Kitty and the Silver Bullet

Chapter 7

A clock was ticking just behind my back. The noise of approaching doom was always right behind me, like Captain Hook's crocodile. I could never turn around fast enough to actually see it. But it was always there, and I knew that soon the alarm would go off. The ringing of it would break me. Mom's surgery, Rick's war, my career, my own rebellious body—something was going to start ringing soon. Then it would blow up, like a time bomb.

I was exhausted, waiting for the explosion.

"So then I said to him, look, I don't care if it is a full moon tonight, I want to go to the Coldplay concert and you're going to take me. You're just going to have to turn into a wolf some other night. And you know what he says to me? He says—"

This caller was why I didn't counsel people in person. If she'd been sitting here I'd have throttled her. "Let me guess. He says, 'Baby, I don't have a choice.'"

"Well, yeah, except for the baby part."

"Let me ask you a question, Mia. What have you done for him lately?"

The pause lasted a beat. Then, "What do you mean?"

"I mean have you ever done anything nice for your boyfriend?"

Mia gave an unattractive snort. "Why should I? He's lucky to have me."

"Oh, honey, I used to beat up girls like you in grade school. Look, I'm as sympathetic about inattentive boyfriends as the next girl, but when he said he didn't have a choice about turning into a wolf—he meant it. He's supposed to be able to look to his girlfriend for support, right? 'Cause you know, this whole relationship thing works both ways, give and take and all that. And what do you do? Ask him to do the one thing he can't. Could you be any more insensitive? Wait, don't answer that. Of course you could. But I'm thinking he's the crazy one for putting up with your crap."

"You can't talk to me like—"

"Listen. You have so many problems with this boyfriend of yours, here's my advice. Break up with him. You'd be doing him a favor."

"But I like dating a werewolf. It's cool."

"You can't have it both ways." I clicked off the line, because really, that conversation couldn't go anywhere else. "You like fur so much, buy a poodle. Except I wouldn't wish you on a poodle even. Damn, I'm cranky tonight. Let's see, where do we go from here. Stan, you're on the air."

"Hi, Kitty. Thanks for taking my call. Can you answer a question for me?"

"I'll give it a shot." I tried to learn everything about him from the sound of his voice: male, indeterminate age. He wasn't overly emotional: frustrated, depressed, sad, or angry. He was neutral, interested. His question could be about anything.

"A lot of people call in to your show wanting to know about vampires and werewolves like they admire them. Like they want to be them. But these are monsters we're talking about—they're not saints. They're not something to aspire to. Even if it is a disease, like you say, why would anyone want a disease like that? I don't understand. Can you explain what people see in the whole thing?" His question sounded genuine. It didn't sound like a put-on.

I was sort of in his camp at the moment.

"I don't know, Stan. Different people see different things in it, I think. Some see glamour. Or power. They feel helpless, and these identities are a way not to feel helpless. The thing is, people who aren't vampires and werewolves aren't looking at the reality of it. Often they only see the stories, the lore, the mystique. They're basing their feelings on what they think those lives must be like. They don't see the dark side. Or if they do, they paint it in glamorous colors as well. It's exciting, it's dangerous. It's an adventure. Maybe that's it."

"Maybe?" He sounded skeptical.

"You have to remember, I never wanted to be a werewolf. I never thought twice about it until I landed in the middle of it. Frankly, I still fail to see the appeal. But I will admit there are people who do. Maybe it's a simple case of the grass always being greener on the other side of the fence."

"You mean if they have crummy lives, they think it might actually be better if they were a vampire?"

"People are funny that way, aren't they? I'll tell you what: I'll throw this one out to the listeners. Give me a call. Tell me why you want to be a vampire or a werewolf. Educate me."

I went straight down the line, taking one call after another. Men, women, young, old, vampires, werewolves, and everything in between. Some of them hated life, some of them loved it.

"It's the power. I want to have that kind of power." I heard that over and over again.

"I just don't feel like I fit in my skin. I—I don't think I was meant to be human. But I see wolves…and it feels like coming home. Does that sound strange? It sounds strange to me. I've never talked about it with anyone before."

"I want to live forever."

"I want to be immortal."

"I'm afraid of dying."

