Kitty and the Silver Bullet

were learning each other's sore spots, and we were both the kind of people who would pry at those spots. I didn't know how to stop.

The place was in an old brick storefront, and it didn't have a sign. If you didn't know it was here, you didn't belong. That kind of place. I felt like I'd stepped into a gangster movie, and that didn't comfort me at all. Bars covered the windows. The entrance even had a set of bars on a storm door. A weedy lot next door served as a parking lot, which was full of a mix of old model beaters and shiny new pickups. A few Harleys occupied the sidewalk in front. No sign of Rick's BMW. But Rick was too smart to bring that car. Or maybe it had already been stolen.

This wasn't a setting I'd ever imagine finding Rick in. This wasn't the kind of place I'd expect to find any vampire in. They tended to prefer sophisticated, elegant. They didn't spend centuries practicing their charm and accumulating their power so they could hang out in places like this.

Ben insisted on entering first, pulling me in behind him while he scanned inside. My eyesight adjusted to the gloom, while my nose worked. The place reeked. Alcohol, mostly stale beer. Working-class sweat. Tobacco and harder drugs. Meth, maybe, not because I recognized it but because it was a smell I didn't recognize, and that was one I hadn't encountered. And more—the vomit may have been scraped off the floor, but the smell was still there. I didn't imagine health inspectors ventured near here too often. I tried to breathe through my mouth.

A loud TV over the bar to the left showed a baseball game. Rickety tables and chairs filled the rest of the tiny space. The floor was concrete. Most of the tables were occupied, and a crowd lined the bar, chatting, laughing, and watching the game. A group sat in a corner, watching the TV and sharing a couple pitchers of beer. Another group was playing darts in the back. The bartender was stealing a glance at the game while he wiped down the counter. Maybe this place wasn't so bad, even if it did seem like rock-bottom. Even gangsters needed to chill out sometimes.

One of the hunched figures at the bar was Rick, transformed. The Rick I knew wouldn't have fit in here. He'd have gotten hostile, sideways looks from everybody here, and he probably would have been mugged on his way out. But Rick was smart, and he knew this.

This Rick hadn't washed his hair in a couple of days, and it hung limp and slightly greasy. He wore a worn-out flannel shirt over a plain black T, frayed jeans, and work boots. He looked like someone who'd spent all day working at an unpleasant construction site, the kind where workers got paid under the table. Listlessly, he watched the game and gripped a mug of beer in both hands.

If I hadn't scented the undead chill of vampire, I'd never have spotted him.

I approached, and Ben followed a step behind—taking my back. He was close enough for me to elbow his ribs the minute he said something snide. Rick glanced over his shoulder as I reached him.

'See,' he said, 'I knew if you met me here, you'd be serious.'

'You're a bastard for bringing her here,' Ben said.

Rick quirked a smile at me. 'I think he likes you.'

This was impossible. They were impossible. 'Are we going to talk or just bitch at each other?'

'There's a table.' Rick nodded and made to get up.

'Ah, since you're not going to be using that, I'll take it.' I took charge of his beer. Rick didn't argue, and Ben rolled his eyes.

The table was already occupied by a tall blond man, burly and scowling. Both his skin and his hair looked sunbaked. He leaned back against the wall and had a view of the whole place. Rick was standing next to him before he looked up and smiled. It was a hard-edged, cold smile. I didn't think he could smile any other way.

'I think you've met Dack,' Rick said.

He did, in fact, have the same scent as the creature in the warehouse. I could almost see the spindly, big-eared dog-thing behind his eyes. Both his incarnations had a watchful air.

'Hi,' I said, trying not to sound nervous. 'Nice to see, ah, the rest of you.'

He smirked. '’Ullo.' Even in the single word, an unidentifiable accent came through.

'You want to keep an eye out?' Rick said, taking his own seat.

'Can do.' Dack pushed off from the wall and stood, his movements slow and deliberate. Like he had a powerful body and used it sparingly. Without another word he picked up his beer and moved to take Rick's seat at the bar. He was also dressed in denim and flannel. Unless they'd been watching, people might not notice the two had switched places.

Rick gestured for me and Ben to join him.

'Can you trust him?' I asked Rick. The lycanthrope seemed to be watching the game, unconcerned. I wondered if he could hear us from here.

'I do,' Rick said. 'Though I suppose I have reasons not to. He's saved my life a couple of times now. I've saved his. That has to count for something.'

I understood those kinds of calculations. 'Where's he from?'

'South Africa. I've known him for fifteen years, Kitty. Longer than I've known you.'

'That's not the only criteria for trusting someone.'

'But it's a good one for knowing someone.'

'Somebody had to have sold you out, Rick. Can you trust Charlie and Violet?'

'Can I trust you? You knew where we were. It's a very short list of people who did.'

'But why would I tell anyone?' I said, almost shrilly. 'What reason would I have?'

'For protection. Maybe you made a deal with Arturo or Mercedes. I don't know, you tell me.'

