Kitty Rocks the House - By Carrie Vaughn Page 0,70
their coats, rubbed my face against theirs, took in their scent and gave them mine. Ben reached to me, and I took his hand and pulled him down to sit with me. My pack, half-human, half-wolf, piled together, calming each others’ nerves. We’d won.
“Thank you,” I said, sighing a breath. “Thank you all so much.”
Shaun slumped tiredly to the ground. Tom sidled up to him, bumped his shoulder, and reached up to lick his face. My lieutenant had a claw slash running down one cheek. Smiling, he rested his face against Tom’s ruff.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. Becky?”
She pricked her ears at him, licked her lips. She had cuts and wounds as well, but nothing serious. We were all a little battered, but not broken. Thank God.
Rick stood aside, looking off into the trees—avoiding intruding on what must have seemed like a private domestic lovefest. I gave the wolves one more face rub each, squeezed Shaun’s shoulder, kissed Ben, and extricated myself from the pile. The air seemed cold after being surrounded by so much fur and affection.
“Did he really think you’d just roll over for him?” Rick said to me as I joined him, brushing off my jeans.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think he made some assumptions. And he didn’t really think I’d be able to talk my way out of things.” Becky made a soft whine and tucked in her tail, and I smiled at her. She’d almost been convinced; she and Darren could have taken us by force, if it had come to that.
“Then he doesn’t know you very well.”
“No, not at all,” I said.
“You really think he’s one of Nasser’s?” Rick asked.
“I don’t know that he belongs to him, servant or employee or whatever the hell that means,” I said. “But they’re working together. Probably a lot like we are.”
“I suppose it’s too much to hope that he just keeps running and we never see him again,” Ben said.
I didn’t know what Darren would do. He was here on a mission from Nasser—the mission had failed. Would he try again? Try to take us out and convince the pack to follow him after the fact? Or would he acknowledge that if we were strong enough to face him, we could stand against Roman? With or without Rick’s help? God, this was making me tired.
“We probably ought to track him,” I said. “Figure out where he’s going and make sure he doesn’t cause any more trouble.”
“I’m on it,” Shaun said, pulling away from the group hug.
“Take Tom and Wes with you. You have your phone?” I asked. The wolves perked their ears at me.
“Yeah, I’ll call when I find out anything.” Waving, he stalked off into the woods. The two male wolves trotted along with him. Strength in numbers.
Otherwise, it was quite a nice night. The daytime heat wasn’t able to drive away a chill in the air once darkness fell. Pine trees creaked under their own weight, and a nocturnal critter shuffed through detritus on the forest floor. A first-quarter moon shone in the west.
“I suppose we ought to think about heading back,” Ben said.
Becky had curled up, half-sprawling on Ben’s lap after circling in place a couple of times. Looking for the right spot, the right position before committing, a familiar ritual.
“We should wait until she’s awake and human,” I said, nodding at her. “I think the stress of the last couple of days did her in.” I returned to them, settling on the ground beside her. Ben leaned up against me.
“Mind if I join you?” Rick said, indicating the ground a pace or two away.
Wolf wasn’t sure she liked him out here in our territory, where he hadn’t been invited. We had our meeting places, and we kept our dens separate. But I nodded. He settled himself gracefully onto the ground, crossing his legs, looking as at home and in control here as he did everywhere. As comfortable here as he was in the basement of Obsidian.
He said, “It looks like I need to write a sternly worded letter to Nasser. Something about how ‘allied’ does not mean ‘invited to interfere.’”
“If you think it would help,” I said. “Hey, does this mean you’re back? Still Master of Denver and not haring off on some crusade?”
He gazed at the sky, or the treetops, or at some far-off thought. No lines of anxiety creased his features—but when was he ever anything but calm? I couldn’t know what he was thinking.