"It hurts. If I was something else, maybe it wouldn't hurt. At least not as much."

"I want to live."

"I want to kill."

And finally, from a man who said he was a werewolf, "Here's the thing, Kitty. I didn't like being human. What is there to being human? You wake up every day, work your ass off just so you can barely put a roof over your head and food in your stomach. If you're lucky you get a minivan and a trip to Disneyland for the kids. This life, our life—all that becomes secondary." He gave a laugh. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's a simpler life. There's a whole other set of priorities guiding you."

"Blood," I said. "Control."

"Magic," he said.

"The ultimate in escapism."

"That's right," he said, like it was a good thing.

"Okay, thanks for sharing."

On the other side of the booth window, Matt pointed to his wrist and mouthed the word "thirty." Thirty seconds to wrap up the show. I rubbed my face; I was ready for the escape. "I don't know if any of this answers Stan's question. My feeling is there is no one right answer. The people who choose this life, and the people who would like to, all have their own reasons. I'll insert my standard disclaimer here: forget any romantic notions you have about vampires and werewolves. They're diseases. They're not easy to live with. They change your life. And you can't go back afterward if you change your mind. This is Kitty Norville, voice of the night."

Run credits.

"You okay in there?" Matt asked.

"Do I look that bad?"

"You've looked better."

"I've been better," I said, and managed a smile. This was one of those times, one of those moments where everything seemed to pile up, and I didn't have a choice but to keep clawing my way up and over the obstacles. Just get through it. I liked being human. I was willing to put up with those particular struggles in exchange for the benefits of being human. Like chocolate and cable TV. Like having my own radio show.

We wrapped up. More than ready to get home, I grabbed my things and headed for the station lobby, then outside. Since the other night when I met Charlie and Violet, I always paused in the doorway to take in the scent of the parking lot and street. If something was waiting to pounce on me, I'd spot it. Then I could go back inside and call for help. Rick had done what he'd intended—scared me. Put me on my guard. But I wondered how long I'd have to go tiptoeing around my own life.

The thing was, tonight, I hesitated in the doorway, and knew something waited out there. I caught a scent of lycanthrope, a musky smell where there should have only been people, cars, and concrete.

I should have panicked, but I didn't. While I might have expected the scent to belong to Carl or Meg, it didn't. I sensed a hint of Carl—someone from his pack, then, but someone I didn't know. So maybe Carl sent one of his thugs after me. But I didn't smell aggression. I didn't feel like I was being hunted. Stepping softly, I moved along the wall to the edge of the building, following my nose. Someone was definitely here, watching me. Spying, maybe.

I had almost reached the corner when I said, "Who's there?"

I heard rustling, like someone scooted away from the corner. I slipped around and discovered a young woman pressed against the wall. She was thin, very young, with short blond hair. She wore a black baby doll T-shirt and faded jeans. She couldn't have been more than about nineteen or twenty and looked especially pale in the shadowed, nighttime lighting outside the building.

"Hi," she said and ducked her gaze away from me, a sign that she didn't want trouble. Her shoulders slumped, and I could imagine a tail between her legs.

I stood quietly and smelled her: sweating, frightened, and wolfish. And one of Carl's. If he knew she was here…I couldn't imagine that he knew she was here. If he'd wanted to pass along a message, he wouldn't have sent her—small and cowering.

I avoided staring at her, but it was hard not to. I wasn't sure I knew what to do with this.

"What are you doing here?" I said.

"Becky said I should come talk to you."

"Becky." I drew a blank for a moment, then remembered a Becky among Carl's wolves. Standoffish, another one that I'd avoided because she'd been tougher than me.

Then I remembered another Becky, the werewolf who'd called into the show a couple of weeks ago about a submissive in her pack who needed help. It hadn't occurred to me she'd been talking about Carl's pack.

I gave her half a smile. "You couldn't just call in like everyone else?" I thought I was being funny, but she looked down, frowning. She inched away; any minute, she'd bolt.

We were in the open here, which made me uncomfortable. Just because she hadn't been Carl didn't mean Carl couldn't sneak up on us. He might even be looking for her. Made me nervous.

Backing off, I said, "You want to come inside and talk? We'll stay in the lobby. I'll leave the door unlocked."

