Not for defense, not to hunt, not to flee on faster legs. Now, and for the first time, this part of her is driven by rage. Vision is red. Kicking, writhing, saliva flying from bared teeth, she tears free of her tangled human skin. Thick claws scrape against a hard, flat earth. Not forest, not safe. The air smells of too many people, alien, oily scents of the human world.
And this thing, the being who attacked her. The figure smells of death.
Fur bristles, rising stiffly along her back. Head lowered, tail straight behind her, she bares her teeth and glares. Her opponent glares back, unmoving. Is it a challenge? Doesn’t matter. He smells wrong, and she must fight. Claws scrabbling, she launches. She will pounce, put her jaws around his neck, topple him, and tear into his flesh.
The man of death merely steps aside. Grabs her foreleg at the shoulder. Wrenches. She slams against the ground, hits hard, yelps, but doesn’t stop moving. Back on her feet, she leaps away, braces, facing him. Deciding how best to flank him.
“The alpha shows her colors,” he says.
They circle each other. She can’t—won’t—turn her back to him. And he won’t turn his to her. If he attacks, she’ll be ready, but she won’t strike him directly, not again. Her shoulder throbs with the impact of the last throw.
“A standoff. So. You’re smart enough not to fling yourself against me again and again. That’s something.”
Her mouth is metallic with anger. With the need to tear flesh. Blood will soothe the bitterness on her tongue. But somehow she knows: This creature has little blood to spare. Still, she cannot turn away from him and stares her challenge.
The man of death smiles.
“You’ve made an error your human self would not have done,” he says. “You’ve met my gaze. Look at me, wolf. Look deep, and do as I say.”
Suddenly she hears nothing but his voice.
“I know what will hurt you worst of all. You think you’re the first self-righteous werewolf in the world? You’re not. Your kind always fears the same thing. So this is what I will make you do: Seek out people. Seek out crowds. They are your prey. Hunt them. Perhaps you’ll even live long enough to wake and understand what you’ve done.”
The voice inside her that always whispers, that urges her to one thing or another, is his voice now, and the metallic taste on her tongue, the hunger for blood, the need to hunt, rises uncontrollable. A brief smell of the air shows her how much prey is here. Too many people around, yes. Plenty of hunting.
She breathes out. Something in her whines. She wants to run, but her legs are stiff.
“Go,” he says. “Go and hunt.”
“No, Kitty. Don’t listen.”
Her name calls her back. She shakes her head, rubs her face on her paw. She feels like she’s scented something awful.
There are two of them now. Two men of death. The first looks away, and she moves, trots back and forth, keeping them both in her vision. They stand on either side of her, as if they seek to trap her.
She can’t fight them both. She needs her pack for that, but the wolves are far away right now. She is in a maze of concrete and steel. Growling low, daring them to follow her, she backs away. Then she turns and runs. Find her pack, find her mate, find a safe haven.
Even keeping to shadows, trotting along walls, out of sight, she feels exposed. Danger is everywhere. There are hunters hunting her. Her senses are so taut they hurt, smell and hearing stretched to breaking.
When he approaches, she smells him. The man of death. The second, not the first, who has left. The one who called her from the other’s spell. How long has it been, how long has she been running, and how has he found her?
He moves from shadow to a circle of light, near a fence and a row of low shrubs where she tries to hide. He is calm, not challenging. Not staring, not bristling. It keeps her from running again.
“Kitty.” His soft, murmuring voice is so different than the other’s.
Part of her wants to flee, and part of her is drawn to him. Head low, she paces in a wary circle. He’s a friend, part of her says. Trust him. Go to him. It’s the part of her that walks on two legs, like him, but she doesn’t know if she can trust that voice.
But she’s drawn to him.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” he says. “What a beautiful creature. Not that I expected anything different.”
She growls low.
“You can’t hurt me. You know that, I think. Somewhere in there you know I’m your friend.” He crouches, offers a hand. “Kitty. It’s Friday. You have a show to do, don’t you? You need to come back.”
His voice lulls her. But the anger that drew her into this shape lingers. Who is he to tell her this?
“Kitty. Shh. Shh.”
She glares and meets his gaze. “Go to sleep. I’ll watch over you. You’ll be all right. Shh.”
