Kitty Goes to Washington

Chapter 13

If I'd had any money with me I would have called a cab. I might have been able to borrow a couple bucks from Ahmed, but I was two blocks away from the Crescent before I thought of that. The shuttle to Georgetown didn't start for another hour. As it was, I jogged. I had to move fast, because dawn was near. I was so tired. I was numb, and barely felt my legs move.

I should have kept Ben's cell phone so I could call the cops. I should have had Ahmed call the cops. Should have, should have—this was why I sucked at politics. No planning ahead.

Leo would be there. I had no doubt Leo would be there, along with the two mortal soldiers. I didn't know what I was going to do about them.

I wondered who would tell Alette about Bradley. And where was Tom? Emma? Were they safe?

I arrived at the townhome; the inside was dark. Like all the other houses on the street, like any normal house should be at this hour.

Then I paused. I could see that the lights inside were dark, because the drapes over the front bay window, the window to the parlor, were open. They'd never been open before.

Now, what were the odds the front door was unlocked, letting me walk right in?

Slowly, I climbed the steps and tried the door handle. Not only was it unlocked, it hadn't been closed all the way. It stood open just a hair, as if whoever had passed through here had been in a hurry.

I opened the door a crack.

"Did you hear that?" a male voice called from inside.

Wouldn't have to lock the door if you'd posted guards. My heart in my throat, I scrambled off the steps, over the wrought-iron railing, and crouched in the shadow by the wall of the house. I held my breath, even though I thought my head was going to burst. I wanted to run so badly, hear the Wolf's claws scraping on the pavement as we put distance between me and danger.

Hold the line. Keep it together.

The door opened wide above me. Someone stepped out and looked around. Dressed all in black, his face seemed ghostly in the near-light of dawn. He must have been one of the black ops guys that went with Leo. He watched for a moment, carefully scanning the street, then went back inside, closing the door firmly this time.

Leo needed someone to guard the place during daylight hours, the way Bradley and Tom had done for Alette.

The sky was lightening. I shivered and pulled my coat closer. Ben's coat. I'd forgotten I was wearing it. Now, I was glad I had it.

I had to get in there. I had to find out if Alette was okay. My heart was sinking with the growing evidence that she probably wasn't okay at all. The soldiers had to be in the foyer or front room to hear the faint squeak of the door hinges. I had to get them out of there, distract them somehow. They were obviously twitchy. Some kind of noise, then.

I suddenly felt like I was in a bad spy movie.

Some debris lay on the concrete pad of the window well where I'd been hiding: a few stones, chipped plaster, a rusted piece of metal. I picked up a handful of these items and climbed the railing back to street level.

Backing onto the sidewalk, then to the deserted street, I looked up at the townhome's second-story windows. I hadn't played any sports in school. I hadn't been at all coordinated. I wasn't sure I could do this. Desperation convinced me, however. I had to do this.

All the strength my supernatural Wolf gave me, I poured into that throw. Pitch it hard, focus on the window right above the bay window of the parlor. I grunted as I let the stone fly.

It hit the brick wall and rattled back to the sidewalk.

I growled at myself and tried again, quickly. It wouldn't do any good to have the soldiers come out on the front porch. I hefted the piece of metal this time and threw.

With a spine-numbing crack, the window shattered. The tinkling glass was like music.

To be on the safe side, I turned to the window above the front door and tried again. My whole body was shaking with adrenaline, but I must have had the knack of it this time. I hit the window—this one didn't shatter, but it crunched and a network of cracks laced out like a spider-web.

This whole plan depended on them going upstairs to see what had broken the windows. I had to hope they wouldn't come out the front door.

Did all plans feel this stupid in the middle of the execution?

I ran to the front door and opened it. Leaning in over the threshold, I took a deep breath of air and listened close. I smelled Alette's house, but with an edge. People I didn't recognize had been moving around in here. But I didn't hear anything, no breathing, no footsteps. Except overhead—it sounded like someone was running on the floor above me.

I went inside and shut the door behind me.

The place was dark, empty feeling. I didn't hear any breathing—but vampires didn't breathe.

I moved through the foyer, attempting silence, but the rubber soles of my sneakers squeaked on the hardwood.

The parlor window faced east. The room was almost light, now. Gray and faded, but still light. In another half hour, the sun would pour in.

The furniture had been shoved away to make a clear space on the floor, in front of the window. In the middle of this space, far enough back that I couldn't have seen her from the sidewalk, Alette sat on a chair. She faced the window, like she waited for the sun to rise, like she planned on watching it. Like she planned to die.

"Alette?"

She didn't move. I stepped closer and saw her hands tied behind her back, to the legs of the chair. Rope or cord alone wouldn't have been enough to hold her; there were also chains with crosses on them. Her feet were secured to the chair legs in front. A gag bound her mouth.