After a moment, she nodded. She still wouldn't look at me. I turned and walked away, made sure not to look back, but I could hear her following.

The security guy at the front desk waved at me as I returned to the lobby, and paid attention when the woman followed me in. She glanced around and wouldn't leave the vicinity of the front door.

"Everything's okay. I'm just going to borrow a couple of chairs," I told him, grabbing a couple of the plastic chairs from the wall. If she needed help, I didn't want to scare her off, and that meant leaving her an escape route. I didn't want to corner an already frightened wolf.

She was trying not to look scared. She kept pushing her shoulders back, trying to straighten up, and her frown had almost become a snarl.

I put the chairs by the door. We could talk out of anyone's earshot. "Sit."

And she did, just like that. Completely obedient. I bet Carl loved it.

I sat more slowly. "What's your name?"

"Jenny."

"And what's Becky want you to talk to me about?"

"I shouldn't be here," she said. "I shouldn't have come." She glanced at the door, as if expecting monsters.

"Can you try for a minute to forget about the whole werewolf thing? We're just a couple of people having a chat. I can't talk to you if you're scared of me."

She closed her eyes, took a breath, and that seemed to steady her. Her wolf lingered, though. It probably never really went away for her, and always guided her responses.

"Becky wants me to get away from Carl. She wants me to leave town. You did it, and if I talk to you, I might be able to, too."

"It's really not as hard as it seems."

"But I don't want to." She started crying, quiet tears slipping down her face. I found a clean tissue in my bag and handed it to her. "He takes care of me, I owe everything to him, he's a part of me, I can't leave that."

Then why are you crying? I wanted to ask. I let her talk.

"He's not an angel," she went on. "I know that. But he can't help it, he—" She stumbled to a stop. Her rhetoric amazed me. Did she even realize what she was saying?

She was young and pretty. Carl treated the women in his pack like they were part of his own personal harem. I knew firsthand what he did to the young and pretty ones. He wasn't above smacking them around.

"The thing about being a werewolf," I said. "The bruises heal quickly. No one ever sees them. Makes it easier to just roll over and take it, doesn't it?"

Finally, she looked at me, really looked at me, with astonished human eyes. I understood, and that surprised her.

"This is why Becky said I should talk to you," she said. I nodded.

"Jenny, do you mind if I ask how you were infected? How you became a werewolf? You haven't been one long, have you?"

Slouching miserably in the chair, she looked away. Didn't say no outright, so I gave her time to collect herself.

Finally she said, "I met him at a club a few months ago. Carl, I mean. He was nice. I liked him, you know? He paid a lot of attention to me. I took him home and all."

I listened, my brow furrowed in thought. This didn't sound like Carl. Carl, picking up girls in clubs? And what did Meg have to say about this? I could guess that Meg had lost a lot of points with him during that last fight, the one that drove me out of Denver. She'd made a bid for his position as pack alpha, lost, and then groveled at his feet to beg his forgiveness. He'd given it, but he'd probably lord it over her to the end of time. He could step out on her and she wouldn't be able to say anything. That was all I could figure.

“We went out a couple more times. And then he told me. He told me what he was. I—I didn't believe him at first. I know werewolves are real, I saw you on TV that time, read the news stories. But I didn't think I'd ever actually meet one. I thought it was some crazy new come-on, that he was trying to impress me. I thought maybe he was crazy. But I played along, to see what would happen. I told him if he was really a werewolf he should show me. He wouldn't, not at first. He just talked about it, a little more each time. He made it sound really cool, really great. Like it made you powerful, and the sex was amazing, that you could smell and see and feel things a human never could. He made it sound like a good thing. And I finally said yeah, okay, I'll do it. He was so happy when I said yes, I really thought he was in love with me, I really thought he wanted us to be together. I didn't know about Meg or the pack or anything. After, when he brought me to them, Meg said he'd just wanted a new pup."

My heart jumped to my throat. I sat back and stared at the ceiling, taking a moment to catch my breath. Jenny was young, blond, waiflike—like I had been when I joined the pack, a naпve girl caught by a monster on a mountain trailhead, turned by accident. Carl hadn't been the one to turn me into this thing, but he'd taken an interest in me after. Kept me under his paw, so to speak. Everyone knew I was his. Apparently, after I left the pack, Carl found a replacement.

