Kitty Goes to Washington kn-2 Read online

  A red rash traced lines around my fingers and left a splotch on my palm, all the places where the necklace had made contact. I held it out, so all the committee members could see it.

  "A silver allergy," Dreschler said. "It might happen to anyone. My sister can't wear earrings that don't have surgical steel posts."

  "Trust me, this didn't happen before I was infected. I had to give up some killer jewelry because of this."

  She showed a thin smile, almost in spite of herself. I went back to my seat; she didn't put the necklace back on.

  Next to her, Senator Deke Henderson spoke. "What else? What other changes does this… condition bring on?"

  "Dr. Flemming mentioned a lot of it in his testimony. It affects the senses. Smell becomes more sensitive, night vision is better. I'd have to say in my own experience it effects mood as well, things like temper and depression. I've heard some jokes about how women make better werewolves since they're used to turning into monsters once a month." That got a few nervous chuckles. "Although I can't say how much of any depression is caused by the condition, or stems from the frustration of dealing with it."

  Henderson, the rancher who'd probably spoken out on the debate about reintroducing wild wolves to ranch country, said, "You just called yourself a monster, Ms. Norville. These conditions, as you call them: do they pose a threat to society?"

  I had thought long and hard about how I would answer this question. I'd written out a dozen versions of my answer, practiced it, slept on it. Or didn't sleep on it. People on both sides of the issue might not be happy with what I wanted to say.

  "No, sir. I don't believe they do. I could mention a dozen issues that better merit your attention if you're worried about dangers to society—highway safety and cancer research, for instance. If they—werewolves, vampires, all of it—were a danger, you'd have had to confront them long before now. For centuries, these groups have lived under a veil of secrecy. They haven't revealed themselves to the public, and they have taken great care to monitor themselves, to ensure that they don't become a danger to society at large, and thereby threaten that secrecy. Like any other citizen, it's in their best interests to live by society's laws. Individuals may pose a threat to other individuals—but no more so than any other person. Domestic violence, for example, poses a much greater danger to more people, I think."

  The veil of secrecy was gone, now. The centuries of cultural conditioning that we lived by, as governed by the packs and the vampire Families, by gathering places like the Crescent and patriarchs like Ahmed, all of it swept away. A lot of people weren't going to like it. I didn't know what would happen next, what would come of all this. I felt like I was in the middle of the show, with no other choice but to plunge forward. I clung to the familiarity of that fatalism.

  Senator Duke pointedly adjusted his microphone to draw attention to himself. My heartbeat quickened. He had not been kind to witnesses this week. I suspected he had saved the bulk of his ire for me.

  He said, "Ms. Norville. As a werewolf, have you ever killed anyone?"

  He'd done his research, I was sure. He had to know the answer to that.

  The whole truth and nothing but the truth. "Yes, sir. I have."

  The murmur of the audience sounded like the distant crash of waves. I heard pens scratching on paper. How nice, that some people still used pen and paper.

  "Care to explain?" Duke drawled.

  "The Denver police have a report of the incident. The situation was self-defense. He—the man I killed—was also a werewolf, and he had murdered several women. When he attacked me, I defended myself the best way I could." It may not have been the whole truth…

  "Did you enjoy it? Killing him?"

  "I hope I never have to do anything like that again."

  "What about your other half? That demon inside of you? How did it feel?"

  He was determined to turn this into a good ol' witch hunt, wasn't he? "There is no demon, sir. Just me."

  "That's what you'd like us to think, with your fancy suit and lipstick—"

  "Senator, I'm not wearing lipstick."

  "—and the Good Book says, 'When he speaketh fair, believe him not for there is abomination in his heart'!"

  "Does this mean we're moving away from the 'scientific discourse' part of the testimony?"

  "Senator!" That was Henderson. Duke shut up, finally. I sighed. Henderson continued. "May we please return to the subject at hand? You're in danger of harassing the witness."

  "Well past, I'd think," Ben muttered behind me.

