Kitty Raises Hell kn-6

by Carrie Vaughn

  “Here’s the thing,” I said in my calm, careful DJ voice, like I might use to explain dirt to an idiot. It was the best way I knew to attack anyone. “You don’t care what happens to me. This demon could shred me limb from limb right now and you wouldn’t care.” I refrained from glancing worriedly over my shoulder. That was just what I needed, to have the demon lurking nearby, waiting for an invitation of the Murphy’s Law variety. “You could make this thing vanish anytime you want, and I believe you. I also believe you don’t care about stopping it. You’re using it as a stepping stone to something else, taking advantage of a difficult situation to get what you want. And that makes you a manipulative, amoral son of a bitch. Now tell me why I should put myself in the position of owing a manipulative, amoral son of a bitch a favor?”

  I expected a retort, something along the lines of usual smug vampire haughtiness. Or more accusations and name-calling. Either way, I’d just turn around and walk away. I had nothing else to say.

  But Roman didn’t reply right away. He regarded me with that annoyed curl to his lips and studied me, like he could see through me. I turned and walked away because I couldn’t take that stare for another second.

  “Kitty,” he said. I paused but didn’t turn around. I shouldn’t even have done that much. I should have kept walking to the car, then driven away. Not that it would have helped any when he said in that same commanding exorcist’s voice, “Lupus vincens.”

  He spoke the words clearly and carefully, and this time I recognized the language. I could guess enough Latin to know what it meant.

  “What?” I said, turning, and he said the words again, stronger this time, and a cramp ran from my gut to my skull, dropping me to my knees. Goose bumps broke out all over my skin, like needles pricking me. My bag fell off my shoulder as I hugged myself. Another wave of cramps wracked my whole body this time, every muscle clenching.

  Another body inside me was bucking, fighting to break free. I knew this feeling, I recognized what was happening, but it had never happened like this before. Never so violent. Usually, shifting felt like Wolf was breaking out from the inside. Now she was being ripped free from the outside.

  I screamed a rage-filled denial. Was this supposed to scare me? Was this supposed to prove how much power he really had? My muscles spasmed, teeth and claws trying to tear out of human skin. Hunched over, I tried to keep from hyperventilating. Looking up, I expected to see Roman standing over me, gloating, sneering. He kept his distance, though, and didn’t smile. His frown seemed almost disgusted. I couldn’t guess by what: this scene of torture he’d created? By the fact that I wouldn’t agree to his terms? By the mere fact that I was an inferior, stupid wolf?

  I could have fought it. I wasn’t so far gone that I couldn’t pull it back. I’d pulled back from farther than this before. But I decided not to. I decided I needed to fly. At him.

  I ripped my shirt over my head and let go.

  Chapter 19

  Not for defense, not to hunt, not to flee on faster legs. Now, and for the first time, this part of her is driven by rage. Vision is red. Kicking, writhing, saliva flying from bared teeth, she tears free of her tangled human skin. Thick claws scrape against a hard, flat earth. Not forest, not safe. The air smells of too many people, alien, oily scents of the human world.

  And this thing, the being who attacked her. The figure smells of death.

  Fur bristles, rising stiffly along her back. Head lowered, tail straight behind her, she bares her teeth and glares. Her opponent glares back, unmoving. Is it a challenge? Doesn’t matter. He smells wrong, and she must fight. Claws scrabbling, she launches. She will pounce, put her jaws around his neck, topple him, and tear into his flesh.

  The man of death merely steps aside. Grabs her foreleg at the shoulder. Wrenches. She slams against the ground, hits hard, yelps, but doesn’t stop moving. Back on her feet, she leaps away, braces, facing him. Deciding how best to flank him.

  “The alpha shows her colors,” he says.

  They circle each other. She can’t—won’t—turn her back to him. And he won’t turn his to her. If he attacks, she’ll be ready, but she won’t strike him directly, not again. Her shoulder throbs with the impact of the last throw.

  “A standoff. So. You’re smart enough not to fling yourself against me again and again. That’s something.”

