“There aren’t enough individual dens for the newcomers to have their own place here,” Simon agreed. “But there are beds above the social center that could be used for sleeping and temporary shelter. And humans sleep on the floor sometimes. Kowalski has a puffy blanket for sleeping on the ground.”

“You’re pussyfooting around.”

Simon stepped back, insulted. “I’m a Wolf. I do not have pussy feet!”

O’Sullivan laughed.

Burke smiled, but the smile quickly faded. “You’re offering shelter to humans? Why?”

“Not just any humans,” Simon said at the same time Vlad said, “Because there’s a storm coming.”

“Yes, there is,” Burke agreed. “The only question is which direction it’s coming from, because, right now, there are multiple possibilities.”

“Captain, the storm you can see isn’t the one that is going to kill your people,” Vlad said.

“If Jean’s prophecy about Thaisia is correct, Lakeside is one of the human-controlled cities that will survive.” Simon didn’t mention that Meg had seen Lakeside’s future as being undecided. He looked at O’Sullivan. “Hubb NE is another.”

“Toland?” O’Sullivan asked.

“Yes, but the light was dim.” He didn’t want to be responsible for humans he didn’t know, but he believed this gesture of friendship would help decide Lakeside’s future, one way or the other. “The police we know and their kin can hide here. We don’t think Namid’s teeth and claws will harm any humans who are with us in the Courtyard.”

“That’s a generous offer,” Burke said.

“If there are enemies of the terra indigene among those humans, we may not be able to protect any of you.” Simon looked at Burke, willing him to understand. “Choose carefully.”

“I’ve been making provisions for families of officers to take refuge at the Chestnut Street station. Being able to send some of them here . . . I appreciate it.” Burke appeared to be thinking hard for a moment. “You think this will happen soon?”

“As soon as one of the storms hits Lakeside.”

“I take it I shouldn’t plan to get back to Hubb NE before things happen,” O’Sullivan said.

Simon shook his head. “I’ll talk to Elliot about letting you work out of the consulate for now. Then you can call Governor Hannigan.”

O’Sullivan looked at Simon. “He’s already mustering all the manpower he can in the Northeast to respond to the storms. Is there anything in particular he should prepare for?”

Hatred was now a taste in the water, rage a scent in the air. “He should prepare for a lot of humans dying.”

• • •

Sitting in A Little Bite, Monty drank coffee and listened to his mother’s quiet, no-nonsense recitation of the trouble they’d had getting seats on a train. Noting the strain on Sierra’s face, he figured it had been a lot more trouble than Twyla would acknowledge.

He smiled at his nieces and wished he could seat them at another table—or better yet, scoot them into Howling Good Reads and out of earshot so that he could really talk to his mother and sister. “You all had quite an adventure.”

Catching some movement, he turned his head and watched Captain Burke and Agent O’Sullivan approach their table.

“Ladies.” Burke tipped his head slightly. “I am very pleased you’re here.”

“Would you be needing a word with Crispin?” Twyla asked.

“Actually, I need a word with most of you.”

Nicely worded, Monty thought. Burke didn’t say he wanted the girls to leave—which would have made them want to stay—but he was quite clear.

“John Wolfgard is working in the bookstore,” Burke said. “I asked him to show the girls around the store. He’s right over there.” A gesture toward the archway that connected the two stores.

Since John was the friendliest Wolf in the Courtyard, Monty didn’t think the girls would provoke him into biting if left in his care for just a few minutes.

He smiled at Carrie and Bonnie. “You could each choose a book to read. A present from me.”

Carrie slid off her chair. “Can we have—”

“A book?” Sierra smiled at her daughters. “Yes, you can each have a book since that was the treat that Uncle CJ offered.”

Sierra’s firmness was a veneer that was wearing thin, and the girls could have broken it with whines and pouts. But Twyla’s firmness ran to the core, and one look at their grandmother had the girls heading for the archway and the Wolf waiting there.

“You’re Mr. John?” Twyla asked.

“Yes,” John replied warily.

“They’re allowed a book apiece, not anything else you might sell in your store.”

John scratched behind one ear. Monty felt relieved that the ears weren’t pointed or furry.

“Only sell books,” John said. “And a few magazines. And some maps.”

“That’s fine, then.”

John hesitated, then led the girls into the bookstore.

Nadine approached their table and looked at Burke. “Can I get you anything?”

“A few minutes of your time. Have a seat, Ms. Fallacaro,” Burke replied.

“I have cookies baking.”

“This will just take a few minutes, and it’s important.”