Kitty and the Silver Bullet
Page 26

Inside the warehouse, the space was lit by emergency lighting, dim circles around the perimeter, leaving much of the place in shadows. On top of that, crates and boxes formed walls and canyons, dozens of pallets wrapped in plastic and waiting shipment. This was a working warehouse, besides whatever hideout these guys were using it for.
I smelled people. Beings, rather. Both vampires and lycanthropes were here, and the scent crowded together so I couldn't tell how many there were. The shadows hid them well, but I sensed them there, watching. I kept close to the door. Maybe I could run, if they gave me a chance.
A low growl echoed, and something animal and musky approached. It was canine, but not wolf, and it had a distinctive…something else. A touch of human. I backed toward the door, my shoulders bunched up.
The thing moved into the light, and I'd never seen anything like it. As large as a Great Dane—bigger, even—it stepped lightly on slender legs. Its body was sleek, its coloring mottled—red, white, yellow, and black splotches decorating it, like it had had a run-in with a paint set. It had a boxy, doglike face and huge, desert-dwelling ears that focused on me like satellite dishes.
I couldn't help but stare at it, which it took as a challenge, lowering its head, straightening its tail like a rudder, and growling.
"Hush, Dack. Be still." A voice spoke from the darkness, and the creature looked toward it, flattening its ears and dropping its tail.
The leader was here, and I knew his voice. Rick gave the animal a quick scratch behind the ears as he approached us, emerging from shadows.
"Rick, you bastard! What the hell's this about?"
The animal started growling again, and I backed up. Again, Rick shushed it, murmuring gently. His power was subtle, but indisputable.
When he entered into view, so did his army. They came into the light, just enough so I could see them—so they could see me, size me up. Seven lycanthropes and two more vampires, besides the ones who'd ambushed me. One of the vampires was a woman. So was one of the lycanthropes—and she wasn't a wolf. I couldn't tell what variety she was. A diverse and terrifying group, they all looked tough, and they all frowned. Some of them carried weapons—guns, knives. I wouldn't want to meet any of them in a dark alley.
I swallowed back my fear. "So. Am I here to be threatened or recruited?"
Rick said, "I wanted to show you how vulnerable you are. You need me as much as I need you."
"And how exactly is facing off with Carl and Meg supposed to make me less vulnerable?"
He had the decency not to answer that.
"Rick, I want to go home, and I want you to take me. Not Sid and Nancy over here."
"Charlie and Violet," he said. "Their names are Charlie and Violet." The pair of vampires leaned against a nearby wall. I swore the woman, Violet, was smacking a piece of chewing gum. Charlie smiled enough to show fang and gave a wiggle of his fingers.
I nodded toward the strange, leggy creature. "And what is that thing?"
"African wild dog, lycanthropic variety. Dack and I are old friends."
The animal—person, I forced myself to acknowledge, since I'd sensed it from the first—didn't appear any more friendly after the introduction. I kept my distance. Rick whispered to him, and the dog turned and trotted away, close to the wall of the building. Walking the perimeter, keeping guard.
Motley didn't begin to describe this group.
Then he introduced me to all of them, the nine others, as if I would remember their names. As if knowing their names would give me some stake in the outcome of this confrontation. One of them, the woman lycanthrope of unknown variety, flashed a smile and said, "I love your show."
What else could I do but mutter, "Thanks." Then I stepped close to Rick and said softly, "It's going to take more than this to get rid of Arturo."
"Yes. It's going to take the city's werewolves supporting me," Rick said.
"No. Even if I thought I could take on Carl and Meg, even if I took over the pack, I wouldn't do it and then turn my wolves into cannon fodder for your little war."
"And that is exactly why you should lead the city's wolves, and not Carl. Carl wouldn't hesitate to use them as cannon fodder."
"You're trying to turn this back on me, to appeal to my sense of duty. It's not going to work. Just this once I'm going to be selfish and stay the hell out of it."
"You'll have to do what you think is right, of course."
"Oh, no you don't! You're not going to guilt me into this."
"Wow," said Violet. "You were right, Rick. She is kinda jumpy."
"Kitty, let's take a walk," Rick said, nodding toward the door.
Charlie stepped forward, frowning. "You sure it's safe?"
"It'll be fine," he said. He opened the door and gestured me outside. Dutifully, I exited.
I was happy enough to be outside the close, stuffy air of the warehouse, and the smells and stares of beings who didn't much care for me. Were-African wild dog? If I hadn't actually seen him…I wondered what he was like as a human.
Rick guided our walk along the wall, staying in the shadows and out of the streetlights. He kept his gaze forward, like he wasn't at all concerned. We reached the corner of the building, and he still didn't say anything. I couldn't say that I knew him all that well, but he seemed unusually pensive. Lost in thought.
“They don't trust you," he said finally. "They think I'm making a mistake, trying to recruit you. I thought if they met you, they'd change their minds."
"Rick, I've got my own worries right now. I've got too much to lose to…to fight someone else's war."
"I thought maybe you'd be interested in revenge."
I shook my head. "I put too much distance between me and them to want revenge anymore."
"T. J. would have sided with me without any doubts."
"Don't you dare use him as a pawn in this," I said, my voice rough. "He doesn't deserve that." Even though Rick was right.
"I'm sorry." His voice was muted. We walked a few more paces, until the silence was too much.
"Charlie and Violet," I said. "Where'd you pick up those two?"
He actually smiled, an offhand amused smile. "Charlie was turned about forty-five years ago by a West Coast vampire of my acquaintance—a bit power hungry, a bit mad. I helped Charlie escape from his Family. About thirty years ago, he met Violet and turned her himself. They decided they were made for each other, and I can't say I disagree. They've operated independently since then. They seem to have a lot of fun being petty outlaws—it tends to make the Families twitch."