Kitty Goes to Washington kn-2 Read online

  The door to the cell stood open.

  Sighing, I gathered myself for the effort of dressing. I had to get out of here.

  I'd crawled halfway across the floor when I saw Flemming outside the cell, leaning against a lab table, arms crossed, watching me.

  Nothing to do but carry on. Quickly I pulled on my jeans and retrieved my shirt. It had a rip up the side, along the seam, but it would have to do. I sat on the cot to lace up my sneakers.

  "So. Did you get what you wanted? Besides getting to watch a naked woman sleep for half the night." I tried to sound angry, but my voice cracked, weary to the point of failing.

  He scowled and looked away. "I don't know. The network aired the live footage for an hour. They sold the footage and the news channels have been replaying the pertinent clips all night."

  The pertinent clips. That meant the thirty seconds of me shape-shifting, and nothing else. None of my words, nothing of what I'd said to explain those thirty seconds. What a farce.

  "Is that what you wanted? Do you even know what you wanted?"

  He took a shuddering breath and turned his lips in a pained smile. It might have been the first time I'd ever seen him smile. "I wanted to change the world. I wanted to single-handedly open a whole new discipline of study. I wanted to find the… the cure for everything. Superimmunity. Somewhere in your biology is the secret to that. If I could just convince the people with money that it's not fiction, that I'm not… crazy."

  "And you think kidnapping me, locking me up, and putting me on TV is the way to prove that?" I wanted to rip him to shreds. I could. Sprout a couple of claws, run a couple of strides, and be on his throat in a heartbeat. Inside, Wolf was growling. "The one thing you haven't learned is that you can't control this. No one can control this. People—werewolves, vampires, the church, the Senate, everybody—have been trying for centuries and it doesn't work. The Master vampires build their Families, take over cities, bully the lycanthropes, and play their little power games. Packs form and disintegrate, witches lay curses, charlatans make promises. The church holds its inquisitions, the Senate holds its hearings. And in the long run none of it works. This isn't nature, this isn't science, not like you think, because there's this… this thing, this ineffable part of it all, that takes it out of the realm of knowing. That's why it's called the supernatural, Flemming. It's magic."

  He glared, quivering almost, like he wanted to argue but couldn't find the words. I glared back, challenging. Go ahead, start a fight.

  His gaze dropped. "Primitive man thought the sun rising and setting was magic, but we know now that it isn't. It's science that they didn't understand. So is this. We will understand it."

  "If you say so."

  "Can—can I give you a ride somewhere?"

  One of those moments, those noises that was laughter bubbling into despair, lodged in my throat. The nerve of him. The complete fucking nerve.

  "You've done enough." I walked past him, concentrating so that I didn't launch into a run, keeping my head down. Clutching the torn edges of my shirt and hugging myself so I wouldn't be naked.

  Part of my Wolf stayed with me. I could never be fully human because of it, despite all my high-toned rhetoric. But sometimes, her instincts were useful. It can be a strength, T.J. had always told me. I'd scoffed at him, because I hated that part of myself that I believed I had so little control over. Now, I used it. Wolf wouldn't collapse in a heap, sobbing, furious over what had happened and dreading what was to come. She'd stalk. Keep her head down and get out of there. If I could just keep moving I'd be okay.

  I made it all the way out of the building. Someone had thoughtfully left the door unlocked for me. I kept walking. Kept moving.

  I hadn't slept very long. The sky was still full dark, overcast. The air was cold and damp, like it was about to rain. I shivered. Keep moving. It'd keep me warm.

  A ways down the sidewalk, where the building's drive intersected the main road, a midsized sedan parked by the curb turned on its headlights. My first thought was of Bradley. He couldn't be coming to pick me up. He was dead. I almost lost it, then. He was dead, and he shouldn't have been.

  The two front doors opened and two men got out. It might have been Bradley and Tom, my Men In Black, the way I first saw them when I arrived in D.C. But no. I started to panic, backing up a couple of steps, ready to run. Then I breathed. I caught a familiar scent of gun oil and leather.

