Emma put a hand on my arm in the doorway. “Thanks. For sticking up for me.”
I shook my head. “They were just grasping at straws. I don’t think they were serious.”
“Ned would have killed me himself if he thought I’d turned spy.” She gave a nervous hiccup of a laugh. “I didn’t want to be a vampire. I thought I’d rather be dead. I can’t tell you how many times I almost opened the curtains at dawn to kill myself. But now, it’s almost funny. I don’t want to die.”
“Good,” I said. I touched her hand, surprised as I always was at how cold she was—she had no heat, no blood of her own.
“It should be night in D.C. by now,” she said. “Do you think I should call Alette? Tell her what’s happening?”
“I think that’s a good idea,” I said. “Let me know what she says.”
She stayed behind to take part in Ned’s leftovers. I didn’t want to see it.
Back in the hallway, Caleb waited for us. When footsteps sounded in the back foyer, we all jumped, then stalked forward. I had a sickening vision—that Jan and Mercedes had anticipated us, sent their own attack first—
We met Cormac coming in through the back door, smelling of the city’s chill nighttime air. He studied us with curiosity. His shoulders tensed—all the surprise he showed.
“There’s been a fight,” he said.
Was it that obvious? Caleb must have changed his clothes on the way over—he was clean. Ben had on a new clean shirt, but rusted streaks of dried blood still marred his face. Most of the blood was mine. My shirt and jeans were torn, soiled with mud and grass stains. I was cradling my injured arm, which sported an impressive red welt where the wound had been. Cormac would know it had happened recently.
“You two okay?” His voice was calm, and he eyed Caleb with suspicion.
“Yeah,” I said, and Ben nodded. “I just got a little cut up.”
“I should have been there—”
“No,” Ben and I said at once.
“It’s good that you weren’t,” Ben said, finishing the thought for both of us. “It was all werewolves, and you don’t have any guns—it was a mess.”
Cormac considered, then nodded. “Right. Want to tell me what’s happening then?”
“You trust him?” Caleb said. “He’s not one of us.”
“We trust him,” I said, my gaze on Cormac.
“You can’t bring him in on this,” the alpha said.
“If there’s trouble, you’re not leaving me out,” Cormac said.
I wanted to tell Cormac no. To protect him. He would say he was doing the same. We were a pack, right? I looked at Ben, who didn’t seem inclined to argue. But he and Cormac had been a team for a long time. Including him no doubt seemed natural.
“All right, then,” I said. “Introductions: Cormac, this is Caleb, alpha werewolf of the British Isles. Caleb, this is Cormac. He’s—” Words failed me, as they usually did when I tried to describe him.
“He’s family,” Ben said.
They regarded each other, gazes suspicious, yet curious. They both obviously had questions that they weren’t going to ask. That was fine. I just had to be sure I kept myself in between them.
A couple of Ned’s house staff worked at night, natch. The driver, Andy, and one of the housekeepers, Sara. She was in the kitchen; I begged some extra tea and snacks from her, and she seemed happy to provide.
The four of us retreated with our spoils to one of the smaller rooms in the back of the house. It was cozy, with chairs pulled up around a fireplace where a heater had been installed. We could imagine we were alone. The vampires would retreat to a set of basement rooms when dawn came.
“Tell me what happened,” Cormac said.
We explained our evening, talking over each other in a couple of places with our own take on events. The shadow conference of vampires had turned violent, one faction rising up to try to take out Ned. Cormac sat back, listening, hand on his chin.
“My first thought?” Cormac said. “Get out. You’re outnumbered. They got the jump on you once, they’re not going to just stop. You want to stay safe, get out, get home.”
“He’s got a point,” Caleb said. “You’re not so bad after all.”
“You don’t think they’ll just follow us?” Ben said. “Send another posse after us?”
“There’s that. But you’d be on your home turf.”
“Or we could stop them now,” I said. “The plan isn’t to fight. We want to sow a little dissention in the ranks.”
