Kitty's House of Horrors

Chapter 8

I couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning for a couple of hours. Maybe if I got up, took a walk, and drank another glass of wine, I could relax.

Outside, the air had a predawn chill, making my breath fog. I loved mornings like this, especially waking up outside after a full moon, naked, curled up with Ben, my skin tingling at the combination of warm bodies and cool air. I could enjoy the world as it seemed to pause and take a breath before my crazy life started up again. Watch the sky get light, try to notice the moment it turned from night to gray dawn to palest blue, then watch the sun rise.

I went down the path to the edge of the meadow. A mist lay across the valley, drifting over the surface of the lake, clinging to the grass in the meadow, lacework fog waiting for the sun to burn it off. Atmospheric rather than obscuring. I felt better, even if I wouldn’t be getting any more sleep.

Back at the lodge, Dorian was standing at the end of the porch, leaning forward against the railing and gazing out over the clearing. I scuffed my feet up the path to make noise, so I wouldn’t startle him. He glanced at me slowly, like I’d woken him from a spell.

“Hi,” I said. “I wasn’t sure I was ever going to see you in daylight, without the escort.”

He chuckled but didn’t offer any additional commentary. He might have been the quietest guy I’d ever met.

I should have left him alone to enjoy the moment, but I might not have another chance to talk to him without the vampires. I kept my distance, watching him watch the world. The morning sun was still low in the sky, but it turned the valley golden, the light seeming to paint every tree, every blade of grass. The sky was bright blue, and a hawk was soaring over the meadow.

“It’s a nice morning,” I said, wincing at the awkward conversational gambit.

“Yeah,” he said. “I like to do this sometimes. Stay up to watch the sunrise.”

“When Anastasia lets you off the leash?”

His smile turned wry. “It isn’t like that. I don’t have to ask her permission.”

“And you can leave her whenever you want?”

“I wouldn’t want to.”

I’d already gotten more from him than I expected. I should have quit while I was ahead. “Can I ask a personal question?”

He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no. He had a great smile, which suddenly made me want to ask what was so funny.

“Are you in training?” I said. “It’s my understanding that some people in your position are serving some kind of apprenticeship, and that they hope to become vampires someday.”

“No, I’m not. I’d miss this too much to ever give it up.” He nodded at the sunlit world. “Anastasia’s offered. To turn me, I mean. But I think I like being alive too much. I stay with her because we’re friends. It’s not so mysterious.”

“I’ve talked to people who’d give a lot to be in your position. Who’d jump at the offer to become a vampire.”

“I listen to your show,” he said. “And no offense, but a lot of your callers are either crazy or looking for attention.”

I decided I really liked Dorian. He’d never call in to my show, because he knew how to fix his own damn problems.

“Yeah,” I said, grinning. “Can’t argue. So what about the immortality? The power? You’re not attracted to that?”

“There’s the price for all that,” he said. “I’ve seen it up close. It’s not worth it.” He glanced away, shaking his head.

“You are wise beyond your years,” I said.

“If you say so,” he said. “Now. Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Fire away.”

“Are you one of those people who went looking for this? Did you want to be a werewolf?”

I said, “If the first question people ask about vampires is ‘How old are you?’ that’s usually the first question people ask lycanthropes.”

“If you don’t want to answer, I understand—”

“I was attacked. I wasn’t looking for it.”

“You seem to have done pretty well with it despite that,” he said.

“It was either that or go completely crazy. I got pretty close to that, by the way.”

He glanced away for a moment. “That’s true of most of this, isn’t it? Cope or go crazy.”

“Any bets on which way Conrad will go when all this finally hits him?”

“He’s a basket case waiting to tip over.”

I giggled. Wouldn’t that be worth the price of admission? I turned back to the door. “I’ll let you enjoy your sunrise. It’s been very nice talking to you, Dorian.”

“Likewise,” he said, with that gorgeous smile.

I left him to his sunny morning. It was hard enough to find a quiet moment of solitude around here without me wrecking it.

Next I called Ben, needing to rant to a friendly ear and hoping to get some outside perspective on whether we were all turning freaky paranoid or if something weird really was going on. Not only was he already awake, he didn’t even let me say hello. “Hey,” he said. “I’ve got something for you. A message from Rick.”

I perked up. “It’s about”—I didn’t even want to say her name—“what I asked you about?”

“Yeah. First he wanted to know if this is the Anastasia who’s medium height, Chinese, with a sense of humor.”

“Yeah, that’s her,” I said.

“Then he knows her. Met her a hundred or so years ago in San Francisco—and can I just mention how surreal it is talking to Rick about this sort of thing?”

“What does he know about her?” This was the jackpot. I hadn’t expected Rick to know Anastasia; I’d been grasping, throwing the name out there hoping he’d have some inkling of her reputation. It turned out vampires moved in a very small world indeed.

