Kitty and the Silver Bullet

'Kitty!' That was Ben. Don't shoot, I wanted to say, but couldn't. As soon as he turned from the henchmen to shoot Carl, they'd spring on him. He had to hold them back; he couldn't fight them all. Becky and Shaun didn't have guns, and I didn't think they could take them all on.

I couldn't speak, because Carl had his hands—thick, powerful hands—around my throat and had lifted. My feet kicked at air. Lungs fought for nonexistent breath. I gripped his wrist, dug in my nails, tried to pull his hand away, to flail at him, but he pinned me to the wall without effort. I couldn't even look at him. He forced my face up to a fading sky.

Just when I wanted to ask where the hell Hardin was, police sirens wailed. Tires squealed. Doors slammed. Impeccable timing.

No, not timing. Intent. She'd probably waited right around the corner, out of sight, until Carl did something that they could arrest him for. Get him for assault now, prove the warehouse murders later, after they already had him in custody. I thought I was using her for muscle, but she was using me for bait. Wonderful.

'Put your hands up! Move away from her! Let her go and step away!' Five or six voices screamed that at once.

Carl's hand tightened around my neck, and I felt the vibration of his growl.

Please, please…

I recognized Hardin's voice, 'Mr. O'Farrell, put down your weapon! Let us handle this!'

Then handle it, goddammit!

The voices were still shouting at Carl to let me go. We could all get shot to pieces right here. I had to assume that Hardin had issued silver bullets to her people.

Then, my back slid against the wall and my feet touched ground. Air flooded my lungs, which rattled as I gasped. But he didn't let me go. I looked at his eyes, which were fire, bestial. His body was all sweat and musk. The fur, his wolf, were close. If he sprouted claws right now, he could rip out my throat. Slash the jugular and I'd bleed out before I hit the ground.

'Don't do it,' I whispered. 'You'll die here if you do it.'

The cops were still shouting, 'Step away now, now!'

And I thought he was going to do it, silver bullet in the back or no, I thought he was going to rip my throat out.

What happened next happened very quickly. Carl made one of those sudden moves—the ones you're not supposed to make around the police when they're pointing guns at you. I couldn't guess what he planned—if he wanted to get shot, if he thought he could move faster than bullets. Or if he simply took a chance in the hopes that it just might work.

He grabbed my wrist and yanked. I flew from the wall and into the open—between him and the cops.

A gun fired.

A punch nailed into my back. I stepped forward to keep my balance. Then, fire. Fierce pain through my chest dropped me. Like something had exploded inside me. My knees cracked on the sidewalk.

Carl ran around the corner and away, defended by his shield.

'Sawyer, hold fire, hold!' That was Hardin, sounding fierce.

The world stopped for a moment. I couldn't see anything outside of myself, I couldn't hear anything but my blood in my ears. I was breathing fast but wasn't getting any oxygen. Blood covered my hands—it was all over my chest, soaking my shirt, slick and red.

Shot, I'd been shot. My next breath squeaked. I ought to do something, I thought vaguely. I ought to scream or cry or something. I ought to fall down and die already.

But I stayed kneeling, staring at my own blood on my hands like it was part of a movie. Just art, or ketchup, or something. My breathing slowed, and with the fresh oxygen my vision cleared. And I realized the burst of pain had faded to an ache.

I pulled down my collar, wiped away blood, tried to find the hole—the bullet had gone all the way through between my heart and my collarbone; there was the wound, covered in caked blood. Already clotted. Already healing.

Someone's hands touched my face and forced me to look up. I flinched, startled, because I hadn't known anyone was there. Ben held my face and studied me with a wild gaze. His heart was racing. I could hear it.

'Kitty,' he said roughly.

I slumped, gripping his arms to keep myself upright. Every muscle had turned to molasses. My laugh sounded more like a gasp. 'It wasn't silver.'

He slumped, too. We were in danger of melting into the ground. 'Not silver.'

I nodded quickly, and he pressed his face to mine. 'Oh, my God,' he sighed near my ear, then kissed my cheek. I clung to him.

Hardin barked a question. 'Officer Sawyer—you're not packing silver?'

'Uh…no, ma'am. Didn't have time to file the requisition form.' He sounded sheepish.

Thank God. Thank you thank you thank you…

'Next time, get those bullets. And don't fucking shoot the informant!'

This wasn't over. I felt a new pain—not from the wound, which had faded. Something else tore at my gut. Wolf. We'd been attacked. We'd been hurt. Now, it was up to her to protect us. She surged through my blood, took hold of my eyes, my senses. My whole body tensed as she seized me.

'Ben.' My voice grated through my clenched jaw. I was Changing; it was coming so fast.

He knew what was happening. He pulled me to him, held me tight, and hissed in my ear. 'Keep it together. Deep breaths, Kitty. Hold it in.'

