Extraits

- C'est un coeur, répliqua Meg. Tu n'as jamais vu ce symbole ?

- Bien sûr que si. Mais il ne ressemble pas au vrais, ceux qui battent et qui se mangent.

- C'est un coeur romantique. (Elle le toisa d'un oeil soupçonneux). C'est pour ça que tu as rangé les livres de baisers avec les manuels de cuisine ? Parce qu'un coeur ça se mange ?

Après avoir assuré à Katherine Debany qu’elle serait de retour dans quelques minutes, Twyla se dirigea d’un pas pressé vers la maison d’Eve Denby. D’ordinaire imperturbable, Eve avait semblé osciller entre la crise de panique et le fou rire hystérique.

En avisant le tas de plumes sur le perron, Twyla comprit pourquoi. Eve ouvrit aussitôt la porte.

— Entrez. Des chats traînent dans le quartier. Je ne veux pas laisser ce… cette chose… sans surveillance, mais je n’ai pas envie qu’on me voie maintenant.

Twyla pénétra à l’intérieur.

— Comment un dindon mort s'est retrouvé devant votre porte ?

— Un Loup l’a apporté il y a quelques minutes, expliqua Eve, passant une main dans ses cheveux courts.

— Pourquoi ?

Il semblait à Twyla que les Loups mangeaient ce qu’ils chassaient, en temps normal.

— Boone ne se fait livrer que deux fois par mois, et nous commençons tous à nous lasser du gibier et du lapin. On commence même à en avoir assez du bœuf. J’ai donc demandé à Boone s’il vendait de la volaille. Il a répondu qu’il essaierait de s’en procurer.

— Ah ! ça vient de lui, conclut Twyla, les yeux tournés vers la porte moustiquaire.

— Je comptais acheter un poulet, pas un dindon gros comme une voiture !

Elle exagérait, mais Twyla devait bien avouer que le volatile était de bonne taille. Le fait qu’il soit entier, avec les plumes, les pattes et le reste, le rendait encore plus impressionnant.

Eve s’affaissa contre le chambranle de la porte.

— Que suis-je censée faire de ça ?

— Vous ne pouvez pas leur dire que vous n’en voulez pas, surtout s’ils l’ont attrapé exprès pour vous.

Dans les romans qu’elle avait lus, les personnages qui ressentaient une attirance réciproque semblaient souvent se disputer et se heurter à des incompréhensions, ou couchaient ensemble puis se séparaient avant de se retrouver. Mais il s’agissait d’humains, pas d’une prophétesse du sang et d’un Loup. On lui avait fait subir à l’institution des choses dont son corps se souvenait mais que son esprit, lui, avait occultées. Des choses qui lui rendaient la proximité physique de Simon plus supportable lorsqu’il se trouvait sous forme de Loup. Elle avait beau savoir, au fond de son cœur, qu’il ne la maltraiterait jamais comme l’avaient fait les employés du Contrôleur, elle se sentait plus en sécurité en compagnie du Loup, malgré les griffes et les crocs, que de l’homme.

Par ce que Merry Lee n'a pas de frère qui gronde et claque des dents quand vous allez dans sa tanière pour vous accoupler avec elle?

Certains soulignements ont été masqués ou tronqués en raison de restrictions d'exportation.

Montgomery, qui avait également déjeuné à Viande & Verdure, franchit la sortie juste avant lui. Quelque chose dut capter l’attention du lieutenant, car il recula d’un pas.

— Vous devriez rester un peu à l’intérieur, affirma-t-il en bloquant la porte d’un bras.

— Pourquoi ? Qu’est-ce qui se passe ? Simon scruta la place du Marché sans rien remarquer d’anormal.

En fait, s’il considérait la voix du policier et non ses actes, celui-ci paraissait plutôt amusé.

— Des négociations sont en cours. Montgomery pointa son index en direction de Mlle Twyla, qui mangeait un cornet de glace assise sur un banc, et de Bug qui, après une course-poursuite effrénée, réussit enfin à caler sa coupe de crème glacée contre le pied de la femelle. Comme elle avait les jambes croisées, son autre pied pendait dans le vide.

— Houuu houuu.

Bug planta sa patte sur le pied libre de Mlle Twyla et tenta de le tirer vers le bas dans l’espoir d’immobiliser son bol.

— Non, décréta Mlle Twyla avec douceur.

— Houu houuu.

Bug lui tapota le pied avec davantage d’insistance.

