Kitty Goes to War

“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 ru

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.

“And Sergeant Tyler, he’s still with you? He didn’t run?” She sounded surprised.

“He’s fine. He’s been a big help.”

“I’ll call Colonel Stafford,” Shumacher said, as if she’d been expecting it.

“We’ll head to Fort Carson,” I said, glancing at Ben and Tyler for confirmation. Their expressions were set in agreement. “Maybe we can intercept him.”

“Kitty, I think you should go home. Stafford and his men can find Walters. We’ll take care of it.”

The others could hear Shumacher’s side of the conversation. Tyler frowned, looking as though he wanted to say something.

“I’d really like be there, Doctor.” I slowed down my breathing to try and calm myself.

“I appreciate all of your help, I really do. I’m grateful for the attempt.”

I could tell when I was being kissed off. “Doctor, I don’t think you’re listening to me—”

“You’ll be bringing Sergeant Tyler back to the VA hospital as soon as you can, I trust.”

One strike and that was it? We’d screwed up with Walters and now I was kicked off the team? For once, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I couldn’t think of what would change Shumacher’s mind or convince her to keep me in the loop. I didn’t even have a snappy retort.

I slammed the phone shut and dropped it on the floor.

“I’m not going back there,” Tyler said. “I think I’ve earned the right not to be locked up.”

“You have,” I said. “We’re not going back.” Tyler let out a sigh and slumped against the seat. “And we’re going to Fort Carson anyway.”

“Of course we are,” Ben said. “But I feel a professional need to point out that messing around the U.S. Army could get us in a serious amount of trouble.”

“You’re saying we shouldn’t do it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Ben said with a shrug. “I’m just making an observation.”

The snow was falling harder, driving thickly at an angle across the country highway. Visibility was low and the asphalt was wet. The windshield wipers banged, and Ben peered forward, turning all his attention on the road.

Here was the problem: who was the outsider here? We were the werewolves. We ought to be able to take care of our own. We had every right to go after Walters, not them. They were outsiders. They didn’t understand. They didn’t belong. That was my Wolf’s instincts talking, though. Was that rational? Was I assessing the situation by the wrong standards? Should I just let it go?

No, because I still wasn’t convinced Shumacher knew what she was doing, and that she and Stafford’s gang wouldn’t make the situation worse. Like, Walters and Vanderman breaking loose and rampaging in Colorado Springs.

“It should only take us a couple of hours to get there, right?” Tyler said. “We should be able to head him off.”

“Usually. But I don’t know in this weather,” Ben said, shaking his head. “Plus we’ll hit the Springs in time for morning rush hour. I can try 83 or one of the back ways.”

“Maybe we should go on foot,” Tyler said.

“We’d have to go on four feet to cover the same ground,” I said. “I’m not sure I want to risk it.”

“You’re just not used to it,” Tyler said. “That’s all we did over there.”

“And if you could operate a cell phone as a wolf I’d let you go, but you can’t. It’s not a good idea,” I said, twisting to look at him in the backseat.

“I could just go.” He gave me a stare. A challenge. Ben glanced at him in the rearview mirror, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

I so didn’t need this right now. “Or I could haul your ass back to Shumacher at the VA hospital.”

I was impressed with myself talking back at this big scary Green Beret werewolf, except that for a moment Tyler looked like he wanted to jump me and bite off my face. The only way I kept my gaze locked with his and my back straight was thinking about what would happen if I flinched. If he decided I was weak and he could assert his dominance. That would make our trip real short.

I pushed, taking a gentler tack this time. “Look, I’ve gotten you this far, haven’t I? You’d still be locked up and climbing the walls with Vanderman without me. Trust me, okay?”

And he lowered his gaze. “All right. But what are we going to do when we find Walters?”

The tires sloshed on the wet pavement through several moments of silence.

“I guess that’ll depend on what happens when we get there,” I said, which was nothing more than waffling.

With false cheer, Ben said, “Best-case scenario, Stafford gets there with his tranquilizer gun first. Then we show up all huffy and defensive.”

I snorted in lieu of chuckling. But yeah, that was kind of how I was hoping it would go.

“Worst-case scenario,” Ben continued after a moment. “The Glock’s in the glove box.”

“That isn’t going to be necessary,” I said, more as a defensive mantra than any solid belief.

“You have a gun?” Tyler said, leaning forward.

“With silver ammo, even,” Ben said.

My husband the werewolf kept silver bullets in his glove box. I didn’t question it.

I asked Tyler, “You think he’s headed back to Vanderman. Can he really get past Fort Carson security, into the building? He can’t really break Vanderman out, can he?”

“We broke out easy enough. We waited until they were moving us into the building. Then we knocked them over and ran. As a wolf, he can get onto the base easy. He’ll be fast and camouflaged, and Fort Carson is huge. A lot of it is open plains. He’ll have to be human to break into the building, though. He’d need his hands.”

“Could he do that? Sneak onto the base, sleep off his wolf, then break into the building? Isn’t that a little goal-oriented for a werewolf?” I said.

“We trained to remember our targets. Even if we didn’t remember anything else, we remembered the mission.”

I remembered a story. One of Paul Flemming’s informants had been an old man, a German soldier and a veteran of World War II. He’d also been a werewolf, and he told me about being trained by the SS to carry messages across enemy lines. People would stand out, but wolves were part of the landscape. Obviously, there were techniques for training werewolves. I wondered how many secret histories there were, how many wars included units of werewolves fighting for one side or the other. Roman centurions, Norse berserkers, Mongol raiders, Persian infantry . . . It sounded all too plausible. Werewolves were too ideal for the job not to use as soldiers.

The thought sent a chill over me, raising gooseflesh. I shivered and turned up the heater.

“What’s the matter?” Ben said gently. Maybe he could smell my unease.

“Implications,” I said, then shook my head. “Never mind. Won’t there be guards? Won’t they be able to stop him?” I looked back at Tyler.