Kitty Goes to Washington

Luis stared at me. 'You're that Kitty? You didn't say anything.'

'It didn't come up. You guys listen to the show?'

Ahmed shrugged noncommittally and Luis ducked his gaze.

'Of course I've heard it,' Ahmed said. 'A couple of times. But I have friends who are great fans, trust me.'

I wrapped my arm around Luis's and took a glass of wine from him. The evening was looking much less bleak than it had a couple of hours ago. In fact, it was looking positively glorious.

'It's okay. I'm used to people not admitting they listen to it. Let's sit, you guys have to tell me about all this.' I looked around at the room, the musicians, and the lycanthropes gathered together.

'Excellent idea!' Ahmed said.

Becoming a lycanthrope usually happened by accident, and it often didn't change the ambitions a person may have had before. The need to travel for a career, the desire to see the world, these things didn't just vanish. Lycanthropy often made them problematic, but people learned to deal with it. It was easier for some than others. Many of the other lycanthrope varieties weren't tied to packs, like werewolves typically were. But even solitary beasts had the problem of territory. Our animal instincts sometimes got the better of us, and travel meant the possibility of infringing on someone else's space, especially during full moon nights, when those instincts were most powerful. As I had quickly learned myself, the one thing a traveling lycanthrope needed more than anything was a safe place to Change and run during the full moon.

As home to the federal government, a bunch of embassies, and a couple of major universities, Washington, D.C., had a vibrant international community, and the lycanthropes were part of it. The Crescent gave them a safe place to gather.

Ahmed explained all this. 'We who travel know there is no time for fighting. Death comes to us all and it is a tragedy to hasten it. We have much better things to do than continually fight over who among us is strongest. So, here we are. There are places like this in many large cities: New York, San Francisco, London, Istanbul.'

If T.J. had had a place like this, if Carl had been more like Ahmed, if we could have all acted a little more civilized —too many ifs. I needed too many it's to keep T.J. alive.

Ahmed pointed out a few of the patrons: Marian, the dancer, was a were-jackal from Egypt who had immigrated and was working to bring her sister over. Yutaka, near the bar, was a history student from Japan and a were-fox. The musicians: two wolves and a tiger. Ahmed also mentioned a friend of his who wasn't here tonight, a professor who had defected from Russia in the seventies, who was a bear. I couldn't even picture what a were-bear would be like. The place was a zoo.

It was also a paradise, a Utopia, at least to my admittedly inexperienced eyes. I heard a lot of stories from doing the show—but then, people only called me with their problems. I'd only ever heard, and lived, the worst of it. I never heard about how things worked when they were going well.

The wine made me weepy. I wiped my eyes before tears could fall. Luis handed me a clean napkin from the next table over.

'Are you all right?' he asked.

'Yeah. This is so different from anything I've known. I never thought it could be like this. Everybody's getting along. You're all so friendly.'

'I'm happy we could make you welcome here.'

Ahmed said, 'Your experience. What's it like?'

I shook my head absently. I wasn't sure I could put it into words. 'Power. Jealousy. There was an alpha, and he protected us. But he controlled us as well. I had to fight for any kind of respect, but I refused in the end. It was all fighting and death. I had to leave. Then I get here, and Alette feeds me this line about the local lycanthropes being chaotic and dangerous, that they'd try to hurt me, and it was so easy to believe her. But she lied to me.'

Ahmed shook his head. 'Perhaps not from her point of view. Alette mistrusts us all because there is no alpha, no one she can negotiate with or control. That is why she says we are dangerous.'

'You'd give her the benefit of the doubt?'

'I've encountered many of her kind, and I think she means well, in her own way. Her worst fault is arrogance.'

I had to chuckle at that, but the sound turned bitter. I wondered if it was too late to refuse Alette's hospitality. I could stay here the whole time.

The woman had stopped dancing. The musicians played slower songs now, gentle background music as they experimented with each other's sounds and harmonies. The evening seemed to be winding down; a few people were leaving, waving at friends as they left. I wasn't ready for the night to be over. I wasn't ready to leave this place.

Luis put his arm around my shoulders, a warm, comforting contact. I leaned back and nestled against him. With him on one side, and Ahmed on the other, gazing serenely over his domain, I felt like I'd rediscovered the very best part of having a pack of my own: the safety, the protection. Friends all around me who wanted to keep me warm and safe. It was how I'd felt before T.J. was killed. I didn't think I'd ever find that again.

Ahmed looked at me, his lips pursed studiously. 'You know the story of Daniel, yes?'

I searched my groggy mind. I felt like a puppy napping in a friendly lap. I didn't want to have to think. 'Daniel?'

'The story of Daniel and the lion's den.'

'That Daniel? Sure,' I said. It was a Bible story. In ancient Persia, Daniel was persecuted for his belief in God and tossed into a den of lions to be eaten. In the story, God sent angels to hold the lions' mouths closed, and he emerged from the den unscathed.

'Yes,' Ahmed said. 'Do you know why Daniel survived?'

