Kitty and the Silver Bullet

Cheryl said, 'And he's old enough to remember when MTV played music.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Ah yes, the battle cry of Generation X.' Now I had them both glaring at me. I gave up. I stood and headed toward the kitchen. 'Anyone else want a soda?'

Mom watched all this, beaming, queen of all she surveyed. I stopped to hug her as I passed her chair. She was still sore, but her returning hug was strong. She'd make it, I knew she would, no matter what Arturo had said.

When I closed the fridge, I looked up to find that Ben had followed me into the kitchen.

'Can I talk to you a minute?' he said.

'What is it?' Something serious, I thought. Had to be. He had this look on his face, this too-somber and intent expression, like he was getting ready to do something difficult. To defend a client he knew was guilty. To break up with a girlfriend.

We stood for a moment, regarding each other, leaning side by side against the counter. My arms were crossed, his hands were shoved in his pockets. He was working up to saying something, and I wished he would just come out with it. I was starting to get nervous.

'Can I ask you a question?' he said.

'I think I already said yes, didn't I?'

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and held it out to me. It was cupping a box. One of those little black velvet boxes from jewelry stores. I stopped breathing. Honest to God, I stopped breathing.

'I thought since we seem to have gotten the wolf side all straightened out, if maybe you'd want to make it official on the human side.' He opened the box, which was good, since all I could do was stare at it, completely dumbstruck. Sure enough, there it was. A diamond ring.

I looked at him. 'You—you're joking.'

'Oh, come on, even I'm not that big of a jerk. No, I'm not joking. Kitty—marry me.'

And I still couldn't breathe. My eyes were stinging. I knew what to say. A shrill, obnoxious voice inside me— the DJ voice, I'd always thought of it—was screaming, Say yes, you idiot! Yes!

This was the most surreal thing that had ever happened to me. Then I realized—it was also one of the coolest things that had ever happened to me. I was about to burst, and that was why I couldn't speak.

But something was wrong. I swallowed, thinking there must be some kind of mistake. 'It's silver.'

'Ah, no. White gold. I thought it'd be funny.' He shrugged and gave me the most sheepish, adorable grin I'd ever seen.

And it was funny, and I laughed, and threw myself at him, clinging to him, and he held me tight enough to break ribs, and I said it, 'Yes, yes, yes.'

'What the hell's going on in here?'

Ben and I pulled apart. My sister stood in the doorway. I was surprised to notice I didn't feel at all like she'd caught me at something, like I usually did. No, I felt very, very smug.

Cheryl continued giving us her demanding big sister glare. Ben regarded her a moment. Then, with an obvious and dramatic flourish, he took the ring from the box, held it up to show her, lifted my left hand, and slipped on the ring. He looked back at her with a smug glare. I was grinning like an idiot.

She shrieked loud enough to crack glass. Ben cringed.

'Oh my God!' Then she ran to the next room and shrieked again. 'Oh my God! Guess what guess what guess what—'

At least she'd left Ben and me alone again. I pressed myself close to him and nestled happily in his arms. He held me like he wasn't going to let go anytime soon, which was just fine.

I felt him breathe out a long sigh. I could almost guess what he was thinking: That's going to be my sister-in-law? He said, 'You have too much family, you know that?'

'Impossible,' I said. 'You can never have too much family.'

About the Author

Carrie Vaughn had a happy and relatively uneventful childhood, which means she had to turn to science fiction and fantasy for material to write about. An Air Force brat, she grew up all over the U.S. and managed to put down roots in Colorado, though she still has ambitions of being a world traveler. Learn more about Carrie's novels, short stories, her dog Lily, and her fascination with costumes and stick figure cartoons at www.carrievaughn.com.

MORE KITTY!

Here is a special sneak preview of Carrie Vaughn's next novel featuring Kitty Norville!

Coming Fall 2008

This was embarrassing. I never thought I'd become such a victim of tradition. Yet here I was, looking at the dresses in a bridal magazine.