“She was the lieutenant of the Master of San Francisco. Sometime in the 1920s, a new Master took over and Anastasia vanished. Rick said he was never sure if she left to save her own skin—or if she’d colluded with the new Master by betraying the old. Since then, he’s caught a rumor of her every decade or so. She tends to keep her head down. He was surprised to hear about her being part of this show. He’s not sure what her game is or where her loyalties are. He says he likes her but doesn’t trust her.”

So much for my paranoia being all in my head. The slice of vampire soap opera didn’t help me much—I’d have preferred a definite “friend” or “enemy” stamp to put on her. Even Rick telling me to get the hell away from her would have been some help.

“Great. Now what?”

“I don’t know. Just keep on sticking it out. Though Rick did say he’d be interested in any good gossip you could pass along.”

“I’m sure he would be. It’ll have to wait until I’ve figured out what’s going on here.”

Ben let out a long-suffering breath in preparation for a speech. It was kind of cute—we’d been married a year, and I could already tell his mood by the sound of his breathing.

“Kitty, have you considered that maybe nothing’s going on? That maybe the whole reality show setup has you paranoid because you’re expecting there to be a plot? Maybe they’re having you on.”

I rubbed my face. All this conspiracy was making me tired. “I hope you’re right.”

He hesitated, then said, “Okay. Now I’m worried. You’re supposed to argue with me.”

I chuckled. I didn’t want to argue. “The thing is, Tina’s really anxious, and she usually knows what she’s talking about.”

“All you can do is keep your eyes open. Kitty, I have to get going. I have to be in Cañon City this afternoon.”

Cormac’s hearing was in the morning. I said, “That’s way more important than my little issues. Break a leg.”

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate here, but thanks. And you be careful.”

“Ha—so you do think something weird’s going on.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Kitty,” he said, still in the long-suffering voice.

Another day in the funhouse began. My project before lunch was to corner Grant and talk to him about Tina. Jeffrey cornered me first, when I was in the middle of a cup of coffee.

“Kitty, can we talk?”

Oh, why me? I’m a werewolf. I was supposed to be a scary monster, not everyone’s favorite confidante.

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a sigh. We settled on one of the sofas and leaned in close.

“I’m worried about Tina,” he said.

“Me, too,” I said. “She came and talked to me last night.”

“Whatever’s going on here, it’s affecting her deeply. I think hypnotizing her may have made it worse. I think Grant may have opened her up to something dangerous.”

“Jeffrey. What exactly do you think is going on?”

“I don’t know,” he said, looking forlorn, as sad as I’d ever seen him. “Everyone’s nervous, even the crew. But I can’t tell if they’re nervous because they know something, or because they’re sharing a house with werewolves and vampires.”

“Here’s the problem,” I said. “Everyone’s convinced something freaky is going on, but nobody knows what. Maybe it’s psychosomatic, maybe it’s all in our heads. We’re letting the atmosphere get to us. But if there is something, we need to brainstorm. Is the place haunted? Is the whole show a conspiracy? If so, why? For what purpose? And who here is in on it?”

He shook his head. For all his talent, empathy, and insight, this was outside his experience. “I couldn’t even begin to guess what it means. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

You’d think if we all pooled our experience, we could come up with something. I couldn’t imagine a more qualified bunch of people to deal with any problem involving the supernatural. Excepting Conrad, of course.

I said, “Can I just say that I think it’s really cute that you’re so worried about Tina?”

That got him to blush. Ducking his gaze, he donned a wide, goofy smile. “She’s pretty special.”

I patted his arm. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.”

Tina came downstairs then, and Jeffrey was at her side in a moment, walking with her to the kitchen and asking if she wanted coffee. They looked like a couple of teenagers.

Maybe we should just chuck the whole freaking-out-Conrad storyline and call the show Real World: Supernatural Edition.

Today was picnic-by-the-lake day. We had more beautiful weather, blue sky and blazing sun. We had a lovely spot, a narrow beach of smooth gravel near a well-kept wooden dock suitable for parking canoes and jumping off of to swim. With the meadow and mountains as a backdrop, the scene was postcard picturesque and would play very well on television. The half dozen of us who took part had spread blankets on the ground and happily munched on another great catered meal.

Tina and Jeffrey sat on the dock, the cuffs of their jeans rolled up, dangling their feet in the water. Ariel stood at the end of the dock in a cute bikini, black with white polka dots, an ensemble that was no doubt making Provost back in the production room very happy. Lee was already swimming—fully human—and trying to get her to join him.

“But it’s really cold!” she complained after dipping in just a toe.

“It’s great. This is perfect!” he countered.

“Keep in mind, he’s used to swimming in the Arctic,” Jeffrey said.

“How about I just stay out here and watch you?” Ariel said.

