Kitty and the Silver Bullet

by Carrie Vaughn

  Hardin continued. “Funny thing, though. All her concerts for the week have been postponed.”

  “She could be anywhere, then.”

  “I’ve got someone going over the hotel’s security tapes from the last week. Maybe we can track down a few of her associates. See if anything links her to the warehouse or this Master vampire of yours.”

  It seemed like little enough to go on, but I wasn’t going to complain. “Thanks, Detective.”

  “Something I can’t figure out,” she said. I braced for a difficult question until I realized a laugh hid behind her voice. “Am I doing you a favor with all this or are you doing me one?”

  “Maybe we’ll just call this one a wash,” I said.

  She clicked off.

  Rick had picked what must have been the seediest dive available on East Colfax. When I told Ben the address, he’d done a double take.

  “You are not going there,” he said.

  “How do you even know about this place?”

  “If I told you how many assault cases come out of that bar, you’d faint.”

  “And how many of those have you defended?”

  “Enough to know we have no business being there.” Ben might have been a few steps up the moral and social ladder from Cormac, but that still left him a few steps down from normal. Many steps down from normal.

  “Rick’ll look after us.”

  “Like he looked after the rest of his people?”

  “You don’t have to come if you feel that way.”

  “You’re not going there alone.”

  His vehemence gave me a warm feeling, even in the midst of the argument. He likes me . . . We hadn’t stopped the catty back-and-forth for days, it seemed like. We were learning each other’s sore spots, and we were both the kind of people who would pry at those spots. I didn’t know how to stop.

  The place was in an old brick storefront, and it didn’t have a sign. If you didn’t know it was here, you didn’t belong. That kind of place. I felt like I’d stepped into a gangster movie, and that didn’t comfort me at all. Bars covered the windows. The entrance even had a set of bars on a storm door. A weedy lot next door served as a parking lot, which was full of a mix of old model beaters and shiny new pickups. A few Harleys occupied the sidewalk in front. No sign of Rick’s BMW. But Rick was too smart to bring that car. Or maybe it had already been stolen.

  This wasn’t a setting I’d ever imagine finding Rick in. This wasn’t the kind of place I’d expect to find any vampire in. They tended to prefer sophisticated, elegant. They didn’t spend centuries practicing their charm and accumulating their power so they could hang out in places like this.

  Ben insisted on entering first, pulling me in behind him while he scanned inside. My eyesight adjusted to the gloom, while my nose worked. The place reeked. Alcohol, mostly stale beer. Working-class sweat. Tobacco and harder drugs. Meth, maybe, not because I recognized it but because it was a smell I didn’t recognize, and that was one I hadn’t encountered. And more—the vomit may have been scraped off the floor, but the smell was still there. I didn’t imagine health inspectors ventured near here too often. I tried to breathe through my mouth.

  A loud TV over the bar to the left showed a baseball game. Rickety tables and chairs filled the rest of the tiny space. The floor was concrete. Most of the tables were occupied, and a crowd lined the bar, chatting, laughing, and watching the game. A group sat in a corner, watching the TV and sharing a couple pitchers of beer. Another group was playing darts in the back. The bartender was stealing a glance at the game while he wiped down the counter. Maybe this place wasn’t so bad, even if it did seem like rock-bottom. Even gangsters needed to chill out sometimes.

  One of the hunched figures at the bar was Rick, transformed. The Rick I knew wouldn’t have fit in here. He’d have gotten hostile, sideways looks from everybody here, and he probably would have been mugged on his way out. But Rick was smart, and he knew this.

  This Rick hadn’t washed his hair in a couple of days, and it hung limp and slightly greasy. He wore a worn-out flannel shirt over a plain black T, frayed jeans, and work boots. He looked like someone who’d spent all day working at an unpleasant construction site, the kind where workers got paid under the table. Listlessly, he watched the game and gripped a mug of beer in both hands.

  If I hadn’t scented the undead chill of vampire, I’d never have spotted him.

