Kitty and the Silver Bullet

Chapter 14

She switched on all the sirens and lights, and we sped off at superspeed. I had calculated twenty minutes to get to the hospital. We might make it in ten.

"Tell me about Arturo," Hardin said, totally calm, not at all like she was speeding down Denver's streets at eighty miles an hour.

Where to start? "He's a vampire. I don't know how old. Maybe two or three hundred years—"

"You know, I can't even comprehend that," she said, giving a short laugh. "He was alive when George Washington was alive. What does that mean? How does this guy look at the world?"

"It means we don't matter to him," I said. "We're just a flash in the pan."

"What else?"

"He has flunkies, followers. I don't know if he'll have any of them here. I'm guessing he left them to guard the homestead. But if they are here, they'll protect him."

Her expression pursed, contemplating the dilemma: they were vampires, monsters, and she could plow right through them to get to her quarry. But they were also individuals who were entitled to due process.

"If we do run into them, how do I stop them? Can I do it without killing them?"

"I don't know. Lots of things’ll hurt them: sunlight, holy water. Maybe even garlic. Staking's what kills them."

"So those stories are true."

"A lot of them, yeah."

"Good." She reached to her collar and pulled a chain with a cross pendant from under her shirt. She left it hanging over her collar.

We arrived at the hospital. After hours, the place seemed almost calm.

"All right, where's my backup," she muttered as she pulled up to the curb along the emergency drive. At this hour, that was probably the only entrance that would be open. I was out of the car and running for the doors before Hardin even stopped the car. "Kitty, wait!"

I didn't. Incongruously, the place was brightly lit, like a beacon. The rest of the world was so dark right now.

Inside, I hit the linoleum and didn't stop. I looked for a sign that would tell me how to get to the main part of the hospital, and where I could find Mom's room. I must have looked dangerous because a uniformed security guard, hand on his belt, moved to intercept me.

I realized: I could knock him over. Let out a little bit of Wolf and knock him aside. But I didn't. I begged.

"I need to get in, one of your patients may be in danger! Please!"

Hardin had followed close behind me and flashed her badge. "Let her through."

The guard stepped aside, and I ran past him. Vaguely, I was aware of Hardin following. I didn't wait for her. I only had one thought in my head: Please, let her be safe.

Up some stairs, through a door, down a hall, and around a corner, we came to her room. I smelled her. The door was open, and it was dark. The bed and its occupant were visible only by pale light bleeding from the hallway. Mom was asleep, her head tilted slightly on the pillow, arms resting on the blanket, tangled in a mess of IV tubes and wires. Around the odors of illness and medication, I smelled her. She was breathing, her heart pounded steadily, she was alive. But pale. Her face was lined, even in sleep.

Sitting in a chair by her bedside, tilted with a view toward the door, watching her sleep, was Arturo.

Blood throbbed in my skull, and I thought I might faint.

"How did you get in here?" I said, my voice shaky. This could go very badly. "What are you doing?" I'd been told that the prohibition against vampires entering without invitation didn't apply to public, commercial property. Apparently, the hospital room was public space.

His gaze shifted to me almost lazily, unconcerned. He struck such an incongruous picture: he sprawled in the plastic chair like it was a throne, one leg stretched before him, both elbows resting on the thin arms. He wore tailored slacks, a white shirt buttoned at the collar, and a suit jacket. On him, the ensemble looked formal, elegant. He was a Victorian gentleman landed in the modern age.

Hardin joined me, blocking light as she stood in the doorway. She held her gun aimed at the vampire. No, it wasn't a gun. It was a hand-sized crossbow, with a wooden shaft loaded.

"Don't move. I'll shoot," Hardin said, authoritative and coplike. Arturo appeared unconcerned.

"Detective Hardin, I'd like you to rest for a moment," Arturo said. He spoke slowly, with an almost musical tone. He'd caught her gaze. The two were looking into each other's eyes like they were the only people in the world.

I knew she wouldn't be able to handle the vampires.

"Lower your weapon, please," he said. And she did. She looked relaxed, but her face held a quizzical expression, her brow slightly furrowed, like some part of her wondered why she was obeying him. Some part of her still held on to herself. Nonetheless, she'd fallen under his spell.

"Arturo, stop it," I said.

"Detective Hardin, step into the hallway for a moment. Lean against the wall and rest. Thank you."

Hardin slipped out the door, slumping against the wall as if she really had decided to rest there a moment.

I was all alone with him. My ill mother and him. Quickly I wiped a tear away. It was all over. All of it was for nothing.

"What do you want?" I whispered.

"I only want to talk," he said. "We're both safe here. We can't do battle here."

"You—you won't hurt her?" I was crying anxious, silent tears, and I hated that I was doing it. I felt so weak and helpless.

Slowly, absently almost, he shook his head. "I could save her, if you like."

He could drain her, turn her, and in three days she'd become like him. Invincible, immortal, cured.

"So could I. I offered. She refused."

"She's a wise woman."

"Yes, she is."