Pacing, she stumbles. Her body is succumbing to the spell of his voice even as her mind panics. But her other half agrees with him. Sleep. We have work to do. We have to sleep.
He reaches to her, but she won’t approach him. Nearby, there’s a shadow made by foliage, as close to a forest as she’ll find here. She curls up in this spot, folding her legs, putting nose to tail. Tries to keep an eye on the man of death who crouches nearby. But her eyes are heavy, and they close.
I awoke groaning, clenching my limbs, because nothing smelled right. Nothing seemed right.
Vampires, there were vampires here, and I was all tangled up in the sheets, and...
Naked.
I was lying on dried grass, covered with an overcoat that smelled like Rick.
The whole episode played through my memory on fast-forward. The demon, Roman, Changing, Rick. He was sitting nearby, within arm’s reach, hands holding his knees.
He glanced at me. “Hello.”
I didn’t have to get drunk and hungover anymore to wake up pissed off and groggy. I had this instead. I groaned again, rubbed my face, and decided against sitting up just yet.
“How much do you remember?” he said.
“Most of it, believe it or not. What did he do to me? He said those words, pushed me over the edge. I didn’t know vampires could do that.” But it wasn’t just him. I remembered the rage that had spurred the final Change, and that rage had been all mine.
“That isn’t part of a vampire’s power. Roman has something else, some kind of spellcraft, maybe even a form of hypnotic suggestion. It was probably similar to what he used to repel the demon.”
“You saw all that?” Now I did sit up, awkwardly keeping the coat around me. I was probably really lucky Rick had been around. I might have gone running off into traffic or something.
“Yes. I’ve been keeping an eye on Roman. On both of you,” he said.
“Oh.” He had probably seen us talking the other night, then. Right on the edge of plotting against him. “I guess I should say thanks. For the intervention.”
“And I suppose I should apologize. For thinking you really would go along with him against me.”
I sighed. “It’s been very frustrating not feeling like I have a say in the matter. Feeling like I’m at the mercy of both of you.”
“There’s so much more to this than you know, Kitty. Who he really is, what he is—I’ve met vampires like him before, and they’re dangerous. You have no idea how dangerous. Their manipulations have dozens of levels—I can’t explain it all to you.”
I smirked. “Spoken like a true vampire. ‘You puny mortals couldn’t possibly understand.’”
He ducked his gaze and chuckled. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I thought I was protecting you. Sheltering you from people like him.”
“Keeping me in the dark isn’t protecting me,” I said.
“Obviously,” he said. “Still, his offer must be tempting, now that he’s proven he can deal with this thing with a snap of his fingers.”
“Yeah.” I wondered who was going to die tonight, now that the demon was even more aggravated. “I’m not through yet. We’ve got a plan. Maybe it’ll actually work.”
“Can I help?”
“Just keep keeping an eye on Roman.”
“I’ve only found him when I’ve followed you, but I’m working on it. I need to know where he came from and what he wants.”
I huffed. “I can tell you that—he wants to get his greedy little paws into Denver.”
“But why?”
We could keep asking that question, drilling further and further back for every answer we came up with.
Headlights appeared as a car turned the corner, driving slowly as it edged along the alley.
Rick stood. “Hold on a moment.”
I looked around. I hadn’t gotten far from the parking lot. Across the street and down the block, we sat against the row of shrubs and fence that divided the condo from the rest of the neighborhood. The car stopped nearby as Rick flagged it down. It was Ben’s car. The lights went off, then Ben stepped out.
Relieved, because I felt a little safer now, I went to meet him.
“I called him,” Rick said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Ben looked relieved, too, his lips in a thin smile. “I found your clothes and bag by your car.” He held them up to show me.
Ah, clothes. “Thanks,” I said, leaning into him in an awkward hug—his hands were full, and I was busy holding Rick’s coat around me.
“Are you okay?” Ben said.
“I think so. Just a little shook up.”
Then came shock and panic—I didn’t have my watch, I didn’t know what time it was. It was Friday night and I was supposed to be working right now, not running around naked.
“What time is it?”
“You have an hour,” Ben said. “Get in, I’ll drive.”
He handed me my clothes and got back in the car. I was left holding clothes in one hand, using the other to hold the coat closed, and contemplating how I was going to manage the next few
