Written In Red Part 12

"She stirred things up."

"You can tell the story any way you like," Vlad said, pus.h.i.+ng off from the doorway. "That's not going to change what is."

"Bite me."

"You're too sour today. I'd rather . . ."

Simon shot to his feet.

Vlad stared at Simon, then held up his hands. "I'm going over there at her request to answer her questions-nothing more. You have my word on that, Wolfgard."

It was foolish to fight with a friend when he knew Vlad was pulling his tail because of his behavior yesterday, and it was worse than foolish to fight with one of the Sanguinati. But it took more effort than it should have to accept Vlad's word.

Forcing himself to s.h.i.+ft all the way back to human, Simon sat down and picked up a pen as if everything was settled. "If you have to sample someone, do us all a favor and bite Asia Crane."

Vlad laughed. "Now you're just being mean."

Based on the pictures she had studied as part of her identification training, Vlad would have been labeled the tall, dark stranger, the dangerous thrill.

He scared her. His movements were more sinuous than the other earth natives she'd seen. They practically shouted they were predators. With Vlad, she didn't think humans realized the danger until it was too late.

And yet he was courteous and didn't crowd her while he checked the labels on the boxes she had set aside, and agreed that they should go on the trucks delivering supplies to other terra indigene.

He called Jester and asked for a pony and sled to transport the packages, explaining while they waited that the drivers would know better which packages should go in which truck.

Jester arrived with a pony named Twister, and he and Vlad loaded the packages into the small sled. Then Twister pulled the sled to the area where the trucks were parked.

"If there is nothing else, I must get back to the store," Vlad said with a smile. "Simon is doing paperwork today, so it's better for the customers if someone else deals with them." As he walked away, he added, "But I expect the Wolfgard will be ready for a break and some fresh air around lunchtime."

Which meant the Wolf might poke his nose around the office and find something else she had done wrong-at least according to the whims of Simon Wolfgard.

"What are you going to do with these packages?" Jester asked, looking at the ones still on the handcart. "Do you want me to send Twister back for them?"

"No," Meg said quickly. "I thought I would take out the BOW and deliver these in person. You did say I could do that as part of my duties."

"Yes, I did." The laughter in his eyes told her plainly enough he knew why she didn't want to be around during the lunch break. "Have you unhooked the BOW from its energy cord yet?"

She shook her head. That was just one of the things she hadn't tried to do yet.

"Then I'll do that and bring it around for you this time."

"Would it be all right if I take the map with me until I learn my way around?"

No laughter now. "It's not something you want to misplace."

Or give to anyone else. "I'll be careful with it."

A different kind of laughter filled his eyes now. Sharp, almost predatory. "Why don't I get another copy for you at the Three Ps? It's just across the way. Lorne is a human, but he's dependable despite that." Jester's smile told Meg plainly enough that not all humans who had worked for the Others had been dependable. "Three Ps stands for Postage, Printing, and Paper. Lorne sells different kinds of stationery, as well as the stamps needed to mail things outside the Courtyard. And he prints the Courtyard's weekly newsletter."

"You have a newsletter?" Surprise made her blurt out the words.

"Of course we have a newsletter. How else would we know which movies are being shown at the social room in each residential complex? How else would everyone know about the new books that arrived and are available in our library?" Jester pressed one hand to his chest. "How else would we learn from Ms. Know-It-All's column, Others Etiquette'?"

"An advice column?" Meg stared at him. "You're kidding."

"We don't kid about Ms. Know-It-All," he replied. Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed up the map and left.

Meg stood where she was, trying to sort out the words and the change in Jester's att.i.tude when she asked if she could take the map. He'd brought her the map in the first place and warned her to be careful. Now he was telling her where to make copies and that she could buy stamps to mail letters to people outside the Courtyard. Was he trying to get her into trouble?

A test, she thought. Maybe lots of other people had seen the map. Maybe it wasn't as big a secret as she had been led to believe. Maybe this was a way for the Others to decide if they could trust a human. And maybe any human who fails this test is never seen again. I'm going to die in this Courtyard. I know that. Is it because of the map or because I fail some other kind of test?

A couple minutes later, she heard the beep beep of the BOW's horn. Pus.h.i.+ng aside all thoughts of tests, she put her coat on, opened the sorting room's delivery door, and began loading the back of the vehicle.