'It's a story about faith. God was supposed to have protected him.'

He shrugged, noncommittal. 'Yes, in a way. But not how you think. You see, Daniel saved himself. He spoke to the lions and asked them to spare him. He knew their language because he was one of them—were-lion.'

My eyes widened. 'The Bible doesn't say anything about that.'

'Of course not—not explicitly. But it's there, if you look. This was thousands of years ago, remember. Humankind and animal kind were closer then—our years in the Garden together were not so long ago. And our kind, the lycanthropes, we were the bridge between the two. Daniel was very wise, and what he learned was his purpose. That there was a reason for him to be part lion, that God had a reason to make him that way. This is what we learn from Daniel. That we have purpose for being who we are, and what we are, though we may not always know it. Daniel is a saint to us. It's one of our greatest stories.'

'I've never heard it that way before.'

Ahmed sighed. 'It saddens me that the tribes in this country do not tell the old tales to one another. If we gathered to tell stories and drink more, there would not be so much fighting, yes?'

'Hear hear.' I raised my near-empty glass in a toast, drained it, and said, 'Tell another one.'

I lost track of time, lounging there on satin cushions, in Luis's arms, while Ahmed spoke of stories I knew, but had never heard like this, through the filter of my own experience: a werewolf who looked at the world through two sets of eyes, human and animal, and constantly had to bridge the gap between them. Enkidu, from the Epic of Gilgamesh , was a wild man who lived like a beast until he was tamed by a woman's touch. And what if he didn't just live like a beast, but was one, and yet found a reason to embrace civilization? There were tales that sounded like Aesop's Fables, about the kindnesses shown between humans and animals, thorns plucked from the paws of lions and the like, and Greek and Roman myths about gods and goddesses who could change form at will.

The way Ahmed told it, this wasn't a curse or a disease I'd been suffering with for the last four years. It was a gift that made me part of a long tradition of saints and heroes who slipped easily between one shape and another and made it a strength.

I wasn't ready to go so far as to feel grateful about what had happened to me. It had been an accident, a violent, bloody accident, and I didn't feel blessed. Except if I wasn't a werewolf, I wouldn't have my show and all the success it had brought me.

I was confused.

'Wait, Marian, you can't leave without saying goodbye!' Ahmed called to the dancer, who had just reached the door. 'Excuse me,' he said to us, then leapt to his feet and rushed over to sweep her up in a bear hug. Wolf hug. Whatever.

Luis took the opportunity to move his hand to my hip, where he settled it in an unmistakable invitation. When I tipped my face up to look at him, he was right there, looking back at me. I could feel his breath on my cheek. I craned my neck, leaned forward just a little—his lips pressed mine lightly, then drew away.

I must have flushed from scalp to toe, the way a sudden heat rose around me.

'My apartment is nearby,' he said, whispering in my ear.

I felt his body stretched out behind me, the solidity of it, his warm scent, and I wanted it. I wanted him.

I pressed his hand and smiled.

We met Ahmed by the door to say goodbye, though I was self-conscious because I felt like I was glowing. Luis stood very close to me.

'Thanks for the stories,' I said. 'For everything.' I meant the place, this shelter, the company.

'Kitty, it's a pleasure. The doors here are never locked. You're welcome anytime.'

The air outside was cool; Luis and I walked arm in arm.

He had a sexy studio apartment with hardwood floors and exposed brick walls, sparse furniture and floor-length drapes. The kitchen had an island counter and looked well stocked, against expectation of the usual bachelor pad. As if he wasn't attractive enough already, he probably knew how to cook as well.

Not that I had that good a look at the place, because just like in a movie we were kissing before the door closed. He pushed me against the wall, and I wrapped one leg around his, pulling myself close to him. We couldn't get into each other fast enough. My skin was tingling, inside and out.

I suddenly realized, it wasn't enough to think back to the last time I had sex, which was long enough ago. But when was the last time I had good sex? That was a pathetically long time ago.

As his hand was climbing up my thigh, under my skirt, I stopped its progress, pressed it against me. I made him slow down, tasting his lips, drawing the weight and solidity of him closer. He smelled spicy, excited, simmering with sweat and hormones. I pressed my face against his neck and took a deep breath of him. He pulled the strap of my dress off my shoulder, bent his head over my bare skin, and did the same, breathing in my scent. I giggled, because I wasn't even supporting myself anymore; I was leaning into him, he was holding me, and we were breathing together.

I was going to enjoy this.

Much later, we rested together in bed, naked and glowing.

I dozed in a happy, languid haze when I noticed the mattress was vibrating with a soft, rumbling noise. I didn't think Luis was snoring; the sound was constant. It felt like one of those coin- operated massage beds in a cheap hotel. I looked up, glanced around, befuddled. The sound was coming from behind me. Right behind me.

I rolled over without displacing Luis's arm draped over my hip.

'Luis? Are you purring ?'

The rumbling stopped and he sleepily mumbled, 'Hmm?'