Kitty's House of Horrors

“Cabe’s still out there. He’ll finish you. He’ll still finish you!”

“Then he’ll finish you,” I said. “Because like I said, you’re one of us now.”

I walked away, and he threw curses at my back, eventually breaking down into sobs, and the sobs faded into a hysterical prayer, “Kill me, please God, kill me, kill me…”

Arms crossed, shoulders hunched, I paced along the wall like a caged animal. Part of me was all ready to oblige him. Bullet in his head, my hands around his throat, that’d be the end of it. Shouldn’t be too hard—I was a monster, after all.

After his frenzied outburst, he passed out in short order.

We had to get out of here. I could do it, I could run—with only one of them out there now, it should be easier. Cabe couldn’t watch both doors. I’d go, I’d get help. All Cabe had to do was burn the house down and he’d win. Couldn’t let that happen. Had to run, soon—

“Kitty.”

I stopped and looked, startled, wanting to growl at the interruption.

His face a mask, Grant regarded me. He and Tina had moved to the living room to watch my exchange with Provost. She sat on the sofa next to Conrad, head bowed, hands over her ears, like she was trying to shut out the world. Conrad switched between staring at Provost, Grant, and me. Like he didn’t know whom to be more frightened of.

“Kitty,” Grant said. “We need you to stay human. Please.”

I couldn’t guess what the others saw in me. A monster, probably, just like Provost saw in me. They were all human. Us and them.

Hands over my face, I slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. Keep it together. Just a little while longer, keep it together. We’d get out of this. We could use Provost to get out of this. We could stop Cabe. We were almost there.

I scrubbed my face, which was wet. The tears just started, quietly leaking. I tried to smile. Tried to make it an apology. But Provost’s smell, the evidence of what I’d done, filled the room, oppressive.

“I always said I’d never do this. I’d never infect someone else with this. I never wanted to be responsible for someone like that.” I wiped my nose on my sleeve, turned away.

Grant said, “It’ll be dark soon. We’ll wait for Anastasia.”

That was as good a plan as any for the moment.

Tina and Conrad slept fitfully. Grant and I kept watch, sneaking looks out the front window, checking the fronts and the backs of the house, looking for any changes. Waiting for tear gas canisters to come flying through the windows. The situation remained quiet. Provost remained unconscious. Twilight fell, and we lit the candles and found the flashlights.

I listened for footsteps on the basement stairs, for the sound of the door opening. Didn’t hear them. She moved quietly and didn’t allow any sound to escape, so that she seemed to just appear at the edge of the living room, dressed elegantly as always, flowing black slacks and a silk top, her hair knotted and pi

What she saw in the living room must have seemed like a war zone. Jeffrey’s body under a blanket. Provost feverish and sweating, drifting in and out. The rest of us huddled in on ourselves, wearing the haunted gazes of refugees.

After a long moment she said, “You’ve been busy.”

I stifled a laugh.

“What’s the situation?” she said.

Grant answered: “Cabe is still out there, watching the house. He’s probably trapped one of the doors and is keeping an eye on the other.”

“Have you thought about using this one as a bargaining chip?” She nodded at Provost.

“We were waiting for you,” Grant said.

“Ah. I can tell you what I’d prefer to do with him. I need to keep up my strength, after all.”

“What happened to using him as a bargaining chip?” Tina said.

“We’ll still have him for that,” she said, her voice too sweet. Sugarcoated poison.

None of us stopped her from kneeling beside Provost, raising his wrist to her mouth, and drinking. The injured man groaned, started to thrash, but she rested a hand on his forehead. He continued to moan in delirium, but his body calmed. After a few moments, she let him go.

“I’ve drunk from two of them,” she said, licking her lips dramatically. “I’d love to taste the third.”

Tina made a sound and looked away, while Conrad huddled even farther back on the sofa.

Anastasia stood and smoothed her clothing. “I’m sorry I missed the events that led to this. Kitty, you must have been spectacular. I confess, I wouldn’t have expected it from you. Did you intend to turn him?”

“I intended to kill him,” I said.

“Ah.” A frown turned her mouth. “He won’t make it. His kind rarely do. Give him access to a gun and he’ll kill himself.”

“Save me from having to do it,” I muttered, and everyone looked at me. I glared back, daring them to argue with me. I wasn’t much interested in being nice and moral anymore. We all had our breaking points.

Anastasia went to the window and studied the falling night outside. “This is a war of attrition. Messy. But if the numbers hold, we’re wi

“Small comfort,” I said.

“Kitty, please stop feeling sorry for yourself. I haven’t survived for eight hundred years to give up now.”

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I’m just tired. And that’s an understatement.” I was even too tired to pounce on that scrap of information. Eight hundred years. I didn’t care. Scratching my hair, I got up and tried to get my brain working. “I could try ru

The explosion of a shot fired, and the picture window in the living room shattered. Candles flickered, Tina screamed, all of us ducked—except for Anastasia, who leaned over to peer through the now-empty space.

“Well,” she said. “The move’s been made. The endgame begins.”

Chapter 22

We still had the handgun, but not much else in the way of weapons. Maybe he’d stand still long enough for us to throw tear gas at him. Nothing else would work at range, which left us with trying to lure him out. Because that had worked so well the last time. With a breeze coming in from outside now, I could smell danger, more guns, gunpowder. Cabe, the only unfamiliar scent on the air.

“He’s right outside,” I said. “He’s moving in.”

Something arced through the open window and cracked on the floor. A rock or something. Something metallic. Tina spotted it first, lunged for it, grabbed it—a grenade. She threw herself on that grenade, literally. I yelled at her—I couldn’t lose anyone else—

She cocked back and threw it back through the window. It exploded on the dirt clearing outside, a sound of thunder and a roiling orange fireball, debris scattering in all directions. Rock and gravel struck the house like bullets. We all ducked away from the destruction.

Another shot rang out—Cabe taking advantage of the confusion. Tina was standing right in front of the window, only seconds after she’d gotten rid of the grenade. As if Cabe had expected something like this, like the grenade had been just a distraction. The shot hit her torso. She fell. I screamed.

Grant was at her side before I could think to move. “She’s alive!” he called. Tina herself backed up his statement a moment later.

“Shit!” she groaned.

At that moment, I could have been easily persuaded to believe in the power of prayer. Please, God and whatever other powers are watching, get us through this.

“I need a distraction out front,” I said. I found the handgun on the kitchen counter. It had only four shots left; it would have to be enough.

Anastasia pulled Provost off the floor. “Get up, you. Time to be useful.” She slapped his face a couple of times, and he slowly came out of his daze. When he saw the vampire holding him up by his arm, her nails digging into his skin, he panicked. Jerking away from her, he thrashed, pounded with his fists, screamed. Anastasia’s grip never weakened.