The BOW really was a box on wheels. It had two seats in the front. The rest of it-what there was of it-was a cargo area.

Plenty of room for a Wolf in the back, Jester told her after he dropped the copy of the map on the pa.s.senger's seat and returned the original to the sorting room. Like she wanted a Wolf breathing down her neck while she was driving-or doing anything else.

Did they all think if they kept mentioning Simon she would forget how scary he had been yesterday? Maybe fear wasn't something the Others retained, but humans certainly did.

Even humans like her.

It was a little before noon when she locked up the office and got in the BOW, making sure she had her pa.s.s in the side pocket of her new purse, where it would be easy to reach.

When Jester tapped on the window, she rolled it down.

"You all set?" he asked.

"All set." She hoped she sounded confident. She really wanted him to go away before she put the BOW in gear.

"I'll tell Tess you'll be by later for your meal."

She wondered what else he was going to tell Tess, but she smiled and said, "Thanks."

The laughter was back in his eyes when she made no move to s.h.i.+ft the gear to drive. Then he walked away.

Recalling training images of car interiors, she found the lights and the winds.h.i.+eld wipers. She found the dial that controlled the heater. Shakily confident that she would be fine-as long as she didn't have to do anything but go forward-she headed out to make her first deliveries.

After a couple of minutes of white-knuckle driving on a road that had been plowed, more or less, Meg began wondering if the pony and sled wouldn't have been a better idea. The pony wouldn't be inclined to slide off the road. Not that the BOW wasn't a game little vehicle. It growled its way up an incline, struggling to find the traction it needed to get to the next piece of level ground.

From what she could tell from the map, she was on the main road that circled the entire Courtyard, so it should be sufficiently cleared all the way around. As long as she didn't stray off it, she should be fine. Besides, the thought of going back and running into Simon was reason enough to keep going forward. That and not knowing how to drive backward.

It wasn't her fault she'd never driven in snow-or in anything else. A sterile, restricted life meant the girls had no other stimulation except the images, sounds, and other visuals in the lessons, and what was used as reference for the prophecies could be verified because it was a.s.sumed all of the girls saw and heard the same thing. And it had been proven by the Walking Names that that kind of life made the girls more accepting of any kind of actual stimulation because they were starved for sensation.

Would the cutting be as compelling if there were other ways to feel pleasure, other sensations?

But that sterile life was her past. Now she was gaining the experience of driving in snow, and as long as she didn't run into another vehicle or end up in a ditch, the Wolf had no reason to criticize.

The road forked. The left fork curved toward the Owlgard Complex and the Pony Barn. The right fork was the main road and had a sign that read, TRESPa.s.sERS WILL BE EATEN.

Meg swallowed hard and continued on the main road, pa.s.sing the Green Complex. Then she pa.s.sed the Ash Grove and the Utilities Complex. Finally she reached the ornate black fences that marked the Chambers, the part of the Courtyard claimed by the Sanguinati.

She tried to pull up some memory about that name, was sure she knew something about them even though the girls had been taught very little about the Others. But Jester's warning when she was packing up the BOW was clear enough.

The fences around the Chambers aren't decorative, Meg. They're boundaries. You never push open a gate and step onto the Sanguinati's land for any reason. Anyone who enters without their consent doesn't leave-and I've never known them to give their consent.

What unnerved her about the words was the certainty that they applied to the rest of the terra indigene as well as humans.

But she didn't have to break the rules to deliver the packages. When she pulled up to the first white marble building positioned in the center of its fenced-in land, she saw nine metal boxes outside the fence, painted black and secured to a stone foundation. They didn't have individual numbers, so they must be used by everyone who lived in the . . . Was that a mausoleum? It seemed small if the handful of names with this particular address actually lived inside.

She opened the door of the first box. Roomy enough for magazines and other mail of similar size. Another box was wider and the packages she had fit well enough. She put packages in three more boxes, then got back into the BOW and went on to the next building.

Four packages for the residents of this part of the Chambers. This time, as she closed the door of the last box, she noticed the soot around the mausoleum. Or was that smoke? Was something on fire inside?

