Kitty Goes to War

Chapter 18

SHARED ANXIETY woke everyone up. Mornings after the full moon should have been relaxed, all of us mellow and smiling because our wolves had had their run, nothing had gone wrong, and the monsters inside us would stay quiet for a couple of more weeks. But this morning, everyone dressed silently in wet clothing, eyes downcast, sneaking glances at Tyler.

Still naked, Tyler moved around the copse of trees, hunched over, nose working, looking for scent.

“Find anything?” I asked. Stupid question. But I was afraid that if I didn’t keep talking to him, he’d decide to run off, too.

He shook his head. “The snow’s messing up the trail. Washed it clean.”

“You have any idea where he’s gone?”

“Yeah. I think he’s gone after Van.”

“He has to know he can’t get to him. Vanderman’s locked up, Walters would have to get through an entire city—”

Now that was a terrifying image. And why had I trusted Walters? Why hadn’t I seen this coming?

“I should have known,” Tyler muttered, echoing my thought. “I should have known, I should have stopped him.”

“Think maybe he’d planned this all along?” I said. “That he fooled both of us?” I found my clothes, grimacing as I pulled them on. The jeans were stiff and stuck to my skin, and the T-shirt sagged. Wet T-shirt, no bra—yeah, I was looking classy this morning.

Tyler shook his head. “I’d have known if he was planning something. He couldn’t hide it. I think maybe he never went to sleep. That he decided to run when there was no one to stop him, and he just took off.” He wrung out his damp T-shirt. “I have to go after him, I have to find him.”

“No,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. His muscles were taut as piano wire. “I need you upright and able to talk. Get dressed, please.”

“It’s my fault,” he said, his expression drawn, staring out at nothing. But he pulled on the shirt and found his sweats.

“Kitty?” Ben called from the grove. The pack, all dressed now, appearing relatively human, had gathered, everyone looking at me, waiting for instructions. Like I had any clue. I didn’t know what to do, but I had to act as if I did.

“Everyone go home,” I said. “I’ll call if we need help.”

“Let us know if you see anything strange,” Ben added.

My wolves moved off, leaving in small groups the way they’d come, jogging across the fields back to their cars. As the group dispersed, Becky faced me and stopped.

“Should I be worried?” she said.

I couldn’t honestly say no. Any reassurances would sound false, and that wouldn’t exactly put her at ease or make her trust my leadership.

But Tyler was confident when he shook his head. “He’s not after you. You’ll be all right.”

She nodded and seemed comforted. I touched her arm. “Shaun will take you home. Stick with him while I take care of this. Shaun?”

He nodded and put his arm across Becky’s back. The touch made her relax. They left together.

I felt better, knowing everyone else was on the way home, safe, warming up and drying off.

“What do you think happened? Why take off now?” Ben said. He stood next to me, the skin of our arms pressing together. I shivered. We may have been able to withstand a lot of cold, but we were going to have to get out of this weather soon.

“I think he got scared,” Tyler said. “Or mad.”

“Where’s home for him?” I said. “Do you think he may be trying to reach family?” His original pack, I thought. If he didn’t feel safe with us, he’d try to find someplace safer.

Which brought us back to Tyler’s original guess: he was going to find Vanderman.

“No. Gordon picked us because we weren’t married, didn’t have kids or girlfriends, didn’t have big families. So we wouldn’t have any other loyalties.”

I scowled. “If he was so smart why’d he go and get himself blown up?” Tyler ducked his gaze, his shoulders tensing even more. He looked like he wanted to tip his head back and howl. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “That came out wrong.”

“Yeah,” he said, with a grim chuckle. “I’ve been asking myself that every day since it happened.”

“Let’s get out of this mess,” I said, and started on the hike back to the car. Ben matched my stride, caught my hand in his, and squeezed. I pressed near to him. Tyler followed closely. He didn’t have to, I supposed. But I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to fight with him about it.

I didn’t want to have to make the call to Dr. Shumacher. I didn’t want to listen to her tell me that I was wrong, and she was right. Actually, we were both half right. Tyler seemed to be doing just fine.

“We need a plan,” I said as we reached the car. I couldn’t wait to start drying off. Maybe then I could think straight.

“I guess we go after him,” Ben said, sounding resigned.

