“Oh, we’ve met,” Ben said.
“Been a while. How’s that knee?” Brenda asked, studying him up and down. I inched a little closer to him again. I wondered: was this all an act on her part? Surely nobody was this in-your-face naturally.
“Fine. Thanks,” Ben said, deadpan. Okay, that was a story I needed to pry out of him.
Then she looked at me. Scanned me up and down just the same way, and for some reason I suddenly felt like I had a target painted on my chest.
“And hello to you,” she said wryly. “I’ve always wanted to ask you something: Kitty’s your stage name, right? It can’t be your real name.”
She was about to make a “werewolf named Kitty” crack. I could feel it. My smile was strained to the point of breaking. “It’s my real name. Proof that God has a sense of humor,” I said.
“That’s too damn funny for words,” she said, shaking her head. “You like living dangerously, I take it.”
Who, me? A werewolf standing in the middle of a mini supernatural bounty hunter convention? “Oh, come on, are you telling me we aren’t all civilized people here?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. What’s the story, boys? There a reason you’re letting someone like her hang around?”
Which meant whatever it was she hunted, and however good she was at it, she hadn’t spotted Ben. None of them had. It was all I could do not to sigh with relief. But any second now another one of them was going to walk into the bar, and that one would be psychic, or magic, or something, and blow the whole deal. I didn’t want to know what this crowd would do if they found out what had happened to one of their own.
I relaxed and tried not to cling to Ben. That, if anything, would give it all away.
“She’s okay, Brenda,” Ben said. “Let her alone.”
She got close to him, right in his face. “And you are the last person I’d expect to stick up for something like that. No, I take it back—the second-to-last person. But Cormac’s not around at the moment, is he?”
“No, he’s not.”
I didn’t like this. We were cornered against the bar, and she was staring him down like she wanted to take a piece out of him. Ben was tense, but I was ready to crawl out of my skin. Wolf wanted to get out of here. Brenda smelled dangerous.
“He should have finished her off when he had the chance.”
Before either of us could respond—not that explaining the situation would have helped—Evan made a nod toward the bar and said to Brenda, “Let me buy you a drink.”
“I can buy my own damn drink. Club soda with lime!” she called to the bartender, who was in the middle of drawing a couple of beers. He glanced over in a panic.
It occurred to me that perhaps she was over-compensating.
“You know, it’s late,” I said, pointing a thumb toward the door. “I think I’m going to head out. It was nice meeting you all.”
“Late?” Brenda smirked. “That’s rich coming from one of you lot.”
“I’m atypical.” My smile was stiff. “Good night.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Ben said, mostly sounding casual, and fell into step with me.
“I imagine she does need someone watching her back around here,” Brenda said. Ben tossed her a fake salute.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, but I still had too much pride to run. Out of sight of the bar, walking down the hall to the elevators, Ben took my hand and squeezed.
“You okay?” he said.
“Yeah. I might have preferred someplace a little quieter. With fewer people.”
“Sorry. I just wanted to see who all was around. You can usually find everyone in the bar sooner or later.”
“And Brenda. What was
He chuckled. “Just goes to show you don’t have to be a werewolf to be an alpha female.”
“Boy, you said it. I’m not even a human being to her, am I?” I said.
“Nope. That’s how all those guys justify hunting people like you. Er, like us.”
“And you used to be one of them.”
“Not really. Well. Maybe. I mostly just tagged along.”
Which was how he ended up as a werewolf in the first place. Just tagged along to watch Cormac’s back, and the monster flanked him. He was lucky to be alive. Or not, depending on your point of view.
Maybe he was thinking the same thing, because he had this sad look on his face, a distant gaze. Like he knew he wasn’t part of that world anymore. Maybe he even missed it.
“I still want to know about you and Brenda,” I said.
“Jealous?”
“Trick question, honey.”
“All I want to know is how she can sprint in four-inch heels without breaking her stride, but I wear track shoes, trip on a pebble, and tear a ligament that puts me in a knee brace for eight weeks.”
“That’s our mysterious universe for you. And what were you hunting at the time?”
“Cormac.”
I raised a brow. What the hell was Cormac doing that had Ben and Brenda chasing after him? And why hadn’t I heard about it? And why. . . The questions could go on forever.
