“Aren’t your own children also family, Sierra?” Twyla asked quietly. “Don’t you owe them at least as much loyalty as you show the brother who has never done a single thing for you?”

“He did a lot, gave up a lot.”

“It’s best if we don’t have that discussion.” She had fought that battle all the years Sierra was growing up, had felt the frustration of knowing Cyrus had somehow gotten under Sierra’s skin so deep that nothing she or James or Crispin had been able to do or say could dislodge Cyrus’s influence. Away from him, the girl was bright, loving, a good mother, and a steady employee. But everything Sierra knew about right and wrong collapsed when Cyrus showed up.

“You betrayed your employers,” Twyla continued. “You’ve lied more than once to me or Crispin or your daddy when he was still alive. Most of the time you’re not a liar or a cheat. But I suspect you’ve told Cyrus enough about the Courtyard that he’s on his way here, thinking to get a handout.”

She studied her daughter. Sierra had been two years old when she and James adopted her. Crispin had been twelve, Cyrus nine. One boy had embraced having a little sister; the other boy had resented her from the day she’d come into their home. Maybe it was human nature to want to please the person who rejects you, who wants you to prove you deserve to be loved. Maybe. But no matter what Sierra did or how much she gave, Cyrus would never love his little sister. It was a hard truth for a mother to admit, but Cyrus James Montgomery had never loved anyone but himself.

“You’re a grown woman,” Twyla said, feeling tired. “If this was just another job, I would have left the decision between you and Mr. Elliot about whether he wanted you to work for him. But this isn’t just another job. Mr. Elliot deals with the mayor and the rest of the city’s government. I reckon there’s plenty of information that might be worth some money to the wrong people. Cyrus would know that, and it never takes him long to find the wrong people. And it wouldn’t take him long to apply whatever hold he has on you to do wrong for him. But this time, girl, you wouldn’t just lose a job and a place to live; you wouldn’t just be taking food away from your children. The Others have their own way of dealing with betrayal, and it’s harsher than receiving a pink slip.”

“CJ wasn’t being fair,” Sierra said. “He could have sent Jimmy the train fare if he’d wanted to, but Jimmy had to flee Toland on his own.”

Twyla noticed there was no mention of Cyrus’s wife or children. “He’s on his way here?”

Sierra hesitated, then nodded.

“Where’s he going to stay, especially if he does have his family with him?” She would never admit it to Sierra, or Crispin when he heard about her choice, but this was one reason she wanted the efficiency apartment. She could turn down Cyrus and his wife, Sandee, but if she had a spare bedroom, it would be hard to refuse giving the grandchildren a place to sleep. And Cyrus wouldn’t hesitate to use his children as the wedge to get as much from her as he could. Which wasn’t much, considering how little she had right now, but it still soured the day knowing that his children paid for his schemes because helping them meant helping him continue to do wrong, and that she would not do.

“Not all the apartments are occupied,” Sierra said in a small voice. “And we don’t have to pay . . .”

“That’s what you told him? You’ve got a place rent free? Child, what are you using for a brain these days?”

“The Others said we could live here. They’ve even given us some furniture and stuff.”

“They’re not giving you those things. They’re providing some furnishings that stay with the apartment. Those things are not for you to do with as you please. And living in those buildings isn’t free. Crispin doesn’t work in the Courtyard, so he pays rent like he would to any other landlord. For the folks who do work in the Courtyard, the rent is deducted from the pay up front—something you should think about if you’re going to live here.”

Sierra stared at her, her mouth hanging open.

“Well.” Twyla sighed. “You’d best decide quick if you want to find a job at a local business and pay rent same as Crispin or if you’re going to work in the Courtyard doing whatever you’re assigned to do.”

Sierra walked out of the room. A few moments later, Twyla heard the apartment door close.

It wasn’t surprising that the girl hadn’t taken it all in when the terms of employment were explained. They’d been told about working in the Courtyard shortly after the storm came through last month—the storm and the terror that had followed in its wake.

The terror hadn’t gone away. Not completely. No one said anything, but Twyla knew it by the way Eve and Pete Denby kept a sharp eye on their children, by the way Crispin called to check on her and Lizzy and Sierra a couple of times a day despite being with them each evening. She knew it by the way the Crows flew over to see what was happening at the apartments—curious about the humans, sure, but also watchful for what might whisper past the buildings unseen. She knew by the way the Wolves howled at night.

And she didn’t need to hear Meg Corbyn speak prophecy to know what would happen to the humans in this city if the Wolves stopped howling.

She needed to tell Crispin about this as soon as possible. And she needed to warn Meg about Cyrus. A lot of folks now were aware of what it meant when a girl had evenly spaced scars. Cyrus would look at Meg and see his ticket to wealth beyond measure. He wouldn’t consider that she might be treasured by someone else for very different reasons.