He looked at Fanny, whom CJ had taken an interest in lately. Was she another example of his brother’s leftovers? No wonder he’d never warmed to the little bitch.

Sandee reached for the pizza. He shoved her away from the table. Taking a stack of pieces and the last beer in the refrigerator, he retreated to the porch to eat in peace, letting the three of them squabble over the remains.

He bit into the pizza. Chewed. Swallowed. Thought and thought of how nothing had gone the way it should have since he arrived in Lakeside.

He needed to get out of this fucking city. It was too small, too constricting for an enterprising man like him. He needed something that would bring in money, that would give him clout, that would let him live large the way he was supposed to.

He chewed. Swallowed. Thought.

He needed a way to stay ahead of the freaks and the cops. He needed one of those prophet girls—and wasn’t it fucking fate that one of them was right here, ripe for the picking? Just cut her skin and make a fortune. He could offer a prophecy to a skilled forger in return for a new identity. Then he would become someone else in one of the big human cities. He could get around the travel restrictions and go all the way to Sparkletown on the West Coast and get into the movie business. Using the scar girl, he’d have the means of telling the wheelers and dealers if a movie would be a hit even before they hired the first actor. And he’d have his pick of beautiful women who would do anything he wanted for just a peek at their future.

Yeah. That was the way he should live. He just needed to shake off all this petty shit—and he needed to get the scar girl away from the Courtyard and get them both out of this fucking city. But this time, he’d do it alone. He wasn’t going to trust this plan to screwups like the ones who couldn’t take a bit of meat from a bunch of animals.

So he chewed and swallowed and thought. By the time the sun had set and the streetlights came on, Cyrus James Montgomery had a plan.

CHAPTER 21

Thaisday, Messis 23

Meg dreamed about the prophecy the cards had revealed.

The cards had grown tall, like trees, and surrounded her. Penned her in.

So thirsty. How long since she’d had a drink of water? So thirsty.

Hooded figure with a scythe. Police car. Man in jail. Danger!

More cards appeared, repeating and repeating until they formed a prison. Woods. Tombstone. Mirror. Woods. Tombstone. Mirror. They closed in slowly, relentlessly.

Hoping to find a way out, Meg turned, took a step, and tripped. Fell. A pile of leaves in front of her. Her hands reaching out to break her fall. Her hands disappearing into the leaves, slipping on something underneath.

She touched a cold hand.

Something touched her arm.

She screamed, thrashed, tried to hit whoever held her. She had a moment to realize she was free before something soft hit her back, her shoulders, her butt.

“Meg!”

He found me. Relief made her dizzy. He found me!

“Simon!” She threw herself toward the sound of his voice. Her hands closed on something soft, something not Simon. “Simon!”

Hands grabbed her again and hauled her toward something unknown, but what she grabbed in turn were thickly furred human shoulders.

A light came on, blinding her, and Vlad said, “Blessed Thaisia! What is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Simon growled. “Meg? Meg! Look at me. Are you awake?”

“I—” Was she awake? “It was cold. The hand was so cold.”

“My hands are not cold. Look at me, Meg.”

She looked at his face, not sure what had happened or why he was angry.

Was she really awake, or was this part of the dream?

“I am not naked,” Simon said.

She didn’t know why that was important, but she said, “Okay,” which seemed to satisfy him.

Something thumped the front door. Hard.

Meg leaped, wrapped her arms around Simon’s neck and her legs around his waist. His arms came around her, supporting her, protecting her.

“Meg, it’s all right. It’s just Henry,” Simon said.

“And Jester,” Vlad added. “And Tess.” After a moment, he added, “You can let go of Simon now.”

She tightened her legs and was glad when Simon said, “She doesn’t have to.”

“I’ll let Henry in before he knocks down the door,” Vlad said. “Then we all need to discuss what happened.”

Once Vlad left the bedroom, Simon sighed, his breath warm against her neck. “Bad dream?” he asked.

Dreamlike certainly, but was it a dream? “I don’t know. I saw . . . felt . . . things.”

His arms tightened around her. “Then you’d better tell us what you remember.”

• • •

Simon took the pitcher of water out of the refrigerator and filled a glass. He drank half the water, refilled the glass, and put the pitcher away before going into Meg’s living room.

Meg sat on the sofa next to Henry, her knees drawn up and her arms around her legs—a scared little ball of human. Tess sat on the coffee table, Vlad leaned over the back of the sofa, and Jester crouched to one side of the table, where he could see and hear everything without being in the way. The Green Complex’s feathered residents were perched on the porch, where they could hear everything through the open window.

“Here.” Simon held out the glass to Meg, who just stared at it. “You woke me up because you were thirsty, so I got up to get you some water. That’s how this all started.”