And liking them. Wanting them. All that satin, silk, taffeta, and chiffon. White, ivory, cream—there's a difference between white, ivory, and cream, I learned. I could even wear rose or ice blue if I wanted to be daring. Then there were all the flowers and jewelry. Diamonds and silver. If only I could wear silver without breaking out in welts. Okay, gold then. I could do gold. I'd be a princess, a vision, absolutely stunning. And all I needed was a ten thousand dollar dress.

'I can't believe it costs this much to take a couple of pictures,' Ben muttered, studying the brochure for a photographer, one of a dozen or so we'd collected. All the brochures—caterers, reception halls, DJs, tuxedo rentals, and a dozen other services I didn't even know we needed—lay piled on the table between us, along with magazines and notepads filled with lists, endless lists, of everything we were supposed to be making decisions about. We didn't even have a date for the wedding yet. My mother had helpfully delivered all this information to me. She was very excited about it all.

We sat at a table for two in the back of New Moon, a new bar and grill near downtown. I had hoped we'd be out of the way of the noise at the bar, which was crowded with a group of after- work businesspeople, and the diners in the rest of the place. The place was busy, almost filled to capacity. Which was good, fantastic even, because Ben and I were the restaurant's primary investors.

'Wedding photography's big business,' I said, not looking up from the magazine full of dresses that cost more than I made in a year at my first job.

'It's a racket. What if we got my friend Joe to do it? He's pretty good with a camera.'

'Isn't he the one who's the crime scene photographer for the Denver PD?'

'So?'

I shook my head. My wedding was not going to be a crime scene. Not if I could help it. 'Do you think I should go sleeveless? Something like that?' I held up the magazine to show a perfectly airbrushed model in a white satin haute couture gown. I wondered if my shoulders were too bony to pull off a dress like that.

'Whatever you want.'

'But do you like it?'

He sighed. 'I like it just fine.'

'You've said that for all of them.'

'I'm not going to be looking at the dress. I'll be looking at you.'

And that was one of the things that made Ben a keeper. I got a little misty eyed. He was thirty-four years old, a lawyer in private practice, and rough around the edges, because most of the time he just couldn't be bothered with appearances. It gave him almost rebellious good looks. His shaggy brown hair was always in need of a trim, the collar of his shirt stayed open, and his suit jacket and tie could usually be found in the trunk of his car. He also had a smile to sigh over. He was smiling now.

We might have sat there staring goofily at each other all night. He'd only proposed a month ago, and we were still in the first flush of it all. Once again, I was amazed at how readily I had fallen into the stereotype. I was supposed to be cool and cynical.

Shaun interrupted us, bopping over to our table. 'Hey, you guys need anything? More soda? Water?'

Shaun, late twenties, brown skin and dark hair, simultaneously hip and unassuming, managed New Moon. He'd jumped in to make the place his own, doing everything from hiring staff to setting a menu. He was also a werewolf. In fact, I counted six others here tonight, all part of our—Ben's and mine—pack. This was going to be a werewolf wedding. It seemed like a formality, because our wolf halves had established us as the mated alpha pair. I wouldn't say it was against our wills, but it all seemed to happen very quickly. Our human sides had taken a little while to catch up. But they did, and here we were, getting married. We were both still a little shell shocked.

I had wanted New Moon to be a haven for people like us. Neutral territory, where lycanthropes of any description could gather peacefully. So far so good. The place had an interesting smell— the alcohol, food, and people smell of any downtown restaurant, along with the smell of the pack. Fur, musk, wild. My pack, distinctive as a fingerprint, and because New Moon had a touch of that, it felt safe. Here, my human and wolf sides came together, and it felt like home.

'I'm fine. Actually, we should probably roll out of here soon.' I started gathering up the mess on the table.

Shaun regarded all the smiling faces of beautiful brides. 'You pick a date yet?'

'Not even close,' Ben said.

Crouching by the table now, Shaun rested his elbows on the table and looked like he was settling in for a long chat. His grin seemed amused. 'Are you changing your name?'

'Please. That's so last century,' I said.

'Hey, what's wrong with O'Farrell?' Ben said.

I glared. 'Kitty O'Farrell? That's not a name, that's a character in a bawdy Irish ballad.'