Kitty Rocks the House

chapter 16




ON SUNDAY, my mother called, as she always did, to ask how things were going, was I doing okay, so on and so forth. As usual, I couldn’t give details, like how I was in the middle of dealing with a coup attempt on my leadership of the Denver werewolves, helping to organize an international supernatural conspiracy, hanging onto my job, trying to stay sane—

So I deflected, and brought up the problem I could talk about. “I’m worried about Cheryl. I think I really pissed her off this time.”

“Don’t worry too much about that,” she answered, sounding amused. “You two have been pissing each other off since you were little.”

That was true. But it seemed like as kids we could forget about the grudges more quickly. Fight at lunch, friends again by supper. “Do you think I’m neglecting you all? Because I’m always running around trying to do too much?”

“Kitty, I know if we really need you you’d be here in a heartbeat. You were at Grandma Norville’s funeral, weren’t you? Of course I’d like to see you more often, we all would. But you have your own life to live.”

“If you say so. But Cheryl—”

“She’s going through a rough stretch right now, but she’ll be fine, eventually. You might call her every now and then, take her out for lunch or dinner. Let her know you haven’t forgotten about her.”

“I can do that.” It wouldn’t even be difficult. And just like that, life got a little brighter. “Thanks, Mom.”

* * *

PART OF the talking Becky and I did at the diner over third and fourth cups of coffee was make a plan. Darren had a plan. Becky was part of it, and she hadn’t told him the plan was off. So that was how we’d face him. Follow his plan, right up until we didn’t.

Their plan was for Becky to call me that evening and say that Darren was hurting her, and could we please come help. They’d be out by the full moon den, a remote space where we could have a proper showdown. Darren also picked the spot to be symbolic—this was the place the wolves called home, he wanted to prove he could control it. Becky would call, Ben and I would ride to the rescue. Trap sprung.

The hardest part of the new plan was going to be Becky convincing Darren she wasn’t lying when she told him that the old plan was still on. He’d be able to smell the deception on her. On the other hand, he’d only known her a few weeks. He didn’t know any of us, really, any more than we knew him. Maybe he’d think her strangeness was nerves.

She went home and showered to get the smell of the diner, and Ben and me, off her. Then, we went home and waited.

“We should call Cormac, let him know what’s happening,” Ben said, pacing across the living room.

“And have him ride to the rescue with his gun and silver bullets? No,” I said. We could do this without him.

Wincing, Ben scratched his head, ruffling his hair even more than usual. “You’re right. God, I hate this.”

Finally, Becky’s call came. “All right,” she said. “Time for you to rescue me.”

Darren must not have been within hearing range. She didn’t sound scared, or even like she was faking being scared. Nervous, yes. But also determined. I expected nothing else from her.

“We’ll be there soon,” I answered. “Just hold on.”

“Yeah,” she said and hung up.

I looked at Ben, and he kissed me.

“What was that for?” I said.

He shrugged. “I felt like it.”

“You want to maybe do it again?”

He did, arms closing around me, lips soft against mine. Well, I felt better.

“Ready?” he said, after his next breath.

“Ready.”

* * *

THE SUN had set by the time we reached the mountains and turned onto the side road in the national forest where we spent most of our full moons. The air was gray, the trees lost in shadow. Not the best time of day to be fighting.

We had troops in reserve: Shaun, Tom, and Wes, the toughest males in the pack. They followed us in a second car. Darren hadn’t talked to anybody else in the pack. He recruited Becky and expected the two of them to be persuasive enough to convince everyone else to drive us out. He was old-school, monarchical. All he had to do was prove he was stronger, and everyone else would fall in line.

Shaun parked, and Ben pulled our car up beside his, my passenger window next to his driver’s window.

“He’ll smell you as soon as you get close,” I said. “So hang back. Ben’ll call you. Keep your phone on and you’ll be able to hear everything. Maybe this’ll just blow over.”

He grinned. “You just keep thinking that. The rest of us will be ready to pounce.” He gestured to his companions, who glared with lupine glints in their eyes. Yeah, I was glad they were on my side. “We’ll stay downwind,” he added.

And so the general marshals her forces.