Crosses. Leo needed mortal humans to tie Alette up with crosses, which he couldn't touch.

"Alette." I ran to her. Inside the room, the rug squished wetly. What had happened here?

I pulled down the gag, a strip of cotton fabric. It snagged on a fang, but I got it loose.

Her gaze was wild, desperate, rapidly searching me. "Kitty, are you well? What have they done to you?"

I worked on the rest of the bindings. I started to toss the crosses away, then decided I might need them. I shoved them in a coat pocket. "Forced my national television debut. Don't worry, I'm okay. I'm not hurt." Physically…

"And Bradley—where's Bradley?"

Dammit. I hadn't wanted to be the one to tell her. This was terrible to think, but I'd hoped Leo had gloated. So at least she'd know.

"I'm sorry, Alette. Leo moved so fast, and he wasn't expecting it."

"No, I imagine he wasn't. It was probably quick, painless?"

"Broken neck."

"Kitty." Her hands free now, she put them on my shoulders, gripping them. Free of the crosses, she was strong, very strong, and at the moment she forgot it. She squeezed, pinching, and all I could do was brace against it, so she wouldn't topple me over. "They're my children, do you understand? My children's children, I've looked after my family all these years. I've provided for them, watched them grow and prosper. That's all I wanted for them, to prosper. Do you understand?"

I started to. Bradley was her great—dozens of great—grandson. And Tom, and Emma, who said her family had been with Alette for decades. Her contacts in the police department, in the government—also descendants. That loyalty came from ties of blood. Would the distance in relationship have made any difference in Alette's mind? I thought of all those portraits in the dining room, the photographs in the hall, in the parlor, all of them were her children. She kept pictures of her family throughout the house, like any doting mother.

"Alette, we have to hurry, they'll be back downstairs any minute." Not to mention the sun was rising right in front of her. I held her hands and tried to pull her from the chair.

"Wait a moment, Kitty—"

"Geez, did a pipe break?" I'd been kneeling on the wet carpet. My jeans were damp.

"Holy water. I'm sitting in it. I can't walk."

Her feet were bare. Not only that, they were burned, the flesh red and shining, rashlike. The red crawled up from her soles, touching every place that had gotten wet. Even if she'd been able to break free, she couldn't walk anywhere. I scented a whiff of damaged flesh.

She looked at me matter-of-factly, though the acidlike touch of holy water must have tortured her.

"Well, that's just great." I looked around, trying to think. I hadn't come this far to be defeated by a damp rug. "If they had this much of it why didn't they just throw it on you?"

"It might not have killed me."

And whoever did this wanted Alette to watch the approach of her own death, through the window, to torture her.

Glancing back at the pale sky, her face was ashen. She set her expression in a stoic mask.

I couldn't just close the drapes. They weren't open; they were gone, completely removed. I had to get her out of here. The footsteps continued upstairs, but the soldiers would be back down in moments.

"I'll carry you," I said, kneeling by the chair. I thought she'd argue, muttering about dignity with her British accent and stiff upper lip. She didn't. Silently, she put her arms around my shoulders and held on as I lifted, cradling her. She was far lighter than I expected. She felt dried up and hollow.

I had no idea where to go with her. I couldn't take her outside, not with daylight so close and no shelter handy. Frantically, I looked around.

"There's a storage space under the stairs. The door is there, it's a hidden panel."

When she pointed to it, I saw the line that marked the door. Setting her down, I wrenched open the thin plywood door, wincing at how much noise I made. Quiet, had to be quiet.

Alette leaned on me, unable to stand by herself. Together, we fell into the storage space. I pulled the door closed just as footsteps sounded on the stairs over our heads.

We lay curled together against a pile of junk, holding our breaths. At least I held my breath. We stared at the door ahead of us as if we could see what was happening outside.

Footsteps crossed the floor of the foyer and stopped at the entrance to the parlor. Another set of footsteps followed.

"Shit," a male voice said.

"Maybe she's already gone," a second voice said. "Burned up."

"There's not any ash. There should be ash. A burning smell. Something."

"You ever see one of them go in sunlight?"

After a pause, the other said, "No."

"Look, even if she found a way to escape, it's too close to dawn. She won't get far—hell, she won't even leave the house. We'll look."

"You don't suppose she turned into a bat or something, do you?"

"Uh, no."

Footsteps crossed back and forth, moved to the back of the house, returned to the stairs. They didn't come near the door to the storage space.

The closet ran the entire length of the flight of stairs, narrowing at the end. Despite this, we didn't have much room to move. In the faint light that seeped through the crack under the door, I could see that the place was crammed with boxes, cleaning equipment like brooms, mops, and buckets, old baby strollers, a high chair, a clothes rack stuffed with coats. Like any normal family's storage space. I got the feeling Alette had clung to the model of a normal family life after becoming a vampire.

