Kitty and the Midnight Hour
Page 6
"I can't quit the show. We're expanding. Syndication. It's a huge opportunity, I can't pass it up—"
"You can if I tell you to."
I tiredly rubbed my face, unable to think of any solution that would let us both have our way. I willed my eyes to clear and made sure my voice sounded steady.
"Then you think I should quit, too."
"He says that some of his people have been calling you for advice instead of going to him. It's a challenge to his authority. He has a point."
Wow, Carl and Arturo agreed on something. It was a great day for supernatural diplomacy.
"Then he should tell off his people and not blame it on me—"
"Kitty—"
I slouched in the seat and pouted like a little kid.
"He's also worried about exposure. He thinks you're bringing too much attention to us. All it takes is one tele-vangelist or right-wing senator calling a witch hunt, and people will come looking for us."
"Come on, 90 percent of the people out there think the show's a joke."
He spared a moment out of his driving to glare at me. "We've kept to ourselves and kept the secret for a long time. Arturo longer than most. You can't expect him to think your show is a good idea."
"Why did he talk to you and not me?"
" 'Cause it's my job to keep you on your leash."
"Leash or choke collar? Sorry." I apologized before he even had a chance to glare at me.
"You need to quit the show," he said. His hands clenched the steering wheel.
"You always do what Arturo tells you to?"
Sad, that this was the best argument I could think of. Carl wouldn't want to think he was making Arturo happy.
"It's too dangerous."
"For whom? For Arturo? For you? For the pack?"
"Is it so unbelievable that I might have your best interests in mind? Arturo may be overreacting, but you are bringing a hell of a lot of exposure on yourself. If a fanatic out there decides you're a minion of evil, walks into your studio with a gun—"
"He'd need silver bullets."
"If he thinks the show is for real, he just might have them."
"It won't happen, Carl. I'm not telling anyone what I am."
"And how long will that last?"
Carl didn't like the show because he didn't have any control over it. It was all mine. I was supposed to be all his. I'd never argued with him like this before.
I looked out the window. "I get a raise for every new market that picks up the show. It's not much right now, but if this takes off, it could be a lot. Half of it's yours."
The engine hummed; the night rolled by the windows, detail lost in darkness. I didn't even have to think about how much I'd give to keep doing the show. The realization came like something of an epiphany. I'd give Carl all the syndication bonus to keep doing the show. I'd grovel at his feet every day if he wanted me to.
I had to hold on to the show. It was mine . I was proud of it. It was important. I'd never done anything important before.
He took a long time to answer. Each moment, hope made the knot in my throat tighter. Surely if he was going to say no, he wouldn't have to think this hard.
"Okay," he said at last. "But I might still change my mind."
"That's fair." I felt like I'd just run a race, I was so wrung out.
He drove us twenty minutes out of town, to the open space and private acreage that skirted the foothills along Highway 93 to the west. This was the heart of the pack's territory. Some of the wolves in the pack owned houses out here. The land was isolated and safe for us to run through. There weren't any streetlights. The sky was overcast. Carl parked on a dead-end dirt road. We walked into the first of the hills, away from the road and residences.
If I thought our discussion was over, I was wrong. We'd only hashed out half of the issue. The human half.
"Change," he said.
The full moon was still a couple of weeks away. I didn't like shape-shifting voluntarily at other times. I didn't like giving in to the urge. I hesitated, but Carl was stripping, already shifting as he did, his back bowed, limbs stretching, fur rippling.
Why couldn't he just let it go? My anger grew when it should have subsided and given way to terror. Carl would assert his dominance, and I was probably going to get hurt.
But for the first time, I was angry enough that I didn't care.
I couldn't fight him. I was half his size. Even if I knew what I was doing, I'd lose. So, I ran. I pulled off my shirt and bra as I did, paused to shove my jeans and panties to my feet, jumped out of them, and Changed, stretching so I'd be running before the fur had stopped growing.
If I didn't think about it too much, it didn't hurt that badly.
Hands thicken, claws sprout, think about flowing water so she doesn't feel bones slide under skin, joints and muscles molding themselves into something else. She crouches, breathing deep through bared teeth. Teeth and face growing longer, and the hair, and the eyes. The night becomes so clear, seen through the Wolf's eyes.
Then she leaps, the Wolf is formed and running, four legs feel so natural, so splendid, pads barely touching soft earth before they fly again. Wind rushes through her fur like fingers, scent pours into her nose: trees, earth, decay, life, water, day-old tracks, hour-old tracks, spent rifle cartridges from last season, blood, pain, her pack. Pack's territory. And the One. The Leader. Right behind her, chasing.
Wrong, fleeing him. But fleeing is better than fighting, and the urge to fight is strong. Kill her if she doesn't say she's sorry. But she is sorry; she'd do anything for him.
Run, but he's bigger, faster. He catches her. She tumbles and struggles, fear spurring her on, but he holds her fast with teeth. Fangs dig into her shoulder and she yelps. Using the grip as purchase, he claws his way to her throat, and she's on her back, belly exposed. His control ensures that he never breaks her skin.
She falls still, whining with every breath. Stretches her head back, exposing her throat. He could kill her now. His jaw closes around her neck and stays there.
Slowly, only after she has stayed frozen for ages, he lets her loose. She stays still, except to lick his chin over and over. "You are God," the action says. She crawls on her belly after him, because she loves him.
They hunt, and she shows him he is God by waiting to feed on the rabbit until he gives her permission. He leaves her skin and bones to lick and suck, but she is satisfied.