“You’re going to try talking them out of this war of yours, aren’t you?” Cormac said. He held a cup of tea, the vintage china looking out of place in his calloused grip. He wrinkled his nose at the liquid, but drank anyway. Maybe Amelia would help him develop a taste for the stuff.
“It’s not my war,” I muttered. “But yeah.”
“I think she’s got a chance at it,” Caleb said.
“In my experience, werewolves don’t stand still long enough to listen to much talk,” he said, setting the cup down.
“You didn’t see her earlier this week, at the convocation,” Ben said. “I think they were all so surprised they didn’t know which way to jump.”
“Yeah,” the hunter said. “That sounds about right.” Caleb made a gesture as if to say, you see?
“What do you want me to do?” Cormac said.
Stay in the car? “Keep watch? You know the kind of defenses panicking vampires are likely to have. We don’t want any surprises.”
“Just what do you know about panicking vampires?” Caleb asked.
“They’re like anything else,” Cormac said. “You corner them, they get stupid.”
“When this is all done, would you mind letting me buy you a pint and wring some stories out of you?”
Cormac just smiled.
Caleb rose from his seat and said, “First thing to do is check in with the scouts. That’ll give us some idea of who’s on the move and where we should go next. If you’ll excuse me.” He drew his phone from a pocket and scrolled through its numbers as he left the room.
Cormac gazed after him. “Alpha of the British Isles, you said? That’s impressive.”
“Yep. Don’t look at him like you’re staring through gun sights,” I said, and he chuckled.
“By the way, where’ve you been?” Ben asked. “Dinner with the Parkers couldn’t have lasted until four in the morning.”
“No. They have an early bedtime with the kids and all, so we went out looking for ghosts.”
I had to ask. “Like, real ghosts?”
“Amelia wanted to check up on some spots she knew from before. The Tower, along the river, Whitechapel.”
“Jack the Ripper?”
“Among other things, yeah.”
“Huh.” He wasn’t going to keep talking unless I prompted, and I was dying to know. “And … how did the dinner go?” Ben and I leaned in to hear the answer.
“It was … awkward,” he said. “Not bad. But you know, trying to make small talk channeling someone’s dead relative…” He made an annoyed movement like he had an itch on his back. “I keep asking how I got myself into this. Stuff like this, what I’ve been doing? Nice dinner at home with the family? Never would have thought of it.” His expression was confused, wondering. Like he really had just woken up from a nap and found himself in another country. “Anyway, his wife got out the photo album and Amelia ID’d faces in old pictures. Broke a little ice that way. The kids are cute. For kids, you know.”
And that was almost as astonishing as Amelia hunting for ghosts in Whitechapel.
Phone in hand, Caleb returned, smiling, a gleam in his eye like a wolf who’s spotted prey. “We’ve got our first stop.”
Chapter 17
CALEB DROVE us to a neighborhood in south London called Brixton. Dawn hadn’t yet broken, but the sky had paled to a gunmetal gray. Soon, it would become light. Shadows played strangely.
“Not the best part of town, is it?” I said, whispering.
We’d passed street after street of row housing, endless three-story buildings of brick walls stained by decades of soot and graffiti. They might have been a hundred or more years old, but they looked tired and decrepit rather than quaint.
“Depends on who you are and why you’re here,” Caleb said. His focus wasn’t on me, but out and around, scanning his territory. “Some vampires like staying in neighborhoods like this. Helps them keep their cover. They certainly don’t mind a little thing like crime rates. I suppose we could have brought along your soldier friend for more backup.”
“No,” I said. “I want to leave him out of this.” Tyler had his own problems, he didn’t need to fight my fights, too.
After turning the next corner, Caleb nodded. “Right, there he is.”
He was one of Caleb’s lieutenants, a man with dark skin and a shaved head. In his midtwenties, he was tall and broad, tough. Pure enforcer, though he ducked his gaze and slouched when Caleb looked at him.
The British alpha parked on the street and rolled down his window. “Find anything?”