“Worried?” I asked Ben, as he guided the car along the last hundred yards of dirt lane to the meeting point.

“Naw, not really,” he said, though the hint of sweat on his skin put the lie to that. “I probably ought to be. But I have the confidence of the righteous. It’s like a trial—I can’t walk into a courtroom expecting to lose or I’ve already lost.”

He kept his handgun in the glove compartment, just in case.

Around the next curve in the road sat a car I didn’t recognize. Darren’s, I assumed. We parked behind it. Under my rib cage, Wolf kicked. The triggers were here—the place, the time, the smells. Ben at my side, moving carefully, keeping a strict control of himself. It was time to run. Everything said so. But no, not now. Maybe later. Next full moon for sure. That was how this worked.

We stepped out of the car. “Shall we?” Ben offered his elbow, an elegant gesture.

Smiling, I wrapped my arm around his and we continued on, as if heading to a fancy dinner or the symphony. Hmm, there was an idea, for after we got through this. Assuming we got through this …

Ben dialed Shaun’s number on his phone, exchanged a short greeting, then put the phone in his pocket. “There. We’re bugged.”

Twenty more paces brought us into the clearing, a meadow bounded by pines on one side and lichen-covered boulders on the other. Nice, open ground, all of it shadowed in the twilight. Nowhere to hide. Darren and Becky stood in the middle, waiting.

“Hi,” I said, super cheerful, arm raised in a wave. “We’re here to rescue Becky. That’s what’s on the script, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” Darren said.

“What, was there a schedule? Are we late?” I said, looking at Ben.

“Hmm, my watch must be slow,” he drawled.

“You can’t lead this pack,” Darren said, hands in fists, teeth bared in anger. “You haven’t been leading it for a long time. You should admit it. Step aside. It’s best for everyone.”

I clicked my tongue. “Wow, about that. We have different ideas of what’s best. You put on a good show, but you strike me as being one of those alphas who thinks all they have to do is beat people up and that makes them strong. Did Becky tell you, we had a couple of those alphas in charge before I took over? Nobody liked it much.”

“And you were stronger than them, to be able to take over. You’re stronger than you look. I get it.”

“No, not really. Meg was stronger than me in a straight-up fight. So I shot her. Silver bullet. Worked great.”

Taking a reflexive step back, he was unable to suppress the flash of panic in his eyes. But I didn’t draw, and neither did Ben. This wasn’t the case of blind rage and desperation that that previous confrontation had been, so we’d left the gun in the car. Darren figured that out after a few deep, testing breaths, his nose flaring. But the damage was done; he’d shown that sliver of weakness.

“Becky?” Darren said. “Tell her.”

Becky stood to his right, a step or two behind, waiting for a cue. His or ours. She was tense, hands clenched, arms at her sides, shoulders bunched. Schooling her expression to calmness.

“Becky?” he said again, when she didn’t come forward.

She licked her lips. “I can’t do it, Darren.” Her voice was steady. Mine probably would have cracked.

“Yes, you can.”

“Then I won’t do it.”

“We talked about this. I thought you agreed with me—”

“I said I wanted to be alpha of the pack. I wasn’t thinking about … what the consequences would be. But Kitty’s right. Things have been so much better since she got rid of Carl and Meg. She’s earned a little loyalty.”

“It’s too late for that,” Darren said. “There needs to be a change. We all know what’s coming, the vampires, werewolves, all of us. Someone strong needs to lead that fight. Someone physically able to fight, who doesn’t have any doubts at all.”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “History is full of people who didn’t have any doubts.”

He stalked forward. His voice growled, “I’ll take you down, I can fight you both.”

I was very careful to stand rooted. I couldn’t afford to be scared; the stakes were too high. I said, “By any chance do you know what happened to Carl? The other half of the old alpha pair?”

He pulled up. “I’m guessing you shot him, too.”

“No,” I said. “The rest of the pack tore him to pieces.”

They came when I called, as I’d had no doubt they would, stalking through the trees and into the clearing. Shaun went shirtless, displaying lean strength in his arms and chest, his gaze locked on Darren. Tom and Wes had shifted and trotted on either side of him, each of them two-hundred-plus pounds of wolf, lips curled back, ears pinned.

