Kitty Saves the World

by Carrie Vaughn

  I didn’t tell anyone beside Ben about the stone wolf that the Men in Black had given me, because I didn’t know how to explain it. If anything came of it, there’d be time enough to tell. I didn’t doubt that Ezra and Jacob were exactly who they said they were: angels. What I doubted was what it meant. What the entirety of Western civilization believed angels to be, and what they actually were, were two different things, I suspected. That there was a war on between their kind and Lightman and Ashtoreth’s kind I didn’t doubt in the least. Was it a war in Heaven?

  That mythology was a faulty interpretation of something I didn’t understand. We were looking at it through frosted glass, or Flatlanders trying to comprehend three dimensions. I let it go. Hamlet was probably closer to the truth: “There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” What I had seen of them seemed entirely too mundane for the mighty epics written about them. Driving cars and wearing suits, pouting when things didn’t go their way.

  Maybe they would think twice before using Earth as a battleground, at least in the near future.

  * * *

  TINA AND Grant went back to L.A. and Las Vegas, respectively. They both still had their shows to do. I asked Tina if Paradox PI would cover what had happened, the Long Game, the Manus Herculei, any of it. She thought a minute, then shook her head. “The evidence is pretty much obliterated. And you know, technically, we’re supposed to be about entertainment. Not fundamental existential crises of faith.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “You say that now.”

  Grant had the understated satisfaction of a professional who’d completed a difficult job well. I asked him what was next, and he had to think for a minute. “I think I might take some time off. The world can take care of itself for a little while, I’m sure. But—call if you need anything.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Jessi Hardin couldn’t really tell anyone at work what had happened. For all that she was the head of the Denver PD Paranatural Unit, this was outside her mandate. She merely claimed that she had an accident and needed time off. She took a week. When we dropped her off at her place, she asked me not to call her for a month.

  I hadn’t seen her reach into her pockets for a pack of cigarettes in days.

  * * *

  A WEEK later, we were still debriefing, unpacking, talking, speculating—and trying to convince ourselves that it really was over. Cormac was here for dinner, Ben was cooking, and I was drinking water. You know, just in case. We sat at the counter in the kitchen, talking.

  “We’ve gone back over everything,” Cormac—Amelia, rather—explained. “Even knowing about the clay lamp you saw him use, there’s nothing to determine whether Manus Herculei refers to the artifact or the spell itself. You’re sure you don’t remember any of the symbols he drew?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I recognized some Greek letters and astrological signs, but it all happened so fast. I still don’t know enough to be able to describe it well.”

  “Ah, well. It ultimately doesn’t matter. I expect no one will be able to reconstruct the spell again.”

  “You almost sound sad,” Ben said, quirking a smile and pulling steaks out of the broiler.

  “We’re not sad,” Cormac said, with a decisiveness that was all his. “The less of that kind of magic in the world, the better.” His inward grin suggested Amelia was expressing a different opinion. What in the world was it like, being the two of them? Just another bit of strangeness that had become normal. Even if Cormac could find a way to separate himself from Amelia, I wasn’t sure he would anymore.

  A few news stories still trickled out about damage the earthquake had done, and about aftershocks that had rippled up and down the Rockies. The seismic activity had settled, and geologists hadn’t connected it to anything other than normal, expected earthquake levels. Old Faithful hadn’t even missed an eruption—it had lagged behind a few predicted times, that night we’d confronted Roman. But it hadn’t stopped. The caldera still bubbled, and people still made doomsday predictions about it.

  However, no one would be using it as a magical weapon.

  “What are you guys going to do about New Moon?” Cormac asked when the meal was half over.

  Ben and I glanced at each other, and Ben said, “We’re still working through what the insurance is going to pay out, but I think we’re going to find a new site and reopen.”

  The building had been condemned, and the owner took the insurance payout rather than try to rebuild. If we wanted a restaurant again, we’d have to move. I brought up the idea of just letting the place go, but Shaun and Ben both nixed it. Shaun I expected to want to keep the place going; it was mostly his baby anyway, Ben and I were just the backers. But Ben had the best reason of all.

