Kitty Takes a Holiday (Kitty Norville 3)

She thought for a couple of beats, and I couldn’t guess what kind of expression she had. “No, I really don’t.”

“That’s okay.”

“Kitty, tell me the truth, are you all right?”

My eyes teared up. I would not start crying at Mom. If I started I wouldn’t stop, and then she’d really worry. And she was right to worry, I supposed. I took a deep breath and kept it together.

“I will be.” Somehow… “Things are kind of a mess, but I’m working through it.”

“You’re sure there isn’t anything I can do?”

“I’m sure.”

“Are your friends still with you? Are they helping?”

“Yeah, they are.” In fact, if Cormac hadn’t been here to take care of the dog thing, I might very well have run screaming and never come back.

“Good. I’m glad. You know I worry about you.”

“I know, Mom. I appreciate it, I really do.” And I did. It was good to have people looking out for you.

“Well… please call me if you need anything, if there’s anything I can do. And don’t be afraid to come home if you need to. There’s no shame in that.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Couldn’t think of anything else to say. Just… thanks.

chapter 8

Then came the day.

According to the Farmer’s Almanac, the full moon in January was known as the Wolf Moon. This was the time of year, the deepest part of winter, when people would huddle together in their homes, build up their fires against the cold, listen to the howling of hungry wolves outside, and pray that they were safe. The cold seeped into people’s souls as well as their bodies, and their fears multiplied. Summer and safety seemed farthest away.

Maybe being cursed was really only a state of mind.

I decided that I wasn’t going to let Ben die. If I had to tie him up with silver to keep him from hurting himself, I’d do it. If tomorrow came and he still wanted Cormac to kill him, I’d stop him. Somehow, I’d stop Cormac. Hide his guns, fight him, something.

Maybe I could knock Cormac out in a hand-to-hand fight—I was stronger than I looked, and maybe he’d forget that. If Cormac had a gun, though, I’d probably die. At least then they’d know how strongly I felt about the issue.

But I was getting ahead of myself. I had to get through today before I could worry about tomorrow.

I woke up at dawn—still on the sofa—but lay there for a long time, curled up and wishing it were all already over. Wolf knew what day it was; a coiling, wriggling feeling made itself known in my gut, and it would get stronger and stronger until nightfall, when it would turn to knives and claws, the creature trying to rip its way out of the weak human shell, until finally it burst forth and forced the Change. In the bedroom, Ben was feeling this for the first time. He wouldn’t know what to do

with it. He’d need help coping.

I’d meant to check on him, but he emerged first and went to the kitchen, where Cormac was already sitting. I wasn’t sure Cormac had ever gone to bed. I stayed very still to try to hear what they said, but the cabin remained quiet.

Finally, I sat up and looked into the kitchen.

Ben sat on one chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and Cormac sat on the other chair, facing him across the table, arms crossed. They might have been like that for hours, staring at each other.

They’d been best friends since they were kids and now they were wondering if this was their last day together. Had Ben told Cormac about the monster waking up inside him?

I had to break this up. I marched into the kitchen and started making noise, pulling out pots and slamming cabinet doors.

“Who wants eggs?” I forced a Mrs. Cleaver smile, but my tone sounded more strained than cheerful.

They didn’t even turn, didn’t even flinch. At least it would all be over, after tonight. One way or another.

I cooked bacon and eggs, way more than I needed to, but it distracted me. This was going to be a long, long day.