I smiled, showing teeth. “So?”

Darren laughed. “So what? You know what that tells me? You’re not strong without them. You can’t be alpha without your pack backing you up.”

“That’s the whole point.”

Shaun and the others kept moving, fanning out around the clearing, keeping Darren in the middle.

Darren wasn’t backing down. The challenge had faltered, but he was still focused, radiating aggression. No wonder—we’d cornered him. He’d fight us all if he had to. Even if he had to know he couldn’t stop us all.

“Hold up there, guys,” I called. Shaun and the wolves stopped pacing, though my four-legged henchpeople padded in place, heads low, circling, anxious. “Darren, you’re not a bad guy. I really do think we’re all on the same side, and we need all the people we can get to face off against Roman and his army. I don’t want to hurt you—”

“You can’t hurt me.”

I waved him off. “—but I want to know something. Did Nasser send you here to take the pack from me? Because he doesn’t think I can handle it?”

When he didn’t answer, I knew.

Ben huffed. “How do you like that? Guy comes here looking for allies and thinks he can do better?”

I said, “Yeah, I’m kind of used to people not taking me seriously. You want to go back and tell Nasser that we’re doing just fine?”

I’d hoped to give him an out. He could just walk away. Or he could talk back, engage in an actual conversation, tell me more about Nasser, find a way to work with me and mine. Convince me we really were all on the same side. He was a cornered wolf, but a smart one. But I misjudged.

He turned and lunged at Becky.

She scrambled back, but his arms were around her, one hand at her throat. Shaun let out a snarl and charged, along with the wolves, who reached them in a handful of long strides. Ben and I also lunged without thinking, ready to pounce on him to tear him apart before our claws had time to sprout.

But Darren shouted, “I’ll rip her head off!” He held her head in a lock and swung her around as a shield, while she hung on to his arm. His hands were thickening, the nails of his fingers sharpening into claws that pressed at the skin of her neck.

We all stopped.

A werewolf could survive a lot of damage. He could slash her throat, and she’d live, if she could get enough air to keep breathing. If she didn’t lose all her blood. We healed fast. We just had to live long enough for the healing to catch up with the injuries. Silver poisoning, take the head or heart—those were the ways to kill a werewolf. He knew what he was doing, of course he did.

Good thing Becky wasn’t going to wait around for him to do the deed. Instead, she started shifting.

Her back arched, bucking against his hold, her muscles contracting and straining as they bent into another shape, rough and wolfish. Her face stretched; her teeth sharpened, and her clawed hands slashed bloody ribbons down his arm. He roared at her, but couldn’t hold her thrashing form. She slipped straight down out of his grip.

Shaun and the others pounced. The human-shaped Shaun grabbed Darren’s arm and twisted it back, the wolves locked their jaws on throat and thigh. Darren screamed; the noise roughened into a snarl. His teeth became fangs, and his body stretched and morphed. The fight became a tangle of fur and blood.

Ben and I ran to Becky, who was full wolf now and caught up in her clothing, denim jeans ripping, shirt in rags. She twisted back on herself like a fish flopping on land.

“Shh, hold on a sec,” I hissed at her, tearing fabric away as best I could. I thought she might snap at me, but she only bared her teeth and pinned her ears.

The noise of the fight rattled through the clearing. Ben stood guard between us and them. When Becky tore free of her clothes, she lunged back toward the others. The tang of blood was thick in my nose, and my own Wolf reached through me, wanting to join in.

Darren was holding his own. I couldn’t believe it. His hands slashed in different directions, while his fanged jaws took a swipe at Shaun. He kicked Wes away, then swooped around to punch Tom. When they shook themselves off and piled back on him, he did the same, moving fast, never seeming to tire. He held himself to his form, part wolf, part human, standing upright, but roughened with the sheen of fur, his eyes gleaming amber. I’d never seen anything like it. He really was stronger; but then, I’d never thought he wasn’t.

