“CJ . . .”

Gods, this was killing him. Would making a sandwich for the girls really be so bad? If he was dealing with other humans, maybe not. But the Others wouldn’t see it that way. “I can’t help you.”

“Won’t help me.” Sissy pulled away from him. “Because I’m not really family.”

Monty stared at her. “What does that mean? Is that more of Jimmy’s crap?”

“It isn’t crap if it’s true.”

“For a smart girl who did so well at school, I swear, Sissy, sometimes you can be stupid.” When he tried to hug her, she sprang up, putting as much distance as she could between them.

Sighing, Monty pushed to his feet. “Look, I still have a one-bedroom apartment near Market Street. That area of the city has had some trouble, but you and the girls could stay there for a few days if you wanted to get away from Jimmy while he’s in Lakeside.” He’d been planning to talk to the landlady about dissolving the lease to free himself of that expense. He didn’t think she’d hold him to it since rents had doubled in the past few weeks with the influx of people looking for jobs in a human-controlled city. But if Sissy wanted to take over the lease, he would talk to the landlady about paying the difference in water usage for three people instead of one.

“I’ll take care of myself and my girls. I don’t need your help.”

The bitterness in her voice stung him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She didn’t respond, so he walked out, smiling at Carrie and Bonnie as he left. He stopped at his apartment long enough to change into casual clothes and collect his mail. Returning to the Courtyard to have dinner with his mother, he thought about Sierra—not as a big brother but as a cop. If he’d done that before, would he have spotted the signs of trouble when they were all living in Toland? Well, he’d spotted enough of the signs, but would he have acted on them?

He thought about Sierra as a young woman with her first job, struggling to pay the rent on a tiny box of an apartment but proud to have her own place. Except . . . had she struggled financially because her job didn’t pay quite enough, which is what she’d told him when he’d treat her for lunch, or because Jimmy had been coming around every few weeks and squeezing her for money? And later, when the man who had fathered her children took off for good, had he accepted the excuses for the lost jobs or the final notices on utilities because he truly believed them or because his life with Elayne and raising his own little girl was his own excuse for not asking hard questions?

And now it had come to this: Sissy feeling betrayed, feeling like an outsider, because her family loved her enough not to help her continue on this path.

• • •

Meg slipped off her sandals and rubbed one calf with the bottom of her foot to try to relieve the pins-and-needles feeling.

“You’re not eating,” Simon growled, “and you’re itchy.”

She’d eaten just enough not to feel empty, but she wasn’t enjoying the food. “I’m mad at Sierra for spoiling the nice dinner we were going to have, and I feel bad about feeling that way.”

“Why? The whole female pack feels that way.” Simon cocked his head. “Do you want to go bite the Sierra?”

“Yes!”

He narrowed his eyes and leaned back a bit, as if worried that she might bite him, and that made her smile.

“Not for real,” she amended. Then she clenched her hands. For the past couple of weeks, she’d put the silver folding razor in a dresser drawer when she got home. That made it easy to find if she really needed to cut to see a prophecy, but she no longer carried it with her all the time. Right now, sitting here in the summer room with Simon, the razor felt too far away. And yet, she really didn’t want to make a cut. Not for Sierra.

“Vlad is still in the Market Square,” Simon said. “So are Henry and Tess. Do you want them to bring back the box of prophecy cards?”

She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

But what if something bad happened, something her warning would have stopped?

What if the something was actually a good thing?

“I think something is going to happen tonight,” Meg said.

Simon took a bite of his sandwich and studied her as she raised her leg and rubbed the calf, trying to relieve the prickles.

“Blair and I will go back to the Market Square and keep watch,” he finally said. “Nothing bad will happen to the Sierra and her pups.”

The prickles faded. Her words had been vague but, apparently, they had been enough. Or had the prickles faded because Simon promised to keep watch?

What did that mean for herself, for the other blood prophets, if a vague warning sometimes could be enough because someone really listened?

Simon picked up her sandwich and held it in front of her mouth. “If you’re going to bite something, bite this.”

She did. And because her teeth scraped one of his fingers when she bit down, she had to hold her own sandwich for the rest of the meal.

• • •

In Wolf form, Simon trotted back to the Market Square. Allison Owlgard, Vlad, Blair, and Elliot were already in position to watch the Sierra’s apartment and the area around the building. If Meg hadn’t been itchy, none of them would have been out there watching a human they didn’t like.

The Wolves had been keenly aware of the odd silence filling the Market Square since the Sierra had challenged him. Did the Elders understand that firing her was a human way of asserting his dominance as the leader of the Courtyard? Maybe he should tell them to make sure they understood this kind of dominance since they might see it in other places where humans lived.