Kitty and the Midnight Hour Part 8

I couldn't hear footsteps, couldn't hear weapons. He'd stopped moving. Was I nervous? I hadn't seen those guns yet. I didn't have to; I could smell Cormac's body odor, taut nerves with a spicy underlay of aftershave. I could smell the gun oil. I could smella"silver. He had silver bullets. Any doubts about the truth of his claims and intentions vanished. He hunted lycanthropes and vampires, and if he was alive enough to use the plural on that, he knew what he was doing.

I was still on the air. I was getting the show to end all shows, interviewing my own potential killer live on nationally syndicated radio. So was I nervous? I talked faster. Words were my weapons, like Cormac's guns were for him. I could only hope my aim was as deadly.

"Hey, Cormac. You ever have to deal with a PMSing werewolf?"

"No."

"Well, it's a real b.i.t.c.h."

He was right outside the door. All he had to do was lean in and shoot. My fingers itched; my bones itched. I wanted to Change; I wanted to run. I could feel the Wolf clawing at my rigidly held control, in self-defense, self-preservation. I could fighta"but I wouldn't. Squeezing my trembling hands into fists, I held my breath. Matt crouched in a corner, his eyes wide. He was staring at me. Not at the door or at Cormac, but at me. The werewolf.

Cormac chuckled. The sound was soft, almost indiscernible even to my sensitive hearing. The next sound I heard was a clicka"the safety of a handgun snapping back into place.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Was I going to live? Die? What? "Sure."

"What the h.e.l.l kind of name is Kitty for a werewolf?"

My breath hissed. "Gimme a break; the name came first."

"I have a deal for you, Norville. I call off the contract, and you don't press charges."

"All right," I said quickly. I was more interested in keeping my skin intact than pressing charges.

Cormac continued. "I'm going to do some checking. If you're wrong, I'll come back for you."

I swallowed. "That seems fair."

"If you're right, we can both rub Arturo's face in it. Now, I suggest we wait here for the cops to find us, then we can all explain things like reasonable people."

"Um, can I finish the show?"

"I suppose."

Matt scrambled to the board. "Forty seconds left," he said, a little breathlessly.

Perfect timing. "Hey, listeners, I haven't forgotten about you. Seems this was all a misunderstanding. I think Cormac the a.s.sa.s.sin and I have worked things out. The police are coming up the stairs as I speak. If this were a movie, the credits would be rolling. So that's it for The Midnight Hour. Next week I have as my guest Senator Joseph Duke, sponsor of a bill in Congress that would grant federal marshal status to licensed exorcists. Is he a crackpot, or is the country really under threat from hordes of communist demons? I can't promise that it'll be nearly as exciting as it was tonight, but you never know. I'll do my best. Until then, this is Kitty Norville, Voice of the Night."

Matt started the closing credits, featuring a long, clear wolf howl rich with the full moon. It was my own howl, recorded for the show at the start.

I pulled off the headset and rubbed my eyes. Maybe Carl was right and I should quit doing this. So much trouble. Was it worth my life? I should just quit. Naha The hair on my neck tingled; I turned to see a man standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame. Even without the revolver in the holster strapped to his thigh, gunslinger style, he was scary: tall, six feet, and slim, dressed in a black leather jacket, black T-shirt, worn jeans, and thick, steel-toed biker boots. His mouth smirked under a trimmed mustache. He held a rifle tucked under his arm.

"That you?" he asked, indicating the last fading note of the wolf howl. He looked to be in his early thirties. His eyes glinted, matching the humor of his suppressed grin.

I nodded, climbing to my feet, propping myself against the wall. Big, dangerous werewolfa"yeah, that was me. I wanted a hot shower and a nap.

Cops were pounding down the hallway now, shouting something about weapons down and hands up. Cormac followed instructions, gun down and hands up, as if he'd done this before.

I had a thousand questions for him. How did someone get into the business of hunting werewolves and vampires? What kind of adventures had he had? Could I get him on the show as a guest? What did I do now? Introduce myself? Shake his hand?

"Norville, don't ever give me a reason to come after you," he said, before the police flooded the floor.

My smile was frozen and my knees were weak as the uniformed men arrived, surrounded him, and led him away.