"You can if I tell you to."
I tiredly rubbed my face, unable to think of any solution that would let us both have our way. I willed my eyes to clear and made sure my voice sounded steady.
"Then you think I should quit, too."
"He says that some of his people have been calling you for advice instead of going to him. It's a challenge to his authority. He has a point."
Wow, Carl and Arturo agreed on something. It was a great day for supernatural diplomacy.
"Then he should tell off his people and not blame it on me—"
"Kitty—"
I slouched in the seat and pouted like a little kid.
"He's also worried about exposure. He thinks you're bringing too much attention to us. All it takes is one tele-vangelist or right-wing senator calling a witch hunt, and people will come looking for us."
"Come on, 90 percent of the people out there think the show's a joke."
He spared a moment out of his driving to glare at me. "We've kept to ourselves and kept the secret for a long time. Arturo longer than most. You can't expect him to think your show is a good idea."
"Why did he talk to you and not me?"
" 'Cause it's my job to keep you on your leash."
"Leash or choke collar? Sorry." I apologized before he even had a chance to glare at me.
"You need to quit the show," he said. His hands clenched the steering wheel.
"You always do what Arturo tells you to?"
Sad, that this was the best argument I could think of. Carl wouldn't want to think he was making Arturo happy.
"It's too dangerous."
"For whom? For Arturo? For you? For the pack?"
"Is it so unbelievable that I might have your best interests in mind? Arturo may be overreacting, but you are bringing a hell of a lot of exposure on yourself. If a fanatic out there decides you're a minion of evil, walks into your studio with a gun—"
"He'd need silver bullets."
"If he thinks the show is for real, he just might have them."
"It won't happen, Carl. I'm not telling anyone what I am."
"And how long will that last?"
Carl didn't like the show because he didn't have any control over it. It was all mine. I was supposed to be all his. I'd never argued with him like this before.
I looked out the window. "I get a raise for every new market that picks up the show. It's not much right now, but if this takes off, it could be a lot. Half of it's yours."
The engine hummed; the night rolled by the windows, detail lost in darkness. I didn't even have to think about how much I'd give to keep doing the show. The realization came like something of an epiphany. I'd give Carl all the syndication bonus to keep doing the show. I'd grovel at his feet every day if he wanted me to.
I had to hold on to the show. It was mine . I was proud of it. It was important. I'd never done anything important before.
He took a long time to answer. Each moment, hope made the knot in my throat tighter. Surely if he was going to say no, he wouldn't have to think this hard.
"Okay," he said at last. "But I might still change my mind."
"That's fair." I felt like I'd just run a race, I was so wrung out.
He drove us twenty minutes out of town, to the open space and private acreage that skirted the foothills along Highway 93 to the west. This was the heart of the pack's territory. Some of the wolves in the pack owned houses out here. The land was isolated and safe for us to run through. There weren't any streetlights. The sky was overcast. Carl parked on a dead-end dirt road. We walked into the first of the hills, away from the road and residences.
If I thought our discussion was over, I was wrong. We'd only hashed out half of the issue. The human half.
"Change," he said.
The full moon was still a couple of weeks away. I didn't like shape-shifting voluntarily at other times. I didn't like giving in to the urge. I hesitated, but Carl was stripping, already shifting as he did, his back bowed, limbs stretching, fur rippling.
Why couldn't he just let it go? My anger grew when it should have subsided and given way to terror. Carl would assert his dominance, and I was probably going to get hurt.
But for the first time, I was angry enough that I didn't care.
I couldn't fight him. I was half his size. Even if I knew what I was doing, I'd lose. So, I ran. I pulled off my shirt and bra as I did, paused to shove my jeans and panties to my feet, jumped out of them, and Changed, stretching so I'd be running before the fur had stopped growing.
If I didn't think about it too much, it didn't hurt that badly.
Hands thicken, claws sprout, think about flowing water so she doesn't feel bones slide under skin, joints and muscles molding themselves into something else. She crouches, breathing deep through bared teeth. Teeth and face growing longer, and the hair, and the eyes. The night becomes so clear, seen through the Wolf's eyes.
Then she leaps, the Wolf is formed and running, four legs feel so natural, so splendid, pads barely touching soft earth before they fly again. Wind rushes through her fur like fingers, scent pours into her nose: trees, earth, decay, life, water, day-old tracks, hour-old tracks, spent rifle cartridges from last season, blood, pain, her pack. Pack's territory. And the One. The Leader. Right behind her, chasing.
Wrong, fleeing him. But fleeing is better than fighting, and the urge to fight is strong. Kill her if she doesn't say she's sorry. But she is sorry; she'd do anything for him.
Run, but he's bigger, faster. He catches her. She tumbles and struggles, fear spurring her on, but he holds her fast with teeth. Fangs dig into her shoulder and she yelps. Using the grip as purchase, he claws his way to her throat, and she's on her back, belly exposed. His control ensures that he never breaks her skin.
She falls still, whining with every breath. Stretches her head back, exposing her throat. He could kill her now. His jaw closes around her neck and stays there.
Slowly, only after she has stayed frozen for ages, he lets her loose. She stays still, except to lick his chin over and over. "You are God," the action says. She crawls on her belly after him, because she loves him.
They hunt, and she shows him he is God by waiting to feed on the rabbit until he gives her permission. He leaves her skin and bones to lick and suck, but she is satisfied.