I'd kill him. I'd fucking kill him myself the next time I saw him.

Right now, I had to pretend like I was doing the show, on the phone with some poor distraught girl. I wasn't used to seeing the face in front of me, seeing the tears. I wanted to keep staring at the ceiling. But I didn't.

"You know what I'm going to say, don't you? There's absolutely no reason to stay with him. Abuse is still abuse, and just because you're both werewolves doesn't justify a damned thing. You don't have to stand up to him—just get in a car and leave."

"But I'd just run into the same problem somewhere else. That's what Carl says, no matter where I go there'll be other…other people like us, and that they'll kill me. He'll protect me, he says he will—"

"Carl doesn't know everything. There are places you can go," I said. "Places where the other wolves won't hurt you, where there aren't wolves at all. I'll make some calls, I'll set something up."

"Kitty, I can't. I don't have a car, I don't have a job, I don't have any money—"

"Carl supports you, doesn't he? He said, don't work. Don't do anything. I'll take care of you, I'll protect you, just do what I say and you'll have it all."

Again, she nodded. He'd made that same offer to me. I'd clung to my humanity instead. I'd had the radio station and my show to pull me through, to give me something else to live for. Jenny didn't have that, obviously.

She almost seemed angry now. "It's easy for you to tell me to get out. You stood up to him. You and T. J."

"You never even knew T. J."

"No. But the others still talk about him, when Carl and Meg aren't around. They say he's the only one who ever stood up to him."

Like he was some kind of fucking folk hero. I wanted to scream at her. We'd failed. T.J. had died, and I'd run like a coward. We were nothing to base a revolution on.

If I'd stayed with Carl, I'd be dead. It was that simple. Carl would have killed me months ago, because I couldn't have kept rolling over on my back for him. How long before that happened to Jenny?

I made a decision.

"Jenny, if you want to get out, I'll help you. I'll find a place for you to go and make sure you get there in one piece. But you have to want it, and you have to figure out what to do next. Before you met Carl, what did you want? Were you going to school, was there a job you liked, anything? If you want to get away from Carl, you need to learn to take care of yourself. You have to get a job, support yourself, learn to control the lycanthropy without him looking out for you. Do you understand?"

She thought for a long moment, staring out the window, letting tears fall, wiping them away with the tissue. Then she shook her head. "But I love him. And I know he loves me, I just know it. He's so good to me the rest of the time, when he isn't—" She choked on the rest of the sentence. As well she should.

I couldn't blame her, no matter how much I wanted to, because I'd been in the same place, once upon a time. What was it about guys like Carl that made girls like us throw ourselves at their feet?

Digging in my things, I found a business card. "Here's my phone number. Call me, okay? When you decide you're ready, call me."

She took the card, clutching it in both hands. She seemed a little dazed, staring at it like she didn't quite know what it was. When I stood, so did she. I held the door open for her.

"When Carl smells me on you, you're going to have to come up with a good explanation. And he'd better not find that card."

She paled a little, and we went out to the parking lot.

"Do you need a ride somewhere?" I asked.

"No. I think I'll be okay. I just need to think."

"Yeah, you do. Be careful, okay?"

She looked at me. It wasn't a wolf's challenging stare. Rather, it was intense and studious. Like she was trying to guess what I'd do next—a subordinate watching her leader for a sign. She was making me nervous.

"You're not at all like Carl and Meg," she said.

I had to smile. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

She walked away, ducking to the back of the building and leaving by the alley.

I started for home, but I only drove a couple of miles before my cell phone rang. It was Jenny saying, "Can you come get me?"

Ben was waiting in the living room of the condo, sitting on the sofa, reading a magazine. When I opened the door, he set the magazine aside and crossed his arms. He was wearing sweats and a T-shirt, looking ready for bed. Only the living-room lamp was on, and the place seemed dark.

I pulled Jenny in with me and shut the door quickly. Glancing sidelong at Ben, she huddled near the wall, arms crossed, slouching.

Ben said, "This is keeping your head low? Avoiding confrontation?"

"What was I supposed to do?" I touched her shoulder, trying to peel her off the wall. "Jenny, this is Ben. He's one of the good guys."

