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"Can we sit down somewhere?" Rick said.
We retreated to the living room. Ben and I sat on the sofa, and Rick found a chair to pull across from us. He sat, then leaned forward, elbows on knees. He seemed casual, almost friendly, at odds with the usual vampire sense of sophistication. Most vampires liked to be the coolest thing in the room. Rick usually didn't bother with the pretension. The BMW notwithstanding.
He hesitated, studying me and Ben both, sizing us up. I didn't look straight back at him. Didn't meet that hypnotic gaze.
"I need your help," he said.
I couldn't guess what he could possibly need from me that would drag him all the way out here from Denver. "What kind of help do you need that you couldn't just call?"
He said, "I'm going to move against Arturo. I'm looking for backing."
He surprised me into staring back at him. He wanted to stage a coup and take over Denver? I hadn't thought he had that kind of ambition in him. Hell, he'd told me he didn't have that kind of ambition. Something had changed, obviously.
"Why?"
From an inside pocket of his overcoat, he drew out a folded piece of paper—a newspaper article. After unfolding it, he offered it to me. It showed a front-page story about a series of attacks that had taken place at a downtown nightclub. No one had been killed, but at least three people had been taken to the hospital with severe bite wounds. The victims claimed vampires had attacked them—though the vampires must have been pretty sloppy if the people even remembered being attacked. According to the article, the authorities were skeptical, but in this day and age they were considering all options. The article also included a quote from the CDC assuring people that a simple bite from a vampire would not infect them with vampirism. That didn't stop people from freaking out.
The fact that Rick was showing me this suggested it really had been vampires.
"I'm afraid he's losing control."
Part of a city's Master's job was to keep things like this from happening. Keep the city's vampires under control. If they weren't controlled, people could die. When people died, the authorities got interested, and vampires didn't want that kind of attention if they expected to maintain their little empires.
"There's more," Rick continued. "If he's perceived as weak by outsiders, others could move in to take control. He's in danger of losing his authority. If he seeks help from outside, he's in danger of losing his autonomy entirely."
"Other Masters are moving in? Besides you?"
"It's complicated. But I don't want to see control of the region fall into the wrong hands."
"And your hands are the right ones?"
He presented those hands in a gesture of offering.
My gut feeling liked Rick. But I didn't know much more about him than that. Not enough to feel confident that his hands were the right ones. But I trusted him more than I trusted Arturo. Arturo hated my show and had tried to have me killed to get me to stop. Just on that basis I'd rather have Rick in charge.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"The Denver werewolves will side with Arturo. Arturo has Carl and Meg's allegiance." Carl and Meg, the alpha pair that headed the Denver pack. Not my favorite people in the world by a long shot. In fact, I'd be happy if I never heard their names again.
I did not like where this was going.
Rick said, "If you could take over the pack—"
"No," I said.
"You're strong enough. Especially with help." He glanced at Ben suggestively. Like he thought we would make a good alpha pair.
This was crazy.
"No. No way. I lost that fight. I'm in exile, and you know what? I like being in exile. I don't want to go back. They can keep the damn pack. I'm sorry, Rick, but you're going to have to find another way to get the werewolves on your side."
"The situation's changed since you left. Degenerated. How long have you been gone, six months?"
"Eight. Nine, maybe."
"Three more from your pack have died in that time. Carl and Meg killed them. You and T. J. stirred up the rest of the pack, and those two are barely maintaining control. It's unhealthy, Kitty. It's on the verge of anarchy. It needs help to make it safe for its members again."
I couldn't save the world. I couldn't solve everyone's problems. I was barely keeping my own life together.
"What makes you think I could do that?"
"Because you almost did it eight months ago. You've grown stronger since then. I can tell just by looking at you."
"No."
Ben took my hand, squeezed it. His turn to comfort me, now. He said, "Kitty's right, this isn't the best time to talk about this."
"I'm sorry, but I'm ru
I shook my head. "Rick, I can't save everyone. The thing is, I like being a rogue. I like being on my own. I like not having to worry about a pissy alpha looking over my shoulder all the time, or worrying what a dozen other werewolves are doing behind my back. I get to have my own life."
"Your own life—with your mate."
Pack of two. I kept forgetting. "That's right."
"What would it take to bring you back to Denver?" Rick said.
I glared. "Nothing will bring me back to Denver. I'm sorry."
"Well. Thanks for your honesty." He stood and shook out his coat.
I walked him to the door, with Ben lurking behind us, trying to be menacing and unobtrusive at the same time. It made him look surly.
To Rick I said, "It's awfully trusting of you, telling me what you're pla
"If you were on good terms with any of them, I might be worried." He smiled a crooked smile. "You're trusting enough to invite me into your home. I'm returning the favor."
I wouldn't have thought twice about inviting a friend into my home. But Rick gave the action gravity. In his world, one couldn't take such invitations for granted. I wondered: Had he expected me to say no? Would he have turned around and driven away if I hadn't offered the invitation? Had he only told me his plans after I passed that test?
"When's it happening?" I asked, testing this new trust we'd apparently established.
He shrugged. "I'm still marshaling forces. Soon."
"How do I find out how it all turns out?"
"Come to Denver in a month or so. See if anyone tries to kill you." That smile again.
"I hate you people. I hate this crap."
"Then stay in Pueblo." With a sarcastic edge he added, "I'm positive no one will bother you here."
That was some kind of dig, I was sure.
He was halfway down the walk to his car when I leaned out the doorway. "Rick? Good luck."
He glanced at me over his shoulder, buried his hands in his pockets, and continued on.
Ben came up behind me, body to body, and put his hand on my hip. "I don't have to tell you that guy made me nervous, do I?"
"Yeah, well, let's hope you never meet the guy he's trying to replace."
"That's the guy with a file on Cormac."
"Denver's Master vamp."
"I didn't know Denver even rated a Master vampire. You've met him? What's he like?"
"Let's just say Rick has his work cut out for him."
I squirmed out of his embrace just enough to close the door, then pulled myself back into his arms. The beer hit me all at once, and I was about to fall asleep on my feet. I tugged at his shirt and hoped my voice wasn't too slurred. "Let's go to bed."
The getting drunk worked, because I fell asleep without thinking of babies, miscarriages, blood, vampire wars, or much of anything at all.
My cell phone, sitting on the bedstand, rang. I jerked awake, feeling like someone had hit a gong over my face. Then the headache struck. I groaned and burrowed under the pillow.