Kitty Raises Hell

Twilight fell, evening came. I grew more nervous, because the disasters always happened at night, like the world really was divided into light and dark, good and evil. I always tried to give the world the benefit of the doubt and pay attention to the shades of gray that seemed painted everywhere. Times like these, though, it was easy to feel an inexplicable black darkness rising against me. Easy to feel the monster that dwelled inside me and believe myself doomed.

Willpower. Had to keep going. In a world that seemed determined to turn us all into monsters, I had to keep making the list of reasons to keep fighting, to keep myself whole, to stay human, sane, and good—or at least the best I could. My family, my career, chocolate. Blazing Colorado sunsets, The Clash, Jimmy Stewart and Harrison Ford movies. My friends, which I counted more of every day. And Ben.

In that mood, I slung my bag over my shoulder and went outside to my car.

On the sidewalk, I stopped abruptly as I caught a scent. Smoke, smoldering, fire waiting to burst forth. Brimstone.

My skin flushed hot. Looking around, desperate to catch a sign of it, to see a figure outlined in flame or to hear ghostly laughter, I waited for fire to consume me. I’d caught the smell as soon as I left the protective barrier the blood and ruin potion formed around the building. It had been waiting for me. But the smell was everywhere, without source.

I’d had the feeling that someone was watching me for weeks now, and not just Peter. No matter where I looked, nothing presented itself. I couldn’t spot anything. I swallowed back a whine.

“Stop stalking me!” I called, feeling like an idiot, but I could either yell at it or scream incoherently. “You want to come after me, then come after me! Face me! You could burn me to a crisp, so why don’t you?”

A grating voice chuckled.

This was what I’d been reduced to: yelling at air in my parking lot. The demon was trying to drive me crazy, and it was succeeding.

“What are you?” I said, my voice low, like a growl. I’d attack it, I really would. If I had any idea how.

Something grabbed my wrist. I’d have sworn it was a hand, a strong, rough hand, four fingers and a thumb wrapping around me and squeezing hard, like it meant to drag me away. Gasping, I jerked away, scrambling back, cradling my hand to my chest. That chuckle sounded again, amused, mocking.

Red burn marks shone on my skin, like a sunburn, in the shape of fingers. Like a red-hot hand had grabbed me.

I managed not to scream, though I really wanted to. The only thing that kept me from ru

I retreated until I pressed myself flat against the wall of the building, behind the invisible barrier. Here, the air smelled safe. I stared out. I couldn’t see anything, but my heart was racing.

I could stay here forever, lock myself inside the house and never come out. But I wanted to get this thing. I tried again, moving cautiously, paralleling the building as I set out toward my car.

The feeling of heat and the oppressive scent of danger confronted me immediately. I nearly dropped to my knees, overwhelmed, convinced that I was going up in flames. My breath came out in a sob. I clutched my chest.

What would it feel like to burn from the inside? Is this what Mick felt?

Turning, I stumbled back to the building, back behind the safe barrier, thinking, Yeah, okay, I could stay inside for the rest of my life. No problem.

A strong voice called across the parking lot in a foreign language. In a panic, I tried to think—was this the voice that cha

Maybe exactly like a priest performing an exorcism.

Roman marched across the parking lot. He almost seemed to be marching toward me. But his approach veered—he was talking to a space in front of me. To a thing that wasn’t there. He called to the space, his eyes blazing, his hands clenched into fists. I’d never seen a vampire so ready to do physical battle like this.

He repeated the words again, pointing this time, arms outstretched.

A roar like a flamethrower sounded, but without fire. Because it wasn’t flame, it was this thing’s voice, a scream of protest. The sound of a creature made of fire giving voice to rage.

I thought: What had I ever done to deserve this thing’s anger?

At least it wasn’t directed at me now. Roman had really pissed it off. The demon roared again, and Roman actually seemed affected, stepping back, turning his face aside, as if he had encountered a blast of fire. Fire was supposed to be one of the things that could kill a vampire. I wondered if that was true, if they burned as well as anything else organic.

Roman called out again, repeating the same forceful words. He commanded with the will and confidence of someone who was used to having his orders obeyed, who wasn’t used to being questioned. No wonder he’d been a

This was a battle of wills. Roman stared ahead at his opponent, like he actually could see the demon’s shape.

The sound of billowing flame answered him again, but weaker this time. I still couldn’t see the form of the creature making this sound. I kept thinking if I squinted, I would see a shimmering outline, a wavering humanoid shape, like a heat mirage.

He repeated the phrase one more time, and the sound of flame vanished. Roman’s head tilted back, his gaze flickering upward, as if he watched something fly away. Then he frowned, flexing his hands, massaging them together, like they were sore, aching.

I ventured outside the safety of the protective circle; the brimstone smell was gone.

Roman glanced at me. His cold, frowning gaze made me flinch. “I just saved your life,” he said.

I took a deep breath before speaking, to keep my voice from shaking. Not sure if it worked. “Um... thanks?”

“This is temporary. It will kill you eventually if you don’t do something.”

“Do you know what it wants?” I said. “You can really tell what it wants? Then why don’t you tell me?”

He scowled, his chiseled face turning hard with frown lines.

When he kept silent, I continued. “What was that you said? What language?”

Now the stone face shifted to a smile. “Per vi mei, averte.”

I heard the words, but I’d never remember them to look them up. I wished I had a tape recorder. “You going to teach me that little trick?”

“Now that you’ve seen what I can do, will you let me help you?” he said.

That made me angry, the idea that he had the power to stop this thing, but he wouldn’t do it without me promising a big chunk of my soul in return.

“This could all still be a show for my benefit,” I said. “The con game again. You could have staged all this in a last-ditch effort to get me to agree to your terms.”

He turned away, muttering, but my hearing was good and I picked up what he said: “Stupid wolf.”

I so didn’t have the time or patience for this. Setting my shoulders, I stalked forward, past him, not sparing him a glance.

“You’re being foolish,” he said.

I turned, scowled. Knew better than to launch myself at him, fingers curled like claws, as if I could really do him damage or even intimidate him. I’d seen a vampire drop a werewolf twice as large as I was without flinching. Roman might have been just waiting for me to lose my temper.