I wondered how Leo fit into that.

"My hero." She looked at me and attempted a grim smile. Then, she slumped back, letting out a soft groan. If I didn't know better I'd have said she fainted.

I touched her, shook her shoulder. She was cold, stiff almost Panicked, I almost shouted her name. I couldn't lose he now.

She touched her forehead, wincing, for all the world like a distraught lady in a Victorian novel. We needed a fainting couch.

I hissed, trying to keep my voice to a whisper, "What's wrong? What's the matter? It's the sun, isn't it? It's too close to dawn—"

"I haven't fed tonight," she said.

I stared at her, astounded. I was holding on to a starving vampire. Could I be any more stupid?

"Never mind that," she continued, trying to sit up. "Leo is still in the house. We've got to find him, I won't have him destroying what I've built here."

"You're not in any shape to go against Leo," I said, thinking of her injured feet as well as her lack of food.

"We can't stay locked up here, cowering, all day." She straightened, pulling herself out of my grip. She moved slowly, stiffly, like an arthritic old woman. "For good or ill, I must face him now. I don't expect you to come along. This is my fight. I'm the one who didn't see Leo's true colors. I don't believe it, almost two hundred years together and he picks now to stage a coup."

She wouldn't last, not in her condition. I'd seen him move against Bradley.

"Would it help?" I spoke quickly, before I lost my nerve. "If you took some of my blood, would it help you?"

"Kitty, if you're suggesting what I think you are, don't—"

"Because I'm not letting you go out there alone in your condition. And I can't take on Leo by myself. Will it help you?"

She hesitated a long, strained moment before saying, "Yes, it would."

"Then you have to."

God, my heart was pounding like a jackhammer. It overwhelmed thought. Lots of people, human servants, did this all the time. Nothing to it.

Except she was predator, and I was suddenly prey. I had an urge to defend myself. Or run. Fight or flight.

"Your wolf doesn't like the idea much, does she?" Alette said.

"No," I said, my voice wavering. "She—I—I mean, we don't much like feeling trapped. I'm sorry, it's under control, it's okay—"

She spoke, gently, soothingly. "I understand. You're being perfectly reasonable. You should be frightened of me."

"I'm not, not really." But I was. I knew what she was, intellectually I'd always known. But this was the reality, that she could devour me and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

But she wouldn't, she wasn't like that, she was kind. If only the last week hadn't completely eroded my faith in my ability to judge character.

"Just a little. I promise," she said. "A few seconds and it will be over. Is that all right?"

I nodded. She touched my face. She was a ghost in the pale light. "I will not betray your trust. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Are you left- or right-handed?"

"Right," I whispered.

She took my left hand and moved toward me, leaning so she spoke close to my ear. Her voice had a rhythm, lulling. It ran along my nerves, soothing them, coaxing them from taut panic to calm. More than calm—I felt yearning.

"Do not fear me. I would not have you come to me afraid."

She kissed my cheek, and I leaned into her. I let her hold me in her arms, let her do anything she wanted to me, because her touch reached deep inside me, into my gut. A warmth rose there; my body clenched in anticipation.

Her breath caressed my neck. I might have moaned a little, because I felt so warm, burning up. She held me close, pulling that warmth into her.

"Rest your head, my dear." She guided my head to her shoulder. I shut my eyes and pressed my face against her.

She pushed the coat sleeve up my left arm, past the elbow. She supported the arm—I couldn't have, at that point. I felt like I was melting; I wanted to melt into her. She kissed the inside of my arm, firing all the nerves. I bit my lip, overwhelmed.

She traced a line up my forearm with her tongue, tasting and kissing. My hand closed into a fist, which she braced. Her mouth closed over my wrist, but I didn't feel anything except her attention, her caresses, her love.

The skin pinched, the bite. By then, I wanted it.

When she drew away, I felt like a veil had fallen, or that I'd woken from a dream.

I needed a cold shower. Very cold.

"It's over," she said. And it was. She straightened, pulling away from me. I didn't know where I'd been, but suddenly I was back in the closet under Alette's stairs, in the dark, wrapped in a trenchcoat. "Are you all right?"

"Um, yeah. I mean, I think… wow." It made sense, really. All part of that vampire seduction gambit: lure the prey to you, give it a reason to open its veins. Sure cut down on that messy struggling. "Just so you know, I'm straight. Totally straight. As an arrow."

Her voice held a smile. "So am I."

I smelled a touch of blood on her breath. My blood.

She no longer sounded tired, defeated, like she had a moment ago. She sat straight without effort, and the glint in her eye had returned. She seemed ready for battle.

