Etched in Bone
Page 131

 Anne Bishop

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A pebble dropped in a pond created so many ripples, disturbed the surface of the water, revealed possibilities. When Meg first came among them, they had seen her as a puzzle, a confusion. But she had become so much more.
It was still possible to find her. There was still time to save her—and Simon.
• • •
Jenni, Starr, and Jake Crowgard walked into the Three Ps.
“Hey,” the Lorne said. “Any news?”
“You gave the police pack pictures of that Cyrus,” Jenni said.
The Lorne nodded. “They’re distributing them to the police in the city.”
“Those are big pictures. Can you make smaller ones that would fit into this?” Jenni held up a mesh bag no larger than a human hand, with woven handles that a Crow’s foot could grasp and carry over a distance.
“I could print some out small enough for that. When do you need them?”
Jenni stared at him. “Now.”
The Lorne went behind the wall that hid the computers and the printers. He returned quickly with a piece of paper that held one picture of that Cyrus.
“We need many,” she said, wondering for a moment if this human had helped that Cyrus steal their Meg.
“I wanted to be sure it was the right size before I started printing multiples,” the Lorne said. “You want them on the photo paper like the ones I did for the police?”
“Yes.”
While they waited, Jenni looked at the postcards in the spin rack. The police had found one in the sorting room addressed to her. From the Jana. She hoped their Meg had read it and smiled before . . .
Lorne returned to the counter with a stack of photos that would fit in the mesh bags. The Crows took them and hurried back to the Crowgard Complex. Every Crow had acquired a small bag to carry little treasures. Now the bags would carry something else.
Once all the photos were distributed and put into the bags, all the Crowgard in the Lakeside Courtyard shifted to their Crow form, picked up the bags, and flew away. They flew hard, in all directions. While waiting for Jenni, Crows who knew about the telephone called Crowgard in terra indigene settlements, telling them about the theft of their Meg, telling them to meet up with the Lakeside Crowgard.
Crows who lived and worked at one of the terra indigene farms met up with Jenni, who pulled one of the photos of the enemy out of the mesh bag so that all the Crowgard could study the face. This enemy would stay on human roads, so that was where the Crows should search.
Crows flew off in small groups. One Crow took Jenni’s mesh bag with the photo and flew hard to meet the Crowgard farther down the road, who would study the face of the enemy and tell more Crows, who would tell more Crows, who would tell more Crows.
• • •
Simon ran back to Howling Good Reads. Having let himself in by the back door, he bounded up the stairs to the office, where he had a spare set of clothes. After shifting to human and getting dressed, he went to the Liaison’s Office.
There was nothing to track, no scent to follow to find Meg. Unable to stand being around humans, he had gone to the Green Complex and lain on her bed for a while, breathing in her scent. As it always did, her scent soothed him so that he started to think past the anger and fear.
Meg had dreamed about being thirsty. She had dreamed about finding a body—or at least a cold hand. Details of something she had seen in the prophecy cards? Maybe, before she was taken, she had asked another question, had selected more cards. Skippy had been wounded and needed help, so Simon hadn’t looked for cards once the Wolves confirmed that Meg was gone.
She had seen where her journey ended. He just needed to figure out how to find that specific place. When he did, he would also find her.
He walked into the sorting room and stopped, not sure what to think when he saw Merri Lee, Ruthie, Theral, and Agent O’Sullivan already standing around a map of the Northeast Region that was spread out on the big wooden table. Next to the map was the notebook Meg used to write down the images on the prophecy cards.
“We could use your input if you feel up to it,” O’Sullivan said.
Simon reluctantly approached the table. He’d wanted to look at the notes Meg had made about the last vision; he hadn’t wanted to deal with any humans. But here was part of the human pack sniffing around for clues.
Merri Lee tapped the notebook. “Tombstone means a grave, but it’s not Meg’s. It isn’t. It’s something she’ll see in a woods somewhere.”
“Which made me wonder if there were any failed settlements that might be near any of the current roads,” Ruthie said, waving a hand over the map. “Someplace small from a few decades ago, someplace that could have had a graveyard. By now, the buildings might be gone and the land might be wooded, and the gravestones could be weathered to the point of looking like ordinary stones.”
“Would the terra indigene have any records of places reclaimed by the wild country where humans might have been?” O’Sullivan asked.
Simon shook his head. “If a place was reclaimed, it either disappeared or the terra indigene turned the buildings into a settlement and gave the area a different name. But Meg didn’t see a tombstone or grave in the prophecy dream; she saw a body hidden under some leaves.”
It sounded like a tree full of squirrels had suddenly landed in the room. So much chatter out of so few bodies.
He snarled at the female pack. They ignored him and kept chattering, so he snarled louder. They kept asking him questions and questions and questions, but they wouldn’t stop talking long enough for him to answer.