Kitty and the Midnight Hour

the show? I'm feeling an impulse to run to the hills and forget I was ever human. But you know what? I would miss chocolate. And movies. And the next album by my favorite band. And I'm wondering if this is where the problem is, that lycanthropes and vampires might not technically be fully human, but they used to be, and they can't ever forget it. Or more to the point, they shouldn't ever forget it. When they do is when the problems happen.'

The monitor was full of calls. I looked at Matt through the window, wanting some kind of guidance, not wanting to choose. I didn't want to hear about anyone's problems. I didn't want to hear any more righteous rhetoric from either camp. I just wanted… I didn't know. Maybe to play some music, like in the old days. Maybe I could do that for the next show, get a band on and talk about music for a couple of hours. Yeah, that was a plan.

Matt was leaning back in his chair, smiling at me. He'd stuck it out with me during the whole run of the show. That smile said he was happy to be here. I couldn't help but smile back.

He was my friend, and he was human. That said something.

I straightened and took a breath, making my voice lighter, to drag the show from its depressing low. 'All right, it looks like I have a repeat caller on the line. I always appreciate the people who come back for more. James, hello.'

'Kitty, I just want to tell you how much your show means to me. It's—you're this voice of reason, you know? You actually think these things through. It helps, it really helps. I hope you don't ever stop doing this.' His voice sounded even more strained than it had the last time. If the show was helping him, I'd hate to think of what he'd sound like without it.

'Thanks. That means a lot. How are you doing?'

'I've been thinking about it. I think I'm okay. I think I'm doing what I was meant to do. Why else would this have happened to me, if not to be this way and be able to do these things?'

My stomach froze. 'Do what things, James?'

'I have a confession, Kitty. I didn't much like being human, when I was human. So being a werewolf isn't much different, except I'm strong now. I'm—I know what to do. When I can't decide what to do, the wolf tells me what to do.'

James was psychotic. He'd probably been that way before he became a lycanthrope. So, what happened when a self-loathing, misanthropic psychotic became a werewolf?

Blood pounded in my ears when I double-checked the monitor. We collected first names and hometowns from the callers. I couldn't remember where he was from. I squinted to read the monitor.

Oh, my God. Denver. He'd been under my nose the whole time.

I covered the mike and hissed at Matt, mouthing, 'Caller ID. Get his number. Now!'

Leaning into the mike, I tried to keep my voice steady. 'What does your wolf tell you to do, James?'

'You know, Kitty. You know. What does your wolf tell you to do? You understand.'

Use claws. Teeth. Get blood. Run. Yeah, I understood. But I'd won that battle.

'Do you ever stop to think that your wolf may be wrong?'

'But the wolf is so much stronger than I am.' He said this admiringly.

'Might doesn't make right. That's the whole point of civilization. You called me a voice of reason, James. Where does reason come into all this?'

'I told you. If there's a reason that this happened, then this is it. For me to be strong.'

I checked the clock. I still had fifteen minutes to go. I'd never let a show go unfinished. I'd never had a better reason to. But I didn't. I finished. I tried to sound normal, because I didn't want James to think anything was wrong. 'Okay, we're going to break for station ID. We'll be right back with The Midnight Hour.'

I switched off the mike and called to the booth, 'Did you get the number?'

'Yeah,' Matt said, walking through the door with a piece of paper in his hand. 'And an address. Kitty, you've gone white. What is it?'

My mouth was dry, and my heart was beating so fast I was shaking. 'I don't know yet. Just—let's just finish this up. I have to make a call before we go back on.'

Call the police! That was the right thing to do. Except it wasn't, because all this shit, the supernatural, the claws and fangs and stuff that made us different, made right different. Maybe that would change someday.

James as a wolf wouldn't be a wolf. He wouldn't even be a psychotic human in the shape of a wolf. He'd be a little of both, and while I liked to pretend I had the best of both worlds, James seemed to have the worst. A wolf would run away when Hardin faced him down with a gun. James would attack. I couldn't call Hardin. She'd be killed. Or infected. I wasn't going to put her in that situation.

Once again, I called Cormac instead of the cops. The shadow law.

'Yeah.'

'It's Kitty. Feel like going hunting tonight?'

He hesitated for a beat. 'I don't know. What've you got?'

'I think I've got the rogue who's behind the maulings.'

'You call Hardin with this?'

'No. This guy—he called into the show. He's local. He was talking insane. Hardin wouldn't know what to do with him. She'd try to arrest him, and he'd claw her to pieces.'

'You don't mind if I get clawed to pieces, then?'

'I know you can handle it.'

'Thanks, I think.'

'I want to go with you.'

'Are you sure?'

'I'll know his scent from the crime scenes. It's the only way I can tell if this is the guy.'

'Fine. You at work now?'

'Yeah.'

'I'll pick you up there.' The phone clicked off.

Matt was standing in the doorway between the booth and the studio. 'Kitty. Are you serious?'

'Yeah. You heard the guy. He wasn't talking like he was going to do something. He's already done it. How much time do we have left?'

'I don't know.' He had to look back at his board. 'Ten minutes?'

I took a couple more calls and spent all my effort trying to sound normal. I couldn't remember what they were about, or what I said. I hoped I sounded normal.

'This is Kitty Norville, Voice of the Night.' I signed off with a sigh and listened to my recorded howl.

'Be careful!' Matt called as I started out of the booth. I grimaced, the best kind of reassuring smile I could manage at the moment. He didn't look reassured. He gripped the doorway, white-knuckled. Wasn't anything I could do about it.

Cormac pulled up to the curb as I left the front door of the station. He drove a Jeep. Not an SUV, but a real Jeep with mud caking the wheel wells. I got in the passenger side and told him the address. Thank God for the online reverse directory.

We'd driven for about five blocks when he said, 'You understand that we have to kill this guy. By not calling the police, by going outside the law, that's the only thing we can do. Not arrest him, not talk reason into him, but kill him.'

'You were listening to the show.' I probably had double the number of listeners the ratings said I had, since no one seemed to want to admit they were listeners.

'You ever kill anyone?'

'No.'

'Just stay out of the way so I can get a clean shot.'

I leaned on the door, holding my forehead in my hand. Vigilantism, that was the word for what we were