Kitty Goes to War by Carrie Vaughn Page A

like such a long time ago now. But he didn’t talk about this. He said he would always be there, he said he’d look after us. We’d always be a pack.”
    Nobody should ever make that kind of promise.
    “What did he say to you guys to recruit you into this? How did he convince you that this was a good idea?”
    “We had a job to do in Afghanistan. An impossible job. We didn’t have the tools, the resources. But Gordon—he had a way. Of course it wasn’t easy, but if you have the chance to get the job done—if you have the ability—you take it. He promised to make us strong—unbeatable. And he did.” Tyler raised his gaze and set his jaw, determined.
    I wondered if part of the problem with Vanderman was that the pack never accepted him as a replacement for Gordon. They—or at least Tyler—still saw Gordon as their alpha. Their captain. Vanderman couldn’t take over, but he was too strong for the others to dominate.
    Walters slouched now, arms crossed, still hunched in on himself. But I got the feeling he was listening to me.
    I leaned on the back of the chair. “I had to ask, because I didn’t want to become a werewolf. I didn’t get a choice. I have a hard time understanding why anyone would ask for this.” The only situations I’d seen where I could even begin to understand involved life-threatening illnesses—if the alternative was dying, why not become a werewolf?
    After a moment, Tyler said, “That’s rough. I’m sorry.”
    “Yeah. Thanks. But you know, moving on.”
    “You think it’s that easy? Just move on?” Tyler said, with a harsh chuckle.
    I shrugged. “I didn’t say it was easy. Look, you have a lot to think about. I’d like to come back and talk some more. Maybe bring a friend. Figure out what we have to do to spring you guys. Is that okay?”
    “Why are you even asking?” Tyler said. “You can do whatever you want. You’re the alpha here, right?”
    I smiled. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure you’d admit it.”
    “You—you’re more like Captain Gordon than Van,” Walters said. His voice seemed like an intrusion—startling, unexpected. He was still slouching.
    “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said. “I’ll see you guys in a day or two.”
    “It’s not Van’s fault,” Walters said. I stopped, my hand almost to the door to knock for Shumacher. “It’s mental illness, isn’t it? We’re all crazy. It’s not Van’s fault.”
    Frowning, I nodded. Maybe they’d decide for sure at his court-martial.
    Shumacher, her ever-present clipboard tucked under her arm, let me out of the cell. I felt Tyler and Walters watching me until the door closed behind us. We walked to the office she’d taken over.
    “It’s hard judging any progress with just talking,” Shumacher said, sighing as she set down her clipboard and leaned on the desk.
    I shrugged. I tended to get a lot out of talking. “I’m going on instinct here. I’m just trying to get a feel for them. Whether there’s . . . I don’t know.”
    “Whether there’s any hope for them?” she said.
    “Yeah. That.”
    “And?”
    “I don’t know. I want to get a second opinion. Tyler—I think he’s actually doing well. But Walters isn’t engaged. They’re a long way from being well. But I’d like to talk to them again.”
    Shumacher looked for a moment as if she wasgoing to say something, but then pursed her lips, holding back words. When she smiled, it was a mask. “Let’s make our next appointment, then. I look forward to it.”
    She didn’t think they could be rehabilitated. She’d given up on them. That gave me a burning desire to prove her wrong.
    I MADE a different sort of appointment for that night, at Psalm 23.
    The nightclub always made me anxious. I preferred meeting Rick, the Master vampire of Denver, at my place, New Moon. But he’d said this was more convenient tonight. I wondered what problems he was dealing with. At least he was almost always willing to talk to me when I asked. I could