Kitty and the Silver Bullet

Chapter 14

She switched on all the sirens and lights, and we sped off at superspeed. I had calculated twenty minutes to get to the hospital. We might make it in ten.

"Tell me about Arturo," Hardin said, totally calm, not at all like she was speeding down Denver's streets at eighty miles an hour.

Where to start? "He's a vampire. I don't know how old. Maybe two or three hundred years—"

"You know, I can't even comprehend that," she said, giving a short laugh. "He was alive when George Washington was alive. What does that mean? How does this guy look at the world?"

"It means we don't matter to him," I said. "We're just a flash in the pan."

"What else?"

"He has flunkies, followers. I don't know if he'll have any of them here. I'm guessing he left them to guard the homestead. But if they are here, they'll protect him."

Her expression pursed, contemplating the dilemma: they were vampires, monsters, and she could plow right through them to get to her quarry. But they were also individuals who were entitled to due process.

"If we do run into them, how do I stop them? Can I do it without killing them?"

"I don't know. Lots of things’ll hurt them: sunlight, holy water. Maybe even garlic. Staking's what kills them."

"So those stories are true."

"A lot of them, yeah."

"Good." She reached to her collar and pulled a chain with a cross pendant from under her shirt. She left it hanging over her collar.

We arrived at the hospital. After hours, the place seemed almost calm.

"All right, where's my backup," she muttered as she pulled up to the curb along the emergency drive. At this hour, that was probably the only entrance that would be open. I was out of the car and ru

I didn't. Incongruously, the place was brightly lit, like a beacon. The rest of the world was so dark right now.

Inside, I hit the linoleum and didn't stop. I looked for a sign that would tell me how to get to the main part of the hospital, and where I could find Mom's room. I must have looked dangerous because a uniformed security guard, hand on his belt, moved to intercept me.

I realized: I could knock him over. Let out a little bit of Wolf and knock him aside. But I didn't. I begged.

"I need to get in, one of your patients may be in danger! Please!"

Hardin had followed close behind me and flashed her badge. "Let her through."

The guard stepped aside, and I ran past him. Vaguely, I was aware of Hardin following. I didn't wait for her. I only had one thought in my head: Please, let her be safe.

Up some stairs, through a door, down a hall, and around a corner, we came to her room. I smelled her. The door was open, and it was dark. The bed and its occupant were visible only by pale light bleeding from the hallway. Mom was asleep, her head tilted slightly on the pillow, arms resting on the blanket, tangled in a mess of IV tubes and wires. Around the odors of illness and medication, I smelled her. She was breathing, her heart pounded steadily, she was alive. But pale. Her face was lined, even in sleep.

Sitting in a chair by her bedside, tilted with a view toward the door, watching her sleep, was Arturo.

Blood throbbed in my skull, and I thought I might faint.

"How did you get in here?" I said, my voice shaky. This could go very badly. "What are you doing?" I'd been told that the prohibition against vampires entering without invitation didn't apply to public, commercial property. Apparently, the hospital room was public space.

His gaze shifted to me almost lazily, unconcerned. He struck such an incongruous picture: he sprawled in the plastic chair like it was a throne, one leg stretched before him, both elbows resting on the thin arms. He wore tailored slacks, a white shirt buttoned at the collar, and a suit jacket. On him, the ensemble looked formal, elegant. He was a Victorian gentleman landed in the modern age.

Hardin joined me, blocking light as she stood in the doorway. She held her gun aimed at the vampire. No, it wasn't a gun. It was a hand-sized crossbow, with a wooden shaft loaded.

"Don't move. I'll shoot," Hardin said, authoritative and coplike. Arturo appeared unconcerned.

"Detective Hardin, I'd like you to rest for a moment," Arturo said. He spoke slowly, with an almost musical tone. He'd caught her gaze. The two were looking into each other's eyes like they were the only people in the world.

I knew she wouldn't be able to handle the vampires.

"Lower your weapon, please," he said. And she did. She looked relaxed, but her face held a quizzical expression, her brow slightly furrowed, like some part of her wondered why she was obeying him. Some part of her still held on to herself. Nonetheless, she'd fallen under his spell.

"Arturo, stop it," I said.

"Detective Hardin, step into the hallway for a moment. Lean against the wall and rest. Thank you."

Hardin slipped out the door, slumping against the wall as if she really had decided to rest there a moment.

I was all alone with him. My ill mother and him. Quickly I wiped a tear away. It was all over. All of it was for nothing.

"What do you want?" I whispered.

"I only want to talk," he said. "We're both safe here. We can't do battle here."

"You—you won't hurt her?" I was crying anxious, silent tears, and I hated that I was doing it. I felt so weak and helpless.

Slowly, absently almost, he shook his head. "I could save her, if you like."

He could drain her, turn her, and in three days she'd become like him. Invincible, immortal, cured.

"So could I. I offered. She refused."

"She's a wise woman."

"Yes, she is."

"Carl has to go. I see that. I told him not to strike at you. I told him that stunt last night was a ploy to draw us out. That if we stayed calm, you couldn't touch us. I'm not surprised he didn't listen to me."

"He's predictable," I said.

"Are you ready to replace him?"

"Yes."

"I could help you."

He could. In a word, a gesture, he could destroy Carl and Meg. All I'd have to do was step into the vacancy. That, and sell my soul to Arturo.

"I can't owe you anything, Arturo. I don't want to be in your debt for this."

"I thought so. I had to try, though. Carl didn't have your scruples when he took me up on that offer."

I hadn't heard that story. I hadn't ever thought about the alpha male Carl must have had to fight to replace. When I'd been attacked, infected, when I'd joined the pack, Carl had seemed like a god, enduring and eternal.

Arturo stood in a fluid movement, incomprehensibly graceful. He was sitting, then he was standing, his hands curled behind his back. He neared my mother's bed and leaned over it.

"They didn't remove it all," he said, scrutinizing her, studying her with a narrowed gaze. "She'll have months of chemotherapy ahead of her. Even after that it could come back anytime, anyplace. Her bones. Her blood. Her brain."

"How do you know that? You don't know that."

"I feel it in her blood. I feel it traveling." He held a hand, spread flat, a few inches over her chest, like he really could feel tiny cells of cancer wreaking havoc. "Her blood is sick."

I choked on a sob. My voice scraped like sandpaper. "Please, Arturo. Leave her alone."

When he touched Mom's face, a light brush of fingers along her chin, I almost screamed.

"What would you do to keep her safe, Katherine?"

Arturo had never been able to bring himself to call me Kitty. The name was beneath his dignity. Now when he said my full name, it felt like fingers curling around my throat, squeezing.

"Anything," I whispered.

His hand rested on my mother's throat, where he could squeeze and strangle her. "You'll take Carl's place. You'll answer to me."