Kitty and the Silver Bullet

Chapter 5

The Brown Palace Hotel was a downtown icon. Built during the gold rush days when Denver was filled with nouveau riche who wanted a taste of high society, it was a landmark and a status symbol. Presidents stayed here. Really posh. I'd have expected nothing less from Mercedes.

The clerk at the front desk directed me to Mercedes's suite. I dragged Ben to the elevator. He'd been waiting in the lobby, hands shoved in his trouser pockets, gazing around at the artwork, fireplaces, stained glass, and foliage. He wore a jacket but no tie. Edging more toward scruff than polish, but he still looked great. For my part, I wore a skirt, dress shirt, and heels. Felt pretty good, even though it wouldn't measure up to whatever Mercedes was wearing.

"You're sure about this?" he said as we went down the hallway. He'd been muttering about walking into the spider's parlor.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't trust vampires."

"And how many vampires do you actually know? That you didn't stake?"

"I haven't staked that many vampires."

I stopped and stared at him. I'd been joking. I'd known he'd sometimes helped Cormac on vampire hunting jobs before Cormac went to jail. But we'd never talked about it.

"How many have you staked?"

After a pause, he said, "Two. That's it."

"That's enough, don't you think?"

"And I helped with four of Cormac's."

"Exactly how many has Cormac staked?"

He just smiled.

Those guys drove me crazy. I huffed and stalked on ahead. He'd caught up by the time I knocked on the door to the suite.

From within, Mercedes called, "It's unlocked, come in!"

I opened the door and stepped into a spacious sitting room, furnished with big, velvety armchairs and chaises, grouped around a fireplace and mahogany coffee table. Rich carpets and crystal lamps gave the place a warm, opulent atmosphere.

Directly across the room, Rick stood up from a brocade-upholstered chair. He was suave and polished as ever, but held himself tautly, like he was nervous. His hands clenched at his sides, but his face was neutral.

"Shit!" I glared at him, frozen.

"That's quite a greeting. I assume you two know each other?" Reclined on an antique sofa, Mercedes regarded me calmly.

I should have known, I should have expected. She couldn't be here without drawing the attention of the local vampires. I was so focused on her I forgot about the big picture. I even forgot about looking after my own ass. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath to try to collect myself. Then I studied Mercedes Cook. She wore a smoke-colored, slinky dress made of a lacy fabric that seemed modern and antique at the same time.

"Uh, yeah," was all I could manage. My secrecy was well and truly blown, it looked like. I wondered who else knew I was back in Denver?

Rick recovered from what I took to be shock—clearly he'd been as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Which meant that for some reason Mercedes hadn't told him I was coming. But what was he doing here?

Regaining his usual calm, he returned to his seat. "Back in Denver, I see." Flat statement.

I could argue, make excuses, play dumb. Or play it straight. Really, this was none of his damn business. "Looks like it," I said, smiling as amiably as I could manage.

"Interesting," was all he said. No why or how or when.

"How long have you two known each other?" I asked. They exchanged one of those glances that suggested a long association—the suppressed smiles and questioning looks in the eyes. Trying to decide how much to tell, whether to tell anything at all.

Mercedes took the initiative. "Oh, we've known each other quite some time, haven't we?"

"Come on, you're vampires," I said. "What does that mean? A decade, or a century or three?"

"You and Rick are friends," Mercedes said. "Do you know how old he is?"

I studied Rick, who remained impassive. Were we friends? I wasn't sure I'd go that far. I knew him without knowing anything about him. I felt like I'd stumbled into some kind of game, or long-running joke. "Two fifty," I said. Meaning two hundred fifty years.

Mercedes glanced at him, her smile widening. "Oh, my, we are keeping secrets here, aren't we?"

I blinked. "How old is he? How far off am I?"

"I told you, Kitty, it's not polite to talk about age." She smoothed out her already perfect skirt and changed the subject. "At some point I suppose I'll pay my respects to Arturo. Are you friends with him as well?"

I frowned. "I know him. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell him I'm back in Denver."

"Sounds like there's a story behind that," she said. No assurances that she'd keep my secret. I had to reassess my impression of her completely. I'd taken her at face value—she came across as a young, vibrant, successful performer. That was a persona, the one she wanted me to see—and to be fair, that was exactly what she was. An actress. And I'd fallen for it. Underneath was something else, manipulative and dark. Vampire. Ben was right—again. He stood close to me, our arms touching.

