Kitty's Big Trouble

  The corridor opened into a room; fanning out, we all saw him at the same time. A man, pale, his dark hair shorn close, his face stern, angular. He wore conservative clothing, a dark button-up shirt, black trousers, and a long overcoat.

  It was Roman. He stepped back, his eyes widening for just a moment before he donned his stony, superior mask. I’d have sworn he looked surprised to see us.

  “You do have the pearl!” Anastasia said.

  “Anastasia,” he said simply, flatly. He might have been greeting her as they passed one another on the street. “It’s been a long time.”

  She hissed at him, teeth bared, fangs showing, furious. When she sprang forward, Henry grabbed her, moving in front of her to force her back. At the moment, she didn’t look like a cool and collected player. What showed on her now was hatred. Henry had to wrap his arms around her and lean into her to keep her in check.

  Roman looked at each of us in turn. I had an urge to grab Ben with one hand, Cormac with the other, and run hard the other way. Get me and mine out of there. Save ourselves while we still could. If this was a trap that Roman had set, we had little chance of escaping.

  Then, I really looked.

  Five candles burned in a circle around him, and he’d drawn symbols on the floor in red chalk. He, too, had a map of San Francisco spread before him, but his was drawn directly onto the floor, and I only recognized it by the shape of the coast. The streets were all different, wrong—twisting and haphazard, branching oddly and ending in wide blocks or dead ends. It was a map of the phantom tunnel system. Roman wasn’t just a vampire, he was also some kind of magician. He’d had lots of time to pick up hobbies here and there, one gathered. He was casting a search spell as Cormac had, to try to find the Dragon’s Pearl.

  We hadn’t found the pearl at all. We’d found him, also searching for the pearl.

  “Cormac?” I murmured, in lieu of a more useful question. His spell had gone awry, evidently.

  “Huh,” he said. “Weird.”

  Ben’s hand closed on my arm, transmitting his tension. Were we going to run? Fight? Those were the wolves’ choices. My choice was usually to talk. I had to swallow a couple of times, because my voice stuck.

  “So, have you found it?” I said finally.

  Roman cocked his head, and I couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed. Maybe he was trying to decide. “The elusive Katherine Norville,” he said. If only he had a handlebar moustache to twirl.

  “Not really. I’m pretty easy to find.”

  “Yes,” he said. “You keep throwing yourself in front of avalanches.”

  Yeah, about that … “I guess this means you haven’t found it, either.” Roman—not omnipotent. I should have been pleased.

  “It’s mine!” Anastasia shouted. “I’ll find it! You’ll never get it, you’ll never have its power!”

  “You were my slave, and you’re still little more than that, aren’t you?” Roman said to Anastasia, dismissing her with a glance, without a wasted emotion. “It’s only a matter of time. One of us will find it. If you do, I’ll simply take it from you.”

  Someday, I would get the long and sordid story about those two and all the centuries they’d been at each other’s throats. But enough of the witty banter. I squeezed Ben’s arm. “It’s time to go, I think. Henry, get her out of here.”

  “Henry, wait,” Roman said.

  Henry stopped. His attention turned to Roman, drawn as if on a thread.

  “Bring her to me.”

  Henry moved toward him, steps slow and heavy. He tilted his head, and his expression turned pursed, confused, as if he could not understand why he was obeying. And yet he kept moving.

  “Henry, stop,” Anastasia said, and he did. But he didn’t let her go.

  “It’s all right,” Roman said. “It’s going to be fine. Bring her here.”

  The anxious lines in Henry’s face went slack as his will vanished. Anastasia struggled, pulling against his grasp as he dragged her forward.

  This wasn’t happening. I didn’t care if Roman thought he was god-emperor of vampires, this wasn’t happening. I sprang at Henry, hoping to knock him off balance enough that Anastasia could break free. Then I hoped she’d have the sense to get herself out of here instead of going after Roman again.

  I slammed my weight on his arms to break that grip. Instead, we all crashed into the wall. I didn’t have much that worked against vampires, but I tried, jamming my elbow into his throat and biting a meaty bicep. I didn’t want to hurt him, I just wanted to rattle him. Shake him loose from Roman’s control. I had no idea if it would work.