“Don’t know just where the fangs are holed up, but there’s a pair of wolves patrolling the end of the block. I stayed downwind of ’em, they haven’t spotted me.”
“Whose?”
“Solomon’s.”
“Good man,” Caleb said. “Let’s walk, shall we?”
The four of us got out of the car.
“Which one is Solomon?”
“Master of Istanbul. You probably met him at your fancy meeting.”
Which one at the convocation had he been? It didn’t matter. We could chalk him up to Roman’s side, now.
“Cormac, maybe you’d better wait here,” I said.
“I’ll be fine. They won’t know I’m there.”
I believed him. “Just stay back behind the others.”
“Here, take this with you.” He offered me a slender dagger tucked in a black leather sheathe. If I pulled the knife out, looked at it, the metal would wink, edged with silver.
I shook my head. “I don’t need that.”
“It’ll give you authority,” he said.
“I don’t need it. I don’t want to take a chance of having it used against me.”
“It’ll make me feel better,” he said.
“No.” I glared and walked away.
“Don’t take it personally,” Ben said to him.
“You want it?”
“Hell, no. I’m likely to trip and cut myself on it.”
Cormac standing guard with his silver daggers should have made me feel better. But I had this sneaking worry that he was right, and that we would need the weapons.
I’d learned to carry myself with a straight back, my chin up. To move as if I was powerful, no matter what I felt. A far cry from the old days, my earliest time as a werewolf when I cowered at every stray noise or cold glance. A far cry from before I became a werewolf even, when I was a pampered college kid willing to go along with whatever flow was carrying me. I wondered sometimes—if I’d been stronger then, would it have prevented any of what came after from happening?
I had to work to show any confidence here, on a street with no lights, with blackened and broken windows staring down on me, where the air smelled unfamiliar and a distant shattering of glass distracted me. Ben walked at my side, unflinching, and I couldn’t tell if he was faking it, too. Cormac was, as he had indicated, out of sight. Surveying from a secure location, an ace in the hole.
Caleb’s enforcer followed us, and he ducked his gaze when I looked at him.
“There he is,” Caleb said, nodding ahead. I turned my nose to the air, smelling. Our quarry didn’t just smell of wolf; he carried a trace of his Master’s scent with him, too. “You want to do this or should I?”
Ben’s fists clenched, and he tensed, ready to pounce. They all expected this to turn out badly, didn’t they?
“I’ll do it,” I said evenly. This was my idea, right?
“What about me?” Ben said.
I squeezed his hand. “Stay close.”
“Kitty. Be careful.”
I moved ahead. The others fanned out in a protective arc behind me. I could hear their steps on the asphalt, even the soft hush of their breathing. We were a pack on the hunt.
A figure darted ahead of us, crossing the street. A second one prowled in the shadows of the row houses, looking like he wanted to try to flank us. We were in the wide open; we’d see anyone trying to get the best of us. The guards probably hadn’t been expecting a frontal assault.
“Hey!” I called. “I just want to talk!” My voice echoed along the empty street as if we were in a cave. Even the clouds hung low, ceiling-like.
“Talk. To say what?” The one moved from the shadows, coming to face me in the middle of the street. He kept glancing over his shoulders, probably looking for the inevitable ambush. He was powerfully built, broad shoulders, defined muscles along his arms, visible under short sleeves. He showed teeth when he scowled.
“Calm down. I really do just want to talk.”
“Don’t move any closer,” he said. His accent was precise, as if he’d learned English rather than growing up with it. I stopped advancing. But I also wouldn’t lower my gaze.
“You ever think about leaving? Walking away from this? From Solomon?”
The werewolf huffed a nervous chuckle. “And do what?”
“Whatever you want.”
He shook his head, like he thought I was joking.
“You know you’re just cannon fodder, right? You stay with him, you’ll get killed eventually. Messily, probably. You know what happened at Hyde Park tonight?”
“That’s not normal.”