"It's really not that interesting. If I'm interrupting, I can leave."

"Oh, no, please," Mercedes said, looking genuinely put out. But I didn't trust the expression. I didn't trust her anymore—and she knew it. I could see it in her glittering eyes. She'd played me and been happy to do so.

I should have walked out of there right then.

"Come and sit with us. Rick was telling me about the situation here, among our kinds. I'd like to hear your opinion as well." She gestured at chairs near Rick.

I looked at Ben. He said, "It's your call."

They were vampires, but I didn't think they were going to hurt us. Not here, anyway. We went to sit, while I tried to calm my racing nerves. The coffee table held a bottle of wine already uncorked, and four glasses poured and waiting. I chose one and took a sip. By then I needed a drink.

Four glasses. But vampires didn't drink wine.

A knock sounded on the door.

"Ah, that should be my other guests." Mercedes leaned back and donned a smile.

Other guests. I looked at Rick, to see his reaction; he frowned and straightened to the edge of his seat. He hadn't expected anyone else either.

I set my glass of wine on the table and braced.

The handle turned. The door opened inward, as if in slow motion. I could smell them before I saw them, I could hear them breathe, and I recognized the beats of their hearts. All my senses were pushed to their limits, waiting. I knew it all, I knew everything, I knew before the door opened all the way and they walked into the room.

Carl and Meg. Arm-in-arm, looking sullen.

I stood and stumbled back, knocking over my chair. My body felt like fog, drifting, melting away. I wasn't here, I couldn't be here, I couldn't move. Every pore burned. I wanted to vomit, but was too shocked.

Carl saw me and turned animal. He didn't shift, but his wolf came to the fore. It was amazing to watch. Our gazes met, and he lunged. His back bowed, his arms bent, his fingers locked into claw shapes, all in preparation of charging me. His lips rippled back in a snarl as he bared his teeth. A growl burred deep in his throat. The sound pinged a memory in my hind brain, turning my limbs to ash.

Arturo, who'd entered behind the couple, caught Carl as he took his first step toward me. The alpha werewolf lunged, and Arturo—svelte, blasй Arturo, Denver's Master vampire—dropped him where he stood by grabbing his arm, putting a hand on his neck, and squeezing. Carl arced his neck, gasped a breath, and stepped back, arresting his lunge. Arturo didn't even appear strained.

"Margaret, you too! Stop!" Arturo's voice lashed, and Meg, Carl's mate, cowered, lurking on Carl's other side, kneading his arm like she might pull it off.

Arturo glared at us. Only ten feet separated us. I didn't remember moving, but Rick stood on one side of me, Ben on the other, and both had death grips on my arms, holding me back while I struggled against them. My throat was sore—from growling. Without being conscious of it, I'd matched Carl's lunge. I'd been ready to meet him head-on and fight, right here in the elegant suite.

Rick slipped in front of me, blocking my view. "Calm, Kitty. Stay calm," he whispered.

Fight him, fight him, get out of here, fight, run, escape—

Wolf swam at the front of my mind, pure instinct driving me.

I shut my eyes tight and gasped a breath that sounded like a sob. Took another, steadier breath, and stamped on the Wolf, tamped her down tight. Deep breath, keep it together. Focused on Ben's touch on my arm, his warm, safe scent in my nose.

Carl struggled briefly against Arturo's grip, and I wanted to scream.

"Ah," Mercedes said in her sugary, stage-diva voice. "That's why you left Denver."

Bitch. "You knew. You set this up." My voice still growled.

She shrugged, just a bit. "I wanted to see for myself."

"Let me go. Please let Ben and me go," I said softly, well aware that Carl and Meg stood between us and the door, that we'd have to get past them to escape.

Mercedes didn't speak, and the tableau didn't change. We stood like statues, waiting for someone to cough. For someone to break.

"You're playing games," I said, my panic rising.

"Oh, no, this isn't a game, this is politics. Rough politics," she said.

Arturo, bless his undead heart, sounded as irate as I felt. "Mercedes, she's right. You're playing games, and keeping leashes on a pack of werewolves is not how I'd planned on spending my evening. Meg!"

