Vlad stood by the back door of HGR and watched the pickup truck drive past the back of the Liaison’s Office and park close to the wooden gate leading into Henry’s yard. Even though two of the leaders from the Toland Courtyard were attending, the Sanguinati weren’t happy about this meeting of leaders. The terra indigene sometimes quarreled among themselves—the different predators they’d absorbed over the centuries made that inevitable, especially when they had overlapping territory—but they were always united against their common adversary: humans.
This time Simon was gambling that the Midwest leaders weren’t so bitter or angry that they’d already decided what needed to be done.
From what Vlad had seen as the guests arrived throughout the day, there was plenty of bitterness and anger in the terra indigene coming in from the Midwest, as well as the areas around the Great Lakes where humans were spewing about the Humans First and Last movement without thinking for one second about who was listening to them.
Simon might be taking a risk calling this meeting and bringing them all to Lakeside, but he’d also been smart enough to stack the deck, as humans said, by bringing in three terra indigene from the High Northeast—a part of Thaisia that hadn’t yet been touched by the troubles—in the hope that they would provide some balance to the discussions.
Bobbie Beargard was a Black Bear who taught at one of the few terra indigene colleges on the continent. She had once told a visiting human professor who was spouting some nonsense about human superiority that if she wanted to handle crap, she’d shit in her own paw. Even if he hadn’t been eaten on his way home, the professor wouldn’t have been invited back.
Then there was Alan Wolfgard, whose thrillers were wildly popular with the terra indigene—especially the Others who had never seen a real human.
The last of the three stepped out of the pickup and raised a hand in greeting. Charlie Crowgard was tall and lean, with a kind face that somewhat hid the sharp intelligence in his black eyes. Like many terra indigene, he couldn’t shift the last little bit to look completely human. But being a musician, he’d used that to advantage by tying his black hair back into a thin tail and letting the feathers that wouldn’t shift hang in plain sight like an ornament.
“Why didn’t you take the train?” Vlad asked.
“Couldn’t,” Charlie replied, cocking a thumb at the pickup’s bed. “Wasn’t going to try to carry that.”
Vlad came around to the back of the pickup. “What is it?”
“It’s wood.” As the gate to Henry’s yard opened, Charlie added, “Henry. Give us a hand. I think this old tree has a story to tell, so I brought it to you.”
Henry studied the chunk of wood and nodded. “It’s a good piece.”
Vlad climbed into the bed and helped Charlie shift the wood to the tailgate—where Henry picked it up with a small grunt and took it into his studio.
“Brought the guitar,” Charlie said as he jumped off the bed and closed the tailgate. “I know we’re not here for fun, but … what’s that?”
“That’s a human,” Vlad said, watching Theral MacDonald, Dominic Lorenzo’s new … whatever they called her. Assistant? Phone person? Exploding fluffball?
No, that’s what he’d taken to calling Meg’s human pack. A few months ago, the humans who worked in the Courtyard just did their jobs and kept out of the way. Now they had opinions.
“I know that,” Charlie said. “What’s she carrying? It looks like a fiddle case. You have humans here who play music?”
Since Charlie sounded delighted by the prospect of meeting a music-playing human, Vlad called out, “Ms. MacDonald?”
Being very newly employed, Theral had kept her head down and her hair around her face in an attempt to walk past them without seeing them—as if not seeing them meant they couldn’t see her. Typical prey mentality, but that might change once she settled in. Now she stopped and moved toward them, every step filled with reluctance. “Mr. Sanguinati?”
“What are you carrying?” Charlie asked. “Is it a fiddle?”
“Yes, it’s a fiddle,” Theral said.
Charlie smiled at her before turning to Vlad. “Do you all join in and perform in the Market Square? If I remember correctly from my visit a few years ago, you have a platform there that would be perfect for performing.”
“Ms. MacDonald just started working for us, so I don’t think anyone has mentioned playing in the square,” Vlad replied. Then to Theral, “You staying here?”
Theral nodded. “Lawrence is picking me up after his shift. Mr. Wolfgard said it was okay if I stayed with Merri Lee until then.”
She hurried up the stairs to the efficiency apartments and knocked on the outer door. It opened moments later, so Merri Lee must have been waiting for the other girl.
“So,” Vlad said. He looked at the open area that was bordered by the garages, Henry’s yard, and the backs of HGR, A Little Bite, and the Liaison’s Office. Then he looked at the pickup, which was a lot bigger than the BOWs that were usually parked in the space. “How are you going to turn this thing around?”
Charlie grinned. “Very carefully.” The grin faded. “Simon is going to have to move carefully too.”
“I know,” Vlad said. Then he added silently, If the shifters want more blood shed than the Sanguinati will accept, Simon won’t be the only one who will need to be careful.