"Carl has to go. I see that. I told him not to strike at you. I told him that stunt last night was a ploy to draw us out. That if we stayed calm, you couldn't touch us. I'm not surprised he didn't listen to me."

"He's predictable," I said.

"Are you ready to replace him?"

"Yes."

"I could help you."

He could. In a word, a gesture, he could destroy Carl and Meg. All I'd have to do was step into the vacancy. That, and sell my soul to Arturo.

"I can't owe you anything, Arturo. I don't want to be in your debt for this."

"I thought so. I had to try, though. Carl didn't have your scruples when he took me up on that offer."

I hadn't heard that story. I hadn't ever thought about the alpha male Carl must have had to fight to replace. When I'd been attacked, infected, when I'd joined the pack, Carl had seemed like a god, enduring and eternal.

Arturo stood in a fluid movement, incomprehensibly graceful. He was sitting, then he was standing, his hands curled behind his back. He neared my mother's bed and leaned over it.

"They didn't remove it all," he said, scrutinizing her, studying her with a narrowed gaze. "She'll have months of chemotherapy ahead of her. Even after that it could come back anytime, anyplace. Her bones. Her blood. Her brain."

"How do you know that? You don't know that."

"I feel it in her blood. I feel it traveling." He held a hand, spread flat, a few inches over her chest, like he really could feel tiny cells of cancer wreaking havoc. "Her blood is sick."

I choked on a sob. My voice scraped like sandpaper. "Please, Arturo. Leave her alone."

When he touched Mom's face, a light brush of fingers along her chin, I almost screamed.

"What would you do to keep her safe, Katherine?"

Arturo had never been able to bring himself to call me Kitty. The name was beneath his dignity. Now when he said my full name, it felt like fingers curling around my throat, squeezing.

"Anything," I whispered.

His hand rested on my mother's throat, where he could squeeze and strangle her. "You'll take Carl's place. You'll answer to me."

"You can't do this." An empty, unconvincing denial.

"But I have done ever so much worse to get where I am."

I flashed on the memory of him dropping Carl with a twist of his arm. He'd incapacitated Hardin with a word. He was too strong, I couldn't stop him.

I wished I had telekinesis, to throw him across the room. I wished to bring down lightning bolts from the sky. I wished for a bag of garlic and a bottle of holy water. I wished I was religious and wore a cross around my neck.

I considered. I took a step back, into the doorway, where I could see Detective Hardin leaning just outside. Her cross would hurt him, but it had to touch him.

"Katherine," Arturo said. "You shouldn't have to think about this. I can feel her pulse under my hand. I can stop it."

I needed another few seconds.

"Ben, too," I said, stalling. I turned my back to him, feigning despair, to hide what I was doing when I shifted aside the collar of Hardin's shirt. "Don't hurt him. Ben and I for Carl and Meg."

"Of course. I assumed as much."

Hardin didn't move, didn't so much as blink. Her eyes were half-lidded, staring at nothing. I touched the chain, and my fingers started to itch. It was silver. Damn.

Oh, well. I'd just have to cope. Gritting my teeth against the sting, I gripped the silver cross and chain and yanked. The latch broke, the necklace fell into my hand. The itch of the silver against my skin turned into a burn.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure Hardin's all right. You'll let her go, too? She doesn't know what she's dealing with."

"She won't even remember what happened."

"I don't want to be your lackey."

"I don't want a lackey, I want a partner I can trust."

Hands at my sides, clenched into fists, gritting my teeth against the searing pain of the silver, I moved toward the bed, my gaze downcast. I would not look into his eyes.

My mother still slept. Arturo's touch was so light, he didn't wake her. I stared at that hand. I put my own on the edge of the bed, like I was preparing to surrender, to hand myself over to him. This had to work.

"I think," I said slowly. "I think you should leave my mother alone."

I put the cross on his hand.

Like a snake had bitten him, he flinched away, jerking his hand back and cradling it to his chest. The cross spilled onto the sheet covering Mom's chest. I picked it up and let it dangle, so he could see what it was, ignoring the pain it caused.

"Get out," I said, still not looking at his face, those eyes. I had to assume he was glaring at me. When he didn't move, a rage bubbled within me. Weeks of frustration, fear, and pain boiled. Damn the ones who had made me live in fear.

"Get out! Get out of here!" This came out as a growl, and Wolf stared out of my eyes, flexed inside my hands, my fingers curling like claws. I would Change right now and leap on him. Maybe he'd be able to stop me. And maybe he wouldn't.

He moved toward the doorway, and I followed. I watched his shoulder, not his face. A rumbling in my chest felt like the start of a growl. I wanted to rip his throat out. My mouth hurt from wanting to grow fangs.

His lips turned in a careful smile. Lowering his gaze, he gave a small bow, his hand still clenched to his chest. The gesture was courtly.

Then he fled before me, like anyone would before a ravening wolf.

Actually, as much as I would have liked to see him run from me, he merely turned to the doorway and vanished with a breath. I shook my head, convinced I'd seen it wrong. He'd managed a vampire's exit, the moment of shadow and the disappearance.