Two sets of footsteps pounded across the foyer, right outside our hiding place. Alette looked out at the sound, frowning. Then, she pushed at the door.

"No—" I grabbed for her but missed. She slipped through the opening before I could reach her.

What could I do but follow?

Outside, in the foyer, she stood tall on her injured feet—except they didn't seem quite as injured. The redness seemed to have faded, just as her face now seemed flushed and lively.

Before her, two black-clad soldiers held handguns pointed at her. They clutched the guns in two-handed grips, straight-armed, sighting down the barrels.

"You don't want to do that," Alette said, her voice like honey, music, seduction, passion, all together. "You'd like to put your weapons down now."

Calmly, she looked back and forth between them. I couldn't see Alette's eyes at this moment. I didn't want to—her gaze focused intently on the soldiers. The men didn't shoot, they didn't say anything. One of them—his arms were trembling, causing the gun to waver.

"I know you're both reasonable gentlemen. You deserve a rest. You're very calm. Very quiet. That's right."

They both lowered their arms slowly, hypnotically, until they were hanging loose at their sides. After that, they didn't twitch a muscle. They didn't shiver, they didn't blink. They stood like statues, caught in Alette's gaze. Their breathing was slow and rhythmic, as if they slept, but their eyes were open. One of the guys' jaw hung open a little. He wasn't quite drooling.

Alette pulled the guns out of their hands and gingerly put the weapons in the closet. She closed the door. She left the soldiers standing motionless in the foyer.

How did vampires do that?

I crept past them, hardly believing they wouldn't reach out to grab me.

She went to the back of the foyer, to the hallway that led to the kitchen. "Leo will be downstairs by this hour."

Her gaze narrowed. The hunter had found her trail.

She walked confidently down the hallway, which opened to a modern, impressively furnished kitchen—stainless-steel counters, pots hanging above an island workstation. It seemed to be equipped to prepare and serve state dinners. Who was I to say it hadn't? Alette passed it all by, heading for a door on the far side, by the fridge.

She paused, hand on the doorknob, tilting her head to listen. So, that was the door to the basement, where the vampires spent their days in darkness and safety. Leo might be stretching out for a nap, thinking he was safe.

Or he might have been waiting for us, armed with machine guns.

"Alette, this isn't—"

She opened the door.

Common sense didn't play any part in her current motivation. Revenge probably had a big part in it, along with a liberal dose of blind rage. She didn't wait to see if I'd follow or not.

I followed.

The glow of soft lighting cast an aura up the carpeted stairs. Soundlessly, Alette stepped down.

The basement room was as Victorian in decoration as the rest of the house. Brocade wallpaper, plush carpet, antique lamps. It was a bedroom. No coffins, but a king-sized four-poster bed sat in the back, along with dressers and wardrobes, and a vanity table without the mirror.

Leo sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over the body of a young woman. Her brown hair lay loose over her shoulders, and her hands were folded over her stomach. She wore a college logo sweatshirt and faded jeans.

"It's Emma," I whispered.

"He used her as a hostage. That was how he overcame me. He promised to keep her safe," she said, sharp as steel, biting off the words.

Emma seemed asleep. I hoped she was just asleep.

Leo looked up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand—an ominous gesture, though I didn't see what he wiped away. A snarl curled his lips. He stood, clenching his hands, and took a step toward us. He faced Alette across the room.

"You're supposed to be dead," Leo said, his voice low, tight with emotion.

"I've been dead for quite some time, my dear."

I left the stairs and moved from behind her, my back hunched like hackles rising, glaring warily.

His gaze met mine and narrowed. "Flemming set you loose, did he? He's too soft for the game he's playing."

I wondered, if I got a chance to wring Leo's neck, would he tell me what that game was? I could wring it with little crosses on chains.

"You could do what you liked with me if you kept Emma safe," Alette said. "What have you done to her?"

Leo laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He rounded his shoulders like a prizefighter entering the ring. Alette seemed unaffected, standing poised and still as always.

"You sold me out, destroyed my home, my children. Why?"

Leo laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "Why? That's simple. You are the worst waste of resources I have ever encountered. You command an empire, Alette. And what do you use it for? Nesting. You are an immortal goddess, and you can't seem to do anything but play the part of a stupid woman."

Wow. Not like he was from the nineteenth century or anything.

Alette didn't even flinch. In fact, a new resolve seemed to settle on her, like something inside her had hardened. "Is that so? If you felt that way, why stay with me for two centuries? That's a long time to have to cope with stupidity. I should know."

Leo's jaw dropped, like he was actually offended. I put my hand in my pocket, curling my fingers around the crosses there.

"He's only just now found allies with firepower," I said. "Tell us what Flemming gets by sending his men to work for you. You couldn't have taken over the place without their help."

He scowled. "I don't talk to animals."