“It’s a long story,” he said.
“I bet it is. And what’s Evan’s story? He another client?”
“No, he’s the competition. Works out of Seattle . Though I guess Cormac doesn’t have competition anymore.”
“I used to figure Cormac was one of a kind, or one of maybe a half dozen, tops. How many vampire and werewolf hunters are there? There’s Evan, Brenda, Boris, Sylvia—” I counted on my fingers. This was already too many.
He shrugged. “Hard to say. It’s a tough group to keep tabs on. People disappear, people retire, and no one really announces anything. It’s like Evan said, it works pretty much on gossip and rumor. But that’s how you know where the vampires and lycanthropes are, and where the work is.”
“How many of them were sitting in that bar?”
“Maybe a dozen,” Ben said finally. “I recognized a lot of faces, even if I don’t know them well.”
“Don’t you find that disturbing?”
“I suppose,” he said. “I used to hang out with people like that a lot. I guess I’m having trouble thinking of myself as the enemy.”
That was his old world. It didn’t matter if he was the target now. However much he might want to, he couldn’t go back to the way he was. His wolf must have been telling him that.
I squeezed his hand back and walked closer, so our bodies brushed. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair. There’d be time for that when we got to the room.
“What happens when they find out about you?” When they found out he was one of the bad guys now, nominally.
“They probably won’t shoot me on sight, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said. “You stood in that bar a whole ten minutes and no one took a shot at you.”
“But I imagine there was a lot of visualization going on in a lot of minds.”
He chuckled, but the sound was sad. Then he said, “I think they’d feel sorry for me. But I’d really rather they didn’t find out.”
Outside the elevators, from a side corridor, a shadow stepped in front of us to block our way. I jumped and caught a growl in the back of my throat. Ben touched my arm, and I could feel us both poised between flight or fight, staying together to protect each other or separating to confuse our enemy—
The shadow turned into Odysseus Grant, looking down on us with a stern gaze. He was tall, with a face like chipped stone. I hadn’t realized how tall he was. I’d attributed his height to stage presence. He wore his tuxedo, with jacket and bow tie, like he’d just come from his own show. Maybe he’d always been there, and my imagination had turned him into a shadow, made him appear out of nowhere. Maybe he’d been waiting for us.
“Mr. Grant,” I said, catching my breath and trying to slow my heart. I had to call someone in a tux “mister.”
“Ms. Norville. Mr. O’Farrell.” He nodded at Ben, and I didn’t have to wonder if he knew that Ben was a werewolf, or if he could tell. He knew and took in the knowledge with a slight nod. But how had the magician known Ben’s name? “I’m sorry if I startled you. I wanted to tell you—I watched your show. I’m almost sorry I didn’t take part. But about the gentleman inviting you to Balthasar’s show—don’t go. Don’t have anything to do with them.”
“Why? What’s the story?”
“It’s complicated.”
“It always is.”
He quirked a smile. “Have you met any other lycanthropes here? Have you seen any sign of a pack here, besides those two this evening?”
“No. I’ve been wondering about that.”
“Balthasar does not tolerate rivals.”
“I’m not a rival.”
“Of course not. But he might see you as something else. A possession, maybe?”
I laughed. “I don’t think so.” Ben wasn’t laughing, though. He’d curled his hand around my arm.
“I wanted to warn you.”
“What’s your stake in it? Why tell me this?”
“I’m simply a concerned citizen who knows something you don’t.”
And if that didn’t pique my curiosity. . . “What’s the big secret, then? What do you know? What’s going on over there? The lycanthropes—they perform under duress, don’t they? They’re trapped—”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “It’s not so mundane as that.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s best you don’t concern yourself with such matters.”
“Secrets don’t scare me, they only piss me off.”
“That can be dangerous.”
“Thanks. But I’m pretty good at taking care of myself.”
He looked both of us up and down. Taking our measure. “I suppose you’d have to be.”
“We look out for each other,” Ben said.
“Good. I’ll be off, then. Sorry for interrupting your evening.” He tipped an imaginary hat at us, then disappeared around the corner, a dapper gentleman from another century.