  They moved to the driver's side of the car and leaned on the side of the hood, watching me. One had ruffled hair, wore a trenchcoat over slacks and a dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. The other: biker boots, jeans, T-shirt and leather jacket, mustache over a frown. Ben and Cormac, with Ben's rental car.

  Now, I wanted to start crying. I rubbed my face, and my hand was shaking.

  Ben came forward, shrugged off his coat, and held it up for me, waiting to help put it on me like we were on some kind of date. Didn't say a word. He was mostly shadow, outside the reach of the headlights. I couldn't see his face.

  Wolf wanted to run away, but I wanted to fall into his arms. While the two halves argued, I stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move.

  He put the coat over my shoulders, adjusting it so it settled in place. The warmth from his body lingered and made me shiver harder for a moment, but I clutched the edges and held it tight around me. His hand stayed on my shoulder, and that made me shiver, too. I hated people, at that moment.

  I was crying silent, frustrated tears and couldn't talk. Couldn't explain why I wanted him to go away, and why he couldn't, because I needed a friend.

  "Let's get out of here," he said, pressing my shoulder to guide me to the car. I shuffled forward. He opened the back door and steered me inside, like I was a child or an invalid.

  Cormac drove. He eyed me in the rearview mirror. "Anyone you want me to beat up?"

  I laughed, a tight and painful sound. I gasped for a breath, thinking I might start hyperventilating. I said, "Can I get back to you on that?"

  Ben sat with me in the back. "Personally, I like the sound of 'putative damages' much better."

  "That's because you get a percentage," Cormac said. Ben gave an unapologetic shrug.

  I steadied my breathing. I was calming down a little. Maybe. "How bad is it?"

  "How bad is what?" Ben said.

  "Have the lynch mobs started? Torches and pitchforks? Repressive legislation?"

  "Too early to tell," he said. "The talking heads are still mulling it over. They probably need to replay the broadcast for another twelve hours before people get really sick of it."

  "Talking heads?"

  "Every network. Every cable news network. I think the Sci Fi Channel is running a marathon of The Howling!"

  That wasn't going to help my cause. Wasn't anyone in the least bit offended that I'd been kidnapped?

  "And your mother called. She wants you to call back."

  "Are you serious?" My voice squealed. "What did she say?"

  "She didn't say anything, she just called."

  "Did she watch it?"

  "I don't know. Call her back if you want to know."

  I pressed my face to the cool glass of the window. Maybe if I slept, I'd wake up to find everything was all right. "Ben, what am I going to do?"

  "I'd suggest heading to the hotel and getting some sleep."

  "I mean big picture. My life, my job, the hearings—"

  "Not much you can do about that right now. We'll see about pressing charges in the morning."

  That would be up to Ben. I couldn't do anything. I didn't have control anymore, and I hated that. My attempt to turn their brutal expose into my own show had been a flailing burst of desperation. Had it worked? Had it garnered any sympathy? And I wasn't talking about sympathy for the plight of soon-to-be oppressed werewolves and supernatural beings everywhere. I wanted sympathy for me personally—so that the public would skewer them instead of me. Selfish bitch.

  This night wasn't even near over, and the ball was so far out of
my court I couldn't see it anymore.

  "Ben, let me borrow your phone." He handed it over.

  Cormac turned a half smile. "Look at that, she really is calling her mom at four in the morning."

  Except that I wasn't. I was calling Alette. I'd almost forgotten to include Leo in that skewering.

  No one answered. I checked the flip phone's monitor for coverage, which was fine. It just kept ringing, and ringing.

  I took a deep breath, shut the phone off, and gave it back to Ben.

  I said, "One of Alette's minions helped Flemming and Duke. He's the one who got me into the cell."

  "How?" Cormac said. Not offended, like I was. More like with a tone of professional curiosity.

  "Silver handcuffs." Cormac nodded thoughtfully. I almost growled at him.

  Ben said, "I told you to stay away from her—"

  "She didn't have anything to do with it. It's Leo, he's working with Flemming and Duke." Which meant Alette was in trouble. But she was several hundred years old and could easily take care of herself, right? They didn't get to be that old unless they could take care of themselves.