"Oh, give me a break!"

"Answer the question, Leo," Alette said, cold and implacable. The "stupid woman" had commanded men for centuries with that voice. Even now, Leo couldn't break the habit.

"He gets a recruiting agent. Someone to help build his little army of the night. The Pentagon has already agreed to back his research when the NIH drops him. That's not what he wants, but he'll take what he can get. They've already given him a Special Forces unit to help run the operation."

Alette gave a sigh that managed to sound feminine and indignant at the same time. "You've sold one master and bought yourself another, do you realize that?"

"Oh, no," Leo said. "You're wrong about that. Flemming only thinks he's in charge. This goes far beyond him."

Flemming was too soft, Leo had said. The scientist looked the part of an academic, but played at military intelligence and black ops. Which was the real Flemming? And if Flemming was out of his league, as Leo suggested, then whose league were we playing in?

"How far?" I said, my voice falling to almost a whisper. "Who's calling the shots if not Flemming? Surely not you. You're a natural-born lackey."

Leo flashed his wicked, pretentious smile. "You'll never know, because you aren't leaving here alive."

He flew at us. In retrospect, he probably only launched himself, springing at us with the energy of frustration and determination. But he did it so fast, he might as well have flown.

Alette must have been expecting it, or she must have seen it, somehow able to slow the time frame down in a way that I wasn't. She was also moving at his speed. She dodged, stepping aside with efficient grace. The move might have been choreographed. They were like two fighters in a Hong Kong action flick, and I was the hapless bystander who was only trying to cross the street.

The move also left the path clear between Leo and me. I couldn't get out of his way fast enough. I could feel my feet backing up, as if I were looking at myself from outside. But my steps were slow, shaking. A whimper started in the back of my throat. Submissive, be submissive, lower than him—

He wouldn't listen to that.

I held the fist full of crosses in front of me and braced.

He didn't reach me, because Alette put her hand around his neck. She shouldn't have been able to stop him. He should have just tossed her aside and kept going. But who was I to decide what a multicentury-old vampire could and couldn't do? She didn't seem to strain, even, and Leo came up short, like he'd run into a clothesline. Her hand squeezed around his throat; her tendons flexing was the only sign of effort.

"I gave you everything," she said. "I'll take it all away."

"No." He gripped her wrist, scratching at it, trying to push her away. He was taller than she was, larger, rougher, yet she held him like he was made of cotton.

She couldn't kill him by suffocating him—vampires didn't breathe. She'd have to rip his whole head off. But she only stared at him, caught his gaze in hers, seeming to give him a chance to apologize, to beg forgiveness. To beg for his life. He began to thrash like an animal in a trap.

"No." He gasped, choking, his voice failing. "You're not my mistress, not anymore, you're not—"

From a reservoir of anger, he lashed out. Arms together, both hands making a fist, he swung around and hit her arm at the elbow. The joint bent, breaking her hold on him for a moment—long enough. He ripped away from her and punched her hard, once in the gut, once in the face. Something cracked, like bone breaking. Alette's expression didn't have time to register surprise.

She fell backward and hit the ground. Didn't move, and my belly turned cold. Leo turned on me, striking with an intent to do damage.

I still held the crosses as a shield, but Leo toppled into me anyway. He planted his hands on my shoulders and shoved, running me to the ground, pinning me to the floor. I clawed at him, the chains still laced around my fingers. The crosses pressed against his face.

He grimaced, his mouth opened wide as he hissed and shook himself to get free of them. The crosses left welts on his cheeks and neck, like allergy-driven hives, like silver did to me. Still, he didn't let up his pressure on me. I couldn't get away.

I didn't know if Alette was in any shape to help me. I was on my own.

Change, you can fight him—Pain burned through me, Wolf starting to claw her way out. The full moon still shone. I still had power. My hands were thickening. Wildly, I thrashed, arching my back, because I didn't want to do this, I didn't want to be trapped, I hated that he was making me Change. Human or Wolf, I wasn't strong enough to fight him.

He laughed, and in another quicksilver move, he grabbed my hand, the one holding the crosses, and jammed it to the floor. He managed to shift until both my hands were pinned, and his knee dug into my gut. He leaned in close, his fangs brushing my neck. Every breath I took was a growl, and he didn't care.

"I'll have you for dessert, my kitten," he said. He was in the perfect position to rip out my throat, and I couldn't do anything about it. I tried to work up enough spit to shoot at his face, since it seemed that was all I had left. My mouth had gone strangely dry, however.

"Leo." Someone new had arrived. I knew that voice.

Leo looked up, hissing in surprise. Then, something whistled. I felt the air whine above me. In the same moment, he fell back, as if jerked on a chain.

Freed, I rolled out of the way, away from Leo, and scrambled back on all fours.

