Etched in Bone
Page 34
“All meat hopped or ran or flew before it became meat,” Henry said. “That is the way of things.”
She nodded. That was the way of things. But the raw truth was a little harder to accept.
• • •
Shit, fuck, damn, Simon thought when Henry told him about Meg’s discovery. “Better tell whoever is cooking at Meat-n-Greens today not to put rabbit on the menu board.”
“I already did,” Henry said. “But that one looked like it was eaten where it was caught.”
When she saw an injured bunny, Meg’s feelings would have gone all gooey. A Wolf, seeing the same thing, would have grabbed the quick meal and taken it to the Wolfgard Complex for the pups or eaten it himself.
“I will go back and dispose of the bones and scraps,” Henry said. “You should find something to distract our Meg so she doesn’t spend the day thinking about the rabbit.”
“There’s not . . .” Simon looked at the box that had been picked up at the train station early that morning. “I might have something to distract her.” Of course, he hadn’t done more than glance at the books Jesse Walker had sent for his review and had no idea if they were exciting mystery-thrillers with lots of chasing or scary stories. Well, if the books scared Meg and she kicked him because of bad dreams, he couldn’t snarl at anyone but himself.
Simon picked up the box and left the office, pausing long enough to tell Vlad he was going to the Liaison’s Office.
The back door of the Liaison’s Office was locked. He’d expected that. What he hadn’t expected was to hear a footstep on the stairs above him and see Greg O’Sullivan looking down at him, a hand on the service weapon the ITF agent carried.
“Mr. Wolfgard.” O’Sullivan’s hand moved away from the weapon. He came down the stairs, his steps quick and light. “Didn’t know it was you.”
Simon watched the agent. Nadine Fallacaro and Eve Denby both said the second room above the office was similar to a hotel room, with the perk of a small fridge to hold cold drinks or snacks. O’Sullivan had been happy to become the tenant, saying it was more secure than a regular hotel room, and he could leave personal items there when he needed to travel back to Hubbney and report to Governor Hannigan. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“No, but I’d heard that, during the job fair, a few people had been poking around where they didn’t belong—and I thought I heard someone testing the back door late last night. Just wanted to make sure no one was trying to bother Ms. Corbyn.”
A different kind of watch Wolf, Simon decided as he studied O’Sullivan. Not an unattached male sniffing around his Meg, but a member of the larger pack committed to protecting the territory that sheltered all of them—which meant O’Sullivan needed to be warned about the Courtyard’s guests.
Simon hadn’t seen them, had been too busy dealing with humans to even sense their presence or catch their scent. But Kowalski had called Blair last night, and after the dominant enforcer had sniffed the ground around Kowalski and Ruthie’s den this morning, Blair told Simon that two of the Elders had returned to Lakeside. That was the reason he had asked Henry to delay going to the Market Square—so that Meg wouldn’t be walking alone. And that was why Henry had been there when Meg found the bunny backbone.
He wasn’t ready to discuss that with the humans, so he changed the subject. “Katherine Debany is starting her new job at the consulate.”
“I met her yesterday,” O’Sullivan said. “And Miss Twyla.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Made me feel like I was being scrutinized by two strict but affectionate aunts. I checked all the drawers in the desk I’m using to make sure there wasn’t anything there that might get me into trouble. I have a feeling those two have heard the ‘it isn’t mine’ defense too many times to believe it.”
The ITF agent had struck Simon as intense and distant, focused on his job and more of a lone wolf. Now he saw a glimpse of the juvenile the man had been. “Older females are good for a pack.”
O’Sullivan smiled and made a noncommittal sound before heading to A Little Bite for breakfast.
Simon unlocked the back door of the Liaison’s Office, walked in, and heard something make a rhythmic slap, slap, slap on wood. “Meg?”
<She is restless,> Nathan reported from his spot in the front room. <And she’s angry at the mail.>
Meg slapped another letter on the sorting room table. Simon approached the table cautiously and set the box on a corner. “Meg?”
“I don’t want to be a bunny! Bunnies get eaten!”
“Sooner or later, everything gets eaten,” he countered.
She growled at him. She looked as ferocious as a puppy. He wanted to give her a couple of licks and find a toy. If they could play for a few minutes, she would forget about the bunny.
No, she wouldn’t. Meg wasn’t a puppy, and she didn’t forget something once she’d seen it. At least, she didn’t forget something she’d seen unless it was veiled by the euphoria that was produced by cutting.
He didn’t like that thought, so he picked up the box and put it in front of her. “When you’re done with the mail, I need a favor.”
Meg frowned at the box. “A favor?”
“Jesse Walker sent me some books that we don’t sell at Howling Good Reads.”
