking to either side, as sweat beaded his face and made his hands slick on the wheel.
Maybe the cops weren’t the worst things looking for him.
• • •
The visions from old prophecies collided with the images from the new cuts, producing things that looked so bizarre they made her queasy. Clocks melted, dripping over the edges of tables like ice cream on a summer day, and Skippy ate all the numbers that ran off the clockfaces. Stumps of trees tore roots out of the ground to become twisted legs that scampered through the woods while the stumps themselves sprouted black feathers on the tops and grew huge mouths with teeth made of saws. Just before her mind shut down, Meg saw a series of images that revealed the next stage of the journey. Then rocks rolled together to form the shape of a wolf—and they howled.
The chattering human squirrels shut up and stared at him. That annoyed him enough that he wanted to nip someone, but he decided to take advantage of the momentary quiet and told them about Meg’s dream.
“A white hand,” O’Sullivan murmured. “Not Cyrus Montgomery, then. As a member of the governor’s Investigative Task Force, I can mobilize the police in every city in the Northeast.”
“Hasn’t the governor already done that?” Ruthie asked.
“Yes, but my being part of ITF means they’ll give any requests coming from me or the other agents top priority.” O’Sullivan looked at Simon. “Any sense from Meg if the body was adult? Male or female?”
Simon tried to think. Couldn’t remember.
“Well, I’ll do what I can,” O’Sullivan said.
Simon understood what wasn’t said: there were a lot of humans missing these days. Some had disappeared by choice, while others hadn’t survived the Elders’ wrath. A lot of those bodies would never be found.
O’Sullivan hurried back to the consulate to make his phone calls, leaving Simon with the female pack.
“We’ll find her,” Ruthie said.
“She didn’t see anyone else in the dream?” Merri Lee asked. “Then she got away from that man.”
Alone and thirsty and scared. Was that better? “When?” he countered. “A day from now? A month? A year?”
“Why not an hour ago?” Merri Lee demanded. “Meg is smart.”
Simon retreated to HGR. Yes, Meg was smart and had escaped a bad human once before. But he also knew better than the female pack how many “smart” blood prophets had died in the past few weeks when they could no longer cope with the outside world.
• • •
The Elders’ anger rippled beneath the skin of the world, making big trees shiver, scaring flocks of birds into flight. The Elementals’ fury was a scent in the air, a taste in all the creeks and streams that flowed in the Northeast.
That anger, that fury, became a message to all the terra indigene.
The sweet blood. The howling not-Wolf. Broomstick Girl. Taken away from the terra indigene by a human.
Find the human.
But more important, find the not-Wolf.
• • •
Jimmy backed into what looked like a farm road—dirt with no road sign or marker at all. Taking a bottle of water, he walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk.
“You want some water, cha-ching?”
“My name is Meg!”
“Now it’s cha-ching. You know why? Because that’s the sound of money.” He opened the bottle of water and tipped it so the water began to pour onto the ground.
“Stop!” Meg said.
“Ask nice.” He saw the defiance in her eyes. Well, he could fix that. He dropped the water bottle, shoved her back in the trunk when she tried to scramble out, and pulled the razor out of his pocket. He pinned her down with one hand, flicked the razor open, and held it over her face. “You sass me, I’ll cut your face. I’ll cut you so much you won’t look human anymore and people will run from you, screaming. You want that? Do you? Answer me!”
“N-no.”
“Then do what you’re told.” Remembering the way she became a hot pussy after speaking prophecy, he added, “And maybe I’ll give you something nice.”
Yeah, he could haul her out of the trunk and put her on the backseat for a few minutes. Maybe even let her stay there for a while as a reward.
He grabbed her right arm, moved it into position, and made another cut across the old scars. “Where do I go to keep ahead of the cops? Speak!”
“Crows watching roads. Photo of Cyrus Montgomery. Crows looking at cars. Calling police.”
“Where?” Jimmy shouted. Fuck! They had a photo of him? “Where?”
She sighed, her visions revealed.
He pulled her up and made another cut. “How do I avoid the fucking birds?”
He listened hard, too scared to be distracted by lust as she spoke route numbers and a name. He listened, looked at his wristwatch. “Shit.” Had to get moving right now if he was going to stay ahead of the search.
He closed the trunk, got back in the car, and drove off as fast as he dared. He had to find that roadside diner where he could blend in. If the cops put up a roadblock before he reached it, he didn’t know the names of any places where humans were living around here—if there were any places. But as sure as shit, the cops would know. No reason to think they knew about the car yet, so he just needed to find a place to catch his breath. Needed to get ahead of the freaking birds and the freaking cops.
Jimmy drove, glancing in the rearview mirror, looking to either side, as sweat beaded his face and made his hands slick on the wheel.
Maybe the cops weren’t the worst things looking for him.
• • •
The visions from old prophecies collided with the images from the new cuts, producing things that looked so bizarre they made her queasy. Clocks melted, dripping over the edges of tables like ice cream on a summer day, and Skippy ate all the numbers that ran off the clockfaces. Stumps of trees tore roots out of the ground to become twisted legs that scampered through the woods while the stumps themselves sprouted black feathers on the tops and grew huge mouths with teeth made of saws. Just before her mind shut down, Meg saw a series of images that revealed the next stage of the journey. Then rocks rolled together to form the shape of a wolf—and they howled.