  I approached, and Ben followed a step behind—taking my back. He was close enough for me to elbow his ribs the minute he said something snide. Rick glanced over his shoulder as I reached him.

  “See,” he said, “I knew if you met me here, you’d be serious.”

  “You’re a bastard for bringing her here,” Ben said.

  Rick quirked a smile at me. “I think he likes you.”

  This was impossible. They were impossible. “Are we going to talk or just bitch at each other?”

  “There’s a table.” Rick nodded and made to get up.

  “Ah, since you’re not going to be using that, I’ll take it.” I took charge of his beer. Rick didn’t argue, and Ben rolled his eyes.

  The table was already occupied by a tall blond man, burly and scowling. Both his skin and his hair looked sun-baked. He leaned back against the wall and had a view of the whole place. Rick was standing next to him before he looked up and smiled. It was a hard-edged, cold smile. I didn’t think he could smile any other way.

  “I think you’ve met Dack,” Rick said.

  He did, in fact, have the same scent as the creature in the warehouse. I could almost see the spindly, big-eared dog-thing behind his eyes. Both his incarnations had a watchful air.

  “Hi,” I said, trying not to sound nervous. “Nice to see, ah, the rest of you.”

  He smirked. “ ’Ullo.” Even in the single word, an unidentifiable accent came through.

  “You want to keep an eye out?” Rick said, taking his own seat.

  “Can do.” Dack pushed off from the wall and stood, his movements slow and deliberate. Like he had a powerful body and used it sparingly. Without another word he picked up his beer and moved to take Rick’s seat at the bar. He was also dressed in denim and flannel. Unless they’d been watching, people might not notice the two had switched places.

  Rick gestured for me and Ben to join him.

  “Can you trust him?” I asked Rick. The lycanthrope seemed to be watching the game, unconcerned. I wondered if he could hear us from here.

  “I do,” Rick said. “Though I suppose I have reasons not to. He’s saved my life a couple of times now. I’ve saved his. That has to count for something.”

  I understood those kinds of calculations. “Where’s he from?”

  “South Africa. I’ve known him for fifteen years, Kitty. Longer than I’ve known you.”

  “That’s not the only criteria for trusting someone.”

  “But it’s a good one for knowing someone.”

  “Somebody had to have sold you out, Rick. Can you trust Charlie and Violet?”

  “Can I trust you? You knew where we were. It’s a very short list of people who did.”

  “But why would I tell anyone?” I said, almost shrilly. “What reason would I have?”

  “For protection. Maybe you made a deal with Arturo or Mercedes. I don’t know, you tell me.”

  Great. We were all paranoid now. And I couldn’t even blame him for questioning me. I took a deep breath and tried to sound reasonable and not like a traitor. “I didn’t know when you were planning on moving. I didn’t know enough to be able to sell you out. You’re the one who came to me. Don’t go putting me on the spot now.”

  He glanced away.

  I sighed. “Rick, if you don’t think I can help you, if you don’t trust me, tell me now so I can get the hell out of here.”

  He studied me—and I met his gaze square on, vampire mojo or no. If it would give him some kind of reassurance, it was worth the risk.

  And if I didn’t trust him not to pull on
e over on me, I had no business being here in the first place. The logic of it was simple.

  He looked away first. “Let’s move on.”

  Ben had brought along today’s paper. A story on the front page related the gruesome discovery of ten mauled bodies in an industrial warehouse. The first paragraph of the story included mention of the involvement of Hardin’s Paranatural Unit in the investigation, and the following conclusion that vampires, or werewolves, or some combination of the above were involved. The rest of the article didn’t reveal too many details. Hardin had given me more information at her briefing this morning. Hard to believe it was only this morning. The editorial pages contained a long rant about the danger paranormal elements obviously presented to the public, bringing up the spate of alleged vampire assaults at downtown nightclubs last month, and demanding to know when the authorities were going to do something about containing the menace. Never mind that all the victims had also been paranormal, and the paranormal hadn’t presented such an obvious menace before this slaughter.

  Before this, no one outside the paranormal community ever heard about slaughters like this. People went missing, that was it.