— Tes « mamy, mamy » n’y changeront rien. Tu es parfaitement capable de tenir cette coupe tout seul. Mlle Meg t’a montré comment faire.

— Houu ? lança Bug en regardant autour de lui.

— Elle n’est pas là, précisa Mlle Twyla en léchant sa glace. Tu n’as qu’à t’asseoir et caler la coupe entre tes pattes.

— Oh ! là, il joue au pauvre petit qui n’y arrive pas, soupira Montgomery. Bug inspirait effectivement la pitié, à pousser d’une patte son bol où la glace fondait à vue d’œil.

— Nous pourrions aller l’aider, proposa Simon.

— C’est vrai, mais il faudrait s’arranger avec ma mère, maintenant qu’elle a décidé que Bug était capable de se débrouiller seul.

— L’autre soir au dîner, elle lui a pourtant bien coupé sa viande.

— Parce qu’il avait besoin d’aide. Cette fois, il peut s’en sortir seul. Montgomery observa Simon avec une curiosité non dissimulée.

-- Est-ce que vous continuez à donner à manger à vos petits une fois qu’ils sont en âge de se nourrir seuls ?

— Bien sûr que non. Ils doivent apprendre à chasser et à défendre leur part. Méditant la question de Montgomery, il ajouta :

— Ce qui n’empêche pas les jeunes Loups de se comporter parfois comme des louveteaux pour amadouer les adultes et se faire servir.

— Comme les enfants humains. Est-ce que les Loups adultes cèdent souvent ?

Comme Simon ne répondait pas, un grand sourire s’étira sur les lèvres de Montgomery.

-- C’est bien ce que je pensais. Je crois que, du point de vue de la conception de l’éducation, ma mère a de nombreux points communs avec les Loups.

Vu sous cet angle, Simon comprenait mieux pourquoi les Loups traitaient Twyla davantage comme l’une des leurs que comme une humaine. Bug s’étendit par terre, allongeant ses pattes antérieures de part et d’autre de la coupe. Il lécha ce qui restait de sa glace, puis leva les yeux sur Mlle Twyla. Montgomery étouffa un rire :

— Oh, le regard de chien battu ! Lizzy essaie régulièrement avec moi. J’ai du mal à y résister,…

-Ahouu!

Ca, c'était Nathan qui hurlait depuis le bureau de liaison mommentanément innoccupé.

-Ahouu!

Et ça, c'était Simon qui, depuis la librairie, ordonnait au Wolfgrad de traquer la petite humaine qui n'était peut-être pas dans son bureau actuellement, mais n'était pas arrivée en retard, elle.

Cela dit, le Loup et la non-Loup avaient provoqué de nombreux changements. Ils s'étaient transformés l'un l'autre. Pouvaient-ils être à l'origine d'une nouveauté pareille? Le monde accepterait-il ce qui résulterait d'un tel accouplement?

Il n'était pas humain. Il ne le serait jamais. Mais était-il encore vraiment un Loup terra indigene?

Les yeux fixés sur ce Cyrus, elle s'efforça de rester maitresse d'elle-même alors que les fils noirs dans ses cheveux se transformaient en mèches, signe que sa véritable nature remontait dangereusement près de la surface. Elle avit envie de faire pourrir les organes de cet individu, de les reduire en bouillie purulente. De faire pleuvoir sous son crâne pendant qu'elle moissonnait son énergie vitale. Peu lui importait de blesser la Sierra, mais elle ne voulait pas faire de mal à Nadine; elle devait garder le contrôle, éviter de franchir le pas fatidique qui révélerait sa vraie nature.

Windsday, Messis 1

Eager to join his friends for an early morning run, Simon Wolfgard, leader of the Lakeside Courtyard, hurried toward the terra indigene Wolves who were using trees and shrubs for camouflage as they watched the paved road that looped the Courtyard. Actually, they were watching the man who was riding on the road at an easy pace.

<It’s Kowalski,> Blair growled. It was a soft growl, but the human suddenly scanned the area as if his little ears had caught the sound.

<On a bicycle,> Nathan added.

<We gave him permission to ride on the paved roads,> Simon said, a little concerned about their focused attention on a human they knew fairly well.

