Kitty and the Midnight Hour Part 14

I turned my face away. I shoved the photos back into the envelope and gave it to him, then left the room before he could throw a tantrum.

For a heartening moment, I thought I was going to reach the front door and escape without anyone stopping me. I touched the doork.n.o.b.

Meg put her hand on the door, in front of my face.

I didn't have to look. I felt her glare, the heat radiating off her body. Her breath feathered against my cheek. She knew I knew. Things would never be the same with us.

If I didn't react, she could stand there forever. She wanted me to react. She wanted to scare me. Where was T.J.? I didn't dare turn to look to see if he was still in the living room.

For a split second I thought that maybe T.J. was in on all this as well, though on which side I couldn't say. He wouldn't stand up for me in a fight. Suddenly, the whole world was against me.

Meg spoke, her voice low. "If he ever has to choose between me and you, don't think for a minute that he'll pick you." She meant Carl. She could have him.

"He won't fight for you," she continued. She grimaced, an expression of distaste. "He's spineless."

She may have been right. He was still in the bedroom, and if I screamed, I wasn't sure he'd come to help me.

Whispering, I said, "I don't want to fight you, Meg. I don't want anything."

"Nothing? Nothing at all?"

That wasn't true. Gritting my teeth, I braced for her to hit me. "I want to keep the show."

Her hand moved. I flinched, gasping. But she only touched my chin, then brushed her finger along my jaw before closing her fist and drawing away.

She opened the door for me and let me go.

T.J. was waiting at his bike, fiddling with some arcane bit of engineering.

"Can we go now?" I said, hugging myself.

"You okay? You're shaking." He wiped his hands on his jeans and mounted the bike. I crawled up behind him.

"Did you know Carl and Meg are fighting?"

"They're always fighting."

Not like this. I choked on the words. Closing my eyes, I hugged him tight.

I never watched the local TV news, so I didn't have to work too hard to avoid watching it tonight, to see if Angela Bryant had filmed my better side or not.

But at 6:15 p.m. exactly, Ozzie called.

"Kitty. Did you know you're on the news?"

Morbidly, I sort of hoped there'd be a plane crash or something that would b.u.mp a prost.i.tute's murder off the news entirely.

"I had a feeling," I said tiredly.

"What's up with that?"

"Didn't the TV say anything?"

"They just said, and I quote, 'Well-known radio personality Kitty Norville is involved with the investigation.' That doesn't sound too great. You didn'ta"I mean, you're not really involved, are you?"

"Geez, Ozzie, you really think I could do something like that?"

"I know you wouldn't. But there's that whole werewolf thinga"

I sighed. I couldn't win. "I'm an unofficial consultant. That's it."

"So there are werewolves involved."

"I don't want to talk about it."

He grumbled like he wanted to keep arguing. Then he said, "You couldn't have worked in a little free publicity for the show?"

"Good-bye, Ozzie." I hung up.

The phone blinked at me that there was a message waiting. Someone had called while I was talking to Ozzie. I checked.

It was Mom. "Hi, Kitty, this is Mom. We just saw you on the news, and I wanted to make sure everything is okay. Do you need a lawyer? We have a friend who's a lawyer, so please calla""

Again, I hung up.

Yet again, full moon night. My thirty-seventh. How many more would there be? For the rest of my life, full moon nights were planned and predetermined. How much longer could I keep this up? Some nights, the light of it, the wind in the trees, the rush of my blood made me shout with joy, a howl lurking at the back of my throat.

Some nights, I thought surely this time my body would burst and break, my skin split apart and not be able to come back together again.

I waited outside the house until the pack spilled out the back door and into the scrub-filled backyard, and the trees and hills beyond. Like a hiking club going for a midnight stroll. Some of them started Changing as soon as their feet hit the dirt. They trotted, then ran to the trees, melting into their other forms. Where people had gone, wolves circled back, urging their friends to hurry.

I stayed at the corner of the house, hugging myself, hearing their call. T.J., naked, silvery in the moonlight, looked back, saw me, and smiled. I didn't smile back, but I pulled myself from the wall and moved forward, toward him. Like my Wolf was dragging me by her leash.

Someone grabbed me from behind.

Meg squeezed my arm and came close, speaking into my ear.

"You've gotten too big for your skin. You're arrogant. And you're in danger of splitting this pack apart. I won't let that happen. You think you're pretty hot right now, but I'll remind you where your place really is." Her hand pinched my arm. A growl was starting in my chest. I swallowed it back.

She didn't want to be the one to start the fight. She was alpha, and she wasn't going to stoop. She could chastise, dominate, threaten, but she wouldn't start the knockdown, drag-out stuff. I had to be stupid enough to challenge her. She talked like she thought I'd be stupid enough to challenge her. Like she wanted me to, so she'd have a chance to take me down.

I looked away, wondering how I could get away from her. Wolf was ready to fight to get away. Once, Meg's fingers digging into me would have had me cowering.

"I'm not trying to split up the pack. I justa"I just need s.p.a.ce." Like I was some kind of rebellious teenager.

"I know what you want. I know how this works, a young thing like you moving up in the world. And if you think you can have Carl, if you think you can have the pack, you have to talk to me about it. I'm still tougher than you."

I shook my head. "I don't want to fight you. I won't."

And I held it together. I didn't move. I kept still. Just let me run. I'd leave her alone if she'd let me. Almost unconsciously, I leaned away, toward the pack, the wolves, my family, where I could Change and be anonymous.

Her hands were s.h.i.+fting, claws growing. She didn't loosen her grip, so the claws broke my skin, blood trickling down my arm. I looked at her, but still I didn't move. Our gazes met again, I held my breath so I wouldn't growl.