Paul Flemming stood at the base of the stairs holding some kind of spear gun. He lowered it from the ready position and watched his target.

Leo crouched on his knees, staring at his own chest with blank astonishment. A foot-long wooden dowel, like an arrow, protruded from his heart. No blood poured from the wound, even though the spear must have gone all the way through his chest. It looked ludicrous somehow, like it was a stage prop glued to the front of his shirt. The fabric puckered in around it.

So, Flemming was good with a stake. It seemed the spot at the top of the food chain was still up for debate.

I gasped for breath, trying to pull myself back into myself, to stay human. Alette had recovered. She sat up, legs folded neatly under her, and watched Leo die. She frowned, her gaze showing sadness.

Leo gave a short laugh, or the sound might have been the start of a sob. He reached for her, then slumped onto his side, his eyes open and staring. The body turned waxen, then ashen, then began to collapse in on itself, turning to dust, the decay of the grave taking place in seconds instead of years. It took his clothes, the stake, everything with him. Everything touching him turned to dust, including a blackened oval shape on the carpet. He was gone.

I expected Alette to regain her feet gracefully, to resume her regal bearing and once again take charge. Instead, she remained on the floor, her eyes squeezed shut, gripping the fabric of her jacket over her heart, as if it hurt.

"How could I be so blind?" Her voice was thin, pained. "How could I be so… so stupid?"

Those words had been spoken by every woman who'd ever been screwed over by a boyfriend. Immortality didn't change some things, apparently.

She ran her fingers through her hair, and finally opened her eyes to stare at the pile of ash that had once been Leo. Her face puckered, like she might start crying. But she shook her head, and shook the mood away. "He fought at Waterloo, you know. When I met him, he was a shell, broken by what he'd seen there. But he could still laugh. I liked that. I gave him a reason to continue. I gave him a place in my household. Then—I gave him everything. I trusted him. I thought—"

She loved him. I wouldn't have thought it possible. Vampires seemed beyond love. What was more, she thought he'd loved her back.

A wave of fear crossed her expression. In a rush, she stood and went to the bed, sitting beside Emma. She touched the young woman's face, felt her neck, then held her hands. She stared at Emma's face for a long time, and my stomach turned into a lead weight.

"Alette, what—how is she?" I didn't want to know. If I didn't know, I didn't have to react.

"She's not dead," Alette said softly. She didn't sound pleased, though. She sounded resigned. "But—she's no longer precisely alive, either. On the third night she'll wake again as one of us."

Leo had turned her, made her a vampire. Had he seen the opportunity to possess something of Alette's and been unable to resist? I remembered his laugh when Alette asked him what he'd done to Emma. Maybe he'd done it as a joke.

"What are you going to do? What—what is she going to do?"

Alette smiled sadly. "I don't know." She leaned forward and kissed Emma's forehead. Emma didn't stir. Her face was white, bloodless.

Alette took a blanket from a trunk at the foot of the bed and spread it over Emma.

Flemming held the spear gun down by his side and slumped against the wall.

I swallowed, to make sure my throat was still human, that I still had a voice. "Why? Why are you here? Why did you do… that?"

"He was dangerous."

"Dangerous to whom? To you? To your research? Aren't you worried about losing your recruiting agent?"

"But would he recruit for me, or handpick the people he wanted on the inside of an elite military unit? I know he was spying on me." He glanced at Alette, then lowered his gaze. "I was being used. By everyone. Duke, Leo, the DOD—"

"Wait, what? The DOD?"

"Department of Defense. One door closes, another opens. Isn't that what people say? The military sees possibilities in my research. The NIH isn't going to continue my funding, not after this."

"Damn straight. Why did you ever go along with Duke? He's a nutcase."

"We both wanted government recognition. He wanted his control; I wanted funding that didn't come from the military. He was able to get my research a public hearing; I was able to give him his proof that the monsters are real. I thought—I believed that in the end, my science would trump his fanaticism. That Congress would take my proof and do some good with it."

Good defined as funding for his own project. That was the trouble with politics, everyone only believed their own personal idea of what was good and right. And science could become its own brand of fanaticism.

Flemming continued. "Duke misjudged public opinion. He really believes you aren't human, and that Congress could enact laws to set bounties on you, to let people hunt you to extinction, like they did with wild wolves a hundred years ago. He wanted to be a national Van Helsing, and he wanted my help to prove that he was right."

"I think you both came off looking like assholes," I said. "I think Jack London won. So the NIH cuts your funding, and the military welcomes you with open arms? You looked for military funding—Fritz gave you ideas. You don't care where the money comes from."

His voice turned harsh. "I got very good at telling the people with money exactly what they wanted to hear. Most researchers do. I told the DOD what I thought I could do, and by the time I decided that wasn't what I wanted… But I'm done, now. After this, I'll tell them all that I'm finished."

