Kitty and the Silver Bullet
Page 37
I heaved a frustrated sigh. "There's no time, I'll explain while we drive. We have to leave now."
I went to the bedroom, found a duffel bag, and started shoving clothes into it. I didn't care what clothes—a handful of underwear, some shirts, some jeans. Pack it up, jump in the car, and go.
"What are you doing?" Ben said softly, patiently, like a parent with a kid throwing a temper tantrum. Waiting me out.
"Leaving. Rick made his move and lost. He's probably dead. Jenny is dead, I couldn't save her, Carl got to her somehow. And he'll kill me, and you, and there's nothing we can do."
"Kitty—it's not your fault Carl got to her. You tried. You did what you could."
"I can't fight him. I can't even instigate a little civil disobedience."
Closet to bed, a few more clothes. Couldn't get the zipper closed, so I pulled something out and threw it aside. Had to get my toothbrush in there.
"You'd leave while your mom's sick? Abandon her too?"
She'd understand. If I explained that staying here was going to get me killed, she'd want me to leave. I didn't answer. I turned my back to him, moving to grab my bag.
He tried again. "What if there was a way to stand up to them without fighting. There's got to be a way to compromise—"
"That's the lawyer in you talking. These people don't understand law, or compromise, or talking. There's no plea bargains here. It's all violence and hate." My throat was tight, my voice thick. "You don't know what they're like, you don't know, you haven't seen the worst of it, I've tried to keep you safe from that and here I am dragging you into it—"
"Don't worry about me. I can look out for myself."
"No, Ben, you can't! You don't understand, you haven't seen what he's like, what he can do. You think all werewolves are like me, but they're not, most of them are fucking insane—"
"Like you? Like me?"
He was being far too rational. "You know what I mean."
"All I know is you're starting to smell more like a wolf than a human and if you don't sit down and pull it together you're going to lose it."
Didn't have time for that. This was a time to let Wolf's instincts guide me. We were in an enemy's territory, we couldn't fight, so there was only one thing to do. I had to make him understand that. "Come with me, Ben. You have to."
He hesitated, and I could see the wheels working in his mind, as he edited his own speech. Thought of one thing to say, then rejected it.
"I'm staying," he said finally. "Do whatever the hell you want, but I'm not running." He walked out of the room.
Funny thing was, that pause gave me a chance to catch my breath, and to realize that he was right. That had been the Wolf freaking out, and she was right on the surface, blurring my vision. I wasn't thinking straight.
I sat on the bed and stuck my head between my knees, drawing in long breaths. Keeping it together.
I called after him, hating how plaintive my voice sounded. I didn't want to have to beg. "Ben, we can't stay here. They'll kill us."
He reappeared in the doorway, not looking any more amenable or sympathetic. We might manage our own little civil war right here.
"No, they won't," he said. "You say I haven't seen the worst of it, but you don't know anything about what I have or haven't seen. And I can take care of myself, no matter what your alpha attitude says about it. We've got weapons. If we make a stand, they'll leave us alone. I'm willing to make that stand even if you're not. This is where I live. I'm not going to go running away to Pueblo just because you're chicken and you've got your tail between your legs. And I hate that that isn't just a metaphor anymore." He ran his hands through his hair. He was breathing hard, and smelled a little more wolf than human.
I wasn't keeping it together. I wasn't listening to reason. The pack of two was breaking up. No, it wasn't, this was just a pause, a hiccup.
"Are we a pack or not?" I said.
Softly, he said, "I don't know."
It was something of an epiphany, that the instinct to run was stronger than the need to stay with him. To defend him. As he said, he could look out for himself. He had guns on his side.
Bag over my shoulder, I stalked out.
Chapter 9
I drove south. I'd done this before. Run away, abandoning my family, KNOB, everything. I had to ask myself: What was so important, what was so traumatic, that it was worth giving up all that?
Nothing, came the obvious answer, clear as a bell. Nothing was worth giving up all that. In those terms, facing Carl was a small price to pay to keep my life. Either way, I risked losing everything.
Maybe that was why I found myself turning off the interstate at Highway 50, going west toward Canon City. I went to the prison, went through their security routine, and waited in that stark, stinking room for Cormac to emerge. I didn't bother trying to be cheerful, not this time.
I didn't have anyone else to talk to.
Clad in his orange jumpsuit, his expression neutral, he sat and picked up the intercom phone. Belatedly, I did the same. Even then, we only stared at each other for a long moment. He was clean, healthy-looking, his hair and mustache freshly trimmed. He looked rested, even. This was what keeping out of trouble did for him.
"Hi," I said.
"I wasn't expecting you," he said. "What's wrong?"
I almost laughed. My first impulse was to deny that anything was wrong, but that would have been a raging lie. I glanced away, wondering how bad I really looked.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Yeah," he said.
"Every time we come to visit, Ben makes a big deal about being upbeat. We have to be cheerful, to help keep your spirits up. But I really need to talk."
"Don't worry about me. Talk, if you need to."
"I don't know where to start."
"Ben told me about the miscarriage. I'm sorry."
For a flash, I was angry at Ben for saying anything. But I guess he had to tell someone, and Cormac was his friend. Truth be told, Cormac's statement had startled me. That a remorseless killer like him was capable of that kind of sensitivity, to even register what something like that might do to me. I knew I'd done the right thing, coming here to talk to him. He was my friend, too, even considering the killer part.