  Her mouth is metallic with anger. With the need to tear flesh. Blood will soothe the bitterness on her tongue. But somehow she knows: This creature has little blood to spare. Still, she cannot turn away from him and stares her challenge.

  The man of death smiles.

  “You’ve made an error your human self would not have done,” he says. “You’ve met my gaze. Look at me, wolf. Look deep, and do as I say.”

  Suddenly she hears nothing but his voice.

  “I know what will hurt you worst of all. You think you’re the first self-righteous werewolf in the world? You’re not. Your kind always fears the same thing. So this is what I will make you do: Seek out people. Seek out crowds. They are your prey. Hunt them. Perhaps you’ll even live long enough to wake and understand what you’ve done.”

  The voice inside her that always whispers, that urges her to one thing or another, is his voice now, and the metallic taste on her tongue, the hunger for blood, the need to hunt, rises uncontrollable. A brief smell of the air shows her how much prey is here. Too many people around, yes. Plenty of hunting.

  She breathes out. Something in her whines. She wants to run, but her legs are stiff.

  “Go,” he says. “Go and hunt.”

  “No, Kitty. Don’t listen.”

  Her name calls her back. She shakes her head, rubs her face on her paw. She feels like she’s scented something awful.

  There are two of them now. Two men of death. The first looks away, and she moves, trots back and forth, keeping them both in her vision. They stand on either side of her, as if they seek to trap her.

  She can’t fight them both. She needs her pack for that, but the wolves are far away right now. She is in a maze of concrete and steel. Growling low, daring them to follow her, she backs away. Then she turns and runs. Find her pack, find her mate, find a safe haven.

  Even keeping to shadows, trotting along walls, out of sight, she feels exposed. Danger is everywhere. There are hunters hunting her. Her senses are so taut they hurt, smell and hearing stretched to breaking.

  When he approaches, she smells him. The man of death. The second, not the first, who has left. The one who called her from the other’s spell. How long has it been, how long has she been running, and how has he found her?

  He moves from shadow to a circle of light, near a fence and a row of low shrubs where she tries to hide. He is calm, not challenging. Not staring, not bristling. It keeps her from running again.

  “Kitty.” His soft, murmuring voice is so different than the other’s.

  Part of her wants to flee, and part of her is drawn to him. Head low, she paces in a wary circle. He’s a friend, part of her says. Trust him. Go to him. It’s the part of her that walks on two legs, like him, but she doesn’t know if she can trust that voice.

  But she’s drawn to him.

  “I’ve never seen you like this,” he says. “What a beautiful creature. Not that I expected anything different.”

  She growls low.

  “You can’t hurt me. You know that, I think. Somewhere in there you know I’m your friend.” He crouches, offers a hand. “Kitty. It’s Friday. You have a show to do, don’t you? You need to come back.”

  His voice lulls her. But the anger that drew her into this shape lingers. Who is he to tell her this?

  “Kitty. Shh. Shh.”

  She glares and meets his gaze. “Go to sleep. I’ll watch over you. You’ll be all right. Shh.”

  Pacing, she stumbles. Her body is succumbing to the spell of his voice even as her mind panics. But her other half agrees with him. Sleep. We have work to do. We have to sleep.

  He reaches to her, but s
he won’t approach him. Nearby, there’s a shadow made by foliage, as close to a forest as she’ll find here. She curls up in this spot, folding her legs, putting nose to tail. Tries to keep an eye on the man of death who crouches nearby. But her eyes are heavy, and they close.

  I awoke groaning, clenching my limbs, because nothing smelled right. Nothing seemed right.

  Vampires, there were vampires here, and I was all tangled up in the sheets, and...

  Naked.

  I was lying on dried grass, covered with an overcoat that smelled like Rick.

  The whole episode played through my memory on fast-forward. The demon, Roman, Changing, Rick. He was sitting nearby, within arm’s reach, hands holding his knees.

  He glanced at me. “Hello.”

