Morning made the town look clean and guilty. We reached the Council Hall before the clerks unlocked the side door; Nolan leaned against the steps with a thermos and a face that said he'd slept as well as stones do.
“Clerk's late," he greeted. “Or clever."
“Both," my father said, lifting the folder. “We'll file the affidavit and the petition. Then we'll ask for a protection order."
My mother tucked her arm through mine. “And we'll go home," she added, like a spell.
The side door opened a crack. The Clerk peered out, eyes sharp, hair not yet decided. “You're early," she said, then saw our faces and stepped aside. “Fine. In."
We filed the papers quick as confessions. The Clerk stamped them with a violence that made me like her. “Service to the Alpha's office by noon," she said. “Hearing
