Kitty and the Midnight Hour Part 18

The media vans were there again, thicker than ever. The city had a serial killer, and they were all over it.

"How do they know where to go?" I said. "They must have gotten here the same time your people did."

Hardin scowled. Not at me this time, but at the reporters drifting toward us as she parked. "They listen to police band radio."

The shouting started before I opened the car door.

"Ms. Norville! Kitty Norville! What do you think is behind these killings? What are you talking to the police about? Do you have any statement you can give us?"

On Hardin's recommendation, I ignored them. She formed a barricade between me and the cameras and guided me to the corner.

She showed me the first splatter of blood at the end of the alley behind the row of shops. It looked wrong in the daylight. Too bright, too fake. Half a b.l.o.o.d.y paw print streaked the concrete nearby. The whole paw would be as big as my head.

The blood started a trail that led into the alley, where a half-dozen investigators worked intently. They blocked my view of anything else. My stomach clenched and I turned away.

Hardin crossed her arms. "Well?"

I smelled it, the same wolf, along with the blood and decay. Those smells were connected to him. Like he didn't bathe, like he wallowed in death.

My nose wrinkled. "He smellsa damp. Sick. I don't know."

"Is it the same guy?"

"Yeah." I still didn't want to look at the body. I couldn't. "This is worse than the last one, isn't it? He's getting more violent."

"Yeah. Come on. I'll drive you back."

She'd parked around the corner. I stood at the car door for a moment, breathing clean air before I got in.

I caught Hardin watching me.

"Thanks," I said. "Thanks for not making me see it."

"It really gets to you, doesn't it?"

We got in the car finally, and she pulled away from the curb.

I said, "With the last one, the one that I saw, I could work out how he had done it. He wasn't s.h.i.+fted all the way to wolf. He could get the leverage to knock her over at the same time he ripped into her. I don't like knowing that I could do something like that."

"Being physically able to do it and being inclined to do it are two different things. You don't seem like the type."

"You only say that because you haven't met Ms. Hyde."

She eyed me with a mix of curiosity and skepticism at that, her brow furrowed and her smile uncertain. She dropped me off with the usual message: Call me if you find out anything. I promised I would.

I worked late. The building was dark and quiet when I left. Once again, it was just me, the late-night DJ, and the security guard. I hadn't slept well last night, and tonight wasn't looking any better. I didn't really want to go home, where I'd worry myself into a bout of insomnia.

I planned on walking back. It would make me tired and maybe numb my brain enough to sleep.

When I stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby of the building, I smelled something wrong. Something that didn't belong. I lookeda"a half-dozen people were waiting there, some standing, some sitting on the sofas pushed against the wall.

They smelled cold. They smelled like the clean, well-preserved corpses they were.

The elevator door closed behind me, trapping me.

Pete, the night watchman, was sitting at his desk in the back of the lobby. Just sitting there, hands folded calmly in front of him, staring straight ahead, not blinking, not noticing anything. The vampires had done something to him, put him in some kind of trance.

"Katherine."

I flinched, startled at the sound of his voice. Arturo stepped to the center of the lobby, into the spot of illumination formed by the security light. It was like he'd designed this stage himself and timed his entrance perfectly.

Arturo appeared to be in his late twenties, handsome and a.s.sured, with s.h.i.+ning blond hair swept back from a square face. He wore a black evening coat, open to show the dinner jacket and band-collar dress s.h.i.+rt underneath. He looked like he'd stepped out of an Oscar Wilde play, except that he moved too confidently in the modern era, looked too comfortable in the office lobby setting.

His entourage, three men and two women, moved from the sofa and the shadows to fan out around him, lending their own intimidating presences to his authority.

If vampires ever spend less time playing theatrics and living down to their stereotypes, they might actually take over the world someday.

One of the women was Stella, from the nightclub. She stood a little behind Arturo, frowning imperiously, like a statue. The other woman held Arturo's arm and leaned on his shoulder. She was lithe and pretty, dressed in a corset and a long, chiffony skirt, an image plucked from another century. She touched him like she couldn't bear to be parted from him.

The men stood on the fringes like bodyguards. Rick was among them. When I caught his gaze, he flashed a smile, seeming terribly amused by it all.

They all remained still, staring at me with detached ennui. That didn't mean they weren't paying attention.

"What do you want?" I tried not to sound scared, but my heart was racing and my gaze kept s.h.i.+fting to the gla.s.s doors and the street beyond. I tensed my feet, wondering if I could make a run for it.

"To thank you."

I blinked. "Why?"

"For helping Estelle. And for helping me. At least, for trying to." He smiled thinly and tipped his head in a small bow.