Lee slapped the surface and sent a shower of water splashing at her. Predictably, she squealed. Unpredictably, she jumped in after him and they started a full-on splashing water fight. Much laughter and shrieking ensued.

I reminded myself that I was supposed to be enjoying this. That I would be enjoying this if I hadn’t nearly convinced myself that all this was a front. I should have been sprawling out on my blanket enjoying the scenery, but I was distracted, turned inward, gnawing on the issue like a dog with a bone.

Also present: Conrad and Jerome, who were talking sports together over chicken sandwiches. The vampires and Dorian were inside, tucked safely away in darkness until nightfall. Odysseus Grant also joined us, which surprised me. I didn’t associate him with bright sunlight. More like shadowy theaters and stage lights. He sat with his back against the trunk of a tall conifer, up a little ways from the edge of the beach. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, but that was the only concession to the great outdoors he’d made in his clothing. I was in shorts and a T-shirt.

I picked myself up and wandered to where Grant was sitting. He watched me. I tried not to be nervous.

“Mind if I join you?” I said.

“Of course not.”

I sat cross-legged, nearby. “Your show yesterday made Tina a little edgy.”

He gave a thin smile. “That wasn’t a show. Stage hypnotism looks completely different.”

“I get the feeling that wouldn’t make her feel any better.”

“She opened a door. Accessed a dark place. She should be nervous.”

“This is all so vague. Conrad’s not half wrong about some of this stuff. It’s hard to believe when it’s all just shadows.”

“If it was more than shadows, we’d be able to see it clearly. We wouldn’t be as terrified.”

I wanted to deny that I was terrified. I hadn’t reached that level yet. But it wasn’t too far a leap from lurking anxiety to terror. “You? Terrified?” I said, smiling to take the edge off my prodding.

“Watchful,” he said.

“Don’t get me wrong. I trust you implicitly. But I also suspect you don’t do much of anything without an ulterior motive. You agreed to do this show because it would bring you in contact with certain people. It would get you access to information. What brought you here? What are you looking for?”

He pursed his lips, looking thoughtfully over the lake, its surface sparkling with sunlight on ripples of water.

“Shadows,” he said finally. “The trouble in Las Vegas last year was just a thread in a larger… web. I almost called it a tangle, but it’s too organized for that. You know it—you’ve seen it. You’ve faced it. You tell me whether we ought to be terrified by it.”

This was far too serious a conversation to be having in such a beautiful setting. I ought to rip off my clothes and join the others for a swim in the lake. I said, “I’ve decided to ignore it for as long as I can.”

“Implying that you’re aware that you won’t be able to ignore it forever.”

My kingdom was a small one. I had my family, my mate, my pack, my city. I didn’t want anything else. I didn’t want an empire. But I would fight to protect what I had. I’d fought before, and I’d be an idiot to ignore the forces out there building empires, who would take my world away from me if I let them. Grant was right.

“So this is just another battle in your war against the forces of chaos,” I said.

“‘Just’ another battle. You make it sound mundane.”

“And you suspect Anastasia of being part of it?” I said.

He just smiled.

And while we were all discussing various conspiracy theories and secret suspicions, Provost and his crew were recording everything on video. Maybe one of the producers wanted information. What better way to gather intelligence than to bring a bunch of people on the inside together, then record their conversations? What happened when the secret shadow world of vampires and the forces of darkness got discussed on national TV? Wait a minute, who was I kidding? To the average TV-watching audience, these conversations would seem boring. They’d never end up in the final cut.

The gathering by the dock had turned quiet, drawing our attention.

“Lee?” Ariel called. She treaded water, turning slowly and looking out over the surface. “Where’d he go?”

“How long has he been under?” Jeffrey said.

“I don’t know,” Ariel said. “A while, I think.”

“Lee knows how to take care of himself,” Tina said. “He’s a were-seal, for crying out loud.”

“But where is he?” Ariel said.

Except for the ripples Ariel was making, the surface of the lake was still, dark, not a bubble in sight. I stood and wandered to the edge of the water. Grant came with me. A moment later, Jerome was standing with us, all of us looking out, and the nervous rock in my gut was growing heavier.

“Should we call someone?” Jeffrey said.

A body erupted from the water and lunged onto the edge of the dock. Torpedo-shaped, it was big, rubbery, with slick gray skin mottled brown, dripping wet. It had a face like a mashed-up dog’s, with huge, shining dark eyes. Opening its mouth wide, it showed off way too many sharp teeth and brayed, a throaty, belchy bark.

Everyone screamed. Except maybe Grant, who raised a curious brow and took a step back. Even Jerome shouted and stumbled away from the water. Tina and Jeffrey scrambled away from the barking seal. Ariel didn’t even bother climbing onto the dock. She swam for the shore, splashing in a panic.

