Kitty's House of Horrors (Kitty Norville 7)

“But they have to sleep, too,” Jeffrey said. “Maybe they’ll leave us alone for a while.”

Maybe they would. Maybe we’d have a few hours’ respite. “I’ll take the first watch,” I said.

“No,” Jeffrey said. “Tina’s right, you’re half asleep already.”

“I’m fine.”

He touched my shoulder and guided me to the second sofa, and I was too tired to shrug him off.

I woke up not knowing how I managed to

fall asleep at all, but exhaustion had caught up with me. But I didn’t exactly feel refreshed. I still felt hunted, all my muscles tied in knots, my hackles permanently taut. When I looked around the living room, it was with suspicion, searching for the thing that was wrong. Looking to see who was missing now.

Grant was asleep on a bed of blankets on the floor by the fireplace. His injured hands wrapped with gauze bandages lay on his chest. Tina was slumped in a chair, also asleep. Jeffrey sat in a chair near the window, out of sight from the outside, where another beautiful sunny day in the mountains shone through.

Conrad, sitting up, his injured leg stretched out on the other sofa, was awake and looking at me. He actually seemed a little better—more relaxed, not so pale. His leg had been washed and bound with gauze and tape. Blood still seeped through the bandages. He really needed a hospital. That goal seemed a tiny bit out of our reach at the moment.

“Hi,” I said, slowly drawing myself into the moment.

“Hi,” he answered.

“What’s been happening? What have I missed?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been kind of out of it. The others have been taking turns keeping watch.”

“How are you doing?” I asked.

He smiled wryly and shook his head. “It’s gone numb.”

That couldn’t be a good sign. “We’ll get out of this. Everything’ll turn out.”

That sounded lame, didn’t it? I glanced away in apology.

His voice was soft but steady now. As long as he didn’t move, the pain seemed manageable. “You’re married, right?”

“Yeah.” The reminder of Ben sent an ache through my heart. I couldn’t think about him right now—just think about getting through the next few hours.

“You have kids?” he said.

“No.”

“You want kids? Are you and your husband trying for them?”

My smile got tighter as the old wound twinged in my gut. “It’s not a matter of what I want. Lycanthropes can’t carry a baby to term. Shape-shifting causes a miscarriage.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Life’s a bitch.”

“I didn’t think I wanted them. My wife—Trish—talked me into it. I could never say no to her. But when Toby came along—God, I didn’t think I’d feel that way. It’s like the whole world shifted so everything centered on him. This amazing little thing. Toby, then Hannah…”

He wiped his nose on his shirt. That whole life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing? Maybe it happened sometimes, but I had a feeling that just three faces were flashing before Conrad’s eyes.

“We’re going to get out of this,” I said weakly. “You’ll see them again.”

He gave a painful chuckle. “Yeah. Sure. Okay.” Unconvinced.

“Get some rest,” I said. “In case we have to go running again.”