His words brought it all back, and I felt drained all over again. I rubbed my face and looked away. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else I could have done. I didn't want it to turn out like that."

"I know," he said, his voice soft. Without the pompous edge, he sounded almost kind. He straightened, discarding that hint of another self, and smoothed the lapel of his coat. "You might also like to know that any grudges toward you I may have acted on in the past are no longer a consideration to me."

I had to think about that for a minute. "You're not going to try and have me killed? No more threats?"

"For the time being. I do reserve the right to change my mind should your behavior warrant it. Good evening, Katherine."

He started to turn. I took a hesitating step after him. He paused and regarded me with a questioning tilt to his head.

It couldn't hurt to ask. Especially when he was being so nicea"for him. I plunged ahead. "Did Meg back you in hiring Cormac to come after me?"

He narrowed his gaze, studying me. I glanced away, not wanting to get caught in his stare.

"Yes," he said finally.

I hadn't expected a straight answer. My stomach knotted. Somehow, I still wanted to think there'd just been a misunderstanding. That I'd wake up tomorrow and we'd all be friends again. "Coulda"could you tell Carl that?"

He chuckled without sound, showing the tips of fangs. "My dear, he already knows. If he hasn't acted on that knowledge, there's nothing I can do about it."

He strolled out the front doors, trailing vampires behind him. Rick was the last to leave. Before pa.s.sing through the doors, he looked over his shoulder at me and pressed his lips together in a sympathetic smile. Weakly, I waved a farewell.

"What the h.e.l.l was that all about?" I muttered. I was just filling s.p.a.ce, breaking the intense silence, by saying it. By leaving his lair and going through the trouble of coming to see me, risking a potential breach of territory, Arturo had paid me one h.e.l.l of a compliment. It was unexpected, to say the least.

I was still staring at the door when a voice said, "Kitty, you okay?"

Pete was standing behind his desk, looking like he was getting ready to come over to me and take my temperature. He seemed fine, mildly concerneda"and seemed to have no memory of the six vampires who had just occupied his lobby.

"I'm okay," I said, taking a breath to bring me back to earth. "How do you feel, Pete?"

He shrugged. "Fine."

"Good," I said, forcing a smile. "That's good. See you later."

I left the building. My arms were covered with goose b.u.mps.

I'd walked home at midnight, and later, plenty of times. I'd never thought twice about it. Most mundane threats I was likely to meet couldn't hurt me. So I wasn't paying as much attention as I probably should have. The breeze was blowing toward my apartment building. I was walking downwind. I would have smelled the wolf, otherwise.

He ran around the corner of the building full-tilt, his legs pumping, his body streamlined. A flash of fur and bronze eyes streaked at me, and a second later he knocked me over. I sprawled flat on my back, my arms guarding my face.

I thought I'd found the rogue. Vaguely, I reminded myself to call Hardin about it as soon as I could. I would have thought a rogue wolf would recognize what I was and know better than to attack me. But as soon as he breathed on me, I knew him. He smelled like pack. Not the rogue.

I shouted, "Zan, get the f.u.c.k off me, you a.s.shole!"

Zan straddled me, his jaw clamped on my forearm. He shook his head, ripping into flesh. When I shouted, he hesitated, but didn't let go of my arm. If I tried to pull away, he'd tear it off.

At least he couldn't infect me with lycanthropy again.

With my free hand, I grabbed his muzzle and squeezed, trying to pry his head away from me. I wasn't strong enough to do that. But I squeezed hard. Cartilage popped under my hand. I twisted my grip, pulling his lips away from his teeth. He coughed, choking, unable to breathe through his nose. He let go.

I shoved away. When I turned, I landed on the injured arm, which gave out. Somehow, I got to my feet. Zan was right there, though, claws out and jaw open. This time when he tackled me, I rolled with him.

I pushed him to the ground and landed on top of him. He was a squirming bundle of muscle. His gray and black fur was slippery. I kicked him under the ribs. He yelped and burst away, all that strength flinging me like I was a feather.

From within me, from a s.p.a.ce inside my ribs and heart, my Wolf responded, her own strength surging to break free. She was in danger, and she was going to do something about it.

I clenched my teeth and fought it. I hated losing control. But my bones were melting, my skin was sliding. Right now, it would be a better use of my energy to run like h.e.l.l than to shape-s.h.i.+ft. But she wasn't having it.

I screamed, hunching over myself with the pain of it, angry at Zan for making me do this. The puncture wounds on my arm stretched and seared. While I was huddled and immobile with the Change, Zan attacked me again.