“He can’t have gone far, right?”

“Except that this is what we do,” Tyler said. “We spent the last two years running, evading, hunting. If he thinks he’s on a mission, I don’t know if we can stop him.”

If Tyler thought this, what reason did I have for optimism? Because I didn’t want to think about the alternatives.

“That’s not acceptable,” I said. “How long will it take him to get to Fort Carson, if that’s where he’s going? Two days?”

“If he goes straight there at top speed he’ll be there by the end of the day.”

A hundred miles in a day. Yeah, that was what we were dealing with.

Inside the car, Ben started the engine and blasted the heater. Cold air came out, and I shivered. It would warm up soon enough. I dug in the glove box for my cell phone and made the dreaded call.

“Yes, what is it?” Shumacher answered on the first ring. She’d probably been waiting by the phone all night—she didn’t sound like I’d waken her up.

“We have a problem. Walters went rogue. He ran and Tyler thinks he’s headed for Vanderman.” I tried to get it all out before she could say anything, ask any questions, or make accusations.

“And Sergeant Tyler, he’s still with you? He didn’t run?” She sounded surprised.

“He’s fine. He’s been a big help.”

“I’ll call Colonel Stafford,” Shumacher said, as if she’d been expecting it.

“We’ll head to Fort Carson,” I said, glancing at Ben and Tyler for confirmation. Their expressions were set in agreement. “Maybe we can intercept him.”

“Kitty, I think you should go home. Stafford and his men can find Walters. We’ll take care of it.”

The others could hear Shumacher’s side of the conversation. Tyler frowned, looking as though he wanted to say something.

“I’d really like be there, Doctor.” I slowed down my breathing to try and calm myself.

“I appreciate all of your help, I really do. I’m grateful for the attempt.”

I could tell when I was being kissed off. “Doctor, I don’t think you’re listening to me—”

“You’ll be bringing Sergeant Tyler back to the VA hospital as soon as you can, I trust.”

One strike and that was it? We’d screwed up with Walters and now I was kicked off the team? For once, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I couldn’t think of what would change Shumacher’s mind or convince her to keep me in the loop. I didn’t even have a snappy retort.

I slammed the phone shut and dropped it on the floor.

“I’m not going back there,” Tyler said. “I think I’ve earned the right not to be locked up.”

“You have,” I said. “We’re not going back.” Tyler let out a sigh and slumped against the seat. “And we’re going to Fort Carson anyway.”

“Of course we are,” Ben said. “But I feel a professional need to point out that messing around the U.S. Army could get us in a serious amount of trouble.”

“You’re saying we shouldn’t do it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Ben said with a shrug. “I’m just making an observation.”

The snow was falling harder, driving thickly at an angle across the country highway. Visibility was low and the asphalt was wet. The windshield wipers banged, and Ben peered forward, turning all his attention on the road.

Here was the problem: who was the outsider here? We were the werewolves. We ought to be able to take care of our own. We had every right to go after Walters, not them. They were outsiders. They didn’t understand. They didn’t belong. That was my Wolf’s instincts talking, though. Was that rational? Was I assessing the situation by the wrong standards? Should I just let it go?

No, because I still wasn’t convinced Shumacher knew what she was doing, and that she and Stafford’s gang wouldn’t make the situation worse. Like, Walters and Vanderman breaking loose and rampaging in Colorado Springs.

“It should only take us a couple of hours to get there, right?” Tyler said. “We should be able to head him off.”

“Usually. But I don’t know in this weather,” Ben said, shaking his head. “Plus we’ll hit the Springs in time for morning rush hour. I can try 83 or one of the back ways.”

“Maybe we should go on foot,” Tyler said.

“We’d have to go on four feet to cover the same ground,” I said. “I’m not sure I want to risk it.”

“You’re just not used to it,” Tyler said. “That’s all we did over there.”

“And if you could operate a cell phone as a wolf I’d let you go, but you can’t. It’s not a good idea,” I said, twisting to look at him in the backseat.

“I could just go.” He gave me a stare. A challenge. Ben glanced at him in the rearview mirror, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

I so didn’t need this right now. “Or I could haul your ass back to Shumacher at the VA hospital.”