I wanted to wring his neck. "You can really just walk away? I don't believe you."

The expression he shot back at me was conflicted, full of hurt but also tinted with anger. His jaw clenched. The grip on his spear gun tightened, and with a pang I realized he was standing between me and the stairway.

"Kitty, that's enough." Alette rose from the bed and brushed off her skirt as if she'd just come in from a stroll. "Dr. Flemming, I suppose I ought to thank you for your timely arrival. Then again, I suppose it was the least you could do for helping to bring about this situation in the first place."

"I didn't do it for you," he said. "I'm tired of being a pawn."

"You very nearly decided that too late." She set her gaze on him, and for all that she was a slighter, slimmer figure than Leo, she radiated a menace that he hadn't been able to manage. Leo had been all about bravado.

Flemming reached to a long pouch strapped over his shoulder, which held more spears.

I thought I was going to have to break up a fight between them, but we were all startled by noises pounding on the floor above us, echoing over our heads. A door slammed open, several sets of footsteps ran, probably across the foyer.

Upstairs, in the kitchen, a male voice said, "Clear!" Another said, "The basement?"

I could fight. To the last breath, I could do it. Alette joined me in the center of the room; we stood side by side. Flemming remained at the base of the stairs, looking up.

The stairs creaked as someone made his way down, slowly and carefully. Another one followed. Two people. I took a deep breath, my nose flaring to catch a scent. Male sweat, leather jacket, an air of taut nerves and tired bodies, gun oil—

Connac emerged from the shadow, gun raised and ready. Ben followed a step behind him, a stake in one hand and mallet in the other. Flemming pointed his spear gun at Cormac, and for a moment the two looked like they were going to face off.

My knees turned to pudding. I thought I was going to faint. "Hi, guys," I said weakly.

Cormac wasn't going to lower his weapon until Flemming did. The hit man stared at him, expressionless, steady as a rock. Flemming's hands shook.

"Doctor, it's okay. They're okay," I said. Finally, he lowered his arms. Cormac waited an extra beat before doing the same, holstering the gun.

More pounding footsteps sounded on the stairs, and a pair of police officers emerged into the room, which was becoming crowded.

Ben looked around the room, took note of me, Alette, and the pile of ash on the floor. "You mean we went through the trouble of finding this place, calling the cops, racing here in the nick of time, and after all that we missed the fun?"

"There's still one left," Cormac said, eyeing Alette.

I moved to stand in front of her. "This is Alette. She's a good guy."

One of the cops drew his gun on Cormac. Too many people in this room had guns, and it was starting to piss me off.

"Nathan, it's all right, we don't want to start anything," Alette said. The cop lowered his gun.

Cormac rolled his eyes, a you've got to be kidding look.

"It's all right, Kitty," Alette said, moving to the side, like she was amused that I'd tried to protect her.

"Alette? This is Ben, my lawyer, and Cormac, my—"

My what? "And this is Cormac." She nodded politely. Ben and Cormac still looked ready for action: guns, stakes, crosses hanging from their belts.

"Uh, you guys do this a lot, don't you? Because you look like you do this a lot."

Ben and Cormac exchanged a look, and a curt, comradely nod. Ben sighed and finally lowered the mallet.

I had a vampire-hunting lawyer. Great.

Flemming said, "I'll leave. I don't want to cause any more trouble."

Alette crossed her arms. "No more recruiting, no more kidnapping. Yes?"

He nodded quickly, in a way that gave me no reassurance he'd even registered what she'd said. He turned to climb the stairs. Cormac blocked his way. The hit man glared at him in only the way that a man who carries guns that casually can. Just when I thought one of them might do something rash—they both still had loaded weapons—Cormac stepped aside. Flemming rushed up the stairs, pushing past the cops.

I wouldn't have minded asking him a few more questions.

"It's full day by now, isn't it? I can feel it my bones." Alette rubbed her forehead as if trying to erase the lines of weariness. She glanced at the bed in the back of the room. For a moment, she actually looked old. "Kitty, I don't know how to thank you. If you hadn't returned… well."

I gave a tired smile. "If there's anything else I can do to help—"

Ben interrupted. "Kitty, with all due respect, you pay me to give you advice, and right now I'm advising you to get the hell out of this house. I'll help you pack."

He'd wanted me to do that all along. I couldn't really argue anymore. But leaving felt like I was throwing all Alette's gestures of friendship back in her face. I wanted to stay—but I also wanted to feel safe. Alette's sanctum had been violated.

After the last twelve hours, I wanted to curl up into a hole and never come out again.

"It's all right," Alette said in response to my anguished frown. "You'll be safer away from here, now."