Again, he swatted and turned, throwing them all off him and away. Shaun bounced and rolled. Someone yipped in pain. Darren paused, looked over my shoulder, and those wolfish eyes widened. His back arched, and he let out a half-cry, half-howl of frustration. His control slipped, and his body lost its humanoid shape. Finally wolf, he dropped to all fours and fled, shaking off clothing as he went. The gray-brown beast ran with strides so long he seemed to fly across the grass and into the trees.

My two wolves shot after him. Shaun trotted a few paces then stopped, muscles knotted along his back, hands in fists, holding back, staying human. Becky circled back to me and Ben. She had blood on her mouth, and more streaking from a cut on her neck.

I hollered after Wes and Tom, my cry almost a howl. The wolves hesitated, slowed, loped back around. They listened to me. And Darren said I couldn’t lead.

“Let him go,” I said as they returned. “We can wait.” I sat next to Becky, leaning into her, and she licked my chin. I hugged her.

Even if he hadn’t been winning the fight, he hadn’t been losing, and if four of my wolves couldn’t drive him off … I looked over my shoulder.

Rick stood at the edge of the clearing, in a white T-shirt and jeans, his hair mussed, his body in a stance that made him look like he’d been running. Since he wasn’t breathing heavily—or at all—I couldn’t tell if he had been.

I could smell him, now that I was paying attention. Skin chilled and unnatural.

“Are you all right?” he said finally.

“I think so,” Ben said. Me, I was speechless. Becky trembled against my arms, suspicion charging her anxiety. The other two wolves stared at Rick, their gray and tawny coats bristling. Shaun’s gaze had a lupine cast to it. “So, what brings you out here, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I went to New Moon at dusk to find you. One of your wolves, Trey, was there and when I asked after you, he told me where you’d gone. Said you’d been challenged, that you were in trouble. I came as fast as I could.” He ducked his gaze and looked almost sheepish, just for a moment. “I wondered if my not being available had contributed to the issue. I suppose Denver’s looked like a city without a Master for the last couple of weeks.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It kind of has.”

“But I see you have everything well in hand, here,” he said.

I laughed, though the sound was strained. “Rick, it’s so good to see you.”

Tension broken, the three wolves gathered close, rubbing their bodies against me, heads and tails drooping, gazes downcast. I brushed my hands through their coats, rubbed my face against theirs, took in their scent and gave them mine. Ben reached to me, and I took his hand and pulled him down to sit with me. My pack, half-human, half-wolf, piled together, calming each others’ nerves. We’d won.

“Thank you,” I said, sighing a breath. “Thank you all so much.”

Shaun slumped tiredly to the ground. Tom sidled up to him, bumped his shoulder, and reached up to lick his face. My lieutenant had a claw slash running down one cheek. Smiling, he rested his face against Tom’s ruff.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. Becky?”

She pricked her ears at him, licked her lips. She had cuts and wounds as well, but nothing serious. We were all a little battered, but not broken. Thank God.

Rick stood aside, looking off into the trees—avoiding intruding on what must have seemed like a private domestic lovefest. I gave the wolves one more face rub each, squeezed Shaun’s shoulder, kissed Ben, and extricated myself from the pile. The air seemed cold after being surrounded by so much fur and affection.

“Did he really think you’d just roll over for him?” Rick said to me as I joined him, brushing off my jeans.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think he made some assumptions. And he didn’t really think I’d be able to talk my way out of things.” Becky made a soft whine and tucked in her tail, and I smiled at her. She’d almost been convinced; she and Darren could have taken us by force, if it had come to that.

“Then he doesn’t know you very well.”

“No, not at all,” I said.

“You really think he’s one of Nasser’s?” Rick asked.

“I don’t know that he belongs to him, servant or employee or whatever the hell that means,” I said. “But they’re working together. Probably a lot like we are.”

“I suppose it’s too much to hope that he just keeps running and we never see him again,” Ben said.

I didn’t know what Darren would do. He was here on a mission from Nasser—the mission had failed. Would he try again? Try to take us out and convince the pack to follow him after the fact? Or would he acknowledge that if we were strong enough to face him, we could stand against Roman? With or without Rick’s help? God, this was making me tired.

“We probably ought to track him,” I said. “Figure out where he’s going and make sure he doesn’t cause any more trouble.”

