“Nothing of immediate concern, but many things have to be talked about and dealt with. Meg is fine,” Henry added. “Vlad went over to the Liaison’s Office and checked before he called.”
He knew how to interpret those words. “She cut herself and saw prophecy.”
Henry nodded. “Meg is concerned because Merri Lee didn’t want to tell her what was seen, but Vlad says both girls are fine. The cut was carefully made and well tended. In fact, despite being concerned about the prophecy, Meg sounded cheerful and relaxed and said something about a symbol for a new beginning but waved off Vlad’s attempt to find out what that meant by saying it was a girl thing.”
Simon didn’t want to poke his nose into a “girl thing.” Potentially dangerous territory, that. But the words did indicate the cut physically wasn’t a cause for concern.
If there was something wrong with Meg, Vlad wouldn’t be dismissive, especially when Grandfather Erebus, the leader of the Sanguinati in Lakeside—and perhaps the leader of the Sanguinati throughout the Northeast Region, or even the whole of Thaisia—took a personal interest in the girl he called the sweet blood.
Not technically a girl, Simon thought as he and Henry locked the minivan and walked to the booth that sold tickets for the ferry. Meg was twenty-four years old. An adult female. But cassandra sangue retained the sweetness of a child’s heart, which was one reason they were considered not prey.
The other reason was that blood prophets were Namid’s creation, both wondrous and terrible, and far more dangerous than anyone had realized. That had been the reason the Others had demanded what humans called full disclosure—reveal anyplace that housed blood prophets or face extermination of the entire town that conspired to keep the girls a secret.
The whole continent had been shaken by the terra indigene hunting down a man known as the Controller. The Others in the Midwest Region, where the compound was located, had not only destroyed the man and those who worked for him; they had shown human authorities what the laws allowing “benevolent ownership” meant to the cassandra sangue who were kept in compounds like that.
Meg had come from that Midwest compound. Simon had found her cell while looking for her friend Jean, and just the memory of Meg’s scent in that place filled him with rage.
The man in the ticket booth waved them away. “No charge for you today. Best get down to the water. They’re holding the ferry for you.”
<Not a usual occurrence,> Henry said, switching to the terra indigene’s form of communication as they walked to the ferry.
<No. But when Steve Ferryman called and asked for this meeting, he sounded scared.>
Simon wasn’t sure how the Intuits saw themselves—as a race separate from other humans or as a group of people who had been persecuted because of their particular ability to sense what was around them in ways other humans couldn’t. Whatever that ability was called—intuition or second sight—the Intuits didn’t see visions, but they would get a feeling about something, good or bad. Driven out of human settlements generations ago, they had made their own bargains with the terra indigene and now had their own villages hidden in the wild country, out of reach of their persecutors.
But they hadn’t always been out of reach. When they had lived among other humans, sometimes they had sired girl children who were more sensitive than the rest of the Intuits, girls who could see visions. Out of the Intuits had come the first cassandra sangue, the girls who saw warnings of things to come whenever their skin was cut.
In a way, they were all coming full circle. The Intuits, who had given up those offspring, thinking they were saving the girls as well as their other children, were now volunteering to be the caretakers of the girls who wanted to leave the compounds where they had been considered, and treated as, property.