I clutched my stomach and felt like the luckiest girl in the world. He'd left me and Mom alone.

And my hand felt like it was going to fall off.

"Gah!" I dropped the cross and chain onto Mom's bed. That was where I wanted to leave it, with her, in case he came back. I stretched my hand—a rash severe enough to show raised welts covered my palm. "Shit," I muttered.

"Kitty? Hm…what time is it? It's dark." Mom turned her head and mumbled, sounding very small and lost.

"Sh, Mom. It's okay. Everything's okay. Go back to sleep." I touched her hand, her forehead, brushing aside strands of ash-colored hair. I tried to sound soothing and not rattled. "Just go back to sleep. I'll come see you later."

"All right."

"I love you."

She smiled briefly as she drifted back to sleep. Still drugged out on painkillers, she'd never really woken up.

Relieved, I sighed. She was safe. She'd be safe. Could I collapse yet?

"Where is he? Where'd he go?" Hardin appeared in the doorway again, crossbow in hand, her gaze wild.

"He's gone. You still want to arrest Denver's Master vampire?"

"Jesus Christ," she hissed. She rubbed the back of her neck, where the chain had broken off.

"Detective, could you do something for me?"

She joined me by the bed. "Is she all right?"

"Yeah. Could you tie this chain around her somehow? I don't want to touch it if I don't have to." I showed her my injured palm.

"That's my cross," she said.

"I had to borrow it."

She considered me a moment, then shook her head. Her taut expression managed to convey both trepidation and annoyance. But she did get the chain tied around Mom's neck.

"The silver did that to you?"

Wincing, I nodded. "With silver bullets, it's not the bullet that kills a werewolf. It's the silver poisoning the blood."

"Not very pretty I bet."

"No, I imagine not."

Straightening, Hardin regarded me. The trepidation was fading, losing to a severe look of aggravation. "You're going to have to explain what that bastard did to me."

"The vampire hypnotic voodoo."

"Uh. Yeah."

"How do you think they get people to stay still while they drink their blood?"

She scowled. "I hate it when this crap actually makes sense."

"Don't look at his eyes next time, okay?"

"Let's get going."

I touched Mom's hand one more time. She was sleeping, and the cross was visible, lying at the hollow of her throat. She was as safe as I could make her. Which wasn't very. I hated to leave.

"She'll be okay," Hardin said, touching my arm. "I'll make sure security is watching her room."

Like that would help. Arturo would just work his wiles on them.

"I'll have them string garlic in the doorway." She grinned, but it wasn't much of a joke.

We heard pounding footsteps ahead of us. Four cops, running down the corridor. Hardin's backup.

"Took you guys long enough!" she barked at them. "Come on, we're heading out."

They shrugged and mumbled excuses. But I looked at the clock—the whole exchange with Arturo had only taken a couple of minutes. We hadn't been here that long. Time had stretched to make it seem so.

After Hardin had a word with security, we walked out of the hospital together. "Your boyfriend was going to this guy's home base. Where?"

"You know Obsidian? That art gallery on Fourteenth? He's in the basement."

"How many people has he got with him?"

"I don't know. I've seen as many as twelve or fourteen. All vampires."

"Well, this ought to be fun. Sawyer, you got that surveillance file on Mercedes Cook? She's a known associate. We might get some idea of what we'll find there."

"Yeah, it's in the car."

"Sawyer," I muttered. "Isn't that the guy who shot me?" The cop in question ducked and ran ahead of us. Avoiding me. Oh, it was him.

"Let it go, Kitty," Hardin said. Then, "Sunglasses."

"What?"

"You think sunglasses would work against that hypnotic crap?" She pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her pocket and went through the ritual of lighting up. Her gestures were manic, determined.

"I don't know."

Officer Sawyer handed her a manila folder, which she handed to me. Then she gathered her people around her: four uniformed officers who looked ready for war. I was frankly dumbstruck.

Nodding at the four officers, all men, all tough-looking, she said, "Tell them what you told me. Everything you know about what to expect from the vampires."

I repeated it all, every bit of vampire lore I knew, everything I had seen with my own eyes. They were strong, they could drop grown men without effort, they could control your will simply by looking into your eyes. They were hard to kill. They had the experience of decades. Arturo had centuries behind him. How could I make them understand that?

The officers stared back at me, just as eager, just as ready. They'd heard what I'd said, but I wasn't sure they understood it. This must have looked like some kind of video game to them. I was sending them to their doom.

Hardin followed up with instructions. "Don't get separated. Stick with your partner, keep your eyes on each other. You see someone in trouble, call for backup. I don't want big heroics on this. We're dealing with unknowns here."

We'd go in three cars. Hardin directed one of the patrol cars to stop in front, while hers and another parked in back. No flashing lights or sirens. We'd sneak in.

"They'll know," I said. "Before we even get out of the car."

"Then we'll be ready for them," she said, confident.

We're all gonna die, a voice in me wailed. Not the Wolf. I could tell, because the Wolf was urging me on. We must destroy those who harm us. We must do battle.

I didn't know which instincts to listen to anymore.