My skin was sliding, my bones melting, I thrashed at my clothes, had to get them off, had to get away—

'Hardin, get your people out of here!' Ben shouted. Finally giving in to what was happening, he ripped off my shirt and tugged at my bra.

Wrenching out of Ben's grip, I screamed.

Dizzy, angry. Can't see straight. Chest aches —injured. Not for long, already healing, but the pain lingers. So does the anger.

She kicks at the ropes that trap her, tangle her legs — remnants of the old shape. Hadn't gotten rid of that false skin in time. It's come so quickly, so unexpectedly. But she is in danger. She has to protect herself, and she can run faster on four legs than on two.

An attack, hunters on all sides of her, cornering her — Her other half recognizes the two-legged hunters with their handheld burning deaths. Must defend herself. There —the one whose hand smells hot, burns with the scent of sulfur and oil. He's the one who hurt her.

She lowers her head and growls.

'Oh, my God,' the voice behind her says. 'Becky, Shaun, stop her!'

Nothing can stop her. Her body is wind, her claws are blades, her voice is thunder.

Now her target smells like fear. Sweat has broken out on his skin. When he takes a step back, she knows she has him. She will rip his flesh and taste his blood. Her lips draw back from fierce teeth and a salivating mouth as she launches herself toward her victim. She runs, her claws scraping onthe pavement. Digs into the ground, leaps, stretching for him, and his scream thrills her blood. Her paws are on him, her rough pads scraping his false skin, and he falls —

A body intercepts her, knocking her away from her prey. She lands on her feet and looks. The attacker crouches, facing her, staring her down. Daring to stare her down. She pants and takes the scent of the intruder — one of her kind, one of her pack. The new female.

And before she can strike at her, to put her in her place, hands —human, naked hands —grab her from behind, pull at her, hold her. She snarls, fights, twists, slashes with claws, with teeth. Two of them hold her back. They are pack. They can't do this, she'll show them, she'll show them who's strongest —

The place is chaos. There is running and shouting. Still can't see straight for all the chaos.

'Kitty! Hold still, just hold still! '

Even as the growl rattles her lungs, a hand on her chest and a voice by her ear make her pause.

'Sh, Kitty. It's okay, you're safe. You're safe.'

She stops struggling; the two-legged wolf holds her back.

This is her mate who holds her, who soothes her. Whining softly, she turns to him, licks his hand. He tastes like home.

'Sh,' he keeps murmuring. 'We're okay. We're going to be okay. '

He radiates calm and she believes him.

Then the whole pack is there. Her little pack, all of them with her, all of them safe. She leans close to her mate, presses her body full against him, panting shallow breaths because she's still nervous. Still waiting for an attack. Have to trust the pack to take care of each other. She trustsher mate with all her being. Letting her muscles relax, letting the anger seep away, she settles into his arms.

'I don't know enough about this,' he says, his voice strained. 'I don't know if she's going to be okay. '

'She'll be okay, ' says the other. 'Once she sleeps she'll be fine. Try to get her to sleep. '

So the voice continues, close to her ear, breathing comfort into the fur of her neck. Furless, clawless hands stroke her flanks, a strange and soothing touch.

And because he smells and sounds and feels like home, she settles with him and closes her eyes.

I remembered being shot and started awake.

I lurched up onto an elbow and looked around. I was in a corner of the KNOB lobby, wrapped in a scratchy wool blanket, and curled up on the cold tile floor. Underneath, I was naked.

Ben was standing nearby, talking to Detective Hardin and a couple of other cops. Ozzie was there, too, and some other KNOB staffers. The station manager wore a worried frown and rubbed a hand through his thinning hair. Some of the cops were taking statements. Red and blue lights flashed against the front windows.

Ben turned around before I could draw breath to speak. Quickly he came over and knelt beside me. I screwed up my face and felt vaguely ashamed. I pulled the blanket tightly around my shoulders.

'What happened?' I said, my voice scratching.

'You got shot,' he said.

'I remember that. What about after?'

'You didn't hurt anyone.'

I gave a thin laugh. 'Thank God for small favors.' In truth, this relieved me immensely. I felt lighter.

Idly, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Bloodstains covered his shirt, complete with handprints and streaks from where I'd grabbed his arms. 'How do you feel?'

'Crappy. I didn't want to hurt anyone.' The horror of it took a long time to settle over me—Injured and frightened, I'd shifted in the middle of a crowd of people I'd have done it and not thought twice. I'd have just been defending myself. 'I can't believe I got shot.'

'Tell me about it.' He sat beside me and tucked me under his shoulder, wrapping his arm around me. I snuggled in closer. 'Hardin sent a couple of cars after Carl. They're cordoning off the