  He explained, “One of the reasons the Denver pack is so stable is because of New Moon. It’s what you always wanted it to be—a second home, neutral ground. We give it up, I think we’d have to work that much harder keeping the pack together.”

  He was right. So, one way or another, New Moon would be back. It would be different, but somehow, that seemed okay, too. This was a new era.

  The doorbell rang then and we all straightened, looking at each other. The anxiety came back so quickly—wondering what was wrong, what battle we were going to have to fight next. Who was after us this time. I needed a deep breath to settle myself.

  “You expecting anyone?” Cormac asked.

  “No,” Ben said, moving out to the front door. I followed close behind.

  “Hello, Ben,” I heard, after he opened the front door.

  Rick stood there in his familiar black trench coat, smiling. He said we’d talk later, and here he was. I waved happily from behind Ben’s protective stance.

  Standing behind Rick were his two companions, the vampire ninjas from Yellowstone. I got a better look at them this time, mostly because they weren’t dressed in their ninja outfits, cloaks and hoods and all. In fact, they wore modern, normal street clothes, which seemed incongruous. The man with the ponytail was half a head shorter than Rick, compact but obviously powerful, holding himself at the ready. The woman was much the same, tall and serene, regarding me with a dark, hooded gaze. She didn’t seem to like me. Was it because I was a werewolf, or because I was me?

  “It’s good to see you, Kitty,” Rick said, smiling his calm smile. “May we come in?”

  Ben stood across the doorway, blocking it, like he was going to tell the vampire no. If we didn’t invite them in, they couldn’t come in, that was the rule. I glanced at Ben; we exchanged one of those looks. He stepped aside.

  “Come in,” I said. “And your friends, too, I guess?”

  Rick came inside, and I caught him in a big hug. He had that vampire chill, but his hug was warm and heartfelt. Rick was back.

  His companions entered, but politely hung back until Rick was ready.

  “I didn’t get a chance to make introductions before,” he said. “These are my colleagues, Ibrahim and Ruth.” They each nodded. They had that old-world civility that a lot of older vampires had, all nods and bows rather than an enthusiastic American handshake. They seemed watchful, cautious, and I wondered how old they were.

  “Hi,” I said, hiding any doubts I might have had about inviting them into my house.

  “Your name really is Kitty,” Ibrahim said, tsking like he didn’t believe it. “I heard the rumors. Now I believe them. You look like a Kitty.” This was said with a good-natured smile, a wry wink. Maybe he was just trying to be friendly?

  “Thanks, I think?” I led them back to the kitchen, where we could sit and talk. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything to drink. You know how it is.”

  “It’s quite all right,” Rick said. It was an old conversation, familiar and comforting.

  “I didn’t get a chance to thank you before. Thank you. We couldn’t have stopped Roman without you.”

  “No one could have stopped Ashtoreth without our kind of help,” Rick said. “I’m
sorry it took us so long to reach you. We were almost too late.”

  Cormac was the kind of guy who always carried a stake stashed in a pocket or slipped up his sleeve. He usually kept it hidden. Now he sat back and flipped it in his hand, tossing it and catching it, then again.

  “Mr. Bennett,” Rick said, amiably enough. Cormac didn’t say anything.

  Ruth glared at him. “Do we need to worry about this?”

  Rick raised a brow. “Do we?” He didn’t seem worried, but he knew Cormac. Then again, the last time they’d been face-to-face, Cormac had had a stake pressed to Rick’s chest, and the vampire had threatened to kill him.

  I rolled my eyes, because I did not want to have to worry. “Do you have to do that?” I asked Cormac. “Please?”

  He slipped the stake back up his sleeve like he was putting away car keys. He’d made his point, apparently. No pun intended. Besides, the odds were not in his favor here.

