"I have to find out if Arturo was behind this. You could talk to him. Will you help me?"

Carl didn't answer. He just glared at me. T.J. looked back and forth between us, waiting for some cue.

T.J. settled his gaze on me and said, "If you quit the show, I'll call out Arturo for you."

Carl jumped onto the bed. I yelped; T.J. scrambled away, slipping off the bed and crashing to the floor. He rolled onto all fours in a heartbeat, but kept his distance. Carl pinned me, trapping me with his hands propped on the bed on either side of my head, his weight on my body. Trembling, I tried to pull away.

I wasn't ready to take on Carl.

"I don't bargain," he said, his voice low. He glanced sideways at T.J., who looked away, submissive. "You will do as I say. I'll take care of Arturo."

I didn't believe him.

I squeezed my eyes shut against tears, looking away even as I felt his breath on my cheek. He was close enough to bite. I nodded, wanting only for him to leave me alone, wanting only for it to stop. If we were human, and this was a human relationship, I'd have been expected to leave him. This was abuse.

After a moment, he wrapped himself around me, holding me tight. He only wanted to take care of me. The Wolf loved him so much.

It took until noon to convince them I was all right I told them I needed to rest I needed to go back to KNOB, if only to tell them I was finished. When I told them this, I believed it myself.

But by evening, all I felt was angry.

Everyone—receptionist assistants, teenies—stared at me as I walked through the reception area at the station that afternoon. No one said a word. It felt like one of those naked dreams. The Wolf—she loved it. All those chunks of living meat quivering like prey. But I kept it together. I'd had lots of practice keeping it together.

I didn't know what they were all thinking, how many of them thought it was for real, how many thought I was crazy. Some fear misted the air. Also curiosity.

I hadn't had a chance to talk to Matt last night. The police dragged us to separate rooms for our statements. I didn't know what he thought about me now. He'd worked on the show long enough, I was pretty sure he believed.

He met me in the hallway. Grinning, he handed over a shoebox full of messages. I took it studied him. A little bit of fear tensed the edges of his jaw. His shoulders were tight his heartbeat thudded a little too loud. But he kept cool, managing to stand there like nothing was wrong. I loved him for it.

"You okay?" I said.

"Yeah. You?"

I shrugged. "It's weird. Everything's different now. Like I sprouted a second head."

"Or a tail and claws—sorry. But—you're for real, aren't you?" I nodded, and he shook his head. "You're right. It's weird. That guy was right. Kitty's a pretty funny name for a werewolf."

"I'm never going to live it down."

"Ozzie's in his office. He wants to see you."

Oh, great. I smiled grimly in thanks and continued down the hall.

Ozzie stood when I opened the door. He was definitely nervous. So was I, for that matter. I tucked the box under my arm and cringed against the doorjamb. What the hell was I going to tell him?

Then I realized—I'd gone submissive, but he couldn't read the cues. He was my boss; it made sense, but still… I made a conscious effort to stand straight.

"Hi, Ozzie."

"Kitty. This is—" I waited for him to speak, ducking my gaze, apologetic, not sure why I felt like I had to apologize. Then he melted, pleading with his hands. "Aw, Kitty, why couldn't you tell me? You didn't have to keep it secret."

"I kind of did, Ozzie. There are people out there who don't really like people like me. It may be tough to deal with after this."

"Do you need more security? We'll get you security—"

And what would Carl and T.J. say about that? I was supposed to be quitting. I glanced at some of the messages. Some I expected—reporters from National Enquirer, Wide World of News, Uncharted World. Some I didn't—CNN? Newsweek! Geez, why did T.J. always have to be right?

I shook my head. "No, I've got friends. It's okay. Any word yet on how this is playing out?"

He handed me a paper marked "Preliminary Ratings." The numbers were… big. This couldn't be right.

"We're flooded with requests to replay the show. An instant poll suggests the show's credibility shot through the roof last night. At least among the people who believe all this shit. Before, you were just easy to talk to. Now, you know what you're talking about. The people who don't believe it think it's a publicity stunt to garner ratings, and they're dying to see how you're going to keep it going. This is gold, Kitty. Can you keep it going?"

Carl would just have to deal. I'd show him his half of the money when the next expansion went through. Then he could deal, I was sure. "Absolutely."

"Right… look for the message from Howard Stern. He wants to do a joint show, kind of a double interview with both of you taking calls. Cross-pollination of audiences, I think it sounds great. I talked to Barbara Walters—"

"I'm not going on TV. I think you know why." My website didn't even have a photo of me.

"Yeah, yeah I do. Even so—you're going to be the country's first werewolf celebrity."

I had suspicions. "Only the first one to admit it. Thanks, Ozzie. Thanks for being nice to me."

"You're still Kitty after all, right? Hey, you look like you didn't get any sleep last night. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? After you call Howard Stern back."

I called T.J. as soon as I got home. The phone rang five times. I thought he'd gone out. Then he answered.

I said, "It's me. I'm going to Arturo's. Will you come with me?"

This was stupid, calling him. He'd tell Carl. There was no way he wouldn't tell Carl. Then I'd be in serious trouble. But I had to call. Who else could I call?

Maybe I was hoping he'd help me without any arguing.

"Have you quit the show?" I didn't answer. I think I even whined. He sighed. "You can't just pay Carl off, you know. This isn't about the money."

"No, it's not. You don't think that's why I keep doing it, do you?"

"No. I know how much it means to you."

"Then how can you ask me to quit?"

"Because it's changing you. You never would have argued with me like this six months ago. You've been picking fights, for Christ's sake."

I shut my eyes. My voice was hushed. "Is change all bad?"

"You're going to get yourself killed. And not because of people like that assassin."

"I'm an adult. I can take care of myself."

"No, you can't."

And that's what this was all about, wasn't it? Which one of us was right?

"Well, I guess we're going to find out."

I hung up.

I made it as far as the alley behind Obsidian.

Obsidian was a stylish art gallery that specialized in antiques and imports. The whole place was a front. Arturo lived in the lower levels below the basement. Under the posh downtown facade, the place was a vault where the city's vampires slept out their days.

Six months ago, the idea of going to Arturo's den by myself would have made me catatonic with fear. Now, at least, I could entertain the idea. But I couldn't walk those last few steps that would take me to the stairs leading to the basement door. I stood in the alley, my hands shoved into the pockets of my jacket. It was midnight, full dark. At any moment, a swarm of vampires would come crawling up those stairs. They'd take my being here as a territorial infraction and defend themselves accordingly. I could see the headline now: "Radio Show Host Murdered in Gang Dispute."

If I were lucky, if I stood here long enough, maybe Rick would show up and I could get his advice. Or get him to talk to Arturo. He owed me a favor for working on the Elijah Smith thing, didn't he?