I nodded and forced a smile. When had safe stopped being the easy way out?

The pair of cops locked down the town house. Leo's two soldiers had been guided to a sofa in the parlor, where they now sprawled, sleeping it off. I sure didn't want to be around when they woke up. Flemming had disappeared utterly, and I couldn't blame him. He had no friends at that place.

Ben and I took my car to the hotel, while Cormac drove theirs. Ben carried my bags. I was still wearing my torn T-shirt and jeans. I needed a shower, badly. I needed to not remember the TV broadcast. I'd been able to forget, for the last few hours. When we got to the hotel, Ben handed me a homemade DVD and portable DVD player. Shit.

I showered first. I'd watch the video after. But the shower lasted a very long time. I had a lot of bad scents to wash off. Smells of antiseptic science, of calculated cruelty, of hate and violence. Of being beaten up, trapped in a jail cell, tied up with silver. My wrists had rashes from silver and puncture wounds from a vampire.

Eventually, I watched, mesmerized, my room-service breakfast abandoned.

Toward the end, Ben knocked at my door. I let him in.

"The committee's wrapping up this afternoon. You should go."

The Senate committee seemed incredibly far away at the moment.

"What's the press response to this?" I pointed at the screen, where my Wolf had retreated to a corner to curl up in as tight a ball as possible. "What's the media saying?" I hadn't looked at a newspaper yet. In a sudden nervous fit, I turned on the TV and flipped channels until I found something resembling news.

"… experts verify that the video is not a fake, that what you're about to see is a real werewolf. We must warn you that the following images may be disturbing to some viewers…" The news show aired a choice clip: me, my back arching, shirt ripping, fur shimmering where skin ought to be.

I turned the channel. I found a morning show where the familiar, perfectly saccharine hosts interviewed a man in a suit.

The woman said, "By now everyone's seen the film. We have to ask, what does it mean? What's going to come out of this?"

"Well, we have to look at it in context of the hearings that have been going on for the last week. This brings all that information out of the realm of theory. For the first time we see the issue in stark reality, and what it means is the Senate committee is not going to be able to ignore it, or brush it off. I expect to see legislation—"

The next channel, a rather hyperbolic cable news show, had Roger Stockton as a guest. Just the sight of him made my hackles rise. He and the regular host were chatting.

"Is there a way to tell?" the host was saying. "If you didn't already know she was a werewolf, would you have been able to tell?"

Stockton had become an infinitely assured expert. "Well, Don, I have to say, I think with experience you might be able to spot a werewolf. They've got this aura about them, you know?"

"So that whole thing with the monobrow is bunk—"

Oh, give me a break.

And a fourth channel. "Who is Kitty Norville? She gained some fame as the host of a cult radio talk show, and that put her in the spotlight. A spotlight that got a little too bright last night. She has been unavailable for comment, and investigators are looking into the possibility that she may still be held captive—"

"I've been getting calls nonstop. I've been blowing them off, no comments at this time sort of thing. Maybe you should hold a press conference."

At least that would be organized. I might be able to claim a bit of territory for myself.

"And your mom called again. You should probably call her back soon."

I went back to the first news channel. They showed a new clip, the Dirksen Senate Office Building where the hearings were being held. A crowd had gathered: protesters, curiosity seekers. The reporter wasn't saying, just that the committee was convening for a final time. Some people were waving signs that I couldn't read because the camera refused to focus on them.

Did they hate me? What was happening?

"I can't do it," I said softly, shaking my head in slow denial. "I can't face them. Face that."

"Why not?" He sounded tired. He'd been awake for all of the time that I had, over the course of the night. He'd earned his retainer in spades.

Why not, indeed. I wanted that hole, that safe den shut away from the world, and I wanted it badly. I knew this feeling; I hadn't felt it so strongly in years. "It's all out. Everyone saw me. Saw everything. I have nothing left, that's what it is. I—I feel like I've been raped."

He gave a frustrated huff. "Now how would you know about that?"

I almost swung at him. I had to take a deep breath, to pull that anger back inside. We were both tired and speaking too bluntly. "You do not want me to answer that, Ben."

His expression fell. "Look, Kitty. We're going to sue. We're going to litigate the shit out of Duke, Flemming, Stockton, everyone we can over what happened. The whole goddamn Senate if we have to. And that's after the criminal charges are filed. But for all that to happen, you can't hide. Those crowds aren't going away anytime soon, and you're going to have to face them."

I'd started crying, tears quietly making tracks down my cheeks. Everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours seemed to hit me at once, and the stress was suffocating. Like being in the cell again, silver walls pressing down on me. But he was right. I knew he was right. I'd survived too much to cave now. So I wiped the tears away and drank down the glass of orange juice.

This couldn't possibly be worse than wrestling with a vampire.