“How many of your pack did you lose tonight?” He scowled and didn’t answer. “There’s a war coming. It may get to be normal. You might want to ask yourself if you’re on the right side.”
He fidgeted, nervous, and ducked his gaze, just for a second.
“You don’t owe him anything,” I said, pressing.
“He looks after us—”
“By using you to fight his battles?” I raised a skeptical brow. “Solomon serves Dux Bellorum. He may have told you that Dux Bellorum’s army has no opposition. That the coming war will be easy to win. But they’re wrong. Because we’re here to stop him.”
“This is a trick—”
“No. We’re just tired of werewolves killing each other. Especially for people like Solomon, Mercedes, and Jan.”
I didn’t need an answer from him. I didn’t expect him to drop everything and follow me. I just wanted him to think. Turning, I gestured to Ben and Caleb, indicating it was time to leave.
Then Solomon’s guard said, “I remember you at the convocation. You don’t fight. Is that it? That you don’t want anyone to fight?”
“Oh, I fight. When I need to. But you’re right, I’d rather avoid it.”
“Because you’re weak?’
“Because I’m lazy. Essentially.”
I’d hoped for a laugh. At least a smile. His curled lips remained in a snarl. “This is a trick.”
He backed away. Out of the corner of my vision I saw his partner paralleling him along the houses. They both retreated, without turning their backs to us.
“I think it’s time to go,” Caleb said.
We fell into step and jogged back to the car. By the time we reached it, Cormac had reappeared.
“Where were you?” I asked him conversationally, in a tone that I hope also said, told you so.
“I was there. Saw it all.”
“What, were you invisible?” Could Amelia do that, I wondered?
“How about just not noticeable.”
I decided I didn’t really want to know.
Caleb gave his lieutenant instructions, and the man went back to the shadows he’d emerged from, to guard this corner of their territory. The alpha returned to the driver’s seat.
“This is bloody useless,” Caleb said. “They’re not going to listen to you.”
“I don’t know,” Ben said. “I think you got to him.”
“We just have to shake things up a little,” I said. “What’s the next stop?”
“Njal,” Caleb said. “My scouts say he’s holed up in Chelsea. Can’t bear to slum it, the git.”
In my mind, this was the most important stop on the list. The two werewolves in chains at the convocation belonged to him. If I could only shake up one vampire’s household tonight, convince the werewolves to leave their Master just once, this would be it.
We drove in silence, back north into London’s interior neighborhoods.
Chapter 18
THE CONTRAST between this neighborhood and Brixton couldn’t have been more profound. Even in the misty dawn, the rows of ornate town houses and well-groomed parks seemed picture-perfect. The low, wrought-iron fences had fresh coats of paint, the façades were clean and elegant. Not a smudge of graffiti in sight.
“His guards have staked out the next block,” Caleb said. “Same routine, I take it? Walk in until we flush ’em out?”
“Wait,” I said, focused out the window to a stray shape that had moved in the morning shadows. “Let me out here.”
“What are you on about?” He slowed the car.
“I saw something. They’ve spotted us, let me out.”
“Kitty—” Ben said. The car had stopped, and I was already out.
I breathed deep and caught only a hint of werewolf. The air moved wrong, and felt wet and heavy in my nose. But they were out there. Caleb had parked, and he and Ben moved in behind me. Cormac was around, I was sure, but again stayed out of sight. They wouldn’t interfere, but they had my back. I didn’t have to worry about anything but what lay in front of me.
The street narrowed, curved, funneling into a small square, hemmed in by town houses. Even narrower lanes led away. I wasn’t quite hemmed in without escape. The lair had to be nearby.
Several werewolves were watching me from sheltered places around the square. Only watching.
“I have a message,” I called out. “Once I’ve said what I need to, I’ll leave. No trouble.” Their scents were musky, tangy with adrenaline, with fear. Some of them were in wolf form, fur bristling, panting.
Kitty Steals the Show (Kitty Norville) Page 18