  Duke glared at Henderson, and I caught a glimpse of a long-standing rivalry, acrimonious and far beyond compromise.

  "Senator Duke, do you have any further questions?"

  Duke meaninglessly shuffled the papers before him. "I do. Ms. Norville, you host a weekly radio show called The Midnight Hour, is this correct?"

  Yay, an easy one. "Yes."

  "What is the purpose of this show?"

  "Entertainment, primarily. Also education. On good days."

  "Not conversion?"

  I could hear Ben fidgeting, straightening, crossing and uncrossing his arms. He whispered, "Objection…" This wasn't a courtroom. He couldn't stand up and yell it.

  "I'm not sure I understand you. Conversion to what?"

  "You don't use your show to recruit?"

  My jaw opened and it took me a second to close it and formulate a coherent sentence. "On the contrary, sir. I want to shatter any romantic illusions about these conditions that people might have picked up from late-night movies. I mean, just listen to the show."

  "Ms. Norville, how many werewolves do you think are living in the United States today?"

  "I have no idea."

  "None at all?"

  "No. There isn't exactly a space for it on the census form."

  "Maybe we'll change that. If you had to make a guess, what would you say?"

  I took at least a couple calls every week from people claiming to be werewolves or some other variety of lycanthrope. Sometimes more, if the topic was werewolf-specific. I didn't believe all the claims. Assuming I was only getting a small percentage of the total—

  "Really, sir, I hesitate to even make a guess," I said. I wasn't going to stick my neck out on a question like that.

  "What about vampires?"

  "Look at the numbers for any rare disease. They're probably comparable."

  He made a show of holding one of his pages up, staring at it down his nose like he was trying to focus on something, like maybe he'd found the one question he'd almost forgotten to ask. He made a long buildup, which meant it was going to be the bombshell. Even worse than are you recruiting!

  "On your show, you've met a lot of your kind, haven't you? You've said that most of you have packs, that you tend to congregate. So, let's say there's another werewolf in this room. You could tell us who it is?"

  "I suppose."

  "If, in the name of security, I needed you to tell me how to find other werewolves, could you do that?"

  Um, I didn't like where this was going.

  "How many werewolves do you personally know?"

  I glared. "I couldn't say."

  "Could you give us names? In the interests of security."

  "Right now?"

  He shrugged nonchalantly. "In the future, maybe."

  I leaned toward the mike. "I think the next thing you're supposed to say is 'I have here a list of known werewolves working inside the U.S. government.' Isn't it?"

  He frowned. "I was rather hoping you could help me make up that list."

  "Oh, no. No way. You guys—I mean you, the Senate as an institution—you've been down this road before. I won't have anything to do with it."

  "Ms. Norville, are you refusing to answer my question?"

  "I don't think it's a reasonable question. It's an invasion of privacy, it's—"

  "I could hold you in contempt of Congress."

  The world had suddenly shifted to an old black and white newsreel. This so
rt of thing wasn't supposed to happen anymore.

  Ben leaned forward to say in a low voice, "The phrase you want is 'Fifth Amendment.'"

  Duke pointed at him. "Who are you? Are you influencing the witness?"

  Ben stood. "I'm Benjamin O'Farrell, Your Honor. The witness's attorney. Under the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution my client refuses to answer your question on the grounds that it may be self-incriminating."

  There. That showed him. I sat a little straighter.

  "That's nonsense! It's not an unreasonable question! I can hold you in contempt, I can throw you in jail if I want. The moral and spiritual sanctity of this nation is at stake, and right here in the nation's capital we have the spawn of Satan himself lobbying for equal consideration! The Constitution does not apply to you!"

  Everyone started talking at once. Well, not everyone. But it seemed like it. I was stunned, glaring bullets at Duke, and I managed to sputter something about showing him my birth certificate proving I was a natural-born citizen and the Constitution in fact did apply to me. Ben was on his feet, talking about suing in federal court for civil rights violations. Dreschler seemed to be in a mild panic, speaking with one of the committee staffers behind her. Henderson was yelling at Duke; Duke was still shouting quasi-religious bigoted inanities at me.