  Anastasia wrenched free with a snarl, and I scrambled away from them both.

  She was getting ready to pounce at Roman again. I grabbed her arm.

  “Go, get Grace out of here,” I said. “You guys have to find the pearl before he does.” Her expression twisted with the indecision—stay to fight her nemesis, or be the first to get the artifact. The big-picture goal must have won because she took Grace by the hand, and together they ran. “Henry?” I said, hoping to get through to him. “Henry!”

  He was staring at Roman, still entranced, waiting for the next instruction.

  “Kill the wolf,” Roman said to him, and Henry looked at me.

  So much for that.

  “Ben,” I hissed, looking for my husband. I didn’t have to look far—he stood behind me, shoulders hunched, ready to attack. I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the doorway. “We gotta go.”

  I thought Cormac was right with us, on the same page—escape and regroup. But during the commotion, Anastasia’s outburst, and Henry’s enslavement, he’d clung to the wall and worked his way around the edge of the room. He was going to do something stupid; it wasn’t going to work. I kept my wide-eyed gaze on Roman, hoping not to draw any attention to the hunter, who had slipped Wyatt Earp’s polished stake into his hand.

  He lunged, stabbing the stake down toward Roman’s back. The strike was perfect—the careful stalking, the patient waiting, and the pounce that came without warning, without a flinch. Any wolf pack would be proud of such a hunt.

  Roman saw it coming anyway.

  The vampire pivoted back, arm raised, cracking his fist into Cormac’s face. The hunter fell, limbs loose, crumpling to the stone floor. Blood streamed from a split lip.

  Ben and I sprang to protect our family. Hunting as a pack now, we went low and high, me for Roman’s legs and Ben for his throat. Not that either target would have any impact on the immortal undead. If we chewed long enough maybe we could rip his head off. If only Roman would give us the opportunity.

  The vampire punched, putting his whole body into the strikes, one fist into Ben’s face, the other into mine, in almost the same movement. I hit the floor and saw lights. Roman stood, immovable as stone. We were never going to win this fight, and in my gut Wolf whined, kicking with an urge to flee.

  Roman moved before the doorway, blocking our exit while the three of us were still picking ourselves up off the floor. This would be the perfect chance for someone standing in the doorway to put a stake in the guy’s back, but Grace and Anastasia had fled; the hallway behind Roman was empty. Well. At least they’d gotten away. Roman didn’t appear willing to give us a chance to do the same.

  In the absence of any targets directly in front of him, Henry had paused, looking at Roman and waiting for the next command.

  “Henry!” I called. “Henry, please, wake up! Help us!”

  “Henry, sleep,” Roman said. The younger vampire closed his eyes and slumped against the wall, not even bothering to fall all the way to the floor. He seemed suddenly childlike and helpless. How could I ever think of a vampire as helpless?

  The walls felt like they were getting closer.

  “Cormac?” I whispered. I sounded hoarse, Wolf’s voice on the surface. Still holding the stake, he nodded. If we could distract Roman, we might get a second chance. Roman couldn’t fight all three of us at once, could he?

  Actu
ally, he could.

  He moved too fast, and his senses were too good. No matter how we tried to game it—one or two of us attacked from the front while another of us waited to ambush from behind, or all of us tried to jump him from three different directions—he was always ready. To strike first, to step out of the way, to grab one of us and slam us into the other. He’d survived for two thousand years. He knew a lot of tricks.

  We were getting pummeled, but we kept going because we could take a lot of pummeling. My injured leg had gone stiff, throbbing with pain. Cormac—he’d slowed down and half his face was bloody. He couldn’t take much more of this, but how did we stop it? Roman was playing with us, catlike.

  Get Roman away from the door, grab Henry, then run. That was the plan. I gave Ben a nod, hoping to communicate this to him. He was panting for breath, and his own wolf glinted gold in his eyes.

