Carrie Vaughn - Kitty in the Underworld

I wanted to believe I was dreaming. But no, I wasn’t, because I was naked, and the cold grit of the cave floor bit into my skin. I checked myself for cuts, open wounds. Nothing that I could tell. I was alive, so the silver hadn’t gotten to me yet. But I could still sense it, in the itching on my spine.

While propping myself on an elbow, I stayed low, curling up, sheltering myself as best I could. I didn’t know where my clothes were. I didn’t know where I was in relation to the cave I’d been in before. I looked around for an exit, for a hint of sunlight. Didn’t see anything. Two tunnels leading out, that was it.

Four people stood on the far side of the space, maybe twenty feet away. Two women, two men, one of whom was old, decrepit. My nose flared, taking in their scents. I sneezed. Too much to process all at once.

While I’d slept off my Wolf, they’d brought me here so they could have a look at me. No—I realized what had really happened. The rabbit, and being out of that cage, were a reward. Finally, I knew what they wanted from me. They wanted my Wolf.

I HARDLY DARED move, not knowing what would happen when I did. Not really wanting to know. I stayed calm, kept my breathing steady. I wasn’t in a strong position here; I couldn’t rip out all their throats at once, however much I wanted to. I stayed low to the floor, crouched protectively, and stared. Finally, I had a good look at my captors.

They were not what I expected, especially in the Gothic atmosphere of the cavern. They were startlingly … normal. Standing to my left against the far wall was the woman, the were-lion who’d brought me the water and sandwich. She was muscular and beautiful, with silky black hair knotted into a braid, sharp features, and bronzed skin. Middle Eastern, maybe. She made me think of deserts. Her clothing was simple, casual—a knit tank top and peasant skirt that had seen a lot of washing. She went barefoot. Her expression was neutral—not giving any sort of reply to my challenge.

Next to her stood a powerfully built man—the wolf, the one who’d taunted me and driven me to shift. He wore jeans, boots, and went shirtless, showing off an impressively sculpted chest. He worked out. I thought he might have been Indian, deep brown skin, a round face. A frown to bring down mountains. His dark gaze matched my own. He’d accept any challenge I gave him. Wolf didn’t like him.

To my right stood the other woman, and she was human, but her scent was so mixed up with the others she came across as something in between, neither one nor the other. Average height and build, hollow cheeks and tired eyes. Not getting enough sleep or food. Pale, with dirty blond hair tied back in a ponytail. She wore a tunic-type shirt over jeans, and three or four pendants on leather cords around her neck. Not pendants—amulets, cast in metal or made of twisted wire. A pentacle, a Thor’s hammer, a couple of others I didn’t recognize but were clearly symbolic of something. She was probably some kind of magician. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and her breathing was fast—she was scared. She wouldn’t meet my gaze.

Then came the fourth one, the ancient one, standing effectively in the middle. My nose flared at his smell, which was cold, corpselike, preserved. He was the vampire, but unlike any vampire I’d ever met. He wasn’t pretty, well dressed, or haughty. Calculating, yes, with his stony gaze and iron demeanor. Powerful, I didn’t doubt. But his skin was gray, wrinkled, like paper left out in the weather. Bald, he wore a shapeless shirt and drawstring pants that made me think of hospital scrubs. He might have been ancient, or he might have simply been through hell and lived—sort of—to tell the tale. He also wore some kind of amulet around his neck, but it was too small for me to make out. If the vampire was up and about, night must have fallen. Which night, I still didn’t know.

Here they were, the international werewolf kidnapping squad. What an eclectic, unlikely group of people. My curiosity about them and how they’d come to be working together almost won out over my extreme annoyance and my deeply buried fear. I wanted to make some jab, some clever and pointed remark. Something that would give me a tiny bit of dominance, however small. But my voice was stuck, my tongue dry and thick. Wolf still stared out of my eyes; I wasn’t fully human yet, and the words wouldn’t come. My arguments were building in my throat and would come out as a howl if I couldn’t get them out as words. My lips opened, baring my teeth. All I had was Wolf’s body language.

I was naked, exposed, weak, and I hated it. If I just ran, I wondered how far I would get.

The vampire took a step forward and drew a breath to speak. I held my ground—what little ground I had. Stared at him, without meeting his gaze. I had to stay out of his power. I wondered if he’d enslaved the others somehow, or if they were here voluntarily. This was the first time I’d really thought of a vampire as ancient. My usual, traditional first question for vampires—how old are you, really?—died. It seemed pointless here. Irrelevant. Knowing the answer wouldn’t get me out of here.

“We gather from the far corners of the world on a dire quest. Finally, we can strike the blow that I have been preparing against the enemy for centuries…”

If I expected an explanation or an apology—something straightforward and rational, in other words—I was disappointed. The answer to who would want to kidnap me: crazy cult. I still didn’t have any idea what kind of crazy cult it was. And I still had no idea what they intended to do with me, or what I’d have to do to get out.

The vampire continued intoning his story, chanting a practiced speech. He had an accent, but it was light, clipped, hard to place. He spread his arms to me, a patriarch welcoming a child into the fold.

“You—you are the heir to a great spirit, to the mother wolf who nurtured an empire, whose statue stood in the Forum for centuries, a symbol of such untold strength and loyalty—”

“What?” I croaked, finally able to make my throat work. I didn’t know whether to lurch to my feet or fall over entirely, so I just sat there. “You mean like the Capitoline Wolf ?”

I might have handed him a birthday cake, the way his face lit up. He smiled, a hideous expression on his cracked face and thin lips. “You understand. The fates are with us.” He tipped his head back, as if beseeching the heavens in prayer. “You are our Regina Luporum. You truly are ready to join us.”

Huh?

My laugh came out as a hiccup. Then the dam burst, and I doubled over, pressing my face to my arm, trying to stop the hysterics. Really, it was too much. I was laughing so hard, I thought I was going to throw up. That would have been cute.

The vampire blinked at me, nonplussed. The others were looking back and forth among themselves, obviously confused. But what had they expected?

“I’m sorry,” I managed to gasp. “That probably wasn’t the reaction you were looking for. But actually I’m not sorry.” Now it was the gobsmacked looks on their faces making me laugh. On the one hand this was all spooky and terrifying, with dim lamps and dark caves and monsters and blood. On the other hand … Yeah, what else could I do but laugh?

“You are Regina Luporum,” the vampire declared.

I hiccupped again. My stomach hurt. “You’re not serious,” I managed to gasp. That was a joke, it had always been just a joke.

“We’ve brought you here to fulfill your role. Your fate,” he said.

“Who the hell are you people?” I asked.

“Your destiny,” said the vampire, in a tone that suggested he thought this was obvious.