A few of the others, wolves now, watched us, ears p.r.i.c.ked forward, aware that something was happening. They trotted over, free-flowing animals burst loose from their prisons for this one night. We had an audience.

I caught the scent of my own blood. Wolf kicked and writhed; the smell made her crazy. But if I didn't react, Meg would leave me alone.

She let go of my arm. Halfway through my not-very-well-suppressed sigh, she slapped me across the facea"open-handed, claws extended. My cheek lit with pain, so much pain I couldn't feel the individual cuts. Three, I thought, based on how she'd been holding her hand. A quick swipe. Probably felt worse than it was. Blood gathered in a rivulet trickling down my jaw.

I didn't fight. But I also didn't cower.

Finally, she turned away.

My body was fire. My skin was burning away, my breath coming in quiet sobs.

The wolves surrounded us. The whole pack had joined us. Wolves nudged us, b.u.mping our hips with their shoulders. Pale, cream, slate, silver, and black fur moved in a sea around us. My vision went white and helpless.

I let Wolf rip out of me with a howl.

Like shaking off dead fur, shedding out last year's coat, she convulses, then runs free.

She follows his scent. Him, the One. Running, she can reach him at the head of the pack. He is pale, coppery, wondrous in the moonlight. She runs into him, knocking him. She bows, playing; yips, trying to get him to chase her. She licks his face and cowers before him, tail low to show him he is stronger, he can do what he likes with her. In the other life she can't say these things to him, but here she can, here she knows the language.

That other part of her is too proud. But Wolf knows better.

The One's mate snaps at her a"not playful but angry. Keeps her away from the Onea"and the One doesn't protect her. He growls, snarls, dives at her. Whining, she runs away, tail tight between her legs. Then he leaves her. Trots away like she is nothing. She is left alone. The others snap and tease her for this rejection, but she doesn't feel like playing anymore.

That other part of her knows the heartbreak for what it is.

By the time I s.h.i.+fted back to human the next morning, the wounds had healed. At least, the cuts Meg gave me had healed.

Nights pa.s.sed.

I didn't know where to find Rick. He'd always come to me. I knew where I might start looking, and if he wasn't there I could probably find someone who did know where he was. a.s.suming I didn't get beaten up first.

The nightclub Psalm 23 was a favorite vampire hunting ground. Despite what a lot of the legends said, vampires didn't have to kill their prey when they fed. They usually didn't, because littering the surroundings with bodies attracted too much attention. They could seduce a young thing with nice fresh blood, drink enough to sustain them but not enough to kill, let the victim go, and the poor kid might not have any idea what had happened. Supernatural Rohypnol. The process didn't turn the victim into a vampire.

In the right subculture, a vampire could find willing-enough volunteers to play blue-plate special. Psalm 23 was dark, stylish, played edgy music, and Arturo was a silent partner.

I had to dress up; they'd have turned me away at the door if I'd shown up in jeans. I wore black slacks, a black vest, and a choker. Understated. I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

Outside, I could hear the music, something retro and easy to slink to. The doorman let me in without a problem, but I hadn't gotten three feet inside when an incredibly svelte woman with skin so pale her diamond pendant looked colorful fell into step behind me.

I stopped. So did she, close enough that her breath brushed my neck when she spoke.

"I know you," she said. "You're not welcome here."

"Then you should have stopped me at the door," I said without turning around. "I already paid my cover."

"You're here without invitation. You're trespa.s.sing."

I stopped myself before saying something stupid. Like f.u.c.k territory. Any territory marking that was done was done by Carl, and I was on the outs with him right now. I didn't want to go so far as to say that.

I turned. "Look, I'm not interested in facing off with anybody. I need to find Rick; is he here?"

Her gaze narrowed; her lips parted, showing the tips of fangs. "I might ask for an additional cover charge from you." She ran her tongue along her teeth, between the fangs.

"You won't get it." Werewolf blood was apparently some kind of delicacy among vampires. Like thirty-year-old scotch or something.

"You're in our territory now. If you want to stay, you will follow our rules."

I backed away, bracing to run. I didn't want to fight. Maybe it had been a mistake coming here. Maybe I thought I could handle it on my own, and maybe I was wrong. I kept testing those boundaries and I kept falling on my a.s.s, didn't I?

I'd never meant to cause trouble with any of this.

Someone stepped beside me, interposing himself between me and the woman. It was Rick. "Stella, Ms. Norville is my guest this evening and is under my protection."

She stepped back from him, gaping like a fish. "When Arturo finds out she was herea""

"I'll tell him myself and take responsibility for the consequences. I'll also make sure she doesn't cause trouble. Like start a fight with an aggressive hostess." He touched my arm and gestured me to a quiet section of the bar. The woman, Stella, stalked off with a huff. I let out the breath I'd been holding.

"Thanks for the save," I said as we took seats.

"You're welcome. Drink?" he said as the bartender drifted over.

Tequila, straight up? "Club soda. Thanks."

"The question remainsa"what are you doing here? It's not exactly safe for you."

"I wanted to let you know, I got a tip that Elijah Smith is coming back to this area in a week or so, probably out toward Limon. I found that on the Web so take it with a grain of salt. But it's the best I've got right now."

"It's more than I have. Thanks."

"I'll tell you when I get more. Maybe you could leave me a phone number for next time?"

He had the gall to laugh.

"I take it you don't like phones," I said.

"Why don't I come see you at your office in a week instead?"

"d.a.m.ned inconvenient," I muttered. It would have been nice to have someone agree with my suggestion for once.

He looked thoughtfully at me. "No one gets that put out over not getting a phone number."

A seething pit of frustrated intentions, that was me. I frowned. "Could you give me some advice?"

He blinked, surprised. "Well. I thought you had all the answers."