  Someone whistled, a high, sharp note that hurt my Wolf’s ears. It sounded close, right behind me even, but I couldn’t see who made the noise. I didn’t dare look away from Roman, who was glancing behind him, also searching for the source. None of us saw it. Our breathing echoed harshly; Roman was silent.

  The whistle came again, and we all looked, watchful and ready to pounce. I wouldn’t have been so worried except that Roman didn’t seem to know what it was, either. His brow had gone furrowed, anxious.

  The attack came from the shadows in the hallway. A long, wooden staff struck at Roman’s legs, toppling him. He hadn’t seen it coming. I was in awe.

  Roman rolled to his back, looking for his attacker, and Sun sprang over him, smacking him back with the end of the staff.

  Now if only it had been a sharpened stake able to puncture his chest.

  Sun seemed content to slap the vampire around. He was grinning, like this was fun. I just stared and wondered where he’d come from and why he thought beating up an evil vampire—rather than staking him—was a good idea. Did he even know Roman was a vampire? And how the hell was he able to beat him up in the first place? Roman dodged the blows from the staff, but he wasn’t able to get to his feet, much less get in a strike of his own.

  Their speed seemed impossible. Sun’s next blow came even as Roman dodged the last. Though Sun never stopped moving, striking, none of the subsequent hits landed. They were two perfect warriors.

  Meanwhile, something had happened to the room—the candles flared brighter, and the chalk lines on the floor had taken on some of their own light.

  “Cormac?” I asked.

  “I see it,” he said. He was holding his side and wiping his bloody face on his sleeve.

  Sun seemed to have a strategy that may not have involved destroying Roman. Instead, he was leading Roman away from the door—giving us an escape route. I grabbed Ben to get his attention. Together we helped Cormac to his feet. Cormac moved sluggishly. He was fine, I told myself, heart racing. He’d be fine.

  The candles were sparking now, hissing with fire. I had to squint my eyes against them.

  “Wait a minute,” Cormac said, his fingers digging into my arm as he tried to wrench out of my grip, to turn back. “His spell, it’s reacting—the pearl, it’s here, it’s here!”

  We stopped. Roman heard him, too, because he looked at us.

  “What are you talking about?” I hissed, because it didn’t make any sense. The pearl hadn’t been here when we got here, I didn’t see anything that looked like a pearl now—what had changed?

  Sun. Sun had arrived.

  The young man had backed off. Planting his staff on the floor, he leaned on it and regarded us with a big goofy grin, as if he’d just delivered the punch line of a really awful joke. His breathing wasn’t labored, though sweat gleamed on his hairline.

  He hooked a thumb around the strap of the bag he wore over his shoulder and said, “You want this? I don’t think so.”

  Roman turned to him with a look of such hunger and determination, his craggy face had gone slack. Sun smiled like it was a game.

  “Sun, get out of here!” I called, my voice thick with desperation, despair.

  “You get out,” he said. “I’ve got it covered.”

  Roman lunged for him.

  “Ben,” I said, clinging to him.

  “I don’t know why he doesn’t just run,” Ben said.

  “He’s got something in his hand,” Cormac said.

  “Who, Sun? Or—”

  No. Roman had pulled something from his pocket and threw it in the space behind Sun. The powder hit the flares along the ring of candles and exploded, knocking Sun off his stance. He hit the floor, rolled—didn’t drop his staff, but ended up on his back, with the vampire looming over him.

  I lunged forward. “We have to help, we have to stop—”

  Again they were too fast, and I was too slow. Sun swung to block Roman. Roman ducked and slashed with the knife he held in his other hand, slicing through the strap of the bag.

  The vampire grabbed it, strode away, and came face to face with me. Ben was at my shoulder. I sure hoped Cormac was conjuring some spell to counter him.

  From under my shirt I pulled out the cross Cormac had given me, back at the beginning of the night, eons ago. I held it up to him, sure that it wouldn’t do any good, but needing to try.

  Sure enough, Roman’s lip curled, mocking me. “You know I can destroy you.”

  “You can’t have it,” I said, nodding at the cloth sack in his hand. Something heavy inside it bulged.

