Kitty and the Silver Bullet

by Carrie Vaughn

  Ben brought an empty box from the car and started putting items into it. He opened cases, chose or rejected individual weapons based on no criteria I could name. Then he packed several boxes of ammunition and covered a pair of the crossbows with a tarp before bringing them into the light and loading them into the trunk.

  “Point of no return,” I said softly.

  “Hm?”

  “Is this going to work? What if I get everyone killed?”

  “Second thoughts?” he said, leaning on the doorframe.

  “It’s got to be done. I don’t know how else to do it.”

  Ben gave my arm a comforting squeeze. I was too startled to respond.

  It had been my idea to go to the shooting range next and get some more practice. I had a feeling I needed all the practice in the world, and it still wouldn’t be enough. We spent an hour shooting, burning through several boxes of plain ammunition.

  I was starting to understand the attraction of shooting things. Mostly it was the noise. Even with the earphones, each shot burst like an explosion in my head. The noise traveled through my bones. It rattled loose everything else, the worries, anxieties, fears. All that remained was the noise and the punctured target a couple dozen yards away. I was getting better. All the shots hit the paper now. Most hit the center of the black target.

  Ben and I didn’t say a word to each other.

  Back at the car, Ben put on gloves and reloaded the clips with silver bullets.

  “Where does Cormac get those?” I asked. “Is there some kind of mail order catalog? A Web site?”

  “There’s a guy in Laramie who makes them,” Ben said. “Been doing it for years.”

  “Everybody get them from this guy?”

  “No. Other people make them. There’s a community out there—Cormac’s not the only one who does what he does.”

  I should have known that, but it was still a sobering thought. Shining a light into this shadow world didn’t illuminate much of anything. It only made more shadows. Darker shadows. All this time, all these miles, I was still ignorant.

  “Community, huh? Is there a union? Conventions?”

  He just smiled.

  I picked one of the silver bullets from the box and held it in my bare hand. Instantly, it started to itch, and a rash developed, splotchy red. I kept it in my palm, letting it burn.

  “What are you doing?” Ben said.

  I didn’t know. Letting the pain grow, I stared at the shining capsule in my hand. It gleamed, brighter than the ones we’d spent on paper targets, like a bit of frozen mercury or a piece of jewelry, beautiful almost. Like magic. This little thing could kill me. And I held it, inert. Like playing with fire.

  Ben picked it off my hand and slid it into the clip. I rubbed my hand on my jeans. Slowly, the pain and the rash faded.

  “Maybe we won’t have to shoot anyone,” I said. “Maybe they’ll just leave. Maybe I can convince them to leave town, leave us alone.”

  Ben took a long pause before saying, “Maybe.”

  “I don’t want to have to shoot anyone, Ben.”

  Another long pause. “Then it’s a good thing Dack and I are around.” He packed the guns into the trunk and went to the driver’s seat.

  “This’ll work,” I said as we drove away.

  “Yeah,” Ben said.

  Neither one of us sounded sure.

  Finally, it was time.

  Rick settled into the chair in the studio. He looked distinctly nervous, his gaze unsettled, his skin too pale, even for a vampire. I wanted this all to be over just to see Rick back to normal. I was used to seeing him confident and even amiable.

  At least he was back to the suave Rick I was used to, all polish and expensive clothing.

  “I’m only here because I have nothing to lose,” he said.

  “Oh, don’t sound so glum. This’ll be fun!”

  Matt back in the booth didn’t look so sure. Rick also looked skeptical.

  “Humor me a little longer,” I said. “Then it’ll be all over.”

  “I leave it to you. You’re the professional.” He put on the headphones, glaring at me. “I have a small request, though. You need to call me Ricardo.”

  “That your real name?”

  “It’s a Master’s name.”

  And that was another thing about vampires: Why did they have such a problem with nicknames? “Whatever you say.”

  Nothing more than sheer, pigheaded enthusiasm was carrying me along at this point. Show business, baby. Matt counted down, and the music cued up.