  I was still studying Ibrahim and Ruth, without looking like I was studying them. Ruth had her arms crossed over a tailored suit jacket, dark brown, but not as dark as her skin. Her silk shirt, trousers, and shoes were equally high quality. Her hair was cropped close to her head, giving her an elegant, intimidating profile. Ibrahim wasn’t quite so polished, in shirt and trousers that seemed expensive but thrown together. That was probably the point, to make people underestimate him. I knew much of Rick’s story, but what about theirs? Where were they from, and how did they end up with the Order of Saint Lazarus of the Shadows? The three of them seemed so comfortable with each other, like they’d been a team for years—centuries. They’d certainly fought like a well-practiced team. But Rick couldn’t have been with them for more than a year. I wanted to know everything, but I didn’t know what to ask to unlock the stories.

  “Kitty, ask your question,” Rick said.

  “Hey. I was trying to be polite.”

  “Rick warned us about you,” Ruth said. “I for one am not going to tell you how old I am. It’s rude to ask.”

  “Yeah, apparently,” I said. “So how about I ask about Yellowstone. How did you end up there? What have you been doing since you left Denver? How—I mean, what is this?”

  “You know about the Order of Saint Lazarus of the Shadows,” Rick said. “It’s larger than you might think, a diverse group from all over the world. We find our ways there by different paths, or we’re recruited. But we’re there because we can’t abide Dux Bellorum and people like him. We’re beings of darkness, standing against the dark.”

  “That’s a hell of a sales pitch,” Ben observed.

  “You didn’t stop Roman,” Cormac said. “Not in the end. It was us. It was Kitty.”

  “Don’t think we didn’t notice,” Ibrahim said.

  I said, “It was all of us. We all needed to be there.”

  “Yes,” Rick said. “A lot of people noticed that.” He was eyeing the wolf amulet, which I’d had under my shirt, but the collar was low enough that it fell out. I tucked it back.

  “So,” I said. “Please tell me now that everything’s done you’re back to take over the Family. You have no idea how stressed out everyone was when you were gone. Angelo—he wasn’t a disaster, but, well…”

  “He was wearing one of Roman’s coins when he died,” Ben said. “He was a disaster.”

  It wasn’t his fault, I wanted to say. I hated speaking ill of the dead. Most of the dead, anyway.

  Rick frowned, and my heart sank.

  “Our work isn’t finished,” he said, meaning the work of the Order of Saint Lazarus and his cohort. “There are a dozen cities in Europe and the Middle East whose Masters were loyal to Dux Bellorum. They’ll be in chaos now. We—all of us in the order—will need to sort them out.”

  “But you can start with Denver, maybe? Find a new Master, someone who won’t freak out.”

  “I hope to,” Rick said. “Any suggestions?”

  Ruth looked sharply at him, and I had the feeling that asking advice from a werewolf should have been beneath him. But this was Rick.

  “Braun. He kept his head, helped us out when push came to shove. I think we can get along.”

  “I’ll consider it,” he said.

  He told us that he’d been keeping an eye on Denver—mostly through Alette’s network of contacts. We were reporting in with each other regularly enough that she had most of the news. They’d already been in the States since they’d tracked Roman here. They were waiting for him to make a move, and it turned out the bombing out of New Moon was it. I tried to get mad at him for not telling me he was in the States, but I kept quiet. He’d been working, he’d had his reasons. I was supposed to trust him. After all, he’d been there when I needed him most.

  They hadn’t literally followed us to Yellowstone, but they’d known to go there. They looked for us, but they could only do so at night, and Yellowstone was really big. Eventually they’d found us. Rick recognized Cormac’s Jeep.

  And then they had to go. “We’re scheduled to be in Europe by tomorrow night. This work, following up with Roman’s people—it can’t wait.”

  “No. I really don’t want to see what it looks like if someone tries to step into his shoes.”

  “Exactly.”

  Rick and Ben shook hands. Rick and Cormac didn’t. Ibrahim and Ruth nodded farewells before heading outside, and I walked with Rick to the door.

  The other vampires entered the familiar black Land Rover, but Rick and I held back, lingering by the front door, darkened by nighttime shadows.