  If I'd been a spectator it would have all been very exciting, I was sure.

  Amid the chaos, that deeply buried part of myself was rising to the surface, clawing at the bars of the cage I kept her in, wanting to escape, wanting to run, on all her four legs. She knew that in a few hours she'd get to do just that, and she didn't want to wait.

  I stayed seated and breathed very calmly, because that was the only way I'd keep her, the Wolf, locked away.

  Dreschler reached over and unplugged Duke's microphone, right from the back. That didn't stop Duke from continuing to rant, but now his voice was faded and lost in the back of the room. At last, he realized he'd been had. It took him a surprisingly long time. He glared at Dreschler, eyes bugging and face turning scarlet.

  "The committee withdraws the question," Dreschler said coolly into her own mike. "And with all due respect, Chairman, another outburst like that and the committee will vote to censure you."

  Ben, moving in slow motion, returned to his seat. Someone in the back clapped a few beats that echoed in the chamber. I dared to look over my shoulder to see who it was. Roger Stockton, camera tucked under his arm.

  Dreschler sighed, sounding as tired as I felt. "One last question, Ms. Norville. This committee was convened to determine if the work of the Center for the Study of Para-natural Biology warrants greater attention from the United States Congress, and if the information made public by Dr. Flemming and the Center requires action by the federal government, or poses a threat to the American public. You've been here all week, you've heard the testimony that we have, and you have an insight that none of us understand. If you were sitting up here, what would be your conclusions?"

  Was she asking me to do their job for them? Was this my chance to steer policy for the whole government? I spent a moment wishing I would sink through the floor. I hosted a cult radio show, that was all. I wasn't an expert. And a U.S. senator was expecting me to give her advice? Was treating me like some kind of authority? Once again, Alette had called it.

  If I blew them off, refused to give them some advice they could use, no one would ever take me seriously again. I'd come too far to deny what I'd become.

  "I suppose if I were going to turn activist, this would be my chance. Rally members of the supernatural underworld into some kind of new minority that can lobby the government for recognition and protection. But typically, such people are more interested in anonymity than activism. They just want to be left alone. And oppression hasn't been much of an issue when most people don't believe that the supernatural exists. What Dr. Flemming has done is brought these conditions out of the realm of mysticism and into the area of scientific examination. This is good, presuming that it is done for the right purposes. I worry about the Center's research precisely because its motives are unclear. And I worry that with these conditions now brought into the public eye, such oppression will start.

  "I think it's too early to make sweeping decisions. But I would ask the members of the committee to keep their minds open. I would hope that whatever publicity comes out of this, people remember that these are diseases, and the Americans who have them are still Americans."

  "Thank you, Ms. Norville. That closes hearings for today. The committee has a long deliberation ahead of it. We'll hope to reconvene in the near future with our concluding statements."

  Henderson and Dreschler stood and booked it out of there like they couldn't wait to be somewhere else. Duke took a moment to glare at me vindictively, like it was my fault he'd lost control of his own committee.

  Whatever.

  Ben put his hand on my shoulder. "You did okay. Let's get out of here."

  "Norville! Kitty Norville! Can I ask you a few questions? How long have you had this condition? Tell us how it happened—did you survive an attack? Do you recommend people arm themselves with silver bullets?"

  "We have no comment at this time. Thank you," Ben said.

  Ben tried to hustle me out of there. We looked like a hundred scenes aired on news programs, of people leaving courtrooms or hearings. I kept my head up, trying to salvage some dignity, but my gaze was down, avoiding eye contact. Ben stayed close, partially shielding me from the cameras and reporters. He wasn't a werewolf, but right now he was my pack, and I was grateful for the protection.

  "Kitty!"

  I looked up at the familiar voice. Jeffrey Miles was trying to push toward me through the crowd. He must have been sitting in the back of the room. I paused to let him catch up to us.