  I didn’t have to get drunk and hungover anymore to wake up pissed off and groggy. I had this instead. I groaned again, rubbed my face, and decided against sitting up just yet.

  “How much do you remember?” he said.

  “Most of it, believe it or not. What did he do to me? He said those words, pushed me over the edge. I didn’t know vampires could do that.” But it wasn’t just him. I remembered the rage that had spurred the final Change, and that rage had been all mine.

  “That isn’t part of a vampire’s power. Roman has something else, some kind of spellcraft, maybe even a form of hypnotic suggestion. It was probably similar to what he used to repel the demon.”

  “You saw all that?” Now I did sit up, awkwardly keeping the coat around me. I was probably really lucky Rick had been around. I might have gone running off into traffic or something.

  “Yes. I’ve been keeping an eye on Roman. On both of you,” he said.

  “Oh.” He had probably seen us talking the other night, then. Right on the edge of plotting against him. “I guess I should say thanks. For the intervention.”

  “And I suppose I should apologize. For thinking you really would go along with him against me.”

  I sighed. “It’s been very frustrating not feeling like I have a say in the matter. Feeling like I’m at the mercy of both of you.”

  “There’s so much more to this than you know, Kitty. Who he really is, what he is—I’ve met vampires like him before, and they’re dangerous. You have no idea how dangerous. Their manipulations have dozens of levels—I can’t explain it all to you.”

  I smirked. “Spoken like a true vampire. ‘You puny mortals couldn’t possibly understand.’”

  He ducked his gaze and chuckled. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I thought I was protecting you. Sheltering you from people like him.”

  “Keeping me in the dark isn’t protecting me,” I said.

  “Obviously,” he said. “Still, his offer must be tempting, now that he’s proven he can deal with this thing with a snap of his fingers.”

  “Yeah.” I wondered who was going to die tonight, now that the demon was even more aggravated. “I’m not through yet. We’ve got a plan. Maybe it’ll actually work.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Just keep keeping an eye on Roman.”

  “I’ve only found him when I’ve followed you, but I’m working on it. I need to know where he came from and what he wants.”

  I huffed. “I can tell you that—he wants to get his greedy little paws into Denver.”

  “But why?”

  We could keep asking that question, drilling further and further back for every answer we came up with.

  Headlights appeared as a car turned the corner, driving slowly as it edged along the alley.

  Rick stood. “Hold on a moment.”

  I looked around. I hadn’t gotten far from the parking lot. Across the street and down the block, we sat against the row of shrubs and fence that divided the condo from the rest of the neighborhood. The car stopped nearby as Rick flagged it down. It was Ben’s car. The lights went off, then Ben stepped out.

  Relieved, because I felt a little safer now, I went to meet him.

  “I called him,” Rick said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Ben looked relieved, too, his lips in a thin smile. “I found your clothes and bag by your car.” He held them up to show me.

  Ah, clothes. “Thanks,” I said, leaning into him in an awkward hug—his hands were full, and I was busy holding Rick’s coat around me.

  “Are you okay?” Ben said.

  “I think so. Just a little shook up.”

  Then came shock and panic—I didn’t have my watch, I didn’t know what time it was. It was Friday night and I was supposed to be working right now, not running around naked.

  “What time is it?”

  “You have an hour,” Ben said. “Get in, I’ll drive.”

  He handed me my clothes and got back in the car. I was left holding clothes in one hand, using the other to hold the coat closed, and contemplating how I was going to manage the next few minutes.

  I looked at Rick. “You saw me naked, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe just a little.” He quirked a smile. Sheesh.

  With a long-suffering sigh, I decided to let it go. I handed him his coat and started pulling on my jeans and shirt. The vampire turned his gaze skyward and politely pretended not to notice.

  Ben, however, leaned out the driver’s-side window and watched.

  “Okay,” I said, finally ready to go. “I’m hoping this’ll all be over tonight, one way or the other.”

  He nodded. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” I flashed a smile, then jumped in the car, and we drove away.

