“If you see this guy, give me a call. You go places I don’t, meet people I can’t. You have contacts.”
“You don’t agree with Hardin? You don’t think I’ll protect him just because he’s a werewolf?”
“I think you’ll do the right thing. You have my number.” He turned to walk away.
“Who owes who a favor now?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m keeping track.”
Matt leaned against the doorjamb between the sound booth and studio. “Kitty? There’s a live one on line three. Might be a crank, but she sounds like she’s really in trouble. You want it?”
I could say no. This was my show, after all. It would be a lot easier and better for everyone if I transferred her to a hotline. Too bad there wasn’t a hotline for troubled vampires and werewolves.
I nodded, listening to my current caller’s ornate commentary about miscegenation and purity of the species. Standard canned reactionary rhetoric.
“Uh-huh, thank you,” I said. “Have you considered a career as a speechwriter for the Klan? Next caller, please.”
“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” The woman was sobbing, her words unintelligible around the hysterics.
“Whoa, slow down there. Take a breath. Slow breaths. That’s a girl. Estelle? Is this Estelle?”
She stopped hyperventilating somewhat, matching her breathing to my calm words. “Y-yes.”
“Good. Estelle, can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“They’re after me. I’m hurt. They’re coming after me. I need help.” Her words came faster and faster. My heartbeat sped up along with them. Her voice lisped, like she held her mouth too close to the phone.
“Wait a minute. Explain your situation. Who’s after you?”
She swallowed, loud enough to carry over the line. “Have you heard of Elijah Smith? The Church of the Pure Faith?”
I stood and started pacing. More than heard of him, I was almost ready to show up at his door and let him have at me just to learn something new. I so wanted to expose him for a charlatan. Right now, the church caravan was parked some sixty miles away from the studio.
“Yes, I’ve heard of them.”
“I left. I mean—I want to leave. I’m trying to leave.”
“Oh. I mean—oh.” I, who made my living by my voice, was speechless. No one had ever left the Church of the Pure Faith. None of Smith’s followers had ever been willing to talk about him.
I had so many questions: What was she? Had she gone looking for a cure? Did it work? What was Smith like? This was the interview I’d been waiting for.
“Okay, Estelle. Let me make sure I’m clear on this. You are—what, vampire? Lycanthrope?”
“Vampire.”
“Right. And you went to the Church of the Pure Faith seeking a cure for vampirism. You met Elijah Smith. You—were you cured? Were you really cured?” What would I do if she said yes?
“I—I thought so. I mean, I thought I was. But not anymore.”
“I’m confused.”
“Yeah,” she said, laughing weakly. “Me, too.”
Estelle sounded exhausted. How long had she been running? The night was half over. Did she have a safe place to spend the day? And why had she called me?
Witnesses. We were live on the air. Thousands of witnesses would hear her story. Smart. Now if only I could live up to her faith in me.
“Are you safe for the moment? Are you in a safe place or do you need to get out of there right now? Where are you?”