  Leo had left the festivities in Flemming's lab in a hurry. And with backup, though why he needed backup was anyone's guess. She wouldn't be looking for danger from him.

  I had to get to Alette's.

  "I have a hard time believing Duke, Flemming, and some vampire minion are all in bed together," Ben said.

  "Duke didn't know about Leo. Flemming's been talking to him. But Duke and Flemming, they both want government attention—just for different reasons. I think they both think they can one-up the other when the time comes. It's like they're all playing chess, but each of them only sees a third of the board—a different third."

  "What does the vampire get out of this?" Cormac said.

  "Contacts? Influence in the government?" Leo wasn't interested in those things, not like Alette was. He wanted pure, simple power. He wanted to play games with it.

  Maybe he wanted to start his own games. "He can go over Alette's head, for control of the city. Alette's got the cops, but if Leo got the military—"

  We approached D.C. proper again. Cormac was taking us to the hotel. Get some sleep, Ben had said. Not likely. I'd be climbing up the walls.

  "Stop the car. Let me out here."

  Cormac kept driving, like I hadn't even said anything.

  "Cormac, stop the car!"

  He looked at Ben for a sign.

  Ben said, "If he's got military backing, there's no way you can go up against him."

  "Ben!" That did come out more like a growl. I'd shifted once tonight; didn't mean it couldn't happen again. I'd never done it twice this close together. It would hurt. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. I had to keep human eyes. Keep it together.

  "Kitty," Ben said, looking at me over the backseat. I had to hand it to him, standing up to a werewolf like this. I didn't know if he trusted me not to shape-shift. He only sounded a little anxious. "You can't do anything about it right now. Get some sleep, wait until morning. It's much safer going against vampires in daylight, trust me."

  He was telling me what to do. Bossing me around. I might as well be in a pack again.

  I wasn't going to put up with that.

  We were at the hotel. Cormac slowed down to turn into the parking garage. I scooted closer to the door. Then, I pulled the handle, popped open the door, and rolled out. The car was still moving, jerking me over the pavement. I had to stumble to keep my feet, but I managed to stay standing. I launched into a run.

  The tires screeched as Cormac braked, but I didn't look back. I didn't look to see if they followed me.

  I must have run for three blocks before I got my bearings. By then, I was thinking I shouldn't have done it. They were only trying to help. Looking out for me, like friends should, no strings attached. Except I was paying Ben.

  But what would I have done if they hadn't come to pick me up? Waited until morning and taken the Metro? Gone back for a ride from Flemming?

  I had a couple of miles to get to Alette's. I could run that far, but I didn't want to go there, not right away. I put my head down, sucked in night air, and ran. A wolf on the open plains couldn't have gone much faster.

  I arrived at the Crescent, pounded down the stairs and stopped at the door to catch my breath. It was closed. Hesitating, I tested it. Ahmed was true to his word. He kept the place unlocked, even on a full moon night. There probably wasn't anyone around, but I had to check.

  No lights were on, but my eyesight worked fine in the dark. I saw the bar, moved quietly around tables, didn't see anyone. Let my nose work, taking in scents. The place wasn't empty. Someone was here. Something was here.

  I continued on, and movement caught my eye. Past the front of the bar, where cushions on the floor replaced tables and chairs, a gliding shape drifted forward. Sleek, feline, huge. My heart pounded hard for a moment. I'd never seen a cat that big without a nice set of solid bars between us.

  His face was stout, angular, more intimidating than any house cat's. His fur was tawny, and circular black smudges covered his coat.

  He sat in front of me, blocking my progress, and for a disconcerting moment he did look like a house cat, straight and poised, his slim tail giving a nonchalant flick.

  "Luis." I fell on my knees. It smelled like him, even now. More fur than skin this time, but it was him.

  He licked my cheek, his rough jaguar's tongue scratching painfully. Laughing weakly, I hugged him. His fur was soft and warm. I buried my face in the scruff of his neck. He remained patiently still.