  “Good night, everyone, and welcome to The Midnight Hour. It’s vampires again tonight. It might sound like I’ve been doing a lot of shows on vampires lately, but that’s just the way it goes. There seem to be a lot of them around at the moment. This time it’s vampire politics. Like any other community, they have their leaders, their followers, their structures, their organizations—and their problems. Here to help us talk about vampires’ wily ways and notions is a very special guest: Denver’s own Master vampire, Ricardo.”

  This was going to piss a lot of people off. Kind of like kicking a wasp’s nest.

  “Hi, Ricardo, how are you this fine evening?”

  “I’m just wonderful,” he said, gritting his teeth but managing to sound honest. The microphone would hear honest, at least. “It’s an honor to be on your show.”

  “Thank you, that’s great to hear,” I said. “I was starting to think most vampires put up with me because they think I’m cute and harmless.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t accuse you of that.”

  “Wait—which one?” He just smiled. “Right, moving on. Tonight I’d like to delve into some of the secrets, the hows and whys. The questions that never see the light of day, so to speak. But first, do you think you’ll get in trouble for answering such questions? For breaking the code of secrecy?”

  “Oh, probably. One thing or another will get me in trouble.”

  “So being a vampire is dangerous stuff.”

  “Yes. Usually. People assume immortality comes with vampirism. But you’d be surprised how much work the immortality takes. The old vampires are dangerous because they know what it takes to survive.”

  “Take note of that all you wannabes out there. So, Ricardo—how did you become the Master of Denver?”

  “Finesse,” he said, his face perfectly straight. “Sometimes it’s just a matter of walking in and saying, ‘Here I am.’ ”

  Oh my God, I loved it. “Is that how such transitions usually take place?”

  “Usually they’re quite violent. Vampires are territorial. Taking another vampire’s territory isn’t something to be done lightly. But I firmly believe this territory is better off in my hands than my predecessor’s.”

  This sounded like a political campaign, which was exactly the right description, I supposed. Except the tactics threatened to get much more vicious.

  “Better off? How?”

  “Safer.”

  “For vampires—”

  “For everyone.”

  “Wait a minute, I may not know much, but I know vampires keep to themselves. Most of the fine citizens of Denver have never interacted with a vampire and wouldn’t know one if they met one. How does a city’s Master vampire keep the city safe for everyone?” I knew the answer; this was for the benefit of my listeners.

  “Because when a Master vampire can’t control his followers, the rest of the city’s vampires, then no one is safe from them. They will hunt indiscriminately, uncontrolled. They’ll kill. Most people never notice vampires because they’re kept in check. They don’t kill for blood. When that control is gone . . . ” He left the statement hanging ominously. “It’s the same with werewolves, you know that.”

  The system—alphas commanding their packs, Masters controlling the vampires—had been handed down for centuries. Most of our kinds knew they had to stay hidden to survive, to avoid the mob with torches and pitchforks scenario. Occasionally, though, we had rogues who lacked common s
ense. We had to police ourselves. The system was archaic, born in the days of monarchs and empires. It showed, even in someone relatively down to earth like Rick.

  “I do, and we’ll maybe get to that later in the show. But here’s a question for you: Do you think maybe the system is outdated?” That caught him off guard. He narrowed his gaze at me. I said, “I don’t expect you to tell me your age—I haven’t yet gotten a vampire to admit his age—but tell me this: were you born in a country with a king? An absolute monarch, in the days when that actually meant something more than getting chased by paparazzi.”

  Cautiously, he said, “Yes.”

  I filled in a few holes. He’d been born in Europe, at least a couple hundred years ago. With a name like Ricardo, that probably meant Spain. Lots of holes remained, like when he’d become a vampire, when he’d come to America, and—the eternal question—how old was he really?

  “Then does Denver even need a Master, or do you think the system is outdated?” I honestly wanted to know, and I had no idea what he was going to say.

