Kitty Takes a Holiday (Kitty Norville 3)

“I didn’t see any.”

I kicked the dirt, stubbing my toe on the ground. I let out a short growl at the pain. “This is driving me crazy,” I muttered.

“That’s probably the idea,” Cormac said.

“Huh. As if I’m not perfectly capable of driving myself crazy.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing stuck out here in the woods? Driving yourself crazy?”

It kind of looked that way. I didn’t have to admit that, though. I started picking up the crosses, searching for the next one around the circle, intending to find every single one.

“Kitty—” His tone made him sound reprimanding, like he was about to burst forth with some great wisdom. We both knew it: picking up all the crosses was probably futile. Until we learned who was leaving these things, there’d always be more.

“You should look in on Ben,” I said. “After his talk last night, he shouldn’t be left alone. Or you could get some sleep. Or something.”

He actually took the hint. After a moment’s pause, he ambled back to the cabin.

When I finished, I had sixteen barbed-wire crosses pocketed in the corner of my coat. Eighteen when I added them to the two Cormac had brought into the house. I found a plastic grocery bag, put them all in, tied the bag closed, and left it out on the porch. I didn’t want those things inside. Cormac’s idea of melting them to slag sounded wise.

Inside, Cormac and Ben were sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, dead quiet. Cormac looked at Ben, and Ben didn’t look at anything in particular. I started fixing breakfast, pretending like nothing was wrong, trying not to throw glances at them over my shoulder. It felt like I had interrupted an argument.

“Eggs, anyone? Cereal? I think I’ve got some sausage that isn’t too out-of-date. Frozen venison?” Silence. My own appetite wasn’t what it should have been. I settled for a glass of orange juice. Finally, leaning back against the counter, I asked, “Who died?”

Then I wished I hadn’t. Ben looked sharply at me, and Cormac crossed his arms with a frustrated sigh. I couldn’t read the series of body language. Maybe if I could get them talking, then close my eyes and pretend I was doing the show, I could figure out what was wrong.

“No, really,” I said, my voice flat. “Who died?”

Ben stood up. “I’m taking a shower.” He stalked back to the bedroom.

That left me with Cormac, who wouldn’t look at me. I said, “You going to tell me what I missed, or are we all going to go around not talking to each other for the rest of the day?”

“I’m inclined to say that it’s none of your business.”

“Yeah, that’s why you brought Ben here in the first place, because it’s none of my business. Real cute. What’s wrong?”

“Ben and I worked it out.”

“Worked what out?”

“A compromise.”

I wanted to growl. “Will you just tell me why he won’t talk to me and you won’t look at me?”

Taking that as a challenge, he looked right at me. If I hadn’t been against the counter I would have backed up a step, so much anger and frustration burned out of his gaze.

He said, “After the full moon, if he still wants me to do it, I’ll do it.”

I had to take a moment to parse that, to understand what it meant. And I did. I still had to spell it out. “You’ll shoot him. Just like that. The only person in the world you trust, and you’ll kill him.”

“If he wants me to.”

“That isn’t fair. That isn’t enough time for him to adjust to what’s happened to him. He won’t be any happier after the full moon than he is now.”

“And how long did it take you to become the stable, well-adjusted werewolf you are today?” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

I crossed my arms and pouted. “Very funny.”

“It’s what we decided.”