"Gee, thanks," Ben muttered wryly.

"Ben, this is Jenny."

"Hi," he said. She managed a brief smile.

"Jenny, you need anything? Will you be okay while I make some calls?"

She shook her head. "It smells wrong, it's not like pack in here."

"Different pack. Different territory." I hadn't thought of Ben's condo as territory before—this tiny little pocket of Denver that didn't belong to Carl. I liked the image.

"It's weird."

"You don't have to stay." And when she went back to Carl, she'd smell like me. She'd smell like a different pack, and Carl would know. God knew what he'd do about it.

"No, no—I'll stay. I need to figure things out."

"That's the spirit. Do you want to see if maybe you can get some sleep? Things might look better in the morning."

"You can have the sofa," Ben said, patting the leather cushion next to him. "It's a great napping sofa. I'll get some blankets."

"That okay?" I asked her.

"It's up to you," she said.

"No, see, that's exactly the kind of thing you have to get over. If you're going to do this, you have to make some decisions. Otherwise, you'll let anyone who happens to come along walk all over you."

She looked away. "Yeah. Okay."

Ben gave her blankets and a pillow, and Jenny curled up on the sofa, hugging a blanket around her, and fell asleep in seconds, like this was the first real, relaxed sleep she'd had in weeks. Months, maybe.

We retreated to the bedroom.

Ben sat on the bed and watched me pace back and forth while I talked.

"I shouldn't be doing this. This is ridiculous. I can't protect her. I should never have brought her here."

"You realize you look like an animal in a cage?"

That always happened when I was nervous. I sat down with a huff.

"The pack's not any of my business. Not anymore. Why am I even getting involved?"

His lips curled in a half grin, like he wasn't convinced by my arguments. Like he was about to say something snarky. "You've just given a dozen reasons why you shouldn't have brought her here. So why did you?"

I shrugged. "It felt like the right thing to do? The wolf side wants to keep her safe." I whined and squeezed my hands over my head, like I could push some sense into my brain. "You'd think after this long the wolf side would stop surprising me."

"She's like you were, isn't she?"

I wanted to argue. I couldn't possibly have been that bad, that helpless. Honestly, though, I remembered. Those early weeks, my first time meeting the pack, surrounded by wolves, I'd only wanted to know what I had to do to keep from getting hurt, from making them angry. I'd been the most submissive one in the room, to keep Carl happy, to make sure he protected me.

"Yeah. And if it weren't for the show and T. J. and leaving, I'd still be like that. She said that's why Carl turned her. He wanted someone like that again."

"Jesus." For a long moment we sat quietly, letting the doom settle over us. Then he said, "I want you to take the gun. Keep it with you. We'll worry about the permit later."

"Ben—"

"He'll come after you, sooner or later. You have to be able to stop him. And don't just keep it in the glove box in the car. Get a purse, carry it with you."

I drew a deep, frustrated breath. "Guns aren't always the answer."

"Not always. Sometimes, they are." He offered a galling smile.

"Who's the alpha wolf here?"

"Don't packs usually have two alphas?"

He was getting cheeky. I kind of liked it. I squeezed his hand and kissed him. "Thanks. I have to go make some calls."

Jenny slept for ten hours. The next day, she had the look of a fugitive—sunken eyes, permanent frown. But she held herself a little straighter, and she wasn't crying.

I knew of a couple of places where lycanthropes lived and didn't have packs. There were werewolves there who'd look after her. They could help her find a job, get her on her feet. I'd waited until morning to call them, but I made one call before dawn. I knew at least one vampire who could find a place in her household for a wayward cub.

I'd developed this network of friends without even realizing it. Ahmed, an amiable old werewolf, and Alette, a surprisingly humane vampire, in Washington, D.C., both offered to take her in, if I could get her out there. Ahmed gave me a couple of more names, lycanthropes in Los Angeles and Seattle who would help her, if she wanted to go there instead. He said that problems like this came up fairly often, but a few people had found a way to deal with it. Battered lycanthrope shelters. Who'd have guessed?

At last, here was a problem I could fix. Here was someone I could well and truly help. When Jenny woke up around lunchtime, I presented her with a page full of names and phone numbers.