  “I thought you were supposed to be making me look good.”

  “I decided to go for heavy-hitting philosophy instead.”

  He took what I threw at him in stride, with a narrow gaze and nary a beat missed. “I think we already answered that question. You’ve met some of the vampires in question, and I don’t think you’d really want them to have free run of the city.”

  It was hard to tell the difference from my end. They all seemed arrogant and selfish. They all wanted you to know they could own you if they chose to, if they didn’t have someone like Arturo holding them back.

  “You’ve got a point,” I said.

  Rick continued. “The system isn’t absolute. The Master isn’t an absolute monarch. The relationship works both ways—it’s based on a more ancient, feudal form than anything most modern people are used to dealing with. Vampires put themselves under control of a Master. In return, the Master owes them protection. And if a Master can no longer provide his followers that safety—that’s when the system falls apart.”

  “And you’re saying Denver’s old Master couldn’t provide that protection for his followers.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Let’s open the line for calls now and see what other secrets we can pry from Ricardo. Hello, Amanda, you’re on the air.”

  “Hi, Kitty, thanks for taking my call!”

  “No problem.”

  “And Ricardo, oh, my God, this is such an honor.” I’d warned Rick about the hero worship. Even after all these calls, it was a bit perplexing.

  “What’s your question, Amanda?” I said.

  “Ricardo—are you, like, hot?”

  Rick blinked and looked at me with an expression that said help? I just grinned. I was the master here, and I had absolute power. I wanted to see him sweat it out. Do vampires sweat? Why didn’t anyone ever ask if vampires sweat?

  “Would you mind explaining the question a bit more?” Rick said, very diplomatically. I applauded him silently.

  “I’ve seen all these movies and stuff, and the vampires in them, they’re just so good-looking. So I just wondered if it was like that in real life. Are all Master vampires totally irresistibly good-looking?”

  At last, Rick was smiling. He might even have been blushing a little. “I’m afraid I don’t feel qualified to, ah, pass comment on my own appearance. Kitty—you want to offer an opinion?”

  “He’s not bad. He’s got a little of that tall-dark-handsome thing going.”

  “Thank you. Too kind,” he said, with plenty of sarcasm.

  “Just keep in mind, Amanda, what vampires really want is your blood, and the way a lot of them get that is by looking as attractive as they possibly can. They use hotness as a lure. They’re like those deep-sea fish with the tentacle lights.”

  Rick raised an eyebrow at me and mouthed the words tentacle lights?

  “Anyway, moving on, next call please—”

  And so it went. I had to shove the plan to the back of my mind and concentrate on the show. I wanted every show to be the best it possibly could, and having Rick on was something I’d wanted to do right from the start. That part of it, I enjoyed immensely.

  After the first hour, I started to worry, because I’d expected a reaction by now. I had my cell phone ready. Dack was keeping watch at my parents’ house, Ben at my mom’s hospital room, and Charlie and Violet were watching Cheryl’s place. They had instructions to call 911 if anything was about to go down. This was an emergency, wasn’t it? I figured a bunch of wailing sirens would at least make the bad guys pause. That was all we needed—a pause during which we could evacuate.

  My cell phone stayed quiet. What was happening outside the studio? Dare I ask?

  Then it came. The first hornet left the nest, stinger all ready to go.

  Matt cut in over my headset. “Kitty, line three’s up.”

  That was the private line, in case someone had to get through the rest of the phone chatter to talk to me. Only a few people knew the number. But I had a good idea who this one was.

  I punched the line. “Hello,” I said carefully.

  “Katherine, I have no idea what you think you’re doing, but you will pay for this. Do you understand me? I would have left you alone but you’ve chosen sides and now—”

  Bingo! Bait taken. Now time to set the hook. I switched the phone line over to live. “Hello, Arturo! Thanks for calling. You’re on the air here at The Midnight Hour.”

