Kitty and the Dead Man's Hand (Kitty Norville 5)

I took the envelope from Rick. Sealed, of course. It didn’t even have a name on it.

“And what can you tell me about Dom? Or is it Dominic?”

“He answers to both. I can’t tell you much, except that he’s been there since the forties, when the money really started pouring in, and he has some very good stories.”

That got my attention. I was always looking for material for the show. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“Can you at least tell me if he’s one of the good guys?”

Rick’s smile thinned, and he said, “He’ll do.”

He was being particularly inscrutable tonight. Not that I could expect anything different from a vampire.

“Why can’t you people use the phone? Or e-mail?”

“I’d like this to be a little more traditional.”

“And are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“It’s nothing, really.”

Stories ran that, traditionally, lycanthropes in any given territory tended to serve the local vampires. Or the vampires treated the lycanthropes like servants and the lycanthropes bought into it. The alternative was fighting between them. Bottom line, they didn’t usually get along as equals. Rick and I were trying to change that. Neither of us was fond of the old hierarchies. Yet somehow here we were. Both of us had ended up at the top of our respective totem poles, and while Rick might not have agreed with the old traditions, he sometimes fell into old patterns.

I leaned forward over my desk, the message in hand, studying him. Actually trying to think out what to say for once, rather than blurting it all out. “Rick. We decided to form a kind of partnership here, didn’t we? I support your claim to be the Master of Denver. You support my being alpha of the local pack. But what we’re most interested in is keeping the city safe from outsiders, right?” He gave a cautious nod. “Which means that I’m not your servant. The werewolves here are not at your beck and call. We’re not your messengers.”

His voice was soft. “If you don’t want to do the favor, just say so.”

“I’m happy doing it, I just want to know what it’s about.”

He gave me this puckered expression, half amused, half annoyed. “You just don’t like not knowing everyone’s secrets.”

“You read Hamlet? Or see it staged or something?”

He looked away to mask a chuckle. “Once or twice.”

“Rosencrantz and Guildenstern? A couple of dimwits who are given a message to deliver to England, asking the English king to execute Hamlet? And Hamlet switches the letter to one that says to execute them instead? And they deliver it blindly, because they’re idiots?”

“And you’re bringing this up because. . .”

“How do I know this isn’t a letter asking this Dom guy to take care of a little werewolf problem you have?”

“Kitty, you’re being paranoid.”

“Don’t tell me about being paranoid.” I really had had people out to kill me. That kind of thing left scars.

“I’d have thought you trusted me more than that.”

“Yeah. Well. I do. But I’m paranoid.” I gave him a toothy smile.

“Fine.” He took the envelope out of my hand and tore off the end. He read the note in a rapid deadpan patter: “ ‘Dear Dom, I’m sure you’ve heard by now, but I thought I’d confirm the rumors personally. Denver has a new Master and it’s me. Surprise. By the way, this is Kitty, alpha female of the Denver werewolves and a friend of mine, so be nice to her, signed, Rick.’ There, that’s it.”

A perfectly straightforward note, I had to admit. But these were vampires, so there was probably some secret code or veiled meaning that I wasn’t privy to. I glared. “Are you sure you can’t just e-mail him?”

“You may need an ally in Vegas, and this is a formal introduction between you.”

“I’m going to try to avoid any supernatural politics.