"Do you want to go to Seattle, L.A., or Washington, D.C.?"

She looked at the page warily. "What?"

I tried to sound kind. "If you don't want Carl to be able to get to you, you have to leave town. I have contacts. The ones in D.C., I know them and trust them. They gave me these other contacts, so they're good. You can go, and you won't be alone. The people there are friends, they'll help you."

She stared at the table, and at the glass of orange juice that was all she'd wanted for her late breakfast. The finality of it must have sounded startling. I couldn't imagine what was going on in her head, with so much to think about.

"It's what I did," I said. "I left. Things'll be easier—they'll seem clearer when Carl isn't around."

She swallowed, and still her voice cracked. "This woman in Washington, the vampire—you said she's nice?"

"Yeah, she is. Maybe a little snooty, but aren't they all? She likes taking care of people."

"I think I'd like to go there," Jenny said. "To stay with her."

Alette was female, and wasn't a werewolf. I wasn't surprised Jenny made that choice. "Then we'll get it all set up. See? It's easy."

She sniffed, and I was afraid she'd start crying again. I didn't want her to start crying again. She was going to get me started. But she smiled, for the first time she smiled, a thin and shy expression.

"Thanks," she said. "Everything people say about you—Becky said you'd help."

"I'm happy to," I said, and I was. It felt like winning, and I didn't have to fight anyone, and no one had to die.

Over the next few days, we set everything up. In that time, I wouldn't let her leave the condo, and I wouldn't leave her alone. Ben or I stayed with her the whole time. Usually me. Ben made her nervous, and I couldn't blame her. I was constantly looking out the window, checking the streets, jumping whenever the phone rang. I expected Carl to show up any minute. He didn't.

Ben cleaned a couple of handguns and wore gloves while he loaded them with silver bullets.

I bought Jenny's plane ticket, gave her some extra clothes, and put her on the phone with Alette so the two could get acquainted. Jenny's expression was constantly numb, almost shocky, like she'd survived a disaster. She'd given herself over to strangers and had succumbed to fatalism. For my part, I wouldn't be happy until she was on the plane and away.

The best I could do was walk her to security. We lingered at the end of the line snaking its way to the metal detectors and X-ray machines.

"You have my phone number. Call me if you need anything, anything at all. If it doesn't work with Alette, we'll find something else. You have a lot of choices, okay? Everything’ll look better when you get to a new place."

I wanted her to be happy and excited, but she still looked terrified. "I've never been this scared. Not even the first time I shifted."

"It's going to be okay."

"But I think I miss Carl. Is that weird?"

How I could I convince her that she was doing the right thing? "Part of you always will. I still do sometimes." Though the Carl I missed—the strong, protective Carl, the sex, the feeling of being adored—had faded to a very faint shadow. I mostly remembered Carl the domineering, Carl the angry. "But you have a right to your own life. You don't belong to him."

She nodded, her expression still uncertain.

"Call me when you get there, okay?" I said. "Make sure you meet Ahmed. He runs this bar, it's amazing—"

"I know. You've told me about it ten times now." She flashed a smile. It made her face light up. I could see why Carl had zeroed in on her. It just added fuel to the fire, though, seeing how completely he'd managed to bury her personality.

"Yeah. I have to admit, I think I'm kind of jealous. You get to start out on this great adventure."

"It feels like stepping off a cliff."

"Kind of does, doesn't it? You just have to remember your parachute."

We hugged. It was a human gesture, not a wolf one. She had to be able to draw on the human side—the side that knew she could live without Carl—if she was going to get through this.

I watched her disappear down the escalator leading to the trains that ran to the concourse. You needed a ticket to go any farther. I took that as a consolation. No one who could hurt her knew she was here. No one could get to her. She was safe now.

"Mission accomplished?" Ben said when I got home.

"Yeah." He met me at the door, and I folded myself in his arms. "I need a hug." He obliged.

"What's Carl going to do when he finds out?"

I mumbled into Ben's shoulder. "Nothing he can do. Not if he doesn't know she got help. As far as he's concerned, she just left. And there's nothing he can do about it."

I almost wanted to call him myself and shout the words at him.

There's nothing you can do about it, you bastard.