  He wasn't smiling. His normally easygoing demeanor was gone. He looked tense.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "It's Roger. He left in a hurry right before the session ended. He seemed really anxious."

  Sure enough, Roger Stockton wasn't among the throng that followed me. I'd have expected him to jump out in front of me with that damned camera.

  I couldn't help it; his absence made me nervous. I shrugged to cover it up. "Maybe he had someplace to be."

  "I think he's up to something," Jeffrey said. "Be careful, Kitty."

  I nodded, uncertain. Why would Roger be up to something? We were buddies now, right? Someone shoved between us, and the crowd carried me away. Ben kept his hand on my elbow until we made it outside.

  Bradley waited at the curb with Alette's car.

  "You should let him give you a ride back to your hotel," I said.

  Ben looked over his shoulder at the reporters and agreed.

  The car doors finally shut out the chaos.

  "You're off to go all furry now, I assume," Ben said.

  I couldn't think of a snide reply. "Yup."

  "Be careful. I'm sure that Miles guy is right. Stockton knows what night it is. He'll probably try to follow you."

  "We won't let that happen, sir," Bradley said, glancing at us in the rearview mirror.

  Ben scowled. "Pardon me if I don't entirely trust a minion of the dark."

  I shushed him. Fortunately, the hotel wasn't far away. We arrived before the discussion could degenerate further.

  Ben got out, then leaned in before closing the door. "Just be careful. Call me when you get back."

  I nodded, bewildered at his vehemence. He didn't look at all happy. I couldn't do anything about that.

  "Thanks, Ben."

  He closed the door, and we returned to Alette's. I needed to change into something scruffy.

  Just after dusk, Bradley and Leo prepared to drive me to the Crescent. I'd meet Luis there. I didn't know why Leo had to come along. He said he wanted the air. Alette said she wanted him to make sure we weren't followed and that Luis would take good care of me. Like they'd turned into my parents who insisted on vetting the boys I dated. I was an adult, for G
od's sake. I tried to ignore him.

  I couldn't wait. Before we even left the driveway, my foot was tapping a rapid beat on the carpeted floorboard in the backseat of the sedan. In moments, I'd be at the Crescent, with Luis and the others, away from Leo and politics and all of it. I was back in jeans and a T-shirt, my hair loose, feeling a weird and not unpleasant charge in the air. On these nights, when I could feel the full moon rising, even though it wasn't visible yet, the Wolf leapt inside of me. She turned into a kid at Christmas, giddy with anticipation, knowing her big moment was close.

  I had to stay human a little while longer. I had to keep her locked in, and that was the hard part, because slowly, bit by bit, sliver by sliver, I was losing control. By midnight, I wouldn't be able to hold her in any longer.

  "Lovely evening," Leo said conversationally, over the backseat. "I have to admit, I'm a little jealous. The chance to run around with a bunch of animals. I get chills just thinking about it."

  It was a perfect night for running. Clear and crisp, with a touch of a breeze. Scents and sounds would carry. Morning would be cool enough to make me grateful to have others nearby, bodies contributing warmth. I rolled my shoulders, stretching, knowing what would come soon.

  "You know," Leo continued in his mock-amiable tone. "I imagine you make a lovely little wolf. I'd very much like to see that."

  I couldn't bring myself to care enough to tell him to shut up.

  Bradley glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

  Him, I smiled at. "I've done this before, you know."

  "Yeah, but it's a new place. New people. I just thought I'd ask."

  "Thanks." I was sick of people asking if I was going to be okay. I'd made it this far, hadn't I?

  I was going to be a little late. Just a few minutes. I hoped Luis would wait for me. But really, I didn't doubt that he would wait for me. Just nerves.

  Leo said, "Bradley, would you mind pulling over here for just a moment? I'd like to take a look at something."

  "Here?" Bradley pursed his lips, looking confused, but came to a stop at the corner, as Leo requested. "What is it?"