She leaned into the BOW and fumbled for the mobile phone Tess had arranged for her to have. She had dutifully put in the contact numbers for Simon, Tess, and the consulate. But whom should she call to report a fire? How did the Courtyard handle emergencies?

Then the smoke drifted away from the structure with a deliberate change of direction-toward her.

She stopped fumbling for the phone, got into the BOW, and headed for the next fenced area.

This mausoleum didn't look any different from the other two, except there was a smaller one built close to the fence separating the two structures. The walkway from the gate to the elaborately carved wooden door was clear of snow, as was the marble stoop.

Smoke drifted close to the fences.

Jester didn't say she wouldn't be harmed if she was on this side of the fence. He just said being harmed was a certainty if she went inside the fenced area.

Maybe they would appreciate someone finally delivering their packages?

Tucking her pa.s.s inside the coat pocket, she got out of the BOW, raised the back door, pulled out the packages, and filled several of the boxes.

Then she pulled out a package for Mr. Erebus Sanguinati. It was one of the packages shoved farthest back in that corner of the sorting room, so it had been there for weeks, maybe even months.

It wasn't a heavy package, but it was square rather than a rectangle, making it too high to fit into the metal boxes. She chewed on her lower lip, wondering what she should do.

"Something wrong?"

She stumbled back a step. She hadn't seen anyone approach, hadn't heard anyone, but a beautiful woman with dark eyes and black hair that flowed to the waist of her black velvet gown now stood near the fence that separated the two mausoleums.

"I have a package for Mr. Erebus Sanguinati, but it won't fit into the boxes."

"You're the new Liaison?"

"Yes. I'm Meg Corbyn."

The woman didn't offer her name. Instead, she looked toward the larger mausoleum-whose door was now open just enough for someone to peek out.

"You could leave a form saying there is a package being held at the Liaison's Office," the woman said.

"It's been at the office for a while," Meg replied. "That's why I thought I should deliver it in person."

The woman's smile was more lethal than encouraging. "You could leave it in the snow. The previous Liaisons would have-if they had been brave enough to come at all."

Meg shook her head. "Whatever is inside might get damaged if it got wet."

A sound like dry leaves skittering over a sidewalk came from the larger mausoleum.

The woman looked startled, then studied Meg with unnerving interest. "Grandfather Erebus says you may enter the Chambers and set the package before the door. Stay on the walkway, and you will come to no harm."

"I was told I wasn't allowed to enter the Chambers," Meg said.

The woman's smile sharpened. "Even the Wolfgard accommodates the Grandfather."

Which meant Mr. Erebus was a very important person in the Courtyard.

Smoke flowed swiftly over the snow, gathering to one side of the gate. Part of it condensed, becoming an arm and a hand that pulled open the gate before changing back to smoke that moved away.

Something about smoke and the name Sanguinati that she needed to remember.

Pus.h.i.+ng open the gate a little more, Meg walked up to the mausoleum. A hand curled around the edge of the door-an old hand with k.n.o.bby joints, big veins, and yellowed, h.o.r.n.y fingernails. A dark eye in a lined face peered out at her.

Not quite looking him in the eye, in case that was offensive to him, Meg carefully set the package down on the dry marble stoop.

"I'm sorry it took so long for you to receive your package, Mr. Erebus. I'll watch for them from now on and get them to you as soon as I can."

"Sweet child," he whispered in that dry-leaves voice. "So considerate of an old man."

"I hope nothing spoiled," Meg said, stepping back. "Good day, sir." She turned and walked back to the BOW, aware of all the smoke gathering just inside the fences. The gate closed behind her. The woman continued to watch her as she got into the BOW and drove off.

She had another set of packages for another address in the Chambers, but she was feeling shaky and wanted to get away from that part of the Courtyard. She continued driving until she pa.s.sed the last of those ornate black fences and was heading for the Hawkgard Complex.

Then she remembered. Smoke. Sanguinati.

She hit the brakes and almost slid into a s...o...b..nk. She managed to put the BOW in park and crank up the heater before she started shaking.

Vampire. In one of their hurried, forbidden conversations, Jean had told her vampire was the street name for the Sanguinati. Smoke was another form they could take when they were hunting.

And when they are killing?

Now she understood why it was so dangerous to set foot on their land-and why no one who did left the Sanguinati's piece of the Courtyard.