Just the thought of Jimmy being here, surrounded by cops, Wolves, and Sanguinati, made Monty shiver. And Tess. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Cyrus James Montgomery tried some scam on Tess. Or what would happen if Jimmy so much as approached Meg Corbyn.

But it looked like he was going to have to deal with his brother. Mama wasn’t going to put up with nonsense, but standing up against Jimmy’s wheedling, schemes, and outright lies took a toll on her; it always had, even when Jimmy was little and his lies and schemes didn’t have serious repercussions. And unlike Sierra, Mama understood you couldn’t be careless around the Others.

Before he turned personal business into a professional concern, there was one person Monty wanted to see.

Having crossed at the intersection of Crowfield Avenue and Main Street, Monty noticed the For Sale sign on the Stag and Hare, the tavern across the street from the Courtyard—the tavern that had provided refuge for HFL supporters and other schemers. Had the owner been among those who had died when the Elders swept through the city? Or was the man selling the place with the intention of buying another tavern in a different part of Lakeside?

Opening the front door of the Liaison’s Office, Monty nodded to Nathan, who watched him but didn’t challenge.

“Lieutenant.” Meg came out of the sorting room and stood at the counter. “You just caught me. I was about to close up for the midday break.”

“Could you give me a couple of minutes before you go?” he asked.

“Of course.” Meg opened the go-through so that Monty could join her in the sorting room. She closed the Private door partway—the most privacy a human male could have around Meg.

“There’s something I need to know,” Monty said. He raised a hand as if she’d reached for her silver razor. “It’s not crucial enough to ask for a cut. I had hoped the cards might provide some guidance.”

Meg studied him, and he studied her. He saw her desire to grab at the excuse to make a cut, to feel the euphoria that came from speaking prophecy. He saw her struggle with the knowledge of how Simon Wolfgard and her friends, both terra indigene and human, would react to her making a cut when she’d managed to hold her addiction at bay for several weeks.

“I could try the cards,” Meg finally said. She opened a drawer and removed a carved wooden box. She opened the box, removed the stacks of cards, and spread them over the sorting table. Then she placed her hands just above the cards. “What is your question?”

“What will happen if Cyrus James Montgomery, aka Jimmy, comes to Lakeside? Speak, prophet, and I will listen.” He wasn’t sure if those words were needed when Meg used the cards, but it was part of the ritual of prophecy when she used the razor, so he said the words.

Meg closed her eyes. Monty waited. Then her hands moved as if she was searching for something by touch. She chose one card, but she frowned and her right hand kept moving over the cards scattered on the table. Finally she chose a second card and sighed, as if freed from a discomfort.

Meg turned the cards over so they could see the answer.

The first card showed an explosion. The second card was a hooded figure holding a scythe.

“I drew that card yesterday.” Meg pointed to the explosion. “I asked a question about Lakeside, and that was the action card.”

Monty had learned enough about how Meg used the prophecy cards to know she usually selected one card for a simple answer to a question and three cards for a complex answer requiring subject, action, and result. He suspected drawing two cards was unusual. “When you selected the cards yesterday, what was the subject card that preceded the explosion?”

“A travel card—train/bus/car. The action card was the explosion.”

“And the result?”

“Future undecided.” She looked troubled.

Monty felt equally troubled. “Thank you, Meg.”

“Miss Twyla came by this morning. She mentioned him too. Cyrus James. She said I should stay away from him because of what I am.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true. Jimmy would try to use your . . . talent . . . for his own benefit. If you obliged him even once, the next thing you know he would be bringing friends around and pressuring you into reading the cards for them—or making a cut if the cards weren’t providing a satisfactory answer.”

Meg looked alarmed. “Bringing strangers into the Courtyard would be dangerous and cause trouble.”

“Yes, it would.” Jimmy had a knack for starting something, squeezing what he could from it, and then walking away just before things went sour and escalated into real trouble. Starting something that involved Meg wouldn’t be trouble; it would be lethal.

Meg put the cards back into the box, forming stacks that fit the space but not trying to put the decks together. “I’d better close up. I’m meeting Simon for lunch.”

Monty waited for her to lock up, then walked with her to the back door of A Little Bite. Simon wasn’t there yet, and Monty felt relieved. He wasn’t ready to have a chat with Wolfgard yet.

First he would talk to Kowalski and Debany, would be honest with them about the potential damage his brother could do if—or when—Jimmy arrived in Lakeside. Then he would talk to Captain Burke and Agent O’Sullivan, would tell them about the cards Meg had drawn in answer to his question. And finally he would talk to Simon about the brother who obeyed the law only when it suited him. Of course, human law didn’t apply in the Courtyard, and Monty already knew the hard choice he would make—would have to make—if the Wolves went after Jimmy.