Kitty Goes to War (Kitty Norville 8)

When Dr. Shumacher moved aside and I came into sight, Vanderman lunged forward. He all but pressed himself to the glass, his teeth bared. His right hand slapped against the partition, his fingers bent into claws.

If I had flinched, if I had stepped back, it would have been all over. I’d never have been able to talk to him. But somehow I held my ground. My heart was racing, and Vanderman would be able to hear it, be able to smell the anxiety in the sweat breaking out on me, the ventilation system drawing my scent into his cell. But I didn’t look away, I didn’t slouch, didn’t cringe. My tail, only imaginary at the moment, stayed up.

I just kept thinking that I had faced worse than this. And there was that wall between us.

When he hit the window, Tyler looked. Walters sat up, his gaze wary. Tyler turned to face me and his eyes widened. I gave him a thin smile. He seemed shocked to see me.

“I know you,” the alpha sergeant said. His voice was low, threatening, as if he was talking through clenched teeth.

“Yeah. We met.” I tried to stick to my soothing talk-radio-host voice. My NPR voice. “It’s nice to finally talk to you.”

“What do you want?”

“To help,” I said, but it sounded kind of vague and lame. Help how?

“Maybe she’s a bribe,” said Walters. He crouched now, balanced on his fingertips, ready to spring. He watched me, his lips parted, and I’d have sworn he was drooling. “We get some ass, calm us down—”

“Grow up, Walters,” Tyler said.

“Is that why you’re here?” Vanderman said. Growled. He looked like he was going to burst out of his skin any minute.

“Nobody is touching my ass,” I said.

“Sounds like a dare,” he said, lips parting in a hungry smile. He leaned right up to the wall, his breath fogging the glass.

“I’m just here to talk. Werewolf to werewolf.”

“Bitch.”

“Yeah,” I said.

He snarled and returned to pacing. Back and forth, glaring at me the whole time.

“Sergeant, we can’t release you until we’re sure you’re not going to be a threat to yourself and others,” Shumacher said, entirely scientific and rational.

Vanderman slammed against the Plexiglas, pounding it with hands bent like claws, as if he could scratch his way through and get to her.

Startled, she stepped back, fear rattling through her. Vanderman was the boss here and everyone knew it. He’d kill Shumacher

if the wall wasn’t there.

Calmly, I stepped between Shumacher and Vanderman, blocking his view of her. Protecting her, showing that he’d have to go through me to get her. He was a bully, and I’d dealt with bullies before.

“Could you leave us alone for a few minutes?” I said over my shoulder to Shumacher.

“Are you sure?” She clung to her clipboard like it was a shield.

“I’ll be fine, and I’m sure you have a million closed-circuit cameras in here, so you’re not going to miss anything, right?”

“Call if you need anything,” she said. She pressed her lips in a frown and left, heels clicking on tile.

The door closed behind her, and the air went out of the room, as if we were now vacuum sealed.

For a second I panicked. What the hell did I say to these guys? What could I possibly say that they’d take seriously? But they weren’t just badass Green Berets who’d been through a hell I couldn’t imagine. They were baby wolves without their alpha. They’d been floundering since Gordon was killed.

Tyler faced me now. “Captain Gordon didn’t tell us there were any female werewolves.”

Vanderman pointed at him. “Don’t talk to her.”