The cop in charge, Detective Jessi Hardin, escorted me down the emergency stairway herself. She explained how I'd have to go to the police station, make a statement, sign the report, and so on. The long night was going to get even longer.

I wanted to say something. Like, I'm a werewolf. I wondered if it would change anything. No, not if. How it would change everything. I'd told the world. I felt like I had to keep saying it, to believe it had happened.

For once I kept my mouth shut.

"By the way, there's a guy downstairs looking for you. Name of Carl? I told him he can talk to you after you go to the station. This might take awhile, though."

Carl. Carl, that b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Took him long enough to figure out I was in trouble. And he called himself an alpha.

"That's fine. Take as long as you like. Carl can wait."

Chapter 6.

The cops kept me for two hours. They were nice. Very polite. Hardin put me in a bland holding room with off-white carpet and walls and plastic chairs, got me coffee, and patted me kindly on the shoulder. Most of the others gave me a wide berth, staring at me as I walked past. Rumor traveled quickly. The whispers started as soon as we arrived at the station. That's her. The werewolf. Yeah, right.

Hardin didn't seem to notice.

I gave her my rundown of what had happened. Just a formalitya"we recorded the whole show. It was all there on tape. But Hardin kept me around, trying to talk sense into me.

"You sure you don't want to press charges? We can pin felony stalking on this guy. Criminal mischief, attempted murdera""

I'd made a deal with Cormac. I'd stick by it, and despite everything I trusted him to stick by it, too. I'd been so used to running under the law's radara"we made our own rules, us and people like Cormac. But if I told Hardin, "We take care of our own," she probably wouldn't appreciate it.

Ouch. What was I thinking? Cormac probably belonged in jail.

"Don't tell me this really was just a publicity stunt," she said finally. If possible, her frown grew even more irate.

"No." It might turn out that way. I might have to thank Cormac. "I think I just want to go home, if that's okay." I tried to smile like a demure little victim.

"It'll be a lot easier to prosecute this guy with your cooperation. I can hold him overnight, but not any longer than that without pressing charges."

"No one got hurt. It's okay, really."

She put her hand on the table next to me and leaned close. "Att.i.tudes like that get girls like you killed."

I blinked, cringing back. She straightened and marched out of the room. I got to leave ten minutes later.

Outside the door of the police station, Carl and T.J. were waiting for me. T.J. put his arm around me; Carl took firm hold of my elbow.

I thought I would have argued with them. I thought I would have gotten huffy and shrugged away, a.s.serting my independence. Instead, I nearly collapsed.

I leaned against T.J., hugging him tight and speaking into his shoulder in a wavering voice, "I want to go home." Carl stayed close, his body like a shield at my back, and kept watch. He guided us to his truck, and they took me home.

They just held me, and that was enough. I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be independent. I could say to Carl, "Take care of me," and he would. Part of me wanted nothing more than to curl up at his feet and feel protected. That was the Wolf talking.

I had a studio apartment, decent if small, with a kitchen on one side, a bathroom on the other, and everything else in the middle. I usually didn't bother turning the futon back into a sofa.

T.J. sat on the futon, his back to the wall, and I curled up on his lap like a puppy. Carl stalked back and forth between the apartment's window and door. He was convinced someone was going to come after mea"Cormac wanting to finish the job; some other bozo who had it in for me on principle. I barely noticeda"if T.J. was here, I didn't have to worry.

"What am I going to do?" I sighed. "They're going to can me. It's all going to blow up. G.o.d, it's going to be all over the Enquirer."

"You might make Newsweek with this one, babe," T.J. said, patting my shoulder.

I groaned.

The phone rang. Carl nearly hit the ceiling before springing for the bedside phone. I got to it first. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Kitty. It's your mother. Area"are you okay?"

I had almost forgotten. How could I have forgotten? I was only beginning to deal with this.

I should have called her first.

"Hi, Mom."

"Cheryl called; she was listening to your show and she saida she said that you almost got killed and that you saida you saida"

Cheryl was my older sister. I barely registered how the rest of the call went Mom couldn't bring herself to say the word "werewolf." I said a lot of "Yes, Mom. It's true, Mom. I'm sorrya no, I'm not crazy. I don't think, anyway. No, I couldn't tell youa it's hard to explain. No, I'm not going to die, at least not right now. About three years now, I guess. Yes, that long." Mom started crying.