The alpha female—nemesis, rival, chief bitch of my nightmares—had crept around her mate. Carefully, she stood in front of Carl and held herself straight. She didn't attack, didn't make the least sign of aggression. She just studied me. Me and Ben both. Ben's shoulders tensed, like hackles rising.

Meg had long, straight black hair, deeply tanned skin, unidentifiably ethnic features. She had a wild and exotic look about her, and a slim and powerful build. She was dressed for an evening downtown—a rust-colored blouse, dark slacks, high-heeled sandals, jewelry. I'd been used to seeing her in the outdoors, in a T-shirt and jeans. Carl, wearing shirt and slacks, hadn't changed much—he was tall, six-five or so, and broad to match, all muscles and quivering temper. You didn't challenge Carl. You just didn't.

Unless you were my best friend T.J. T.J. had challenged, and Carl had killed him for it.

For the moment Meg had taken up her old role of instigator. She'd poke and prod until I lashed out, then let Carl take me down. Now Ben, the newcomer, the unknown in the room from her perspective, occupied her attention. She took a long moment to stare at him. I willed Ben to stay calm, to stay quiet. I didn't want him reacting—either aggressively or submissively. I didn't want him to give her any points by admitting, however inadvertently, that she was stronger.

When Meg spoke to me, it was like glass shattering. "You really did it. You went and made yourself a mate so you could come back here and take over."

Gah, same old Meg. Some things never changed, and my next few breaths were calmer. "No, Meg. That's what you would have done."

Carl said, "I told you not to come back. I told you I'd kill you."

I argued. Maybe they'd see reason. Maybe they'd be reasonable. "I'm not here to make trouble, I promise I don't want any trouble. My mom's sick, Carl. I had to come back, just until she's better." I'd slipped into the old pattern, groveling before him, begging, head bowed, slouching. I'd fought hard so I wouldn't have to do that anymore. T. J. died so I wouldn't have to do that. I consciously straightened my back, straining against tense muscles. Made myself as tall as I could. Didn't tremble. I met Carl's gaze. Didn't quite offer a challenge, but I had to face him as an equal. No—I had to believe I was better.

"If you don't want trouble then who is he?" Carl nodded at Ben.

Ben stood close enough, just behind my shoulder, that I could feel his body heat. He hadn't cowered before Carl's and Meg's bluster. I sensed some tension, some anxiety in him. But his back was straight, and his gaze steady. I was glad to have him at my side.

"He's a friend. He's only here because of me. You can leave him alone."

Carl didn't like him. He didn't like the presence of a competent, self-assured male who didn't owe him loyalty. Ben could stand there without flinching and Carl would take it as a challenge.

But Ben didn't just stand there. Oh, no.

"So you're Carl," Ben said, taking a couple of slow steps forward and studiously looking Carl up and down. "I thought you'd be taller."

I mentally slapped my forehead. But I had to admit, Ben always knew just what to say.

Snarling, Carl sprang forward, hands outstretched, fingers clawed. I braced, preparing to dodge, then run like hell. Ben, damn him, didn't flinch at all because he must have guessed what was coming next.

Again, Arturo stopped Carl. In a flash of movement, he grabbed Carl's arm and twisted it, using the bigger man's momentum to divert him and drop him to his knees. His breath heaving, Carl struggled, his eyes gleaming with animal ferocity, ready to rip out of the vampire's grip. But with his hand on Carl's shoulder, Arturo only had to squeeze once to quiet him. I didn't know where the strength came from—Arturo seemed to exert no effort.

Arturo said, "Let it go."

"They're a threat—"

"They've made no challenge. Let it go, Carl."

Carl knelt there for a moment, panting, then shrugged away from Arturo's grip.

Mercedes said, "This is utterly fascinating." She continued to play the gracious hostess. "Come, sit. I've already poured the wine. To let it breathe."

I had backed toward the wall, keeping hold of Ben's sleeve, letting Rick stand between us and the others. "I'll stay right here, thanks," I murmured.

Carl started to move forward, but Arturo stepped in front of him. "No, you two are staying right there. I won't have you dogs messing up the carpet."

Arturo never lost his composure, his offhand manner and focused gaze. His apparent age was late twenties, but he had the weight of centuries behind his eyes. He had golden hair pulled back in a short tail, and an aristocratic face.

