Kitty Goes to War (Kitty Norville 8)

“Kitty?” Ben called from the grove. The pack, all dressed now, appearing relatively human, had gathered, everyone looking at me, waiting for instructions. Like I had any clue. I didn’t know what to do, but I had to act as if I did.

“Everyone go home,” I said. “I’ll call if we need help.”

“Let us know if you see anything strange,” Ben added.

My wolves moved off, leaving in small groups the way they’d come, jogging across the fields back to their cars. As the group dispersed, Becky faced me and stopped.

“Should I be worried?” she said.

I couldn’t honestly say no. Any reassurances would sound false, and that wouldn’t exactly put her at ease or make her trust my leadership.

But Tyler was confident when he shook his head. “He’s not after you. You’ll be all right.”

She nodded and seemed comforted. I touched her arm. “Shaun will take you home. Stick with him while I take care of this. Shaun?”

He nodded and put his arm across Becky’s back. The touch made her relax. They left together.

I felt better, knowing everyone else was on the way home, safe, warming up and drying off.

“What do you think happened? Why take off now?” Ben said. He stood next to me, the skin of our arms pressing together. I shivered. We may have been able to withstand a lot of cold, but we were going to have to get out of this weather soon.

“I think he got scared,” Tyler said. “Or mad.”

“Where’s home for him?” I said. “Do you think he may be trying to reach family?” His original pack, I thought. If he didn’t feel safe with us, he’d try to find someplace safer.

Which brought us back to Tyler’s original guess: he was going to find Vanderman.

“No. Gordon picked us because we weren’t married, didn’t have kids or girlfriends, didn’t have big families. So we wouldn’t have any other loyalties.”

I scowled. “If he was so smart why’d he go and get himself blown up?” Tyler ducked his gaze, his shoulders tensing even more. He looked like he wanted to tip his head back and howl. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “That came out wrong.”

“Yeah,” he said, with a grim chuckle. “I’ve been asking myself that every day since it happened.”

“Let’s get out of this mess,” I said, and started on the hike back to the car. Ben matched my stride, caught my hand in his, and squeezed. I pressed near to him. Tyler followed closely. He didn’t have to, I supposed. But I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to fight with him about it.

I didn’t want to have to make the call to Dr. Shumacher. I didn’t want to listen to her tell me that I was wrong, and she was right. Actually, we were both half right. Tyler seemed to be doing just fine.

“We need a plan,” I said as we reached the car. I couldn’t wait to start drying off. Maybe then I could think straight.

“I guess we go after him,” Ben said, sounding resigned.

“He can’t have gone far, right?”

“Except that this is what we do,” Tyler said. “We spent the last two years running, evading, hunting. If he thinks he’s on a mission, I don’t know if we can stop him.”

If Tyler thought this, what reason did I have for optimism? Because I didn’t want to think about the alternatives.

“That’s not acceptable,” I said. “How long will it take him to get to Fort Carson, if that’s where he’s going? Two days?”

“If he goes straight there at top speed he’ll be there by the end of the day.”

A hundred miles in a day. Yeah, that was what we were dealing with.

Inside the car, Ben started the engine and blasted the heater. Cold air came out, and I shivered. It would warm up soon enough. I dug in the glove box for my cell phone and made the dreaded call.

“Yes, what is it?” Shumacher answered on the first ring. She’d probably been waiting by the phone all night—she didn’t sound like I’d waken her up.

“We have a problem. Walters went rogue. He ran and Tyler thinks he’s headed for Vanderman.” I tried to get it all out before she could say anything, ask any questions, or make accusations.