  Ben was smirking. No, he was positively leering.

  “What?” I said, a little put out.

  “You’re awfully cute, you know that?”

  “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

  He just kept grinning, all the way to the station.

  Chapter 20

  I was exhausted, itchy, annoyed. My skin still felt like it should have fur. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour—not enough time to sleep off the Wolf. Part of me glared out, shoulders up, head low, like a pacing animal.

  “Hey. Keep it together,” Ben said outside the KNOB building.

  I took a deep breath and tried to shake it off. Jules and Tina were already there. It was time to get to work.

  I trailed Grant’s blood potion around the station building, then left open jars of it inside, at the bottom of the stairs, the door to the elevator, and the entrance to the studio. I made Matt keep a jar near his console. The whole place stank with the sickly, rotting smell of it. The butcher who was supplying me had started to look at me funny.

  However, this would keep us safe only here. The creature had made it clear that if it couldn’t have me, it would create chaos elsewhere. Protecting myself seemed so futile.

  “You’re expecting trouble,” Matt said. The smell was so strong that even he, a normal human, was wrinkling his nose at it. “What kind of trouble?”

  “It’s under control. Don’t worry about it,” I said flatly. Like that was totally convincing. Ben, smirking from the chair he’d settled into near the door, seemed to agree.

  Matt gestured at the Paradox PI crew, who were setting up in the back of the studio. “Have you all figured out what happened to your van last week?”

  “Still working on it,” I said blithely. “So, um, if anything really weird happens tonight, don’t freak out or anything.”

  He scowled. “I hate when you say that.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to get any vans tipping over or anything. It should stay pretty low-key. Just... weird.”

  “Great. I feel so much better now.” If that didn’t sound sarcastic enough, his glare confirmed it.

  At least, I was really hoping nothing happened here. I’d be heartbroken if anything happened to KNOB. More heartbroken than I already was.

  Jules was tapping away at his laptop, with Tina looking over his shoulder. They were going to watch, listen, take notes, and cross-reference with their own research, and maybe add their own commentary off
the air. The hope was we would come up with some information, then maybe we’d come up with some solutions. At least that was the plan. This was sort of an experiment.

  As the start of the show neared, I put my hair back in a ponytail, settled before my microphone, adjusted my headset, and took a few deep, calming breaths. This was my world. I was in control. Nothing could touch me here.

  The on-sign lit. Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Bad Moon Rising” started, giving me a boost of energy and a sense of mayhem. Bad moon indeed. No matter what the disaster, you only had to face it head-on, with fortitude. Yeah, I could do that.

  Matt pointed, and I talked. “Good evening, and welcome to The Midnight Hour, the show that isn’t afraid of the dark or the creatures who live there. I’m your host, Kitty Norville, who keeps coming back for more.

  “Tonight I want to do something a little different. I have a problem and I’m looking for information from the group mind. I’ve encountered a rather unusual supernatural creature, and it’s been causing problems. Remember last week? Van tipping over, mayhem, and chaos? It didn’t stop there, and a week later this thing is still out there, still after me. I need to figure out how to stop it, and maybe someone in radio land can help. Here’s what I’ve got. It likes fire. It may actually be made of fire, but it looks like a person, it acts like a person, and has a really wicked laugh. It’s been burning things down, burning people down, and I’m getting really sick of it. It seems to speak Arabic, and we think it might be a genie. Yes, I said genie. That’s a new one for me, too. Let me play you a little something we picked up.”

  Matt cued up the recording we’d given him of possessed Tina speaking a language she didn’t know. We’d gotten a quick translation. Most of the words had been variations of the same: Stupid mortal, your ignorance is astonishing, I will burn you all, you’re helpless before me. Blah blah blah. The tone of the monologue had been clear: contempt.

  “There it is. The language is Arabic, the words are chock-full of insult. Now I’m asking you. Animal, vegetable, mineral, or something from the great beyond? And I do believe I’ve got my first call of the evening. Joel from Pittsburgh, hello.”