Who taught the young in a Wolf pack?

“Come over here,” Elliot said. When she didn’t move, he added, “Please.”

He led her to the filing cabinets along one wall, then pointed to a stack of folders teetering on a small table tucked against the last cabinet. “Do you know how to file these the human way?”

She picked up a folder, looked at the designation on the tab, and chose the appropriate file drawer. Then she chose another drawer. And another.

She closed the drawers and turned to face him. “What sort of nonsense is this?”

“That’s the human way to file papers.”

“So you say.”

A flicker of red, like a flash of lightning, filled Elliot’s eyes. “What does that mean?”

“It means that whoever did this had his own system to find things but made it near impossible for anyone else to put his hand on the proper file, or the fool just shoved things into drawers and hoped he’d never be asked to find anything.” She stepped forward to drop the folder on the teetering stack, and Elliot took a step back, watching her in a way that made her think he wanted to tear into someone’s flesh and hers would do.

“Can you fix it?” he asked.

He seemed to be having some trouble pronouncing the words, and she wondered what was wrong with his mouth now when it had been fine a minute ago.

“Do you know how to work in a place like this?”

Everyone in the Courtyard had a job. Everyone in a Wolf pack had a position. And while not all the humans who were being allowed to share in the Courtyard’s bounty had been assigned tasks, it had been clear that the Others expected all the newcomers to figure out what skills they could offer that would justify their being accepted.

Twyla considered what Elliot was saying. It would be a change from mopping floors and scrubbing toilets—although they needed someone to do that too. She didn’t think many people bothered Elliot, so it would be calmer than working at one of the Market Square stores, and she could use a little calm in her day if she was going to help look after the children in the afternoons.

“I never learned about typing and computers and such,” she finally said. “Answering the phone and filing—that I can do for you. But only in the mornings when the children are having their lessons. I came to Lakeside to help Crispin take care of Lizzy, and that has to come first.”

“Of course,” Elliot said calmly, his pronunciation once more crisp. “We take care of our young.” He paused before offering, “Sam is my grandson.”

Twyla smiled. “He’s a fine boy.” She’d seen Sam around the Market Square, sometimes spending time with the other children but more often in the company of Meg Corbyn and a young Wolf named Skippy. The first time she’d seen him and noticed the gray eyes, she’d thought he was a human child with hair that was an odd mix of gold and gray. And she’d thought he was Meg’s younger brother or a cousin. Then she’d seen Meg with a Wolf pup who had that same coloring.

“The Sierra listed computers and typing as some of her skills,” Elliot said. “Maybe she could—”

“No.”

The sharpness in her voice surprised her more than it surprised Elliot. But she’d had time to think about the prophecy cards Meg had drawn that morning. She didn’t know how someone else would interpret those cards, but she knew what she had deduced from them about her family. It made her angry, and it made her heart ache, to realize Sierra had lied to Crispin when the girl insisted that she had no way of contacting their brother, Cyrus. If she had been honest, Crispin still wouldn’t have paid for Cyrus’s train fare to Lakeside the way he had for his mother, sister, and two nieces, but he would have called his brother and warned him to leave Toland before the storm hit.

Twyla looked at Elliot. Not the actual leader, but he had a significant position in the Courtyard and among the Wolves. She couldn’t ask Crispin for help in confirming what she suspected. As a police officer, he had the means to find out, but it would create trouble between him and his little sister once he realized Sierra was in contact with Cyrus. “My Sierra is a good girl. She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s a hard worker, and she loves her children. And most days and about most things, she can be trusted. But we all have our weaknesses, Mr. Elliot, and Sierra’s weakness is her brother Cyrus. He twists her up and convinces her to do things she shouldn’t do—things she knows are wrong.” Twyla looked around the first floor of the consulate. “This is like a government office. Some things are everyday and don’t matter, and some things are no one’s business but yours. If Sierra worked here for you and Cyrus came by to pressure her into giving him information that would be worth selling, she might resist for a little while, but eventually she would give it to him and then try to justify why he should have it. That would cause trouble for her and for the rest of us.”

“But the Cyrus isn’t here,” Elliot said.

“I think he might be on his way here.” She went to one of the desks and wrote down the phone number for Howling Good Reads. She tore off the sheet and handed it to Elliot. “Sierra told me and Crispin that Cyrus hadn’t left a number where we could contact him. I think she lied. I think she’s called him a couple of times since we got here. Can’t say if she made calls on other phones without permission, but when I saw her using the phone near the cash register on a day when Mr. Simon and Mr. Vlad weren’t in the front of the store, she got flustered and claimed she was ordering pizza. I can tell you the children didn’t have pizza for lunch that day.” She hesitated. “The police have ways of checking calls made from a particular phone, but I can’t ask Crispin to check this. Even if I’m wrong about her calling Cyrus since we arrived in Lakeside, the lie she told before we left Toland will create tension between her and Crispin.”