Great. We were all paranoid now. And I couldn't even blame him for questioning me. I took a deep breath and tried to sound reasonable and not like a traitor. 'I didn't know when you were planning on moving. I didn't know enough to be able to sell you out. You're the one who came to me. Don't go putting me on the spot now.'

He glanced away.

I sighed. 'Rick, if you don't think I can help you, if you don't trust me, tell me now so I can get the hell out of here.'

He studied me—and I met his gaze square on, vampire mojo or no. If it would give him some kind of reassurance, it was worth the risk.

And if I didn't trust him not to pull one over on me, I had no business being here in the first place. The logic of it was simple.

He looked away first. 'Let's move on.'

Ben had brought along today's paper. A story on the front page related the gruesome discovery often mauled bodies in an industrial warehouse. The first paragraph of the story included mention of the involvement of Hardin's Paranatural Unit in the investigation, and the following conclusion that vampires, or werewolves, or some combination of the above were involved. The rest of the article didn't reveal too many details. Hardin had given me more information at her briefing this morning. Hard to believe it was only this morning. The editorial pages contained a long rant about the danger paranormal elements obviously presented to the public, bringing up the spate of alleged vampire assaults at downtown nightclubs last month, and demanding to know when the authorities were going to do something about containing the menace. Never mind that all the victims had also been paranormal, and the paranormal hadn't presented such an obvious menace before this slaughter.

Before this, no one outside the paranormal community ever heard about slaughters like this. People went missing, that was it.

'Why didn't Arturo clean up the mess?' I asked Rick. 'He's Denver's Master. I'd have thought he'd want this covered up. He wouldn't want the attention.'

'You're right, but Dack called 911 just before we escaped,' he said. That solved that mystery. 'Arturo's people didn't have time to do anything before the police showed up.'

'That must have driven him crazy,' I said.

'Not that it does us any good. Whether he got rid of the bodies or not, my people are still dead.' He rubbed a hand over his face.

'Oh, but it does do us some good,' I said. 'Because now we have Detective Hardin on our side.'

'You look like someone who has a plan,' he said.

'I do.'

The three of us sat close, heads bent, in what seemed to me to be an obvious conspiracy. I told them what Cormac and I had discussed—paraphrasing, while talking about territories and predators, drawing them out, and making them panic.

I didn't mention the bounty hunter; nonetheless, Ben spotted me. 'That sounds like one of Cormac's plans. You went to talk to Cormac.'

'I hadn't planned on it,' I said. 'It just sort of happened.'

'There's someone who could be very useful right now,' Rick said.

'If you can postpone your revolution for another four years or so, he might be available,' Ben said, cutting.

'Afraid not,' Rick replied.

'We have to get Carl and Arturo at the same time,' I said. 'Whatever we do, we have to get to them both, so they can't help each other.'

'That was my plan the last time. Now we have to do it with fewer people and them fully warned. I'm ready to give the whole thing up as lost.'

'And where will you go? What Master is going to let you stay in their city knowing you tried to pull a coup in Denver and failed?'

He didn't answer, which was all the answer I needed. Vampires preferred cities because of the larger feeding pool, and for the greater anonymity. I couldn't picture Rick fending for himself in rural America.

'I've survived this long. I'll find a way.'

'No. We'll draw them out. We don't strike at them— we strike near them. They'll have to respond, and that's when we get them.'

Ben said, 'They'll respond. Do you know what that means? They'll strike at what's visible. That's you, Kitty.'

'Then we know right where they'll be.' My smile felt maniacal.

'No. Because they won't go after you directly. They'll do exactly the same thing—they'll strike near you.' He spoke with vehemence, his words pointed. Like I wasn't hearing him.

'I'm not very good at this strategy thing, Ben. What are you saying?'

'Your family,' Rick said. 'They'll strike at your family.'

Ben added, 'Your parents, your sister, her kids.'

Stupidly, I blinked at him. 'They wouldn't.'

'Look what Carl did to Jenny. He would,' Ben said. 'Are you ready to play that game? Are you ready to use your family as bait?'

I rubbed my face, which had suddenly flushed hot, and tangled my ringers in my hair. Fighting for myself was one thing, even fighting for revenge was one thing. Ben put this in such stark terms, and he was right. Yes, Carl and Arturo would target my family. They were easy enough to find, in the phone book and everything. And yes, if I continued on, I'd be knowingly putting them in danger. Knowing that Carl and Arturo would go after them meant I was using them as bait. I was scum for even thinking of it.

But I did it anyway.

The words that came out of my mouth next didn't feel like mine. I couldn't feel myself speak anymore. 'Then at least we'll know where they'll hit next. We know where Carl and Arturo will be, and we can be ready for them. We'll keep a watch on my folks, on Cheryl. We'll move them. We can protect them. If we can protect them, it'll work.'

'It's a risk,' Rick said.

My eyes weren't even focused anymore. 'We have to get them before they can hurt anyone. We'll get to them before they get to me.' My family. They wouldn't even know what was happening, I