Kitty Goes to War (Kitty Norville 8)

“You’re welcome,” I said. “Think about that next step, okay? I’ll see if I can’t arrange a field trip.” I tried to sound encouraging.

Tyler’s responding smile was grim, but it was a smile. Walters looked up, then away. But tension in the room was less than it had been when we entered.

Ben and I left shoulder to shoulder, and Shumacher led us back to her office for the debriefing. She kept looking at Ben—who had, of course, blown his cover by coming here and talking werewolf with the soldiers. Ben looked back at her, unconcerned and amused. We’d discussed this—and if he hadn’t been okay with her knowing, he wouldn’t have come.

“I assumed you’d guessed when I didn’t mind getting Kitty’s blood all over me,” he said finally.

She blushed and ducked her gaze. “I didn’t spot it. I thought I was getting good at identifying werewolves on sight. But you hide it well.”

“I’d appreciate it if you kept it quiet,” Ben said. “I’m not the publicity hound Kitty is.”

“Publicity hound? Is that a joke?” I said, and he kissed my cheek in response.

“Of course,” Shumacher said. “Of course.” She was nervous around us—her body tense, her gaze darting, her smell sharp. I’d have thought she’d gotten used to being around werewolves by now. Maybe she didn’t like being outnumbered. “Are you sure taking them outside is a good idea?” She set her clipboard on her desk.

Ben and I took chairs across from her.

I shrugged. “They’ll be supervised. We have to start somewhere.”

“I’m not sure they’re ready,” Shumacher said.

“Have you even talked to them? Found out what they want?”

“I’m not sure they’re in a position to be making those kinds of decisions, after what they’ve been through.”

“They’re not children,” I said. “Sure, they need help. But they deserve to have a say in what happens to them. The only way they’re going to get better is if they have a reason to get better. It’s the carrot approach.” I sat back and tried not to frown.

“Is she always so optimistic?” Shumacher said to Ben.

“Yes. I usually just stand out of her way and let her go. It’s easier than arguing,” Ben said.

Shumacher studied her clipboard a moment. It held what looked like a stack of charts, computer printouts of some kind. I couldn’t tell what information she derived from them.

“They did well today, didn’t they?” she said finally.

“I think so,” I said. “They’re listening to me. I think they’ll listen to me if we go outside.”

“Maybe I can allow a short trip. An hour or two.”

“That’s all I’m asking for,” I said. “Baby steps.”

“I’ll need to get authorization from Colonel Stafford,” she said.

Which was touch and go at best, but I couldn’t complain.

We said our farewells, left the building, and emerged into an increasingly overcast winter afternoon. The air smelled wet.

“That went well,” Ben said as we crossed the parking lot, and he didn’t even sound sarcastic.

“Really?” I said hopefully.

“Yeah. Those guys deserve a break. I hope we can help them.”

I wrapped my arm around his middle and hugged him. “So what’s up with Cormac?” I said.

“Oh, you’ll like this.” Ben wore a shit-eating grin. It was his courtroom attorney “I will bury you” expression.

“What? What does he want?”