Karl Kowalski was one of the human police officers who worked directly with the terra indigene to minimize conflicts between humans and Others. Because of that, he had been labeled a Wolf lover and had had his share of conflicts with other humans. The latest incident happened last week when a car “accidentally” swerved and almost hit Kowalski while he was taking a bicycle ride before work. Because the terra indigene viewed that as a threat to a member of their human pack, Simon, Vladimir Sanguinati, and Henry Beargard—members of the Courtyard’s Business Association—decided to allow the human pack to ride on the Courtyard’s paved roads.

Simon had thought all the Wolves had been told about the Business Association’s decision—especially Nathan, who was the watch Wolf at the Liaison’s Office, and Blair, who was the Courtyard’s dominant enforcer—but this was the first time any of the humans had ventured to ride on a road that still had “Trespassers Will Be Eaten” signs posted as a warning.

<Bicycle, Simon,> Blair’s growl wasn’t as soft this time.

Must have been loud enough for human ears because Kowalski started to pedal a little faster.

Oh. Bicycle. Now Simon understood the real focus of the Wolves’ attention and excitement. Humans had ridden bicycles up to the Green Complex as well as a few other places in the Courtyard, and the Wolves had been intrigued by the two-wheeled vehicles. But those instances had been about transportation to or from a task. This could be something else.

<A game of chase?> Jane, the Wolfgard bodywalker, asked hopefully.

<Kowalski could be play-prey,> Nathan said.

<Does he know how to play chase?> Blair asked.

<He’s a police officer,> Nathan replied. <He chases other humans all the time.>

<Doesn’t mean he understands our game.> Simon thought Nathan’s opinion of police work was skewed more toward hopeful than accurate. Still, they could offer to play. If Kowalski didn’t accept, they would just enjoy a run. But…bicycle. Simon really wanted to chase one. <Let’s find out.>

The Wolves charged up the road, Simon and Blair in the lead as they swiftly closed the distance between the pack and their play-prey. But would they have a game?

Kowalski looked back. His eyes widened—and he pedaled faster.

Yes!

<We don’t catch, only chase,> Simon said.

<He’s fast!> Jane surged ahead of the males, pulling up alongside the bicycle’s back wheel in seconds.

<Don’t grab the wheels,> Nathan said. <If you catch a tooth in the spokes you could break your jaw or worse.>

<I was listening when Officer Karl told the puppies about the dangers of biting wheels,> Jane snapped, clearly offended by Nathan’s unwanted warning. She moved up a little more, now in position to play-bite Kowalski’s calf.

Kowalski glanced at Jane and pedaled faster. Instead of going over the bridge that would take them into the Hawkgard section—and commit the human to the big loop within the Courtyard’s three hundred acres—Kowalski turned onto the road that ran alongside the Elementals’ lake, heading back toward the Green Complex.

The Wolves ran, maintaining their distance even when Kowalski slowed down while going up a rise. They took turns pacing the bicycle and pushing their prey to run and run. Or pedal and pedal. As they reached the intersection with the Courtyard’s main road, Kowalski swung left toward the Green Complex instead of turning right toward the Market Square.

Most of the pack, having slowed to a trot as their prey tired, circled back toward the Wolfgard complex. Nathan headed for the Market Square and the Liaison’s Office where he would keep track of the deliverymen and guard Meg Corbyn, the Courtyard’s Human Liaison. Simon and Blair followed Kowalski until they reached the Green Complex. Then Blair continued on to the Utilities Complex while Simon dashed for the water trough in the common area that formed the open center of the Courtyard’s only multispecies complex. He lapped water, then shifted to his human form and dunked his head, flinging water as he stood up and tossed his dark hair away from his face. He splashed his arms and chest, then grinned when Kowalski parked the bicycle and approached the trough warily.

“That was a great game of chase!” Simon said happily. “You understand how to be play-prey.”

“I do?”

“Yes.” Simon cocked his head, puzzled by the human’s wariness. Hadn’t they just played, had fun? “Want some water?”

“Thanks.” Kowalski splashed water on his face and neck, then on his arms. But he didn’t drink.

Simon pondered the not drinking for a moment. Humans were clever, invasive predators who had recently shown the terra indigene once again why they could never be fully trusted—not even by each other. But physically they were so much weaker than other kinds of predators. This not drinking, for example. Nothing wrong with the water in the trough. Someone had already drained yesterday’s water, using it on the potted tree and other plants in the open area, and refilled the trough with fresh water for drinking and splashing. Humans would drink water pumped from the well if it was in a glass or a bucket or some other small container but couldn’t drink the same water from a shared outdoor container?

