CHAPTER 7
“Can you think of anything else?” Monty asked, keeping his eyes focused on his notes to avoid looking at the three females sitting on the other side of the table in the Courtyard’s meeting room. What he’d mistaken for oddly styled bangs were actually small feathers that formed a crown at the top of each forehead, rising and flattening in response to his questions.
If anyone needed proof that the Others weren’t human, that mix of feathers and hair would do it. And it was an indication of how a loss of composure could affect the terra indigene’s ability to hold a human shape.
The two Crows, Jenni and Starr, held hands and huddled as close together as the chairs allowed. The Hawk, Julia, looked like she needed a cuddle but wouldn’t ask for one from anyone in the room.
Simon Wolfgard, Blair Wolfgard, Vladimir Sanguinati, and Henry Beargard were in the room as observers. So was Monty’s partner, Officer Kowalski.
He’d gone over the Crows’ movements. Added to the information he’d received from the trash collectors and the residents on the street, it formed a picture that gave him a feeling of icy sickness. The Crowgard regularly went out on collection day, paying special attention to the upscale neighborhood near Lakeside Park. The heavy-plastic container used for food debris wasn’t usually of interest to them because they had plenty of food in the Courtyard, although they often let the crows in the neighborhood know about any available food they spotted. No, the Crowgard were mostly interested in the open metal cans that held all kinds of potential treasures—things the humans were discarding as used up or broken. If a third of the Crows each found one item of interest, they all considered it a successful “hunt.”
This morning, several cans had bits and baubles that were sure to catch the eye of a Crow. Much more than usual, Jenni said, even for that street. In fact, the pickings had been so good, Jenni and her sisters had called to the rest of the Crowgard to come over and help them with the bounty. Regular crows were also flocking to that street because of food spilled around the cans.
Jake Crowgard had found an unsoiled piece of pizza between the cans of one house. After consuming a couple of bites, he spotted the box of a building set he liked and left the food for the regular crows.
And then Meg Corbyn became hysterical and Simon threatened all the Crows with expulsion from the Courtyard if they didn’t return immediately. So they abandoned their prizes and were heading home when the garbage truck turned the corner.
As the truck came down the street, the crows who had been eating the food dumped around the cans tried to leave. But they kept fluttering and pitching forward, unable to fly away. That’s when Jenni and Starr, who had stayed to watch the street, realized there was a real danger. And then two cars came roaring down the street. One of the cars hit a man from the truck and kept going, swerving this way and that in order to run over the most crows—and the birds didn’t even try to get out of the way.
“It could have been us,” Jenni said, trembling. “Without our Meg giving the warning, it would have been us.”
Yes, it would have been, Monty thought grimly. “What about Jake? Is he all right?”
“He will be,” Simon said.
Wolfgard’s amber eyes had flickers of red, a sign of temper.
“The people who live on that street didn’t do this,” Monty said. “When questioned, they all thought the food dumped around the cans had been caused by teenagers doing a bit of mischief. But when they saw the items that had been left in their cans as bait, they insisted those weren’t things that they had put out.”
“Well, they would say that, wouldn’t they?” Blair said.
“They’re afraid of reprisals. I won’t deny that,” Monty replied. “And many of them admitted that they put the ‘almost usable’ discards on top of the rest of the debris because some people who run flea market stalls drive by at night to look for items they can resell. But the items that were left as bait didn’t have enough value to be worth the effort of cleaning them up or repairing in order to sell again.”
Jenni sniffed. “There were shinies.”
Which only proved that whoever had planned this had known what would draw the Crows and keep them around long enough to poke in the cans and eat some of the food so conveniently available.
“I think that’s all the questions I have for the ladies,” Monty said as he closed his notebook and tucked it in his pocket. “But I would like a word with you, Mr. Wolfgard, if you can spare the time.”
“That’s fine,” Simon said. “I have something to discuss with you too.”
Henry Beargard looked at Simon and nodded. Then the Grizzly led the rest of the terra indigene out of the room. When Monty made a subtle gesture, Kowalski said, “I’ll warm up the car,” and left.
Alone with the Wolf, Monty sat back in his chair. “Why would someone target the Crows?”
Simon cocked his head, clearing surprised by the question. “What?”
“Out of all the different kinds of terra indigene, why go after the Crows? In Jerzy, the attack took place on a night when the Crowgard were using the house the Others owned in the village. In Walnut Grove, food was used to lure the birds into position to be attacked by the dogs—and the main target was the Crows. And now here, a baited street.” Monty leaned forward. “So I’m asking you: What is it about the Crowgard that would make someone feel the need to get them out of the way?”
He had the Wolf’s attention. The terra indigene must know that Crows died each time there was an attack, but he’d wondered if the more formidable kinds of earth natives had considered that the Crows were the primary target.
“They’re curious,” Simon finally said. “They pay attention to everything and everyone in their territory. They remember faces that are familiar and know when a stranger shows up. They warn the rest of us when something doesn’t look right or someone acts oddly. And they communicate with regular crows.”
“The rest of you can’t do that?” Monty interrupted. “Communicate with the animals that share your form?”
“How many wolves do you see in a city?” Simon asked dryly. “Or bears?”
“Point taken.”
“But the crows are everywhere, and the Crowgard find out about other parts of the city from them.” Simon stopped.
Yes, Monty thought. You’ve just told both of us why someone wants them dead. “They see too much,” he said quietly. “They pick through the trash, looking for the things that, to them, are little treasures. Which means they might find things the people buying, or selling, drugs like gone over wolf don’t want anyone to find.”
“They would notice a pattern of activity,” Simon said.
He nodded. “But if you murder enough Crows, they’ll stop poking through the trash—and secrets will remain secrets.”
Simon didn’t reply.
“Was there something you wanted to ask me?” Monty asked.
“Dr. Lorenzo. Do you trust him?”
The question took Monty by surprise. “I think he’s a good man,” he replied cautiously.
“He wants to study cassandra sangue. He wants to study Meg. That’s why he agreed to supply human healing and medicine.”
“I thought you wanted human healing and medicine available in the Courtyard,” Monty countered.
Simon looked away.
The leader of a Courtyard looking away first? That couldn’t be good. “Did something happen to Ms. Corbyn?”
“A scrape. A nothing sort of scrape that didn’t really bleed. But it was enough.” Now Simon looked at him. “If that’s all it takes for her to see prophecy, why does she need to cut and take the risk of cutting too deep?”
“I don’t know.” But he was going to call on Dominic Lorenzo and find out. “What did Meg see?”
A hesitation. A reluctance that Monty could feel as a barrier between them.
“The humans who ran away from the damaged car. You know where to find them?” Simon asked.