CHAPTER 24
Watersday, Maius 12
“Why can’t I ride a pony?” Lizzy whined.
Such an annoying sound. If she ever whined like that, Meg hoped Simon bit her. Really hard.
But Wolves whined too. Why didn’t it bother her when they did it?
“Because the Courtyard’s ponies aren’t riding ponies,” Meg said for the third time. Her skin prickled every time Lizzy asked to ride a pony, making her feel odd, overwhelmed. She had to make Lizzy understand that, in the Courtyard, puppies were supposed to obey adults, and no meant no. But what more could she do? What more could she say?
When she’d first met the ponies, she hadn’t wanted to ride them, and it hadn’t occurred to her when she offered to take Lizzy to the Pony Barn that the girl would want to—or be so persistent about getting her own way.
And the ponies, who had been curious enough about the small human to allow Lizzy to pet their noses, now wore their grumpiest faces as they trotted away.
“We have to go back to the Market Square,” Meg said. Had anyone heard her? Had she spoken out loud?
Jester Coyotegard growled at Lizzy. “Meg said no, and being the one who looks after the ponies, I’m saying no. So that’s the end of it, pup.”
“That’s not fair!” Lizzy stamped her foot. “Grandma Borden would let me ride a pony!”
Lizzy’s voice changed the pins-and-needles feeling into a painful buzz. Meg dug her fingers into her side just above the waistband of her jeans, scratching at her skin through the T-shirt. Needed to think. Couldn’t think, not with Lizzy’s voice buzzing in her ears. Too much. Too much! Had to . . . what?
“Typical human,” a female voice said. “Grant them one thing and they always want more.”
Meg stared at the Elemental whose red hair was tipped with yellow and blue, at the female face that could never pass for human. But sometimes danger could hide quietly . . . and so easily.
“Meg?” Nathan’s voice.
Nathan. In danger?
The buzz turned into an agony she needed to tear out of her skin before it ate her alive.
Have to stay in control, she thought. Have to . . .
She pulled the silver razor out of her pocket.
*
“Meg!” Nathan snarled, grabbing the hand that held the closed razor. “Meg, what’s wrong?” Should he have sensed something? Distracted by the Lizzy, had he missed a sign that Meg would cut?
“I want to ride a pony!” Lizzy shrieked.
He released Meg, whirled around and snapped at Lizzy, his teeth just missing her nose and shocking the girl into silence. Then he grabbed Meg again, trapping the hand with the razor and pulling her other hand away from her side.
“Has the little human hurt our Meg?” Fire asked, looking at Meg and then at the Lizzy.
<Jane!> Nathan called. <Come to the Pony Barn. Meg needs help. Hurry!> More to the point, he needed help.
“Let me go!” Meg struggled to free herself. “Need to cut. Need to.”
“Meg?” Now the Lizzy sounded scared.
<I’ll take the pup back to her sire,> Jester said. The Coyote grabbed the girl, stuffed her into Meg’s BOW, and drove off.
“Too much,” Meg cried. “Too much danger! I have to cut. I have to cut now.”
“You cut a couple of days ago,” Nathan protested. “It’s too soon.”
“Have to,” she panted. “Lizzy. Have to.”
He wasn’t supposed to be around her when she was bleeding. None of the Wolves were supposed to be around her. Cassandra sangue blood was an almost irresistible temptation, as well as a drug humans called feel-good. Simon had learned that the hard way when he licked one of Meg’s cuts and suffered an overdose, becoming so passive he’d been helpless for hours.
“Meg,” Nathan growled. “Meg!” If he kept holding her, he would end up hurting her. If he let go, she would make the cut when she was acting crazy, and that might kill her.
Meg cried out as if she were in terrible pain. What if she was? What if not letting her cut was damaging her in some way he didn’t understand?
Howls from the Wolfgard Complex. Help was coming . . . but not in time.
Nathan looked at Fire. “The only way to protect her is to cut her. But I’ll have trouble once she starts bleeding.”
Fire stared at him. Then she nodded. “I will protect Meg. Even from you, Wolf.”
Nodding, Nathan pulled Meg into the barn. Grabbing a blanket, he tossed it over the straw in the first stall and pushed her down.
Crying. Begging. Was it always like this? He didn’t think so.
He pulled the razor out of her hand and opened it. Her hands, now freed, clawed at the skin just above the waistband of her jeans, trying to cut the skin with her fingernails.
Nathan pinned one of Meg’s hands under his knee. Fire grabbed her other hand.
How long? How deep? No time to wait for answers.
Sharp steel kissed the skin she’d been scratching. She shuddered, and her face was filled with such terrible pain, Nathan was sure he had killed her. Then her face changed, and he caught the strong scent of lust as Meg began to speak.
The delicious scent of fresh blood filled the air. Sweet blood. Hot. Rich. More potent than any other scent around him.
Nathan’s mouth watered and he craved a taste of that blood. Just one little taste.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. Had to listen. That was his job now, to listen.
“Happy mask,” Meg said. “Angry face. Ice chest. Heart. Rotting meat.”
She said the same words twice. Then she sighed . . . and relaxed.
Nathan leaned closer. He should lick the blood, clean the wound.
“Wolf.” A hot warning.
He looked up, startled. He’d been so drawn to the scent of Meg’s blood, he’d forgotten about Fire.
“Go outside,” a voice said.
Snarling, he sprang to his feet and spun to face the intruder, who held out a hand dotted with feathers.
Owl. Male. Bodywalker. Not a threat.
“Go outside,” the Owl said again.
Nathan bolted out of the Pony Barn.
*
The euphoria passed quickly, and with its passing, Meg became aware of her surroundings again. Her face was wet, someone was pressing on her side too hard for comfort, her jeans and T-shirt were soaked, and Nathan was howling—a sound so full of misery she wanted to cry in response.
Swiping a hand over her face, she opened her eyes and looked at the gray pony nose. A fine mist continued falling over her face.
“I’m awake now, Mist,” she said, blinking water out of her eyes.
“Which just proves you’ve got less sense than a chick still inside the egg.”
She turned her head and looked at a male she didn’t recognize.
“I’m Welby, the Owlgard bodywalker,” he said. “Jane Wolfgard is on her way, but I don’t know if she knows how to fix this either.”
“Fix . . . ?”
Meg lifted her head to look at the hand pressing a cloth against her side. As she brushed against Mist’s muzzle, he lipped her short hair before taking a step back.
Welby pushed her down, none too gently. “You and the little human caused enough trouble today without you hurting yourself even more.”
“I . . .” Lizzy. Where was Lizzy? “We caused trouble?”
“You hurt the Wolves and upset the Elementals and Sanguinati.” Welby’s hair changed to feathers, a sign that he, too, was distressed to the point where he couldn’t hold the human form.
She struggled to think of a safe question. “Why am I so wet?”
“Fire got upset and the hay started to smolder. Water came and soaked everything.”
Jane Wolfgard rushed into the barn. “Simon says the human bodywalker is at the Market Square office. Blair is outside with a BOW. He says he can stay human long enough to get Meg to the office.”
“Where is my razor?” Meg asked once they wrapped her waist to hold a folded cloth over the cut.
“Simon and Henry said all of this straw and the blanket need to be burned,” Jane said as she and Welby lifted Meg and took her to the BOW. “Anything with fresh blood on it needs to be burned.”
They wouldn’t speak to her directly as they settled her in the passenger seat. And Blair just snarled at her, making it clear he wouldn’t talk to her either.
Just as well, she thought as she pressed a hand over the cut. She was certain Simon would have plenty to say when she saw him.
Would he be able to tell her what happened?