  “Yes, I can.”

  I threw the cross at him. He ducked without effort and flung his arm at me in a backhanded strike. I fell before it landed—Ben pushing me out of the way. We both hit the hard stone floor.

  Roman tossed out more of the flammable powder, which burst in a wall of flame that filled the room. Sun had picked himself up, but had to duck again. I curled up, arms around my head—I could smell my hair burning. Ben crouched over me. I hoped Cormac and Henry were okay—

  Smoke burned my lungs and made my eyes water. I couldn’t see or smell anything. The bursts of fire and smoke were magicians’ tricks. Roman had baffled us with bullshit, as they say. When I could raise my head again, when the room had cleared, Roman was gone. Maybe Grace and Anastasia could stop him. But I rather hoped he didn’t find them at all.

  “You okay?” Ben asked, helping me up. His hair was singed, his skin flush with the heat, but he seemed uninjured. I squeezed his arms back.

  “Think so. Cormac?”

  “Fine,” he said, brushing himself off. He’d crouched by the wall. “Roman’s gone, though. With the pearl.”

  I looked at Sun, crouched in a defensive posture, staff braced across him. At least his smile had turned sheepish. “Yeah. Um, oops?”

  “Oops?” I said. “Just who are you?”

  “The guy with the Dragon’s Pearl? At least, I was.”

  “You took it from the safe?” I said.

  “Yeah. When we found out so many people were looking for it, it seemed best to move it. To keep it safe.”

  I glared. “You did a hell of a job of it!”

  “You needed help,” he said, pointing the staff at me.

  “That’s beside the point!”

  Ben touched my arm, interrupting. “Kitty? Where’s Henry?”

  The wall where Henry had slumped was empty. I thought of all the fire, looked for a pile of ash where he used to be—nothing. The room looked desolate. The chalk marks were smeared, the candles had melted to puddles of spent wax.

  “Roman took him,” Cormac said.

  My injured leg, weak and throbbing from the fight, finally gave out. Ben and Sun both caught me as I fell. I sat there a moment, sprawling, both of them hanging onto me, and fought back tears. So, the worst vampire ever now had the super magical thingy. And Henry, whom I’d been getting to like. And we were once again stuck in the impossible tunnels without our guide.

  What was Sun, really? I stared at him. “We need to find Grace and Anastasia. But you get to tell her what happened.”

&nbs
p; “Aw, her?” he said. “She’s really a big old softy on the inside.”

  “Let’s go,” Ben said before I could scream.

  With Cormac hobbling in the lead, Ben and I leaning on each other, and Sun bringing up the rear, we left the scorched and smoking room and made our way down the corridor. The walls seemed to glow with their own green phosphorescence. I squinted; Wolf’s vision saw everything as shadow.

  We came to a T intersection.

  “Which way?” Ben asked.

  “The others went left,” he said, and so we went left. “Oh by the way, nice to see you again. Human this time, even.”

  “What?”

  “We met earlier, but you were furry then.”

  “Huh—”

  “Have you been watching us?” I said. “Following us?”

  “Maybe a little,” Sun said.

  “Who are you? What are you, some kind of ninja?”

  “Um, no.”

  The musty corridor continued. Ahead, Grace’s candle shone, but the light seemed dampened. Maybe it was just my outlook.

  Ben and Cormac pulled up short; I almost ran into them. Sun was behind me, looking back. He held his staff in both hands, blocking, waiting for attack.

  Ahead of us, Grace stood in the middle of the hallway, and Anastasia leaned against the wall. She looked exhausted and still fuming, like she wanted to run right back to take on Roman.

  “You waited,” I said to Anastasia, startled.

  She nodded at Grace. “Chen wouldn’t let me leave. What happened?”

  We all looked at Sun, who scuffed a sneaker on the stone floor and winced. “Well. First I had the pearl—I took it from the safe to protect it. Then I lost it.” He shrugged.

  I was used to seeing vampires as calm and imperious, moving serenely through the world, which crashed like waves around them. Pillars of stone, unmoving and unfeeling.