It was a shame Meg couldn’t prick her ears to show interest. It certainly looked like she wanted to.
She nodded. That was the way of things. But the raw truth was a little harder to accept.
• • •
Shit, fuck, damn, Simon thought when Henry told him about Meg’s discovery. “Better tell whoever is cooking at Meat-n-Greens today not to put rabbit on the menu board.”
“I already did,” Henry said. “But that one looked like it was eaten where it was caught.”
When she saw an injured bunny, Meg’s feelings would have gone all gooey. A Wolf, seeing the same thing, would have grabbed the quick meal and taken it to the Wolfgard Complex for the pups or eaten it himself.
“I will go back and dispose of the bones and scraps,” Henry said. “You should find something to distract our Meg so she doesn’t spend the day thinking about the rabbit.”
“There’s not . . .” Simon looked at the box that had been picked up at the train station early that morning. “I might have something to distract her.” Of course, he hadn’t done more than glance at the books Jesse Walker had sent for his review and had no idea if they were exciting mystery-thrillers with lots of chasing or scary stories. Well, if the books scared Meg and she kicked him because of bad dreams, he couldn’t snarl at anyone but himself.
Simon picked up the box and left the office, pausing long enough to tell Vlad he was going to the Liaison’s Office.
The back door of the Liaison’s Office was locked. He’d expected that. What he hadn’t expected was to hear a footstep on the stairs above him and see Greg O’Sullivan looking down at him, a hand on the service weapon the ITF agent carried.
“Mr. Wolfgard.” O’Sullivan’s hand moved away from the weapon. He came down the stairs, his steps quick and light. “Didn’t know it was you.”
Simon watched the agent. Nadine Fallacaro and Eve Denby both said the second room above the office was similar to a hotel room, with the perk of a small fridge to hold cold drinks or snacks. O’Sullivan had been happy to become the tenant, saying it was more secure than a regular hotel room, and he could leave personal items there when he needed to travel back to Hubbney and report to Governor Hannigan. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“No, but I’d heard that, during the job fair, a few people had been poking around where they didn’t belong—and I thought I heard someone testing the back door late last night. Just wanted to make sure no one was trying to bother Ms. Corbyn.”
A different kind of watch Wolf, Simon decided as he studied O’Sullivan. Not an unattached male sniffing around his Meg, but a member of the larger pack committed to protecting the territory that sheltered all of them—which meant O’Sullivan needed to be warned about the Courtyard’s guests.
Simon hadn’t seen them, had been too busy dealing with humans to even sense their presence or catch their scent. But Kowalski had called Blair last night, and after the dominant enforcer had sniffed the ground around Kowalski and Ruthie’s den this morning, Blair told Simon that two of the Elders had returned to Lakeside. That was the reason he had asked Henry to delay going to the Market Square—so that Meg wouldn’t be walking alone. And that was why Henry had been there when Meg found the bunny backbone.
He wasn’t ready to discuss that with the humans, so he changed the subject. “Katherine Debany is starting her new job at the consulate.”
“I met her yesterday,” O’Sullivan said. “And Miss Twyla.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Made me feel like I was being scrutinized by two strict but affectionate aunts. I checked all the drawers in the desk I’m using to make sure there wasn’t anything there that might get me into trouble. I have a feeling those two have heard the ‘it isn’t mine’ defense too many times to believe it.”
The ITF agent had struck Simon as intense and distant, focused on his job and more of a lone wolf. Now he saw a glimpse of the juvenile the man had been. “Older females are good for a pack.”
O’Sullivan smiled and made a noncommittal sound before heading to A Little Bite for breakfast.
Simon unlocked the back door of the Liaison’s Office, walked in, and heard something make a rhythmic slap, slap, slap on wood. “Meg?”
<She is restless,> Nathan reported from his spot in the front room. <And she’s angry at the mail.>
Meg slapped another letter on the sorting room table. Simon approached the table cautiously and set the box on a corner. “Meg?”
“I don’t want to be a bunny! Bunnies get eaten!”
“Sooner or later, everything gets eaten,” he countered.
She growled at him. She looked as ferocious as a puppy. He wanted to give her a couple of licks and find a toy. If they could play for a few minutes, she would forget about the bunny.
No, she wouldn’t. Meg wasn’t a puppy, and she didn’t forget something once she’d seen it. At least, she didn’t forget something she’d seen unless it was veiled by the euphoria that was produced by cutting.
He didn’t like that thought, so he picked up the box and put it in front of her. “When you’re done with the mail, I need a favor.”
Meg frowned at the box. “A favor?”
“Jesse Walker sent me some books that we don’t sell at Howling Good Reads.”
It was a shame Meg couldn’t prick her ears to show interest. It certainly looked like she wanted to.
