Night Life

by Caitlin Kittredge

  "I was a Jane Doe? Right, no ID. Wait. Mac danced?"

  "Just a small jig," said Mac, sticking his head in. "Very dignified." He grunted as I hugged him. "Damn it, Wilder, is there anything else you can do to ruin me?"

  "I'll get on that," I told him.

  He had a file in his hand, with my name on the flap. "Why don't we sit down?"

  The good mood that had sprang up when I saw Sunny wilted and died. Mac was here to tell me I was still fired.

  "You stirred up the perfect shitstorm with Duncan, that's for sure," said Mac. "Roenberg is off the grid, as are most of the officers he took into Ghosttown with him. Internal Affairs is calling about that—and you— every five minutes." He tapped the file against his chin, deciding how to couch the next bit of news. "They've decided that pending an investigation, you're being placed on unpaid leave."

  I let out a whoop. Sunny started and cocked her eyebrow at me. "But that's bad."

  "Who cares?" I shouted. "I'm not fired!"

  Mac smiled as much as Mac ever smiles and stood. "Let your cousin take you home," he said. "And stay out of trouble for a few weeks." He smiled as he ducked out of interrogation.

  Sunny stood. "Let's go."

  I bit my lip. "We can't."

  "Why the Hex not?" Sunny demanded.

  I stood, feeling my sore muscles complain eight different ways, and went to the door. "I told Rhoda that if she helped me I'd let you leave. As payment."

  Sunny sat back down hard. "You did that? You actually agreed?"

  "Don't jump for joy or anything," I told her. "But I thought you'd be a little more excited." Of course I knew Sunny would be happier with Rhoda, and my grandmother knew it, too. Didn't mean it didn't sting.

  I jingled my car keys in my jacket pocket. "See you soon, Sunny. Don't be a stranger." I walked back to the parking lot.

  "Good to see you alive and well, Detective!" Rick called as I passed his station.

  "Likewise, Rick."

  In the Fairlane, I leaned my head against the window frame, letting cool air from the bay wash the hospital smells off me. I started the engine and as I drove watched Nocturne flow by me in daytime, thinking how much paler everything looked in the sun.

  * * * *

  I lay awake that night, staring straight up at the ceiling. I was never able to sleep in the first week of the waning moon, and now the cottage held Sunny's empty bedroom down the hall and a whole set of new memories. Lockhart appearing above me as I slept, the silver bullet hole in the kitchen wall, Dmitri waiting in the living room to make sure I was still alive.

  Dmitri. I'd never had someone sacrifice himself for me, and I didn't like it. I didn't like him being dead. It wasn't right, or fair, or natural in any way.

  Tears pricked and I rubbed my eyes fiercely with the corner of my pillow. Crap. I did not cry alone in the dark. Or any other time. But I hadn't even gotten to tell him good-bye, or thank you …

  A low rumble from outside caught my attention, and I was out of bed, feet touching the floor silently, before I had time to think. Downstairs, slip the deadbolt, out the door.

  I came around the corner of the house, where the beach access road ran past, and commanded, "Freeze!"

  "Right back where we started, huh?" said Dmitri. He was astride his motorcycle, which grumbled under its breath.

  My knees buckled. "Goddess …"

  In a flash, he was propping me up. "Easy." He set me on my feet before backing away.

  "You…" So many words fought to be first in line, but what came out was the oh-so-witty, "You're not dead."

  Dmitri shrugged. "It's harder than it looks."

  "Duncan killed you. I saw it."

  He frowned. "Didn't feel great, but I lived through it."

  "No, you didn't!" I exclaimed. This was my life— arguing with a man I might love about whether he was dead or not.

  Dmitri sighed and pulled back the sleeve of his jacket: Stephen's bite. The scar was a glossy black crescent against his pale skin. "This thing is in me," he said. "It saved me. Don't suppose you'd happen to know how it got there, Luna."

  I touched the scar with my fingertips and felt the distinctive pop of darkness. "Dmitri, I'm so sorry. There was nothing else to do."

  "I saw the other side," he said softly. "It wasn't so bad. Olya … she was there. With him."

  Guess I should start paying more attention to my hallucinations.

  "It seemed peaceful," Dmitri said wistfully.

  The tears came again, strong, and a twin pair made their way down my cheeks. "Dmitri…"

  "Hey," he said quickly, rough thumb reaching out to wipe them away, "forget it. I just came to tell you I'm headed back to Ukraine."

  My mouth worked in that attractive fish expression. "Why?"

  "Pack elders are there," said Dmitri. "I've been changed into something that's not a were. It's magick, and magick from outside the pack is unnatural. The elders will judge me and do what pack law commands."

  "Like what, take you out on the steppe and pull an Old Yeller?"

  He walked back to his bike. "Good-bye, Luna."

  "I didn't want you to die," I said. I wanted so badly to run to him and wrap him in a fierce kiss and beg him to never leave me, but I just stood there staring at my flip-flops while he got back on his motorcycle.

  "I'm glad," he said. "And I don't blame you at all." He kicked the clutch and then released it again, shutting the bike off. "You know, Luna, you could come with me. I could give you the bite right now and you'd be a Redback. Whatever happens, you could be there."

  I didn't run, I just walked slowly across the crushed shells and took his face in my hands. "I am what I am, Dmitri. And we'll both do what we have to." I kissed him gently, barely a brush of lips. "You'd better come back to me."

  He pulled my head down and returned my kiss for a long moment. "Promise."

  With that, I stepped back and watched his taillights disappear down the beach road. When they finally winked out, I headed back to the cottage, but changed direction and went down on the beach instead, sitting on a driftwood log at the edge of the surf.

  Dmitri alive. Asmodeus free. Alistair dead. Case closed.

  I let myself enjoy the feeling of having done something right for a change and tried to ignore the pit of loss that was already growing where Dmitri had been. The waning moon gilded the surf, and cold sluiced around my feet.

  "Thank you," I whispered upward. "For Lilia, Marina, Katya, and Olya. And for me, too."

  I decided then I would no longer fear the phase. Tonight I would sleep without nightmares, under the light of the waning moon. I was Insoli. And that was fine.

  Biography

  Caitlin Kittredge is the proud owner of an English degree, two cats, a morbid imagination, a taste for black clothing, punk rock, and comic books.

  She's lucky enough to write full time and watches far too many trashy horror movies. Visit her website at http://caitlinkittredge.com/ to learn more.