The seal—Lee, I assumed—gave another growl. I swore it sounded like laughter. Then he rolled back into the water. Breaking the surface, he splashed his flippers, then swam, fast and hard, away from shore. He broke the surface now and then, his skin gleaming in the sun.

When I’d calmed down, I had to admit I was impressed that Lee had enough control to play a practical joke while in his lycanthropic form. I wouldn’t have.

“Ballsy,” Jerome said, chuckling nervously. He must have agreed with me.

“You jerk!” Ariel screamed after the now-distant seal. She stomped her feet, splashing in the water. Fuming, she turned to the rest of us. “That was awful! Ooh, I’m going to get him back. I’m so going to get him back for that!”

Tina started laughing. A tad hysterical, but still. All of our hearts were racing. If we didn’t laugh, we’d have heart attacks. But I agreed with Ariel—we’d certainly have to find a way to get back at him, wouldn’t we?

We were missing someone. I looked around, didn’t see him.

“Where’s Conrad?” I said. “Where’d he go? He had to have seen this.”

“He went back to the house for a minute. Said he had to use the bathroom,” Jerome said.

“Are you kidding me?” I screeched. Honest-to-God lycanthropic shape-shifting right in front of him—sort of—and he was off using the bathroom? I could have cried.

“Murphy’s Law,” Grant said. “The most powerful force in the universe.”

“Goddammit,” I muttered.

Just to make the scene even more cinematic, Conrad came wandering down the path from the lodge then. He stopped when he found us all staring at him with posttraumatized, half-amused, half-murderous looks on our faces.

“What are you all looking at?”

“Were-seal,” I said, pointing over my shoulder to the lake. “Lee gave us a show, but he’s gone now. Probably off hunting trout or whatever the hell swims in lakes in Montana.”

Conrad looked uncertain a moment, then chuckled. “Nice try. But Lee’s just hiding in the woods. Right?”

I turned to Skip and the camera. “You can show him the playback, right?”

“Um, we’re not really allowed to do that,” he said.

I cursed Lee for his bad timing. We just needed Conrad to see the seal—so totally not native to freshwater lakes in landlocked Montana—to chip away at his smug skepticism. Was that too much to ask?

So that was the end of the picnic.

Every reality show had to have a bit where they got you alone and filmed you talking trash about everyone else on the show. It was too much to hope that we’d get through Supernatural Insider without it. So there I was, sitting in front of a camera, held by Gordon this time, with the great outdoors as a backdrop. Provost watched from behind the camera, egging me on. I fiddled with the personal mike clipped to my collar.

“Do I have to?” I said for the third time.

“It’s in the contract,” Provost said, also for the third time.

I sighed and pointed at the camera. “Is that thing on?”

“It’s been rolling for a minute now.”

There was no getting out of this. I wasn’t supposed to want to avoid this—face it, I was one of the biggest attention whores on the show. This bit was designed to give the stage to the attention whores, to give them ample opportunity to make idiots of themselves. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? No matter what I said, Provost and his crew would edit it to make me look like an idiot.

Being an attention whore was only fun when I was in charge.

“What exactly are you looking for with this?” I said. “If you give me some idea what you want me to say, I can just say it and save you some time trying to edit it all together.” I smiled with teeth.

He grimaced right back. “What do you think about some of your housemates? Anastasia, let’s say. Or Jerome.”

Predictable.

“Here’s the thing,” I said, leaning forward, making like I was going to dispense some gem of juicy gossip. “You want me to sit here and be catty about everyone else. See if I have any juicy bits of gossip to share. But I’m not going to do that, because the only chance I have of looking good when this thing airs is to be as nice as I possibly can. So you know what? I love everybody. I love them all. We all get along great. This is like summer camp.”

Provost gave me a level glare. I didn’t expect him to like what I said; but he couldn’t argue, because at least I’d said something. He finally said, “Is that how you really feel?”

I thought a minute, then said, “I think Conrad is stubborn.”

Gordon giggled but quickly shut up when Provost glared. But I’d decided that Provost didn’t have much of a sense of humor.

“Okay,” the producer said. “If we can’t go for dirt, how about blatant sentimentality? You miss your family? Anything you’d like to tell them? Your family’ll love it when they watch the show and know you were thinking of them.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to get that sappy any more than I wanted to be a gossipy jerk. My family knew I loved them—I didn’t have to say it on national TV. In the end, though, I did miss my family. I missed Ben especially. Things kept happening that I wanted to tell him about, ask him about. On this subject, at least, I couldn’t find sarcasm to throw at Provost. Maybe the guy deserved a straight line for once.

Again, I looked at the camera. “Being away from my family is the hardest thing about being here.” I pursed my lips and didn’t have to pretend to look sad.

I hoped that would play well enough on TV for Provost. He seemed happy enough and let me loose from the camera’s eye.