He and Rick exchanged a look, and I couldn't read it. The two were close in age—both apparent and actual, from what I could gather. Age meant power among vampires, and the two should have been rivals, but they'd coexisted in some kind of alliance for years. Arturo was the Master in Denver, but Rick had some amount of autonomy within that territory.

Did Arturo suspect that Rick wanted to change the situation?

For now, they only seemed to want to coordinate their efforts at keeping the wolves under control.

Mercedes sat back and observed the drama she'd orchestrated. "Hmm, maybe the situation here isn't as chaotic as I'd been led to believe. You boys seem to have things well in hand."

"No thanks to you," Arturo spat in his refined accent. "What's your business here, Mercedes? Is it anything more than poking a stick in the burrow to see what strikes?"

"Isn't that enough?" she said.

"More than enough," he said, wearing a tight smile. "How long will you be here?"

"Oh, a few more days. Maybe a week. Or two." She lifted her hand and studied her fingernails, a contrived gesture worthy of the stage.

This was Arturo's territory as far as vampires were concerned, and he controlled it the same way Carl controlled it among the werewolves. He could tell her to leave. He could make threats and carry them out. So why didn't he? What was her power here?

"Don't look so put out," she said to Arturo. "I'm only here out of curiosity. I heard some rumblings and I thought I'd come and make some observations."

Arturo's gaze narrowed, sizing her up. "For whom? Who are you working for these days, Mercedes?"

The question chilled me.

Everyone looked at her. But she was used to being the center of attention and didn't wilt.

"I'm scheduled to start rehearsals next month for a revival of Anything Goes. I suppose you could say I'll be working for the production company."

Arturo rolled his eyes and turned away.

Mercedes said, "If you tell me straight out, well and truly, that all is calm here, that the rumors that your Family is unstable are unfounded, I'll smile sweetly and believe you. I can see that the wolves have some problems, but don't they always? Tell me, Arturo, that you are the Master here and that you have no rivals."

Arturo glanced at Rick. I would have wilted under that glance. For his part, Rick didn't flinch. He met it square and didn't say a word.

"I am the Master here, and I have no rivals," Arturo said—to Rick. Not to Mercedes. She observed the subtlety with a lilt to her perfectly plucked brow.

Oh, this was going to get ugly.

I raised my hand. "Since you obviously don't think too much of us, can we leave? Please?"

"Kitty," Mercedes said. "You and your mate carry yourselves like alphas. Two alpha pairs can't live within the same territory. It can't be done, you know it."

I looked away to hide my smile. "See, I think it can. I've seen some interesting things since I left. I've seen two dozen lycanthropes packed into a room, with none of them fighting. If they all agree to it, they can get along. Carl, I promise you, I don't want this territory. I'll stay out of your way if you just leave Ben and me alone. I've always been straight with you."

He grimaced. "Just you being here is a threat to my authority."

No, your incompetence is a threat to your authority. I didn't say it. What I did say wasn't much better. "Can you just for a minute try to act like a rational human being?"

On cue, he growled.

Rick gave me a look over his shoulder. "You're provoking him."

I couldn't help it. "Sorry."

Mercedes sighed dramatically. Could she sigh any other way? "I can see we won't have any kind of civilized conversation with all of you here. Kitty, you're right, you and yours should probably leave. Thank you for coming, especially since the circumstances were a bit…staged. You—" She pointed at the trio by the door. "You will let them leave."

Who was she to command us all like that? I suddenly didn't want to go, just to be contrary.

"Rick, will you escort Kitty and Ben out? Thank you."

In a strange choreography, Arturo steered Carl and Meg away from the door, while Rick cleared a path for me and Ben. Herding werewolves. It was almost laughable.

I paused for a look back. Mercedes sat like a queen on her sofa, a totally different woman from the one I'd met two days ago. I didn't know who she was. Carl, standing off to the side, still looked like he wanted to jump out of his skin to get me. The gratifying sight of Meg hiding behind him didn't even make me feel better.

"Thanks for the drinks," I said with pure sarcasm. Then I got the hell out. Rick followed us into the hall and closed the door. With that sound, a weight lifted. I slumped back against the wall and sighed. Ben watched patiently—far too calmly in my opinion. I resisted an urge to fall into his arms and start blubbering.