  “Oh, no,” he said. “No you don’t. I won’t be a party to this.” His fury made his accent thicker. It lost some of its aristocratic edge, making me wonder: What had Arturo been before he’d become a vampire?

  “I’ve got Ricardo here,” I said. “Wanna talk to him?”

  “Rick,” Arturo said darkly, “this will win you nothing, you know that.”

  “Think of it as an opening salvo,” Rick said.

  I sat back to watch the fireworks.

  “You weren’t able to take over when you had an army at your back. What makes you think you can do it using a radio show?”

  “Because you weren’t this angry when I had an army,” Rick said.

  “You’ll regret taking this fight into the open.”

  “I’m not the one who left a warehouse full of bodies for the police.”

  “Katherine will regret taking this fight into the open.”

  “She understands the risks as well.” Rick and I exchanged a glance, of understanding and resolve. I felt like we were soldiers on the same battlefield. Once more unto the breach, dear friends . . .

  “I don’t think she does,” Arturo said, his tone sharp. I could imagine him spitting as he spoke. “You haven’t told her all that the Masters do. Yes, we control the vampires, yes we keep order. But you haven’t told her everything, have you? You haven’t told her about the stakes, about what else is out there, hungry for these cities—” Rick looked uncomfortable, and I knew Arturo was right. Rick hadn’t told me everything. The rant reached a fever pitch. “When Denver falls because you couldn’t hold them back—”

  “Why are you so sure I won’t be able to protect this city?” Rick countered.

  “What the hell are you guys talking about?” I interrupted, dumbstruck. “Hold what back?”

  They both fell silent. Oh, this was the big story. This was the secret lives of vampires coming to light for all to see. “What are you afraid of?” I prompted. “What are vampires afraid of?”

  “Losing control,” Rick said softly.

  “Control,” I said. “Is that it? Like, freaking out, going nuts, singing show tunes, that sort of control?”

  “Vampires are about control,” Rick said.

  “Power,” Arturo added. “What kind, and who controls it.”

  “I have news for you, guys. That’s what everyone’s about. Most people only aspire to having the power to control their own little lives, but there it is. The only difference is how completely enamored vampires are o
f their own perceived importance.”

  Rick started to interrupt. “Kitty—”

  “You, too, Rick! You’re not exempt from this. You may be better than most but you’re still sitting here talking about how you know what’s right and you know what’s best. Well I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to start taking the rest of us into account!” Whoa, that rant had been building for a while. I managed not to apologize for it; it needed to be said.

  A pause hung for a moment—dead air. My thoughts had scattered, and I quickly marshaled them to try to follow my diatribe with something clever.

  But Arturo spoke first. “Rick. You do not have the resolve to play this part. You want a salvo, I will show you a salvo.”

  He hung up.

  That was when I noticed Matt waving over the board, pointing at his watch. I hadn’t been watching the time, and I’d almost missed the end of the show.

  I talked fast. “Right. I have about twenty seconds to explain what just happened. I’m not sure I can, except to say that yes, Ricardo here’s a friend of mine and he’s got some rivals out there. Any of you looking to vampirism to solve your problems, keep that in mind. You’ll only trade one set for another. Stay safe out there and I’ll return next week. This is Kitty Norville, voice of the night.”

  The on-air sign dimmed, and I could see Matt’s sigh of relief from here.

  “You’re right, of course,” Rick said quietly. “We’ve spent centuries ruling our worlds at the expense of others. It’s a hard habit to break.”

  I tried to make my smile friendly. “Nice of you to say so. But we’ll have to discuss the political philosophy of the whole thing later. Remember, that was only phase one.”

  Matt came in from the booth. “Kitty, what’s going on?”

  Rick and I were already on our way out the door. “I’ll let you know when it’s all over.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Good. You shouldn’t. Matt—do me a favor and if anything weird starts happening around here, you see any people who don’t look right, anyone who shouldn’t be here, or if anyone turns up missing unexpectedly, call 911. Don’t wait, don’t hesitate. Just call.”