“I’m on it,” Shaun said, pulling away from the group hug.

“Take Tom and Wes with you. You have your phone?” I asked. The wolves perked their ears at me.

“Yeah, I’ll call when I find out anything.” Waving, he stalked off into the woods. The two male wolves trotted along with him. Strength in numbers.

Otherwise, it was quite a nice night. The daytime heat wasn’t able to drive away a chill in the air once darkness fell. Pine trees creaked under their own weight, and a nocturnal critter shuffed through detritus on the forest floor. A first-quarter moon shone in the west.

“I suppose we ought to think about heading back,” Ben said.

Becky had curled up, half-sprawling on Ben’s lap after circling in place a couple of times. Looking for the right spot, the right position before committing, a familiar ritual.

“We should wait until she’s awake and human,” I said, nodding at her. “I think the stress of the last couple of days did her in.” I returned to them, settling on the ground beside her. Ben leaned up against me.

“Mind if I join you?” Rick said, indicating the ground a pace or two away.

Wolf wasn’t sure she liked him out here in our territory, where he hadn’t been invited. We had our meeting places, and we kept our dens separate. But I nodded. He settled himself gracefully onto the ground, crossing his legs, looking as at home and in control here as he did everywhere. As comfortable here as he was in the basement of Obsidian.

He said, “It looks like I need to write a sternly worded letter to Nasser. Something about how ‘allied’ does not mean ‘invited to interfere.’”

“If you think it would help,” I said. “Hey, does this mean you’re back? Still Master of Denver and not haring off on some crusade?”

He gazed at the sky, or the treetops, or at some far-off thought. No lines of anxiety creased his features—but when was he ever anything but calm? I couldn’t know what he was thinking.

He shook his head, and my heart sank.

“I wish I could make you understand how much Columban has helped me,” he said. “To be alone, doubting myself for hundreds of years—”

“You were never alone,” but as soon as I said it I knew I had no idea what I was talking about. Other vampires I’d met had known Rick, I’d picked up bits and pieces of his history and they usually involved other people. But that wasn’t the same as not being alone. I didn’t know anything about him.

His answering smile was wry. “And when could I ever say that I still believed in God, after everything that’s happened? A Catholic vampire—you had that response yourself. Now, to find that there are others, that I’m not alone—if only I have the courage to reach out to them. Maybe it’s time I go on a pilgrimage.”

It was all I could do not to panic. “Am I being selfish, wanting you to stay?”

“I’m grateful for your … faith in me. But you know I never wanted to be Master of Denver.”

“That’s why you’re such a good one.”

“You’re speaking in clichés, now.”

I slumped. Becky slept peacefully. Absently, I smoothed the fur along her flank; her ribs moved with steady breathing.

“Angelo can be Master of Denver,” Rick said.

“He doesn’t want it, either. Did you know that?”

He stood, brushing off his jeans. “I should be getting back. I’d only meant to talk to you about how your meeting went, and I didn’t tell Father Columban I was going.”

My nose wrinkled. “Do you need his permission?”

“I’m … not really sure. But this was important, so I came.”

I felt a lecture coming on. “Rick—” Ben squeezed my arm. A reminder that some tact might be in order. “I understand that Columban showed you something, or offered you something that you’ve been looking for, that you need. If it’ll make you happy—I can’t ask you to walk away from that.”

He said, “If I had never left Spain, if I had been made a vampire in Europe, where Saint Lazarus of the Shadows has been established for centuries, I might have joined them from the start. My life would have been very different. Not better or worse, just different. As it was, in Mexico, cut off from the European vampires … how was I to know?”

“You don’t need a religious order to be a crusader—”

“My religion is what’s guided me all this time. It’s the thing that made me believe I could do good, be good, no matter what demons might take hold of me.”

“But do you need someone with rank and title telling you that?”

“Kitty, when I leave Denver, I’ll tell you. I promise.” He turned and walked away.

I watched him for a long time, until Ben squeezed my shoulder and brought me back to myself.

“He won’t do it,” Ben said. “Not really. We both know how much he likes Denver.”

When I spoke, my voice cracked with stifled tears. “He didn’t say if. He said when.”