It made him wonder how they had survived as a species long enough to become such a problem.

“So who doesn’t understand about play-prey?” Kowalski asked, rubbing a hand over his face.

“The female pack. Every time we invited them to play, they stopped riding their bicycles and asked if they could help.” Simon spread his arms in a what’s that all about? gesture. Then he pointed at Kowalski. “But you invited us to play, and we all had a good run.”

Kowalski snorted a soft laugh. “Well, I sure had a good run.”

“Since the females can’t pedal as far or as fast as you, maybe they could play chase with the puppies.” The pups would learn how to run as a pack without the risk of being kicked by real prey.

Simon studied Kowalski, who studied him in turn.

“I’ll talk to Ruthie,” Kowalski finally said.

They both heard the clink of glassware and looked toward the screened summer room below Meg Corbyn’s apartment.

“Must be later than I realized,” Kowalski said. “I’d better go home and get cleaned up for work.”

Simon watched the man walk toward the bicycle—and the summer room. For a moment, it looked like Kowalski was going to go in and talk to Meg, and Simon felt his teeth lengthen to Wolf size as his lips pulled back in a silent snarl. But Kowalski just raised a hand in greeting, said, “Morning, Meg,” and rode away.

Simon walked around the trough, then stopped suddenly when he realized he was naked in his human form. It had never mattered until Meg came to live in the Courtyard. But humans reacted in various ways to seeing each other without clothing, even when clothing wasn’t needed for protection or warmth. Meg had adjusted pretty well to friends shifting to human form to give her a message or answer a question before shifting back to their preferred furred or feathered form, but it was different with him—maybe because their friendship was different from any other she had with humans or terra indigene.

Most nights, he slept with her in his Wolf form. They had their own apartments, but those places were connected by the summer room and a back upstairs hallway, and more and more it was becoming one den instead of two. But they weren’t mates in the same way Kowalski and Ruthie were mates. Then again, terra indigene Wolves only mated once a year when females came into season. Meg did the bleeding typical of human females but she hadn’t shown any physical interest in having a mate. Except…

She’d asked him to go skinny-dipping with her a couple of weeks ago. Both of them naked, in human form. She’d been nervous about being in the water with him, and she seemed scared after he’d kissed the scar along the right side of her jaw—a scar made by the cut that had saved the Wolfgard in Lakeside as well as many other Wolves throughout the Northeast Region and even beyond.

He’d kissed her before—on the forehead once or twice. But when he’d kissed that scar, he’d felt a flutter of change inside him, and in the days that followed he began to understand on some instinctive level that he wasn’t quite the same as the rest of the Lakeside Wolfgard. Not anymore.

Maybe it wasn’t just for Meg’s sake that, after the kiss, he’d invited her to play a Wolf game despite their both looking human. Then she wasn’t afraid anymore. And since then… Well, it wasn’t lost on him that, in summer weather like this, human males wore next to nothing in and around their own dens and no one thought anything of it.

“It’s hot upstairs,” Meg said, not raising her voice because she didn’t need to. His ears might look human, but he was still a Wolf and could hear her just fine. “I brought some food down here for breakfast.”

“I’ll take a quick shower and join you.”

He hurried inside and up the stairs to the bathroom in his apartment. Washing his hair and body didn’t take long, but he stood under the shower, enjoying the cool water falling over him as he thought about the complication that was Meg Corbyn.

He had brought her into the Courtyard, offering her the job of Human Liaison before discovering that she was a blood prophet, a cassandra sangue—a breed of human females who saw visions of the future when their skin was cut. She had escaped from the man who had owned her and used her, and Simon and the rest of the terra indigene in Lakeside had taken her in.

That sounded simple but it wasn’t. Nothing about Meg was simple. She was the pebble dropped in a pond that was the Lakeside Courtyard, and the ripples of her presence had changed so many things, including the terra indigene who had befriended her. Because of Meg, the Courtyard’s residents interacted with humans in ways that were unprecedented—or, at least, hadn’t been considered in centuries. Because of Meg, the terra indigene throughout Thaisia had tried to save the rest of the blood prophets who had been tossed out like unwanted puppies by the humans who had owned them. Because of Meg, the Lakeside Courtyard had a human pack that provided an additional learning experience for terra indigene who had a human-centric education and needed to practice those skills with humans who wouldn’t take advantage of mistakes.

Because of Meg, he had the uncomfortable feeling that a little bit of being human had become attached and inseparable from his Wolf form.