Iverssaid, “You meet a lot of people doing your show, don’t you? You’ve meta lot of people—creatures—that don’t necessarily go through thestation’s records. Is that right?”
“Ifyou’re asking if I have a life outside my job—”
“Youknow people, Ms. Norville,” he continued. “People. Other things. That’swhat we’re interested in.”
Ihad one of them on each side of me now. They might not have had guns,but what else did they have stashed in their jackets? My phone was onthe desk, plugged in, and not in my hand. I maybe hadn’t thought thisthrough.
“Howmany vampires do you personally know?” Martin asked. “I don’t know—”
“Justa guess. I imagine it’s quite a lot.”
Ivers,tag-teaming: “If I were to list cities, would you be able to tell mewho the Masters of those cities are?”
“Whata minute,” I said. “You want me to name names. You’re asking me to namenames. Like some kind of HUAC shit?”
“We’rejust asking for your help on a matter of national security,” Ivers said.
“What national security? What’s the danger here?”
“This is just for informational purposes.”
Thesaxophone riff was still going, over and over. “I think . . . I thinkI’m going to refer you to my attorney.” My heart was racing. Clawspressed against the inside of my fingertips. Calm, calm. Slow breaths.
Martintilted her head. “Ms. Norville, are you all right?”
“Youdo know that I’m a werewolf, right? You’ve seen the video. Youknow it’s not a good idea to stress us out.”
Theyexchanged a concerned glance, then both of them looked away from me.Turned aside, non-confrontational. Body language meant to de-escalate aconfrontation. They’d had some training in dealing with stressed-outwerewolves. Somehow that made me more worried, not less. Who else hadthey been harassing?
Martinsounded like she was trying to be soothing, but instead came across ascondescending. “You’re not under investigation here. You’re under nosuspicion yourself. We know that you’ll be happy to help, should theneed ever arise. I’m sure you have nothing to hide—”
“ThenI have nothing to fear? Is that what you’re about to say?”
Glancingdown the barest little bit, Martin said, “It’s hard to say that linewithout sounding just a little ironic.”
“Andthey say satire is dead,” I muttered. We could keep going in circlesall night. “How about I pull the plug on George Michael over there andbroadcast this conversation to everybody, hm?”
Martinsaid, “I don’t recommend—”
Herpartner jumped in. “The saxophonist on that track is Steve Gregory.”
“Well.Score one for precision. But seriously, I need to get back to the show.I can’t help you. Come back during office hours.”
Iversglanced out the door. “Your sound guy, Matt—he’s been with you a longtime, hasn’t he?”
Achill passed over me. “Yeah, from the start. Where is he? Where did youtake him?”
“Ourcolleague is just having a few words with him. Kind of like we’re doingwith you. Nothing to worry about.”
Isank into the chair at my desk. I had tried to imagine this moment.Reading the history, I had to wonder if I would have named names infront of the HUAC during the Red Scare, or if I would have stood firmand suffered blacklisting. Of course I liked to think I would standfirm, but who could say? Who really knew, until the moment was uponyou, what you would do? If I had a choice between collaboration orstanding for actual principles despite the risk, what would I do?
Somepeople would blame me for this situation coming about in the firstplace. Before I started the show, werewolves, vampires, the wholesupernatural world remained secret. Anyone trying to expose that worldcould be written off as a crackpot. Then came my show, the revelationfrom the NIH that this was all real—and then came the scrutiny. One ofthe issues the current administration campaigned on was the need formonitoring and controlling—read registering andincarcerating—vampires and werewolves, and regulating witchcraft andpsychics, or even making them illegal. So far, none of this hadhappened, Constitutional protections had been upheld. But for how long?
Ihave here in my hand a list of known lycanthropes . . .
“Ican’t do it,” I said. “There’s been talk—I know you’ve heard the talk,you all are probably at the center of it—of registering vampires andwerewolves, other supernatural beings. For safety reasons, youunderstand. It’s simply tracking potential threats to the public.Nothing to worry about. Except the next step after registration isrestriction. Travel bans, housing limitations. And the next step afterthat is confinement. You see where I’m going with this?”
“Itwill never—”
Iheld up a hand. “Say the rest of that line with a straight face. I dareyou.”
Shecouldn’t. Neither of them could.
Isighed and tried to shake some of the stress out of my nerves. “Ifyou’re looking for a specific name for a specific investigation you canget a court order, but you’ll still have to go through my lawyer—”
“We’renot going to do that, Ms. Norville.”
“But—”And it suddenly occurred to me: They didn’t want to go through lawyers.This was a specific investigation, they were looking for a specific name—they just didn’twant anyone to know who it was. “What is this really about?”
Theyexchanged a glance, and for the first time seemed not entirely sureof themselves. Maybe even just a little bit nervous.
“Thisis all back channel bullshit,” I said. “On the one hand, I’m kind ofrelieved this isn’t actually the start of some kind of roundup. Butseriously—who is it among all my connections you’re trying to trackdown?” It could have been anyone, I knew some pretty far-outpeople. People who knew where the bodies were buried, and where theyshould have been, but weren’t.
Thepair was playing an unspoken game of “No, you say something,” andMartin appeared to lose. She said, “Ms. Norville, I’m really not atliberty to say—”
“Kitty?You there?” A voice echoed from down the hallway. And with that, myanxiety vanished.
Martinand Ivers reached into their jackets and drew out weapons. Notguns—when they took up defensive stances by the door, they each had astake in one hand and knife in the other. I bet those knives had silverworked into the blades.
“Who’sthat?” Ivers demanded.
Ismiled a wolfish, relieved smile. “My lawyer.” My husband, Ben,actually. But I thought ‘lawyer’ would scare them more. “I’m here,” Icalled out. “There’s company, just to let you know.”
Apause. “The good kind of