"I hate him," I muttered, wiping away a few stray, stressed tears. "I hate him so much."

"Let's go," Rick said. "The more distance between you the better."

I grilled him as we rode the elevator to the lobby. "So. When I asked if there was another Master moving in and you said 'not exactly,' were you talking about her?" He grimaced, which was all the answer I needed. "What did you tell her? Did you have any idea what she was going to do in there?"

"Um…not exactly," he said softly. His face was taut, strained. He was worried, and that made me worried. "I went to her for information. Maybe even to find out which of us she'd support. Our conversation never got that far."

"Who is she really?"

"The Master vampires have always known she's a vampire. She's moved as an envoy between the cities for decades. As a performer, she travels freely, and by tradition vampires like her have immunity, even outside the protection of the Families. In a sense, she's a member of all the Families. And none of them. The system helps keep the peace. But it's also started wars. If I were smart I'd walk away. Leave town and find someplace else, like I've always done before."

"Why don't you?"

"Because sooner or later, I'm going to have to make a stand. I like it here. I like the people." He looked squarely at me. "Seems as good a place and time as any."

We'd reached the lobby by that time, and stopped near the front doors, shifting out of the doorman's hearing.

"What does 'sooner or later' really mean to a vampire?"

He said, "It means not thinking about the future. It means there is no future. There's only now, and what you can protect now. Sooner or later is always now."

"Protect. From what?"

"Predators," he said. "She's sizing us up. She'll take the news to the other Families. It isn't like it was a hundred years ago, when Arturo settled here. There are no new cities to build. A vampire who wants to be a Master has to become one by force. Or guile. If word gets out that Denver is unstable, others will come. Scavengers. If I wanted to be really sinister, I'd say that someone sent Mercedes here to stir things up. To make the situation unstable. More unstable, that is."

"How long has she been doing this? How old is she?"

"God knows. I should get back to it." He turned back to the elevators. Ben took my arm and drew me away, out the hotel's front doors.

"Well, that was fun," he said with false brightness.

"You see what we're dealing with?" I marched along the sidewalk, quickly putting distance between me and that place. We'd parked in a lot a couple of blocks up the street. I couldn't get there fast enough.

"Sure. There were a lot of really insecure people in that room."

I almost laughed, except I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up. Spent adrenaline. "Yeah. Did you have to provoke him like that?" I said. I could still see the look on Carl's face.

"He's a bully. I love bullies. They have such big, shiny red buttons to push."

He was such a lawyer.

"Didn't he make you at all nervous? The wolf side, I mean. Didn't he make you want to either grovel or crawl out of your skin?"

"Yeah, but you were with me so I felt okay. I feel okay when you're around."

I could have hugged him for that. But it was too much responsibility. I didn't want to be alpha, not even of a pack of two. "That's flattering. Most of the time I feel like I'm falling apart."

"But you haven't actually fallen." His smile was tight, anxious. Using humor to combat the fear.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" I held his arm, both gaining and giving comfort with the touch.

It didn't entirely help.

"Oh, my God. I'm fucked. I am so fucked." I started shivering when the cool evening air got to my sweaty skin. Or it could have been the churning in my gut. I walked faster, as if I could flee my own reaction.

Ben kept up, stayed alongside me, watching me. "I've never seen you like this. It's kind of freaking me out."

I stopped and doubled over, clutching my stomach.

Run. We can run. Get away, out of his territory, far away—

"Kitty." Ben put his hand on my back, a comforting pressure. "Keep it together."

Anyone passing by would have probably tsked at the scene, maybe smiled in amusement—some chick drank too much at the bars, and her attentive boyfriend was looking after her. How cute. My Wolf was right on the surface, though, fighting. Carl brought her out and I couldn't put her back.

"Kitty."

I concentrated on Ben's voice, his touch, human skin against human skin. His palm slid across my shirt. Focusing on my spine, I straightened—stay upright, vertical backbone, not horizontal, not like Wolf. I took deep, careful breaths.

Ben took off his suit jacket and put it over my shoulders. I clung to it tightly, snuggling into its warmth. His arm across my back, we walked on, close together, our bodies touching. Our pack of two.

"If he finds you alone, he'll kill you, won't he?" he said.

"I think so."

We'd traveled another block before he said, "Right. Just as long as I know where we all stand."

Then, finally, I did laugh.