  “Please say you’ll call every now and then this time,” I said. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to talk to you, how crazy it’s been.”

  “I know,” he said, touching my shoulder. “I’ll call this time.”

  His hand moved from my shoulder to the chain holding the stone wolf. I let him lift it out, study it. “What is it?”

  “I got it from a couple of Men in Black who said they were angels. They said it’ll give me a year and a day.”

  Rick’s brows lifted. He knew what it meant immediately, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so startled.

  “There will be a price for that, later on,” he said.

  They told me I’d already paid it, I wanted to argue, but I knew he was right. As the angels had said, this was a fairy tale, there was always a price, and they would come for my firstborn.

  No.

  “I’ll deal with that when we get there,” I said, my smile wan. “I figure it’s worth a shot.”

  “Yes, I think you’re right. Good luck.”

  “Thanks. Rick, do you believe in God?”

  He didn’t say anything right away, which was shocking to me, because Rick’s faith was part of what defined him. He’d gone on an honest-to-God crusade, becoming this warrior priest. I had expected an unmitigated yes.

  “That’s a more complicated question than most people imagine,” he said lightly, smiling. “Ten thousand years of human civilization, all of it burdened by religion trying to figure out what it all means, and I think we still don’t understand. But ultimately the answer is yes. And what about you, Kitty? After all you’ve been through?”

  What I had seen lately of gods and angels and demons made me think of how you feel as a kid when you catch adults behaving badly. This? you think. This is what being a grown-up is all about?

  “I believe that the full moon comes around once a month, and that the sun rises every morning,” I said. “And I believe in the pack.”

  “Amen,” he said.

  Epilogue

  ON THE 366th day after Roman’s final destruction, the stone wolf shattered. I woke up to a popping, cracking noise, and crumbs of gravel scattered across my chest. The chain turned to ash in my hands. I gathered the pieces and stared at them a long time, not sure what to think, unsettled at the trace of magic still lingering. Really, I didn’t feel sadness about the thing. I was even a little relieved it was gone. The reminder of the Men in Black wouldn’t be attached to me anymore, and
it had done its job.

  We’d even had a month to spare.

  The 367th day was a full moon.

  Ben held the door of my sister’s house open for me, diaper bag slung over his shoulder, baby carrier in his other hand, while I came in holding Jon cradled in my arms. He’d been here a month and I still couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was round, pink, bald, with pudgy arms and amazing little fingers, and tiny lips that opened into big, gummy yawns. He had Ben’s chin and my eyes. He smelled like sunshine. At least he did when he was clean and sleeping.

  Cheryl and the kids greeted us loudly—along with the golden retriever barking from the backyard. That dog had never gotten used to us. Everybody was very enthusiastic about the new baby, and fortunately for me Cheryl was happy to baby-sit. Or she said she was. Nicky and Jeffy wanted to see their cousin. I mostly stood still and let the chaos roar around me.

  Ben had taken well to fatherhood, which didn’t surprise me, but I often caught him with this bemused look on his face, like he was wondering how he ended up holding a diaper bag and baby carrier. But he was usually right there before I even asked for help, and I also caught him sometimes holding the baby on one shoulder, his nose pressed to Jon’s soft baby head, just breathing, taking in the scent.

  Tonight was a full-moon night and we couldn’t linger. I could feel Wolf scratching at my gut, a hint of things to come. Disconcerting. I hadn’t felt her anticipation in a year, and I had forgotten how to deal with it, how to keep it together. Wait, just wait, I kept murmuring, and her growl answered me.

  The first full moon after I’d gotten the amulet had been strange. Half believing the thing wouldn’t work, I’d gone out with the pack to our mountain den. Just in case. But Wolf hadn’t been there. Or she was there, the strength and power I had as a werewolf still curled up inside me. She didn’t wake up, didn’t claw at my guts trying to rip through my skin for her one night of freedom. It was the strangest thing. I thought about her, opened my mind in the way that usually let the Change wash over me. But no fur pricked on my skin, no claws burst from my fingers.