Kitty and the Silver Bullet (Kitty Norville 4)

“Where is he?” I asked. “Is he here? How much does he know about what we planned? And Ben was supposed to come find you—”

He pursed his lips in a wry smile. “Dack’s not here.”

“Then where is he?”

“I sent him and Ben to go after Carl and Meg.” His voice was bitter. He lowered his gaze.

I could only stare at him, frozen. More than numb. The words he’d spoken sent the world crumbling apart around me, and my blood hummed in my ears.

“You’ve killed him,” I said starkly. “Dack’s taking him into a trap. They’ll tear him apart.” Unless Shaun and Becky’s friend Mick was out there, and if anyone else was out there who could save him, and if Carl and Meg hadn’t already killed them all. Too many ifs. They might all be dead.

“I knew—I believed you wouldn’t be able to face Carl and Meg. Part of you still sees them as dominant over you. There’s too much history between you. Ben agreed with me. So he and Dack went after Carl and Meg without you. It seemed like the right thing to do. They were supposed to take care of it while I faced Arturo. We’d finish it all in a night.” He’d become emotionless, his voice monotone. If I punched him now he’d probably stand there and take it.

He didn’t have that right, to decide I couldn’t face my old alphas. He didn’t know me, didn’t know what drove me. Neither he nor Ben had the right to make that decision. To take that away from me. The mess they’d created because of that might very well be irreparable. I didn’t know which of them I was more angry at.

Time enough for getting pissed off later.

“Rick. We have to go after them. Now.”

“It’s almost dawn. I can’t. Kitty, Ben’s strong, he’s resourceful. Maybe he’s okay—”

“Like hell! One man against the three of them? When it’s probably a trap?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding small, surprisingly young.

“Give me your keys.” I held out my hand. “Your car, give me the keys now.”

“It’s too dangerous by yourself. Find someone to go with you—”

All I could think about was finding Ben. “Just give me the keys.”

He did, pulling them out of his pocket and tossing them to me. I was on my way to the door as soon as I caught them. I still had my backpack, which had everything I needed.

“Kitty—”

I didn’t turn around.

In the corridor, I nearly ran into Charlie and Violet. They were carrying inert vampires into the lair. Stella, unconscious, her face thick with hives, was among them. Charlie said Rick hadn’t wanted any of the vampires killed. I understood now: they had been Arturo’s. Rick had taken Arturo into himself, and now they were Rick’s, and Charlie and Violet were bringing them underground before dawn. Rick hadn’t wanted to waste any of his potential followers.

Right now, it would be easy to see him as conniving and selfish as the rest, ready to sacrifice anyone.

“Hey, Kitty, a little help here?” Charlie said. I walked right past him. “Hey!”

I ignored him. I could only think of the car, the road, the route to Meg and Carl’s house, where Dack must have taken Ben. My Ben.

Outside, the sky was lightening—twilit blue on the edge of gray. Rick was right—dawn was close. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed. How much time had passed since Dack and Ben went after Carl and Meg? How long ago had they killed him?

The alley behind Obsidian was broken by many sets of flashing red and blue lights. Ambulances, police cars. EMTs were checking out Kramer. A couple of cops were putting up yellow tape around the whole parking lot. A couple, wearing latex gloves and carrying crime scene equipment, crouched by Sawyer. Investigating. Hardin was near one of the ambulances, nursing a cigarette and talking on a phone.

I walked past them all.

“Kitty!” Hardin called. “Hey, Kitty—”

I jumped into Rick’s car and drove. Had to drive fast, focused. I knew the route, I knew what waited for me.

The sports car was unlike anything I’d ever driven. Little seemed to separate me from the pavement; the car was low, the tires humming, and it responded to the tiniest touch. A hair-thin turn of the steering wheel had me zipping around corners. The barest press of the gas pedal made the car shoot ahead. I never even looked at the speedometer to see how fast I was going. The world scrolled past me. This time of night—of morning—I had no traffic to contend with. The feeling was close to running free, on four legs, over open, unbroken country, the wind drawing fingers through the fur on my body.

I am a hunter. I will stalk them and strike.