Carrie Vaughn - Kitty Rocks the House

“Hey,” Ben said softly.

“Ben?” I murmured, my voice scratching. As if I couldn’t believe he was here, or that I was.

“I’m here.”

I opened my eyes. The sky was dark, the glow of the city lighting the horizon. The air was cool, sending a chill of gooseflesh across my back. I hugged myself.

Ben was sitting just out of reach, back against a tree trunk, one knee propped up, an arm resting across it. He’d been watching me, but glanced away when I looked up. A calming gesture.

“I’m not sure what happened,” I said finally.

“Not surprised. You must have run off in a hurry.”

“How did you know to come after me?” I said, after wetting my lips. I needed a drink of water.

“Cheryl called. Said you looked really upset. I knew it had to be bad, so I checked a map, found the park nearest to her house, came over, and started walking. I knew you wouldn’t have gone too far.”

“I tried.”

“I know.”

I imagined how angry I must have been, that Ben had left me alone, that Wolf hadn’t curled up next to him, leaning against him so he could brush fingers through her fur. That he had waited rather than reach out to us. Tears stung in my eyes, thinking about it. I propped myself up, stretching awkward kinks out of my muscles, and scooted toward him. He put his arms around me and gathered me close. His embrace was like a blanket, and I flushed at his touch. I could stay here all night.

“You okay?” he murmured after a moment, and I rubbed my eyes dry.

“Cheryl must be really pissed off,” I said.

“I think she’s worried,” he said. “She’s not sure what happened.”

How could she even guess? The memories came back: the argument, the way everything crashed in my mind at once—too many demands, too many accusations. I had to acknowledge a seed of anger still there, burning.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. Couldn’t think of anything else to say. Of course, I’d have to call Cheryl and say the same thing.

“Ready to go home?”

“Yeah.”

He moved, revealing a pile of clothes. “Found your clothes. And this.” He held up the chain I wore my wedding band on. The gold ring turned, shining silver even in the dark—white gold, Ben’s idea of a joke. After almost losing my engagement ring in an unexpected, uncontrolled shape-shifting incident, I wore my wedding ring around my neck so I could take it off in a hurry. It must have fallen to the side with my clothes when I pulled my shirt off. I took it from him and squeezed it in my hand before sliding the chain over my neck. The ring rested on my sternum, right next to my heart. Cheesy, but its weight felt like the pieces of the world coming back into their rightful places.

“Thanks,” I said, simply, and he brushed back a lock of my hair.

“I don’t know how useful these are actually going to be.” He held up my jeans, which had a big rip in the waistband. The shirt had parted along one seam. They were both probably, technically wearable. But I was glad when he also held up his overcoat.

“So,” I said. “How many times now have I ended up half-naked in torn-up clothes wearing your overcoat?” I slipped on the shirt—more of a blouse than a pullover now—and started on the jeans.

He grinned. “I think it kinda turns me on.”

How could I resist a come-on like that? The flush rolling through my gut helped push away some of my anxiety. I grabbed his collar, pulled myself toward him, and kissed him. His mouth opened to mine, and I leaned in to wrap his warmth around me. There went a little more anxiety.

Pulling away, he donned a thoughtful, puckered expression. He seemed to be licking his lips. “What on earth did you eat?”

The question recalled a memory of dense fur on a lithe, stringy body. “Um. I think I killed somebody’s cat.”

“Oh geez,” he said, and laughed.

I glared. “It’s not funny.”

“It kind of is. I know, not to whoever’s cat it is. But anybody who lets their cat out around here knows about coyotes. It’s not exactly safe.”

Some cat wasn’t coming home tonight and it was my fault. “I feel really bad.”

He put his arm around my shoulder and hugged. “That’s what makes you a good person. You know that, right?”

Time to get out of here, surely. He helped me slip on the overcoat, then gave me a hand up. He didn’t let go, and I happily leaned into the solidity of him. We started hiking across the open field. I recognized where we were—an open swathe of greenway that wound through Highlands Ranch. I was still within a mile of my sister’s house. I’d lucked out, losing it this close to a reasonable facsimile of wilderness.

“I remember when you did this for me. I completely lost it, ran off. And you were right there to call me back.”

“I should know better,” I said. “After all this time, I really ought to know better. I’m the pack alpha—what kind of example is this? I feel so … dumb.”

“You controlled it enough to stay away from people. You didn’t hurt anything, so no harm done, really.”

“Except for the cat.”

He laughed again. “I’m sorry, it’s just … you couldn’t find anything more appetizing than a cat?”

“You’re not helping, dear,” I growled.

He’d parked his car by the curb, away from the main road that wound through the neighborhood. I was happy to see it. One step closer to home.

“Oh—we’re not telling Cormac about this, right?” I said.

“We are not telling Cormac about this,” he agreed.

We’d climbed into the car when Ben’s phone rang. Ben’s, not mine, which was a nice change. I even checked, patting my jeans pocket. The thing somehow managed to stay lodged there through all that mess. The call was probably one of his clients needing to be bailed out or looking for advice—before they did something stupid rather than after, one hoped.

“Hello? Yeah … yeah. She’s right here. She wasn’t answering her phone for a while. Is something wrong?” After a moment of listening, he said, “You’d better talk to her,” then handed the phone to me.

Who is it? I mouthed at him, but the voice on the other end of the connection was already talking.

“Ms. Norville? Kitty?”

“Angelo?”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said, sounding wheezy, as if forgetting to draw breath in order to speak.

“Do what? What’s wrong?” If I didn’t know better I’d have said he was in a panic. Vampires didn’t panic.

“I need … I’m trying…” He really was gasping out the words. I clamped my mouth shut to keep quiet, to let him talk. “I need help,” he finally said.

I had to let that sink in. “What?”

“I. Need. Help.” He bit the words off.

“No, I heard you, I just didn’t believe it. You need what ?” Oh, this made up for all the times he’d stood at the doorway to Rick’s lair telling me I wasn’t good enough to speak to the illustrious Master.

“Kitty. Please, I’m being serious.”

And he was. The panic was definitely there, in a brittle edge to his voice.

“What is it?” I said.

“Rick is missing.”

I turned the words over a couple of times because they didn’t make sense. “You mean he still isn’t answering calls—”

“I mean none of us have seen him for a week,” Angelo said. “He may be eccentric, but he’s never been … neglectful. I’m fielding calls from the envoy from Buenos Aires and I don’t know what to tell him. Rick needs to be here.”

If Rick hadn’t told his own lieutenants where he was, why would he have told me? I didn’t say that. I should have been flattered that Angelo even thought of calling me. How much pride had he swallowed to do that? He was obviously continuing to choke on it.