* * *
Meg looked at the envelope, picked up the envelope. Sniffed the envelope.
“Doesn’t smell like a farm,” she muttered.
Carefully opening the envelope to avoid a paper cut, she pulled out the single sheet of paper.
Dear Meg,
I tried to write a couple of letters to you since arriving on Great Island, but I couldn’t write them, couldn’t send them. It feels like getting here ate up my ability to do anything.
It’s so hard living outside the compound. I didn’t remember it being so hard. I sent you out in this, so sure it was better. Now I’m not sure of anything. Some mornings Lorna Gardner brings me food because I can’t face even the simple life and people beyond the walls of the guest cottage.
Some nights I remember the things I’ve seen in prophecies when they were using me to make gone over wolf. Terrible things.
Some nights I wonder if I started what’s going to happen by helping you escape. But this morning, I managed to go outside and watch the sun rise—and I wondered if, by helping you, I did the one thing that might save some humans from what is coming.
Take care of yourself, Meg.
Your friend,
Jean
Meg read the letter twice, then returned it to its envelope and tucked it in the drawer where she kept the notebook that held her lists. Taking out the five postcards she’d gotten at the Three Ps, she set them on the counter and studied the pictures.
The red rocks, the plateau? No. Too different and out of reach.
The pictures of Talulah Falls? Also out of reach.
She looked at the picture of the deer half shrouded by mist. She turned it over, then picked up a pen.
Dear Jean,
I have seen a deer. I have petted a pony. I helped plant a garden. I have smelled earth and felt it in my hands. You watched the sun rise. These things are worth the struggle to live outside.
Your friend,
Meg
Simon,
Can the cs see visions without cutting? The scarred girl drew a picture of a Wolf song, so we wondered. Ask your Meg what safe toys we can give the girl. We bought her drawing paper and many colored pencils. She hasn’t cut since she’s been here.
—Jackson
Jackson,
Meg says maybe about the visions. The cs weren’t given a chance to try anything besides cutting. Your girl may be finding a new path. Books are good toys. Give the girl photos of the settlement and surrounding land. That will help when she is ready to go outside.
—Simon
N,
Ship blown off course during storm. Search found nothing. Ship, merchandise, and all hands declared lost.
—Pater
Douglas,
Half of the aunties’ gifts arrived broken beyond repair. Am taking the next ship to Thaisia to discuss with you in person.
—Shady
CHAPTER 40
Windsday, Maius 16
On Windsday afternoon, Steve Ferryman and Roger Czerneda pulled up in front of one of the semidetached houses in the River Road Community. As he got out of the car and waited for Roger, Steve spotted the six columns of smoke gathered near one of the houses farthest from the entrance to the community.
He raised a hand in greeting. The Sanguinati’s only response was to shift to human form—four males and two females.
Steve didn’t recognize any of them, wasn’t sure how much contact they’d had with humans. Enough that, from a distance anyway, they looked like human teenagers, but looking human and being able to act human were very different things. While the Sanguinati in Lakeside had made it clear that residents from Ferryman’s Landing were not to be harmed, it was obvious to him that six against two were not good odds—especially if the vampires were hungry and willing to overlook their promise to behave.
He heard cawing and felt the tension in his shoulders ease a little. Crowgard. He and Roger weren’t alone with the Sanguinati. Then he considered the warning tightness between his shoulder blades and wished they were alone with the vampires and Crows.