I went to the bedroom, found a duffel bag, and started shoving clothes into it. I didn't care what clothes—a handful of underwear, some shirts, some jeans. Pack it up, jump in the car, and go.
"What are you doing?" Ben said softly, patiently, like a parent with a kid throwing a temper tantrum. Waiting me out.
"Leaving. Rick made his move and lost. He's probably dead. Jenny is dead, I couldn't save her, Carl got to her somehow. And he'll kill me, and you, and there's nothing we can do."
"Kitty—it's not your fault Carl got to her. You tried. You did what you could."
"I can't fight him. I can't even instigate a little civil disobedience."
Closet to bed, a few more clothes. Couldn't get the zipper closed, so I pulled something out and threw it aside. Had to get my toothbrush in there.
"You'd leave while your mom's sick? Abandon her too?"
She'd understand. If I explained that staying here was going to get me killed, she'd want me to leave. I didn't answer. I turned my back to him, moving to grab my bag.
He tried again. "What if there was a way to stand up to them without fighting. There's got to be a way to compromise—"
"That's the lawyer in you talking. These people don't understand law, or compromise, or talking. There's no plea bargains here. It's all violence and hate." My throat was tight, my voice thick. "You don't know what they're like, you don't know, you haven't seen the worst of it, I've tried to keep you safe from that and here I am dragging you into it—"
"Don't worry about me. I can look out for myself."
"No, Ben, you can't! You don't understand, you haven't seen what he's like, what he can do. You think all werewolves are like me, but they're not, most of them are fucking insane—"
"Like you? Like me?"
He was being far too rational. "You know what I mean."
"All I know is you're starting to smell more like a wolf than a human and if you don't sit down and pull it together you're going to lose it."
Didn't have time for that. This was a time to let Wolf's instincts guide me. We were in an enemy's territory, we couldn't fight, so there was only one thing to do. I had to make him understand that. "Come with me, Ben. You have to."
He hesitated, and I could see the wheels working in his mind, as he edited his own speech. Thought of one thing to say, then rejected it.
"I'm staying," he said finally. "Do whatever the hell you want, but I'm not running." He walked out of the room.
Funny thing was, that pause gave me a chance to catch my breath, and to realize that he was right. That had been the Wolf freaking out, and she was right on the surface, blurring my vision. I wasn't thinking straight.
I sat on the bed and stuck my head between my knees, drawing in long breaths. Keeping it together.
I called after him, hating how plaintive my voice sounded. I didn't want to have to beg. "Ben, we can't stay here. They'll kill us."
He reappeared in the doorway, not looking any more amenable or sympathetic. We might manage our own little civil war right here.
"No, they won't," he said. "You say I haven't seen the worst of it, but you don't know anything about what I have or haven't seen. And I can take care of myself, no matter what your alpha attitude says about it. We've got weapons. If we make a stand, they'll leave us alone. I'm willing to make that stand even if you're not. This is where I live. I'm not going to go running away to Pueblo just because you're chicken and you've got your tail between your legs. And I hate that that isn't just a metaphor anymore." He ran his hands through his hair. He was breathing hard, and smelled a little more wolf than human.
I wasn't keeping it together. I wasn't listening to reason. The pack of two was breaking up. No, it wasn't, this was just a pause, a hiccup.
"Are we a pack or not?" I said.
Softly, he said, "I don't know."
It was something of an epiphany, that the instinct to run was stronger than the need to stay with him. To defend him. As he said, he could look out for himself. He had guns on his side.
Bag over my shoulder, I stalked out.
Chapter 9
I drove south. I'd done this before. Run away, abandoning my family, KNOB, everything. I had to ask myself: What was so important, what was so traumatic, that it was worth giving up all that?
Nothing, came the obvious answer, clear as a bell. Nothing was worth giving up all that. In those terms, facing Carl was a small price to pay to keep my life. Either way, I risked losing everything.
Maybe that was why I found myself turning off the interstate at Highway 50, going west toward Canon City. I went to the prison, went through their security routine, and waited in that stark, stinking room for Cormac to emerge. I didn't bother trying to be cheerful, not this time.
I didn't have anyone else to talk to.
Clad in his orange jumpsuit, his expression neutral, he sat and picked up the intercom phone. Belatedly, I did the same. Even then, we only stared at each other for a long moment. He was clean, healthy-looking, his hair and mustache freshly trimmed. He looked rested, even. This was what keeping out of trouble did for him.
"Hi," I said.
"I wasn't expecting you," he said. "What's wrong?"
I almost laughed. My first impulse was to deny that anything was wrong, but that would have been a raging lie. I glanced away, wondering how bad I really looked.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Yeah," he said.
"Every time we come to visit, Ben makes a big deal about being upbeat. We have to be cheerful, to help keep your spirits up. But I really need to talk."
"Don't worry about me. Talk, if you need to."
"I don't know where to start."
"Ben told me about the miscarriage. I'm sorry."
For a flash, I was angry at Ben for saying anything. But I guess he had to tell someone, and Cormac was his friend. Truth be told, Cormac's statement had startled me. That a remorseless killer like him was capable of that kind of sensitivity, to even register what something like that might do to me. I knew I'd done the right thing, coming here to talk to him. He was my friend, too, even considering the killer part.
