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

His smile turned sly, back to his romance-cover-model look. “We had inspiration. You don’t think we’re the first to do this, do you? This sort of thing’s been going on for thousands of years.”

“Some of those dancing bears at the carnival might not have been bears, is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying some of those bears absolutely weren’t bears. Ah, here’s someone who wants to meet you.” He turned back to look.

The tiger stalked toward me from behind the curtain. Gaze focused, it moved with purpose, striding without a sound.

I’d seen tigers in the zoo. Maybe not up close, but close enough, and they were big animals. Intellectually, I knew this wasn’t as big as a real tiger. It seemed maybe two hundred pounds. But even a small tiger was plenty big enough for me. He still came up to my waist, and his paws looked like they could bat me to the floor in a heartbeat, without effort.

I stood my ground. Kept my shoulders back and let him know I wasn’t afraid of him. He didn’t show any aggression. No bared teeth or raised hackles, nothing that indicated he wanted a fight or thought I was here looking for a fight. He had to sense what I was. He had to smell the lycanthropy on me. Heck, he had to smell the anxiety.

He kept moving toward me, until I could feel the heat from his body, then at the last moment he turned and bumped my thigh with his shoulder. He rubbed the whole length of his body against me, his tail curling. Then I realized: he smelled like Nick. This was Nick, who’d given me the tickets. We’d already met.

Turning around, he rubbed his other side against me and tilted his head to look up at me with bright gold eyes. He looked like a giant kitten who wanted to play.

Tentative, I touched the top of his head, behind an ear. He butted my hand encouragingly, so I started petting him. His coat was thick and silky. I brushed my fingers through it. He closed his eyes and seemed positively blissful. I smiled. He was just a big friendly cat. Until I thought about petting the human Nick like this. I curled my hands up and drew them to my sides. The tiger actually looked disappointed, blinking up at me.

“You’ve met Nick, I think,” Balthasar said.

“I guess I have,” I said.

Two more animals approached, ducking from behind Balthasar and darting forward. Two of the leopards, only slightly smaller than Nick the tiger. Like the tiger, their tails were flicking, their ears up, and they practically ran into me, smoothing their coats along my legs.

“And these are?”

“Sanjay and Avi,” he said.

I now had three big cats pinning me to the wall, straining for my attention as they butted their heads against me and flicked their tails.

“I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable here,” I said. I was having trouble seeing which tails and paws went with which cat, as they writhed around each other in their efforts to get to me, orange and yellow fur, stripes and spots, all blending together. At least they weren’t fighting.

“I told you they’d like you.”

This must have been what it felt like to be surrounded by toddlers. I tried to extricate myself from the mob, distracted by their pawing. Wolf was bristling.

“You should come back and meet them after they’ve rested.”

“I think I might.”

“We have our own suite here in the hotel. On the eighth floor. Follow your nose.” He touched Nick on the shoulder. “Come on, guys. She’ll visit later. Have a good afternoon, Kitty.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

All three cats glanced at me one last time befo

re turning to follow Balthasar farther backstage.

That was awfully surreal.

By the time I wandered out of the theater, the lobby was empty, the box office shut up for a break before the evening show. The place took on a surprisingly peaceful atmosphere, almost like it was sleeping. I wandered into the lobby, gaze inward, relishing the calm. I wasn’t expecting to see a figure leaning against the wall near the box office, waiting. Maybe I should have been.

Odysseus Grant managed to look like he was on his way to a formal dinner party or the Oscars, even offstage, even in the middle of the day. He wasn’t wearing a tux this time, but his dark trousers were tailored, with a perfect crease, and his white shirt was crisp, even with the collar open and sleeves rolled up. He straightened from the wall when he saw me.

I stopped. “Are you stalking me?”

“It does seem that way, doesn’t it?”

We were in a public place. He couldn’t make me disappear. I couldn’t let him intimidate me.