Simon studied the two women. Meg and Merri Lee had done well working together to reveal this prophecy, and using the index cards was a clever way to share the images Meg saw in the visions. But the girls should have told him before Meg made the cut. After all, Meg was his friend, so he should have been told. Which was why, instead of praising them, he growled, “Can the two of you manage to stay out of trouble for the rest of the afternoon?”
“Oh, Simon,” Tess muttered.
Henry’s hand suddenly landed on his shoulder, almost buckling his knees.
“Our Meg did stay out of trouble,” Henry said. “Her friend was with her to watch and to help. They saw much, and lives will be saved because of what we know from the visions.”
“Maybe you should go home and rest,” Simon told Meg. Maybe he could go home with her and they could cuddle for a while or play a game. Or she could watch a movie and pet him.
“Merri Lee is helping me make some sample packages of cookies,” Meg said, sounding like the only game she wanted to play right now was whack a Wolf.
A warning rumble meant it was time to go before Henry decided he needed a friendly reminder to leave. The Grizzly’s reminders tended to hurt.
Simon tore off the pages that held the prophecy, dropped the pad on the table, and walked out. Then he waited for Vlad and the others to join him outside.
“All right,” Blair grumbled. “I wouldn’t mind having some of those chamomile cookies to give to the youngsters when it’s time to sleep, but a watch Wolf is supposed to be awake enough to watch, even if he is a skippy.”
“Have Nathan come back for the last hour,” Simon said.
“Those two females aren’t having anyone as friendly as Nathan watching over them.” Meaning the dominant enforcer planned to park himself in the office for the rest of Meg’s shift.
“I don’t like our Meg having this prophecy now,” Henry said. “Is there a connection to so many leaders coming to Lakeside and this shark suddenly appearing in our territory?”
“If he’s here hunting for a blood prophet, the connection is Meg,” Vlad said. “She’s the reason Simon called this meeting.”
“I wonder if the enemy isn’t also guided by prophecy,” Vlad said. “Wouldn’t you use a cassandra sangue to find out the best time to strike out at us?”
“When this Phineas Jones comes to the Courtyard, he’ll have a defense that will kill us if we respond to a threat in the usual way,” Simon said.
“Then we use human weapons instead of teeth,” Henry said. “No matter how it’s done, we make sure Jones doesn’t leave here with Meg.”
Simon nodded. “He’s not taking Meg.”
“Hello?”
“The Others are making free use of your property.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not only using the property for themselves, but providing samples to other interested parties. I had an excellent lead and should have been able to acquire some new merchandise, but the deal was soured before I arrived. They were expecting me.”
“Where was this? Lakeside?”
“No, a place called Ferryman’s Landing. I’m in Lakeside now. I’ll wait a couple of days and let things settle. Then I’ll see what I can do about extracting your property.”
CHAPTER 20
“Mr. Smith is on the line for you.”
The Controller picked up the phone. “What is it?”
“The scrap girls I sold you. I’d like to get them back.”
“We agreed at the time of the sale that there would be no returns.”
“Yes, I know, but all my best girls are suffering from breakdowns. No matter what my clients ask, all the girls talk about is a killer, a destroyer, blood and fire and death. Clients are demanding refunds since they aren’t getting what they paid for.”
“Prophecy is about interpretation, Mr. Smith. It’s your job to interpret what the prophet sees. And we all know how fluid interpretation can be if one looks beyond the literal.”
A pause. “What if the girls are saying what they’re really seeing for my clients?”
“It’s unlikely.”
Another pause. “About the girls …”
“The scraps you sold me have already been used and are no longer available. Good day, Mr. Smith.”
The Controller hung up and stared at the phone. Then he pressed the office buzzer and waited for his assistant’s response.
“Sir?”
“Prepare cs747 for the chair.”
“Today’s top story. A town in the Midwest is under quarantine after an outbreak of violence. There are rumors that a shipment of tainted ground beef was the cause of a series of violent attacks that ended in several deaths. Officials believe this is an isolated outbreak, but they advise caution and are recommending that citizens dispose of any ground beef bought in the past three days.”
Emotionally battered and physically queasy, Monty turned off the radio and locked his apartment before hurrying to reach the bus stop. He needed to hear whatever Burke had to say to all the men this morning—and whatever Burke was willing to say in private.
He didn’t think any other humans besides himself, Dominic Lorenzo, and Captain Burke were aware of what Meg Corbyn had revealed when she experienced that odd secondary prophecy from the reopened cut. So they were the only ones who had a good idea what the officials investigating the violence in the Midwest town were going to find.
The beef had been tainted with a particular kind of human flesh.
The Controller watched the attendants check the straps that secured a girl to the chair and prevented her from struggling just as the cut was made, since an imperfect cut spoiled both skin and prophecy. Like other men in his line of business, he’d lost a few valued clients recently—men who had regular appointments and were now making excuses for not wanting another prophecy.
Not want another prophecy? His clients weren’t the kind of men who would leave their fortunes to chance. No, they’d gone to West Coast compounds or to one of those “charitable homes” in the Southeast and paid for a cut on an inferior girl.
If that was the depth of their loyalty for the guidance he had provided, then fuck them all. Prophecies could be read in so many ways, as he’d told that fool Smith. Until recently, his girls and his interpretations had been superior to those of anyone else in the business.
Now it was time to utilize his own resources and find out why things were going wrong. Had been going wrong since that bitch cs759 managed to escape. If she couldn’t be reacquired, she had to be destroyed.
But he wasn’t here to find out about Meg Corbyn. He was here strictly for himself.
He snapped his fingers and waited until cs747’s eyes focused on him. “Tell me about my future. What do you see around me? Speak. Tell me what you see.”
He’d ordered a cut on prime skin. Not much good skin left on this one, but the only girl superior to cs747 when it came to prophecy was cs759.
“Tell me about my future. Tell me what you see,” he said again when the cut was made and the blood started to flow.
She resisted. Despite the agonizing pain that flooded a prophet’s body before she began to speak, this bitch always resisted for a few seconds, and he couldn’t be sure she revealed everything she saw before the euphoria clouded her memory.
“A map,” she said dreamily. “You’re holding a map of Thaisia. It’s bleeding. All the cities are bleeding. Drip, drip, drip on the floor, splashing your shoes.” She paused. “They know your name.”
The Controller’s breath caught in his throat. No one knew his real name. “What do they call me?” he asked harshly.
“Killer.” She smiled and looked right at him with clear eyes. “Destroyer.” Then she laughed, and the sound held no sanity.
He rose, furious. “Clean her up and take her back to her cell.”
The next time he needed scraps for the grinder, the bitch would be on the truck.