I was impressed with myself talking back at this big scary Green Beret werewolf, except that for a moment Tyler looked like he wanted to jump me and bite off my face. The only way I kept my gaze locked with his and my back straight was thinking about what would happen if I flinched. If he decided I was weak and he could assert his dominance. That would make our trip real short.

I pushed, taking a gentler tack this time. “Look, I’ve gotten you this far, haven’t I? You’d still be locked up and climbing the walls with Vanderman without me. Trust me, okay?”

And he lowered his gaze. “All right. But what are we going to do when we find Walters?”

The tires sloshed on the wet pavement through several moments of silence.

“I guess that’ll depend on what happens when we get there,” I said, which was nothing more than waffling.

With false cheer, Ben said, “Best-case scenario, Stafford gets there with his tranquilizer gun first. Then we show up all huffy and defensive.”

I snorted in lieu of chuckling. But yeah, that was kind of how I was hoping it would go.

“Worst-case scenario,” Ben continued after a moment. “The Glock’s in the glove box.”

“That isn’t going to be necessary,” I said, more as a defensive mantra than any solid belief.

“You have a gun?” Tyler said, leaning forward.

“With silver ammo, even,” Ben said.

My husband the werewolf kept silver bullets in his glove box. I didn’t question it.

I asked Tyler, “You think he’s headed back to Vanderman. Can he really get past Fort Carson security, into the building? He can’t really break Vanderman out, can he?”

“We broke out easy enough. We waited until they were moving us into the building. Then we knocked them over and ran. As a wolf, he can get onto the base easy. He’ll be fast and camouflaged, and Fort Carson is huge. A lot of it is open plains. He’ll have to be human to break into the building, though. He’d need his hands.”

“Could he do that? Sneak onto the base, sleep off his wolf, then break into the building? Isn’t that a little goal-oriented for a werewolf?” I said.

“We trained to remember our targets. Even if we didn’t remember anything else, we remembered the mission.”

I remembered a story. One of Paul Flemming’s informants had been an old man, a German soldier and a veteran of World War II. He’d also been a werewolf, and he told me about being trained by the SS to carry messages across enemy lines. People would stand out, but wolves were part of the landscape. Obviously, there were techniques for training werewolves. I wondered how many secret histories there were, how many wars included units of werewolves fighting for one side or the other. Roman centurions, Norse berserkers, Mongol raiders, Persian infantry . . . It sounded all too plausible. Werewolves were too ideal for the job not to use as soldiers.

The thought sent a chill over me, raising gooseflesh. I shivered and turned up the heater.

“What’s the matter?” Ben said gently. Maybe he could smell my unease.

“Implications,” I said, then shook my head. “Never mind. Won’t there be guards? Won’t they be able to stop him?” I looked back at Tyler.

“Not if they’re not firing silver,” Tyler said. “I think only Stafford’s guys have silver. They’d have to do too much explaining if they started issuing silver ammo to the regular MPs.”

“FUBAR. Isn’t that what you guys call this sort of thing?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tyler said, chuckling.

This could be a public relations nightmare. Werewolves had stayed hidden from public sight, behind folklore, for a very long time. We’d stayed secret by policing ourselves. Then people like me started blowing the whistle. The old system was falling apart. Police started getting involved, and one bad incident hitting the news would ensure that everyone saw werewolves as monsters rather than people. So what now?

We reached a freeway. I-70, it should have been. A string of red taillights flowed like a river before us, distorted by the snow and wet. Rush hour. Bad weather.

My phone rang—”The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” played. I dived for the floor and grabbed for the phone. The music set my nerves on edge—it couldn’t be good. The dash clock said 7 A.M. Too early for normal people.

“What is it?”

Cormac sounded as urgent as I’d ever heard him. He didn’t even sound like Cormac. “I think this is it.”

“What, this is . . . oh. Franklin.”

“This blizzard isn’t natural,” he said. He sounded like he was in a car, speeding somewhere through traffic.

“So what are we going to do about it?”

“I’ve got an idea, but I’m still working on that part,” he said. “I wanted to make sure you and Ben are home and ready to get socked in.”

“Um . . .” I said, trying to figure out how to explain this. “I’m afraid we’ve had something come up.” Could I sound any more vague? Like this wouldn’t make him suspicious.

I could almost hear the deep sigh over the line. “What happened?”

