“When asked about the loss of livestock to Wolves, Stewart Dixon told the reporter, ‘It’s called rent.’

“And now here’s a recap of the photographs that were sent to news stations all around the continent.”

Monty watched the photos appear on the TV one by one. No one spoke, not even the officers who had supported the HFL. Then the last photo appeared and remained on the screen.

“Oh, gods,” Monty whispered. The mug slipped from his hand. Had Meg Corbyn seen . . . ? Of course she had.

He looked toward the door where Burke stood. Yes, his captain recognized the Wolf on top of the mound of bodies. Burke gave him a nod.

“Lieutenant?” Kowalski said, suddenly beside him. “I’ll get the car.”

Monty walked out of the break room, his mind racing. The other photos had been terrible, but it was the half-shifted, recognizable face of Joe Wolfgard that made the loss of the Wolfgard in another part of Thaisia personal.

He doubted Simon Wolfgard would want to see a human today. He doubted Simon would want to see a police officer or be asked what ramifications these actions might have for Lakeside. But today he wasn’t going to the Courtyard as a human or a police officer. Today he was going as a friend.

• • •

Burke moved aside when Montgomery and Kowalski hurried out of the break room. Then he filled the doorway, preventing anyone else from leaving.

“Gentlemen, there is a war coming. Despite what the HFL may want you to believe, it won’t be against the terra indigene. It’s going to be humans against humans. It’s going to be between those who recognize that working with the Others is the only way to survive on this continent and those who mistakenly believe that killing the shifters will win us anything. It’s going to be between the so-called Wolf lovers and the HFL supporters.”

Burke scanned the room, noting who met his eyes and who looked away. “So I’m telling you now. If any of you, after looking at those pictures, are thinking of putting on an HFL pin again, I want the paperwork for your transfer or resignation on my desk first.” He gave them all a fierce smile. “I know. I’m not the station chief. I’m just the patrol captain and I don’t have any say about the personnel under other captains’ commands. But I’m telling you here and now, if you can’t—or won’t—fight alongside the Others in order to save this city, I don’t want you in this station, because being divided within the ranks will kill us all. I can’t do anything for the rest of the continent, but I’m going to do everything I can to save Lakeside, and, if the gods are merciful, saving Lakeside might help Governor Hannigan keep at least part of the Northeast Region open to human habitation.”

He turned away, then turned back. “Don’t try to call my bluff about this. I am standing with the Lakeside Courtyard because I think it’s the only way to save the people of this city. If you can’t stand with me, you need to be gone by the end of the day.”

He walked to his office and wasn’t surprised when Louis Gresh came in right behind him.

“That was quite a speech,” Louis said.

“You think so?”

“You usually get what you want when it comes to having men transferred out of this station, but . . . a humans-against-humans war when there’s another potential enemy?”

“They didn’t think it through.” Burke settled in his chair. “You kill off one kind of predator, you leave a void. Sooner or later, something will fill that void, and in this case, I think it will be sooner rather than later. The HFL wants to talk about land reclamation? They have no idea what they started—and I have no idea who among us will still be here to see where it ends.”

• • •

Deciding on visible police presence, Monty asked Kowalski to park in the Courtyard’s customer parking lot.

“Check on the Denbys, warn them about the news reports,” Monty said.

“Sure not something the children should see.” Kowalski seemed about to say something more but changed his mind.

Monty smiled. “I’ll check on them after I talk to Simon.”

“Not sure what all they’re doing, but the girls are working with Meg at the Liaison’s Office this morning, and Theral is at the medical office.”

“Then check on them too.”

The lights weren’t on in Howling Good Reads, but the front door was open. That door wasn’t usually open anymore, so Monty went in cautiously, his hand brushing against his police issue revolver.

“Simon?”

A sound. Something moving on the other side of the main display table.

Careful, careful. He could draw his weapon against a human intruder but not against a Wolf. Not today.

Then Simon stood up, grabbing the table for balance.

“Simon.”

“You did this.” The voice sounded rough, not quite human. “You did this.”

“I saw the picture. Simon, I am so sorry about Joe.” What was he dealing with here? Shock? Rage? Overwhelming grief?

“How much human will the terra indigene keep? Well, you showed them the answer, didn’t you? You showed them this as an example of what it means to be human.”

Monty didn’t have time to brace for the attack before Simon grabbed him and slammed him against the bookshelves.

“We tried to work with . . .” Simon snarled. “We . . . tried. But you did this!”

More than grief. More than rage and shock.