  "He waited for you."

  Ahmed appeared at the back of the club, tying closed a dressing gown over bare legs and bare chest. His hair was wild. He must have just woken up. He must have waited, too. I wondered if the two of them had gone running on the Mall, when their animals took over. They could have hunted pigeons.

  "You didn't have to do that," I said to the jaguar. "Either of you."

  Luis stood and rubbed the length of his body against me before flopping down on the floor and licking his paws, then using them to wash his face.

  Ahmed shrugged. "He was worried. I said you could take care of yourself. Then, it seemed that you couldn't. By then it was too late to do anything."

  "I was shanghaied."

  "So it seems." He sat next to me, lowering himself, propping himself with his hand, as if he were an old man with creaking bones. I didn't hear any bones creak.

  "Ahmed, I need help."

  "What do you need? I can give you a safe place to stay, to hide you."

  I shook my head. "Not for me. For Alette. Leo's the one who shanghaied me, and I think she's in trouble."

  He frowned. His whole expression darkened, eyes narrowing, like how a dog looks when it growls. But I couldn't back down. Couldn't flinch.

  "You don't owe her anything," he said. "She offered you hospitality, then failed to protect you."

  A technicality. He harkened back to the old traditional ideals of hospitality, where people had to offer shelter to travelers who would otherwise fall prey to robbers or wolves on the wild, ungoverned roads. There was something else going on here. The wolves were the ones I was asking for help.

  The jaguar had fallen asleep, his lean ribs rising and falling deeply and regularly. He'd curled up beside me, his back pressed to my legs, where I sat.

  I said, "If something happens to Alette, Leo will be in charge of the city's vampires. Do you want that?"

  "And what if Leo was acting on her orders?"

  "I don't believe that."

  "You are too trusting."

  "Alette's been… kind to me."

  "And I have not?"

  "It's not that. But someone has to help her."

  "Please take my warning as a friend, as an elder: don't involve yourself with them. It's not your concern."

  He sounded so somber, so serious, using the tone of voice a favorite high school teacher might, when he put his hand on your sho
ulder and urged you to think twice before hanging out with "that crowd." Almost but not quite patronizing. Utterly convinced that I couldn't take care of myself.

  Not that I had a real excellent track record in taking care of myself. But I couldn't ignore my instincts.

  If I hadn't been watching him, absently stroking the fur across his ribs, I wouldn't have noticed Luis begin to shift back to human. It happened slowly, gradually, the way ice melts. His limbs stretched, his torso thickened, his fur thinned. Bit by bit, piece by piece, cell by cell.

  "What are you doing here, Ahmed? This place, this little empire of yours—you say this isn't a pack, that you aren't an alpha. But everyone treats you like you are. You expect to be treated that way. Maybe you rule by politeness and respect instead of brute force. You promote this ideal of a safe haven so you don't have to fight to keep your place. And it works, I'll give you that. It's the best system I've seen. But you ignore everything that happens outside your domain. And I can't do that."

  If I'd given that speech to any other alpha male I'd ever met, I'd have started a fight. I'd offered a challenge to his place—at least, as subtle a challenge as his claim to the place of alpha here was subtle.

  He spread his hands and gave me a respectful nod. "Of course that is your choice."

  Which meant he maybe hadn't deserved my speech in the first place.

  "I'm sorry, Ahmed," I said, starting to get up. He didn't say anything.

  I touched the shoulder of the man lying asleep beside me. I didn't do more; I didn't want to wake him.

  I'd talk to Luis later. I hoped I'd be around later.

  Chapter 13

  If I'd had any money with me I would have called a cab. I might have been able to borrow a couple bucks from Ahmed, but I was two blocks away from the Crescent before I thought of that. The shuttle to Georgetown didn't start for another hour. As it was, I jogged. I had to move fast, because dawn was near. I was so tired. I was numb, and barely felt my legs move.

  I should have kept Ben's cell phone so I could call the cops. I should have had Ahmed call the cops. Should have, should have—this was why I sucked at politics. No planning ahead.