“So you know last night was the full moon? Well, the guys from the army came with us, and one of them kind of went rogue—”

“And you’re chasing after him? Good luck with that.” How did he manage to sound so sarcastic without changing his tone of voice?

I grumbled, “Yeah, thanks.”

“You need help?”

“Not yet,” I said. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “I’d rather have you figuring out how to stop Franklin. Don’t worry about us, we won’t freeze.”

“You spend enough time worrying about me, I’m going to return the favor. I’ll call you when I have something,” he said, and hung up before I could argue.

I stared at my phone a moment.

“Was that Cormac? Was that about Franklin?” Ben said.

“Yes. He’s says this is because of him.” I gestured to the massive snow.

“Great. Now what do we do?”

“I’m thinking of calling Odysseus Grant.” Grant was the other wizard I knew. He always seemed to have an answer for a magical crisis.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Ben said. “Don’t pull any more people into this if we don’t have to. If you really think Franklin fried your caller in Louisiana with a lightning strike, you could be painting targets on anyone else you call about this.”

He was right. I huffed a sigh and stared out the window. “Cormac says he’ll call back when he’s figured out how to stop him.”

“Then we’ll wait,” Ben said.

I tried not to worry—Cormac could take care of himself.

I-25 was even worse than I-70.

We were well into morning, well after sunrise, not that we could tell with the overcast sky. Everything had a light gray tinge to it rather than a dark gray one. The snow wasn’t letting up. Plows were hard at work—ahead, a couple of safety lights flashed and reflected against the fog. They’d already piled a ridge of snow onto the shoulder of the road.

We moved at a crawl, and I wondered how bad it would have to get before the freeway closed. At this rate, even on foot Walters would get to Fort Carson before us.

“I can’t sit here,” Tyler said. “I have to get out of here. We’re wasting time.” He was gripping the armrest on the door, his hand trembling.

“Keep it together,” I said. “If you head out and turn wolf they’ll just scoop you up along with Walters.”

He breathed low in his throat, making a sound like a growl. I reached back and touched his arm; whatever calm I could find in myself, I sent to him. As pack alpha, that ought to be part of my job, right? I was playing it all by ear, though; I hadn’t had too many role models to draw on. But Tyler’s hand relaxed, and he settled back against the seat, staring out the window.

I turned on the radio and found a news report, which was all about the weather and traffic. Which was good, since I was afraid I was going to start hearing about rogue werewolf attacks. According to the news, the storm wasn’t behaving according to any predictions. While it was snowing across the Front Range, the storm seemed to be centered on Denver—the system had rolled in from the mountains, but didn’t get bad until it had hit the plains. The city was getting more snow than the mountains had. The freeways were being closed in some places—but we seemed to have gotten past those spots just in time. If we got stuck, I wouldn’t be able to argue with Tyler about setting out on foot.

My phone rang and I answered. It was my mother, with her usual great timing.

“Hi, Kitty. I’m just checking to see if you’re okay. I know you went out with your friends last night, and I wanted to make sure you got home all right through all this snow.”

My mother knew I was a werewolf. I wasn’t sure she entirely understood what that meant. She knew I went with the pack to shape-shift on full-moon nights. Trying her best to be supportive, she called it “going out with my friends.” I couldn’t complain, but it led to some awkward conversations.

“Um . . . I’m not really at home right now, Mom. Something came up.” I winced. It was the conversation with Cormac all over again. And who ever thought my mother and Cormac would have something in common?

“Kitty, do you have any idea what the weather is like right now?”

“Yeah. A pretty good idea.” I looked out the car window at the falling snow and near-zero visibility.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m going to check on a friend who needs help.”

“Couldn’t you call the police? Don’t you think you should be safe at home?”

I could almost picture her wringing her hands. “Mom, I’m a werewolf, I can’t freeze to death. I’ll be just fine.” I could, however, be torn limb from limb by rogue werewolves. I didn’t mention that. “Ben is with me—does that make you feel better?”

“Well, I suppose.” The tone of her voice said no.

“Seriously, Mom, I wouldn’t be out in this if it weren’t really important, and I’ll be fine. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“That would be nice, just so I know you’re all right.”

“I love you, Mom.” She said she loved me, too, and I put the phone away.