"Yeah, I'll talk to Dad. Yeaha Hi, Dad."

"Hi, Kitty. How are you?" And he sounded sensible, like he always had, like I might have just been calling from college to tell him I'd wrecked the car, and he was a.s.suring me everything was going to be okay.

I wiped away tears. "Sh.e.l.l-shocked. But I'll recover."

"I know you will. You're a good kid. I know that, and so does Mom. She's just a little off-balance right now."

"Thanksa"that means a lot. Is she going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. I bet if you call back this evening she'll be better."

"Okay."

"Are you alone? Is there someone you can stay with? Do you want me to come up there?"

That was all I needed, for Dad to come and find me tangled up in bed with the pack. "I've got friends here. They're looking after me."

After demanding about three more times that I call back tonight, he hung up.

T.J. smiled. "I could hear him on the phone. He sounds great. You're real lucky."

He hadn't let go of me all morning. No matter what happened, he'd be right there. He was pack, and he cared.

"Yeah," I said to him. "I am."

Carl crossed his arms. "That's it," he said. "You'll quit the show now."

I pressed my face to T.J.'s leg. I didn't answer; I didn't argue. In the face of all the evidence, he was right. I should quit. I didn't know how to explain to him that I couldn't. So I didn't. T.J. tensed, like he knew what I was thinking.

"He's right, Kitty," he whispered.

I covered my ears. I didn't want to hear this. I sat up and scooted away from T.J. until I was in the middle of the bed, and hugged my knees.

"Aren't you even the least bit upset at Arturo for hiring that guy in the first place?" If it was even Arturo. I was going to have to find out. Maybe Rick knew something.

Carl bristled, his shoulders twitching, his mouth turning in a snarl. "This isn't about Arturo. This is about you putting yourself in danger."

"I have to find out if Arturo was behind this. You could talk to him. Will you help me?"

Carl didn't answer. He just glared at me. T.J. looked back and forth between us, waiting for some cue.

T.J. settled his gaze on me and said, "If you quit the show, I'll call out Arturo for you."

Carl jumped onto the bed. I yelped; T.J. scrambled away, slipping off the bed and crashing to the floor. He rolled onto all fours in a heartbeat, but kept his distance. Carl pinned me, trapping me with his hands propped on the bed on either side of my head, his weight on my body. Trembling, I tried to pull away.

I wasn't ready to take on Carl.

"I don't bargain," he said, his voice low. He glanced sideways at T.J., who looked away, submissive. "You will do as I say. I'll take care of Arturo."

I didn't believe him.

I squeezed my eyes shut against tears, looking away even as I felt his breath on my cheek. He was close enough to bite. I nodded, wanting only for him to leave me alone, wanting only for it to stop. If we were human, and this was a human relationship, I'd have been expected to leave him. This was abuse.

After a moment, he wrapped himself around me, holding me tight. He only wanted to take care of me. The Wolf loved him so much.

It took until noon to convince them I was all right I told them I needed to rest I needed to go back to k.n.o.b, if only to tell them I was finished. When I told them this, I believed it myself.

But by evening, all I felt was angry.

Everyonea"receptionist, a.s.sistants, teeniesa"stared at me as I walked through the reception area at the station that afternoon. No one said a word. It felt like one of those naked dreams. The Wolfa"she loved it. All those chunks of living meat quivering like prey. But I kept it together. I'd had lots of practice keeping it together.

I didn't know what they were all thinking, how many of them thought it was for real, how many thought I was crazy. Some fear misted the air. Also curiosity.

I hadn't had a chance to talk to Matt last night. The police dragged us to separate rooms for our statements. I didn't know what he thought about me now. He'd worked on the show long enough, I was pretty sure he believed.

He met me in the hallway. Grinning, he handed over a s...o...b..x full of messages. As I took it, I studied him. A little bit of fear tensed the edges of his jaw. His shoulders were tight his heartbeat thudded a little too loud. But he kept cool, managing to stand there like nothing was wrong. I loved him for it.