  “Why didn’t Arturo clean up the mess?” I asked Rick. “He’s Denver’s Master. I’d have thought he’d want this covered up. He wouldn’t want the attention.”

  “You’re right, but Dack called 911 just before we escaped,” he said. That solved that mystery. “Arturo’s people didn’t have time to do anything before the police showed up.”

  “That must have driven him crazy,” I said.

  “Not that it does us any good. Whether he got rid of the bodies or not, my people are still dead.” He rubbed a hand over his face.

  “Oh, but it does do us some good,” I said. “Because now we have Detective Hardin on our side.”

  “You look like someone who has a plan,” he said.

  “I do.”

  The three of us sat close, heads bent, in what seemed to me to be an obvious conspiracy. I told them what Cormac and I had discussed—paraphrasing, while talking about territories and predators, drawing them out, and making them panic.

  I didn’t mention the bounty hunter; nonetheless, Ben spotted me. “That sounds like one of Cormac’s plans. You went to talk to Cormac.”

  “I hadn’t planned on it,” I said. “It just sort of happened.”

  “There’s someone who could be very useful right now,” Rick said.

  “If you can postpone your revolution for another four years or so, he might be available,” Ben said, cutting.

  “Afraid not,” Rick replied.

  “We have to get Carl and Arturo at the same time,” I said. “Whatever we do, we have to get to them both, so they can’t help each other.”

  “That was my plan the last time. Now we have to do it with fewer people and them fully warned. I’m ready to give the whole thing up as lost.”

  “And where will you go? What Master is going to let you stay in their city knowing you tried to pull a coup in Denver and failed?”

  He didn’t answer, which was all the answer I needed. Vampires preferred cities because of the larger feeding pool, and for the greater anonymity. I couldn’t picture Rick fending for himself in rural America.

  “I’ve survived this long. I’ll find a way.”

  “No. We’ll draw them out. We don’t strike at them—we strike near them. They’ll have to respond, and that’s when we get them.”

  Ben said, “They’ll respond. Do you know what that means? They’ll strike at what’s visible. That’s you, Kitty.”

  “Then we know right where they’ll be.” My smile felt maniacal.

  “No. Because they won’t go after you directly. They’ll do exactly the same thing—they’ll strike near you.” He spoke with vehemence, his words pointed. Like I wasn’t hearing him.

  “I’m not very good at this strategy thing, Ben. What are you saying?”

  “Your family,” Rick said. “They’ll strike at your family.”

  Ben added, “Your parents, your sister, her kids.”

  Stupidly, I blinked at him. “They wouldn’t.”

  “Look what Carl did to Jenny. He would,” Ben said. “Are you ready to play that game? Are you ready to use your family as bait?”

  I rubbed my face, which had suddenly flushed hot, and tangled my fingers in my hair. Fighting for myself was one thing, even fighting for revenge was one thing. Ben put this in such stark terms, and he was right. Yes, Carl and Arturo would target my family. They were easy enough to find, in the phone book and everything. And yes, if I continued on, I’d be knowingly putting them in danger. Knowing that Carl and Arturo would go after them meant I was using them as bait. I was scum for even thinking of it.

  But I did it anyway.

  The words that came out of my mouth next didn’t feel like mine. I couldn’t feel myself speak anymore. “Then at least we’ll know where they’ll hit next. We know where Carl and Arturo will be, and we can be ready for them. We’ll keep a watch on my folks, on Cheryl. We’ll move them. We can protect them. If we can protect them, it’ll work.”

  “It’s a risk,” Rick said.

  My eyes weren’t even focused anymore. “We have to get them before they can hurt anyone. We’ll get to them before they get to me.” My family. They wouldn’t even know what was happening, I couldn’t explain all this to them. I could just hear what Cheryl would say if she knew. How dare you even think of this! If anything happened to Nicky and Jeffy . . . And Mom would be in the hospital tomorrow. I should call her.

  “I think we can do it,” Ben said. “I think we can protect your family and take care of those two.”