Tyler was staring at me, plainly disbelieving. “That was your mom?” I nodded. “And she knows you’re a werewolf?” Again, I nodded. “How did you tell her?”

“I lied about it until it blew up in my face and she found out anyway.” That was the short version of the story.

“And she’s okay with it?” he said, wonderingly.

“I wouldn’t say she’s okay with it. She doesn’t really get it enough to have an opinion. But you know, she’s my mom.”

Tyler leaned back, looking thoughtful. Maybe wondering how he was going to tell his mom.

It took us an hour to get to Castle Rock, a trip that should have taken twenty minutes. This was ridiculous. I tapped my fingers on the armrest and grit my teeth.

Up ahead, a row of blinking lights—blue police lights, yellow hazard lights—blazed across the freeway, breaking up the gray sheets of falling snow. We couldn’t see the road much, so Ben followed the lights. They guided us off the freeway and up the exit to the middle of Castle Rock. This wasn’t good.

The car in front of us stopped, and a cop leaned into the driver’s side window. After talking a moment, the officer stepped backed and the car continued on in Castle Rock. This didn’t look good at all.

The highway patrol officer came to talk to us next. Ben rolled down his window.

The guy was wrapped in a rain slicker and looked like he was having a really bad day. His voice was monotone. “The interstate’s closed. I suggest you find a place to stay and wait the storm out.”

I could have howled. I wondered if Franklin was manipulating this as well.

“Any idea when it’ll open back up?” Ben asked the officer in a maddeningly calm voice. I wanted to shriek.

“Once the snow slows down and we get the road cleared. It’s just too much of a mess out there right now,” the officer said. “Sorry.”

“Thanks.”

Ben closed the window and pulled out to cross the overpass behind the previous car.

“You didn’t even try to argue with him,” I grumbled.

“I’ve warned you about arguing with the cops before,” Ben said.

My angry sigh sounded like a growl. He wouldn’t look at me, meet my gaze, or stare. I wanted to pick a fight, but he wasn’t cooperating.

From the backseat, Tyler made a sound, half grunt, half growl. He held his hands in fists, braced against his legs, his eyes shut, and was breathing too quickly.

I was angry; he was picking up on my mood. I forced myself to breathe slowly, calmly, and I spoke in a whisper. “Keep it together, Tyler. It’s okay.” Ben put a hand on my thigh and looked at me, worried.

Tyler sighed, letting out a shuddering breath. He didn’t open his eyes, but his hands opened. If he wasn’t entirely relaxed, at least he didn’t look like he was about to burst out of his skin.

“We’ll find a different way to get there,” Ben said. His back was stiff, and he was starting to smell angry—a hint of sweat, tangy around the edges. So he wasn’t as calm as he let on.

Three werewolves trapped in a little metal box during a snowstorm, going nowhere fast. Wonderful. It was amazing we’d gotten as far as we had. I cracked the window and let a blast of cold air hit us. Driving snowflakes sent a stinging, icy wave across my skin, and it felt good. It woke me up, focused me.

We made a quick stop at a Village Inn to use the restroom, wash up a bit, and get some coffee and food. The deer from last night wasn’t stretching too far. In the restroom, I regarded the mirror. I didn’t just still smell wolfish, I looked it. I hadn’t brushed my hair, just haphazardly tied it back. Strands were coming loose in a tangled halo around my head. My eyes were shadowed, glaring, and my frown was fierce. I was a muscle twitch away from snarling. I was still wearing nothing but a damp T-shirt and jeans. And I had a ways left to go.

The guys didn’t look too much better. We left quickly.

Back in the car, Ben picked our way to the state highway east of the interstate. The weather wasn’t any better, but traffic was a little easier. Wind blasted eddies of snow across the blacktop.

A massive pileup stopped us north of Colorado Springs. It looked like an SUV braked too quickly at an intersection and momentum carried it, slipping and fishtailing, into the waterlogged intersection, where it hit a sedan and sent it spinning into another car. Two other cars had slammed into the mess when they couldn’t stop in time. We waited forty-five minutes before the cops cleared enough of a lane for traffic to pass by.

The weather seemed to be conspiring against us, which was terribly ominous, given recent events. I resisted an urge to call Cormac to see if he’d learned anything new. He would call when he had something to say. Probably.