"All I know is you're starting to smell more like a wolf than a human and if you don't sit down and pull it together you're going to lose it."
Didn't have time for that. This was a time to let Wolf's instincts guide me. We were in an enemy's territory, we couldn't fight, so there was only one thing to do. I had to make him understand that. "Come with me, Ben. You have to."
He hesitated, and I could see the wheels working in his mind, as he edited his own speech. Thought of one thing to say, then rejected it.
"I'm staying," he said finally. "Do whatever the hell you want, but I'm not running." He walked out of the room.
Funny thing was, that pause gave me a chance to catch my breath, and to realize that he was right. That had been the Wolf freaking out, and she was right on the surface, blurring my vision. I wasn't thinking straight.
I sat on the bed and stuck my head between my knees, drawing in long breaths. Keeping it together.
I called after him, hating how plaintive my voice sounded. I didn't want to have to beg. "Ben, we can't stay here. They'll kill us."
He reappeared in the doorway, not looking any more amenable or sympathetic. We might manage our own little civil war right here.
"No, they won't," he said. "You say I haven't seen the worst of it, but you don't know anything about what I have or haven't seen. And I can take care of myself, no matter what your alpha attitude says about it. We've got weapons. If we make a stand, they'll leave us alone. I'm willing to make that stand even if you're not. This is where I live. I'm not going to go running away to Pueblo just because you're chicken and you've got your tail between your legs. And I hate that that isn't just a metaphor anymore." He ran his hands through his hair. He was breathing hard, and smelled a little more wolf than human.
I wasn't keeping it together. I wasn't listening to reason. The pack of two was breaking up. No, it wasn't, this was just a pause, a hiccup.
"Are we a pack or not?" I said.
Softly, he said, "I don't know."
It was something of an epiphany, that the instinct to run was stronger than the need to stay with him. To defend him. As he said, he could look out for himself. He had guns on his side.
Bag over my shoulder, I stalked out.
Chapter 9
I drove south. I'd done this before. Run away, abandoning my family, KNOB, everything. I had to ask myself: What was so important, what was so traumatic, that it was worth giving up all that?
Nothing, came the obvious answer, clear as a bell. Nothing was worth giving up all that. In those terms, facing Carl was a small price to pay to keep my life. Either way, I risked losing everything.
Maybe that was why I found myself turning off the interstate at Highway 50, going west toward Canon City. I went to the prison, went through their security routine, and waited in that stark, stinking room for Cormac to emerge. I didn't bother trying to be cheerful, not this time.
I didn't have anyone else to talk to.
Clad in his orange jumpsuit, his expression neutral, he sat and picked up the intercom phone. Belatedly, I did the same. Even then, we only stared at each other for a long moment. He was clean, healthy-looking, his hair and mustache freshly trimmed. He looked rested, even. This was what keeping out of trouble did for him.
"Hi," I said.
"I wasn't expecting you," he said. "What's wrong?"
I almost laughed. My first impulse was to deny that anything was wrong, but that would have been a raging lie. I glanced away, wondering how bad I really looked.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Yeah," he said.
"Every time we come to visit, Ben makes a big deal about being upbeat. We have to be cheerful, to help keep your spirits up. But I really need to talk."
"Don't worry about me. Talk, if you need to."
"I don't know where to start."
"Ben told me about the miscarriage. I'm sorry."
For a flash, I was angry at Ben for saying anything. But I guess he had to tell someone, and Cormac was his friend. Truth be told, Cormac's statement had startled me. That a remorseless killer like him was capable of that kind of sensitivity, to even register what something like that might do to me. I knew I'd done the right thing, coming here to talk to him. He was my friend, too, even considering the killer part.
"Thanks. But that isn't the worst of it," I said. "My mom is really sick. And the situation in Denver just exploded. I tried to stay out of it, honest I did—"
Cormac ducked his face to hide a grin.
"Hey, don't laugh."
"Kitty, when have you ever been able to stay out of anything?"
I glared. "You should have met me back when I was quiet and unassuming. I used to be a nice girl."
Cormac had the good grace not to respond to that. "Tell me the situation."
I did, my voice hushed, not sure who might be listening in, not sure if what I was saying would even make sense to someone listening in. The description sounded like a war, a nasty guerrilla war where both sides occupied the same territory and no clear lines of engagement existed. Attacks came at any moment, treachery was the norm, and both sides fought with their own sense of righteousness.
"I wish you could come to the rescue this time," I said, smiling weakly. "I don't know what to do."
"You have two choices: You leave Denver. Or you fight to win."
"We can't win, they're too strong. I've already left—"
"And how long before you go back the next time? You won't stay away. That's why you need to win. So you don't have to keep running. And Ben won't leave, so you need to go back and cover his ass."
I leaned my head on my hand. He wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. I just had to hear it. And it wasn't anything Ben hadn't already said. But I expected to hear it from Cormac. Cormac was the one who talked like that. I still had this attitude that I was supposed to be protecting Ben. Maybe I should have listened to him.
"Right, fine, okay. But I don't know how to fight a war."
"Then don't fight one. Not straight out, not like this Rick guy's been doing. You're going to have to do this down and dirty. Draw them out. Split them up. Get them looking over their shoulders at every little shadow, then move in to clean up. I could do the whole thing myself with enough planning."
"I don't think I have a lot of time for this."
"Then you'll have to move fast."
Carl was only as strong as the whole pack. And the pack was weak, at least according to Rick. I couldn't gauge Arturo's relationship with his followers as easily. Rick had tried to catch Arturo off guard. But he'd also wanted to go after them in a straight fight, army to army. We couldn't do that. We had to use our strengths as outsiders. Not dependent on the system. Not invested in the system. We couldn't go in and replace Carl and Arturo. We had to bust up the whole deal and start from scratch.
Assuming Rick was dead, I'd have to go after Arturo myself. Or convince him that Denver was better off with me in charge of the werewolves. Compromise with Arturo? Maybe I could do it.
Cormac continued. "Remember, you're hunting predators. With them, it's all about territory. You take their territory, you take their power. When you draw them out, you can't leave them standing. Are you ready to do that?"
I nodded quickly, not wanting to think about that part just yet. "Rick tried it and failed. They got him at his base. He didn't have a chance to bring the fight to them."
"Then he's got a leak," Cormac said. "Someone fed the bad guys his plans, and they knew exactly where and when to find him."
That was so simple I almost cried. But all Rick's people were handpicked, Rick wouldn't have brought them in if he couldn't trust them. Maybe there was a spy on the outside. Someone who could move freely, collect information without anyone realizing she was doing it. Mercedes Cook?