Carrie Vaughn: Kitty and the Midnight Hour

I assumed he meant the vampires. My heart pounded, my voice was tight, and with Carl looming over me I couldn't calm down. My breaths came out as gasps. He was so close, the heat of him pressed against me, and I was on the verge of losing it. I wanted to hug him, cling to him until he wasn't angry at me anymore.

"It was just for a little while. I just wanted to go out. They weren't supposed to be here." I looked away, brushing a tear off my cheek. "T.J. was with me. And they weren't supposed to be here."

"Don't argue with me."

"I'm sorry, Carl. I'm sorry." It was so hard groveling upright, without a tail to stick between my legs.

T.J. stood a couple of feet away, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed and shoulders hunched.

"It's my fault," he said. "I told her it was okay."

"When did you start handing out permission?"

T.J. looked away. Carl was the only person who could make him look sheepish. "Sorry."

"You should have called me."

I was still trying to catch my breath. "How—how did you know where to find us?"

He looked at T.J., who was scuffing his boot on the asphalt. T.J. said, "I left him a note."

I closed my eyes, defeated. "Can't we do anything without telling Carl?"

Carl growled. Human vocal cords could growl. The guys in pro wrestling did it all the time. But they didn't mean it like Carl meant it. When he growled, it was like his wolf was trying to climb out of his throat to bite my face off.

"Nope," T.J. said.

"T.J., go home. Kitty and I are going to have a little talk. I'll take care of you later."

"Yes, sir."

T.J. caught my gaze for a moment, gave me a "buck-up" expression, nodded at Carl, and walked down the street Carl put his hand behind my neck and steered me in the opposite direction.

This was supposed to be my night.

Usually, I melted around Carl. His personality was such that it subsumed everyone around him—at least everyone in the pack. All I ever wanted to do was make him happy, so that he'd love me. But right now, I was angry.

I couldn't remember when I'd ever been more angry than scared. It was an odd feeling, a battle of emotions and animal instinct that expressed itself in action: fight or flight I'd always run, hid, groveled. The hair on my arms, the back of my neck, prickled, and a deep memory of thick fur awakened.

His track was parked around the corner. He guided me to the passenger seat. Then, he drove.

"I had a visit from Arturo."

Arturo was Master of the local vampire Family. He kept the vampires in line like Carl kept the werewolves in line, and as long as the two groups stayed in their territories and didn't harass each other, they existed peacefully, mostly. If Arturo had approached Carl, it meant he had a complaint.

"What's wrong?"

"He wants you to quit your show." He glared straight ahead.

I flushed. I should have known something like this would happen. Things were going so well.

"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.