  “You do?” I said hopefully. His gaze looked as maniacal as mine felt. We both knew that Carl really did need to go. Utterly and completely. We both believed it was worth the risk.

  Rick said, “If I can get Arturo alone, without any of his minions, without the lycanthropes backing him, I can take care of him and the rest of the vampires.”

  “Then I’ll have to take care of Carl—”

  “Can you?” he said. “I saw you with him. He’s still your alpha, on some level. You still believe he’s stronger than you.”

  That made me mad. I didn’t even want to consider that he might be right. I wanted to growl. Ben touched my hand.

  “Rick. I can do it,” I said. “Are you with us?”

  Rick’s hands, resting on the table, clenched into fists, and his glare turned inward, to thoughts I couldn’t guess at. He had the look of a predator all right, one that was cornered and growing dangerous. “If you’re willing to risk everything for this, how can I refuse?”

  “We still need a plan,” Ben said with a smile.

  I was stronger than Carl. I had to believe that. What could I do that Carl couldn’t? What did I have that Carl didn’t? When I thought about it in those terms, the answer was easy. Simple, really. Been staring me in the face the whole time.

  What did I have that Carl, and Arturo for that matter, didn’t? The Midnight Hour.

  chapter 10

  I called Mom in the morning. She didn’t answer her phone. Dad didn’t answer his. They’d already left for the hospital I was guessing. Mom never gave me an answer to my question. No—that was the answer. She hadn’t changed her mind. She wouldn’t let me save her. We’d have to trust the doctors and modern medical science to do it.

  To tell the truth, I was glad. And if science didn’t work, if the surgery didn’t remove it all, well . . . I could ask her again. And again . . .

  I left a message apologizing for not being there. She’d want the whole family there as they wheeled her into surgery. She’d be disappointed. But right now I felt like the best way I could protect my family was by staying away from them.

  We had a plan, but had to wait to put it in motion, and it was killing me. The show wasn’t until Friday night. I had to make it all the way through Friday, first. We had a lot to do to get ready.

  And if we were on the move
, Carl couldn’t find us.

  Ben and I drove to Longmont to take a look at Cormac’s storage unit.

  The Jeep was parked at Ben’s mother’s house, a bungalow near downtown, one of those cute little houses built in the thirties, all brick and tiny rooms, with a porch in front and a shed out back.

  “I still haven’t met your mom,” I said as we walked around back to the end of the driveway.

  “She’s at work now. Let’s get this over with, I don’t want to explain to her why we’re getting into Cormac’s Jeep.”

  I couldn’t blame him. Cormac hunted vampires and werewolves because that was what his father—Ben’s mother’s brother—had done, and their father before him. It ran in the family. Ben’s mother knew enough to guess what kind of trouble we’d gotten involved in. Ben hadn’t yet told her that he’d been infected with lycanthropy, that he’d become one of the family’s enemies. I wasn’t sure she knew that we’d shacked up together.

  It was all just as well.

  The key was right where Cormac said it would be, and Ben knew the storage place it went with. Cormac had rented a small unit, the size of a walk-in closet. This was somehow comforting. I’d been afraid that Cormac needed a warehouse to contain his arsenal.

  “Yeah, this’ll definitely be useful,” Ben said after stepping into the closet and turning on the light. “I think some of it’s my dad’s. Cormac moved it off the ranch when it looked like the Feds were going to haul him in.”

  Ben’s father—Cormac’s uncle—had been active in a militia in the nineties. He was now serving time for illegal weapons possession and conspiracy charges. Ben hadn’t spoken to him in almost a decade.

  Most of the stash was organized, stacked neatly on shelves, rifle cases on the bottom, other boxes and metal cases higher up, boxes of bullets, and I didn’t have to look to know that many of them were silver. In the back, longer weapons lay propped in a corner: javelins, spears—even some of those tips gleamed silver. Several crossbows of various shapes and strengths lay on another shelf. Cormac could kill anything, almost any way he wanted to with this stuff. He must have been gathering the collection for years. Or maybe he’d inherited it. The wood on some of the pieces seemed well varnished and smelled of age.