His paws landed on my shoulders; his jaw closed around my neck. I elbowed him, wriggling out of his grasp. His claws dug into me, but his teeth didn't catch. By this time, I had claws as well. I sat on my knees, raised my forelimbs, now stout and ending in thick, razor-tipped fingers, and raked them down his exposed belly.

They snagged and caught with a satisfying rip. I grunted as I put more effort behind it. Six lines of blood welled and matted with his fur. Elation, glee, and joy surged through mea"through her. This was her. This power, this joy, this blood. My mouth watered. Her mouth. I had thick canines. Fangs. She wanted a piece of him.

She could have him. He backed off, meeting my gaze. My vision had gone soft and glaring. The lights were too bright and the shadows too clear, but I saw him. We growled, lips curled back from angry teeth. An official challenge between us. I was halfway there, to her, my Wolf. Just let it go. Like a cannonball, another wolf crashed into Zan. They tumbled, a mess of fur, claws, and furious snarls. I backed away, gagging, hugging myself, trying to hold on to myself.

Cold water. Ice. Clothing. Broccoli. Pull it in. I'd never been so far gone and pulled her back before. I had the list of words, things I thought of that made her go away, at least a little. Sprouts. Green. Daylight. Calm. Music. Bach, "Sheep May Safely Graze." Ha.

And she went away, but it hurt, like my guts were being dragged over razors, like teeth were chewing me from the inside. Bile rose in my throat, sank back, and my stomach churned.

The fight between Zan and the other wolf was over.

Where I had struggled for my life, fought for every inch of ground and barely held my own, the newcomer swatted him once and that was that. Zan whined, tail between his legs, crawling on his belly, smearing blood on the sidewalk as he went. His attacker snarled and bit his face. Zan rolled onto his back and stayed there. The dominant wolf stood over him, growling low.

The attacker was T.J.

As a wolf, he was slate gray, with silver hair like frosting on his muzzle, chest, and belly. His eyes were soft amber. He was big and scary as h.e.l.l.

He was always saving my a.s.s.

When one wolf showed submission to another, that usually meant they were done. The dominant wolf accepted the other's deference, order in the pack was restored, and they both went their separate ways.

T.J. didn't stop growling.

Jaws open, he dived at Zan. I flinched at the ferocity of the action. The dominant wolf tore into Zan's throat, gnawing without mercy. Zan twisted and yelped, screaming almost, as if his human side was trying to get out. His hind legs pumped the air, looking for purchase to claw into T.J. and failing. T.J. was too fast and ruthless. Arterial blood flowed and pooled on the ground.

With the other's neck fully in the grasp of his teeth, T.J. shook his head until Zan flopped in his grip like a rag. A dozen times he jerked his victim back and forth. Finally, he dropped Zan and backed away.

I fell on my backside, jarring my spine.

My s.h.i.+rt was so ripped up it was falling off. My left side, where Zan had clawed my shoulder, bitten my neck, and torn into my arm, was covered in blood. I cradled my arm to my chest. I couldn't feel it.

T.J.'s face and chest were b.l.o.o.d.y. Zan's body started s.h.i.+fting to human, slipping back to its original state in death. He lay sprawled, covered in his own blood. The claw wounds that I had given him showed as stripes all the way down his naked torso. His head was almost separated from his body.

He looked a little like Hardin's mauling victim.

T.J. gazed at me like nothing was wrong.

I tried to think of what he was thinking. Besides thinking of the taste of blood filling his mouth. He was tired of Zan, who had caused trouble too many times. He wanted to be finished with Zan once and for all. At least that was what I was thinking. Zan had been stupid coming after me like this. I embarra.s.sed him in front of the pack, and he wanted revenge. So why didn't he challenge me in front of the pack?

I stared at the wolf sitting a few feet away from me. Smug. He looked smug.

"You jerk, I could have taken him! I was doing okay! You still don't think I can take care of myself!"

He probably understood me. He probably didn't care.

"How do you think this is going to look when the cops find a chewed-up body outside my apartment? Huh? Did you think of that? How am I going to explain this? 'Sorry, Officer, he just needed killing.' How is that going to sound?"

He looked at me, not twitching, not growling. Just watching me with utter calm and patience. Like, Are you finished? Ready to come home like a good cub?

"Yeah, well f.u.c.k you, too!"

This was pretty funny, me yelling obscenities at an oversized wolf.

I gasped a sob and pushed myself to my feet. I swayed, caught in a dizzy spell. How much blood had I lost? A lot. My arm was slick with it I stumbled toward the door of my apartment building. I wanted a shower.

"Stop staring at me. I don't want to talk to you." I turned away from him.