Four was my emergency line. Only a couple of people had the number. Carl had it. I bet it was him, still trying to be protective.

"Can't it wait?"

"No. The guy threatened me pretty soundly." Matt shrugged unapologetically. He'd let me mess with the threats from the supernatural world. One of these days he was going to quit this gig, and I wouldn't be able to blame him. I needed to get Ozzie to give him a raise.

"Estelle, hang on for just a minute. I'm still with you, but I have to take a break." I put her on hold, punched the line, and made sure it wasn't set to broadcast. The last thing I needed was Carl lecturing me on the air. "What?"

"Hello, Katherine," said an aristocratic male voice.

It wasn't Carl. Oh, no. Only one other person besides my grandmother ever called me Katherine. I'd met him only a couple of times in person, during territorial face-offs with Carl and the pack. But I knew that voice. That voice made my bone marrow twinge.

"Arturo. How the hell did you get this number?"

"I have ways."

Oh, please. On the phone, behind the microphone, I had the power. I switched the line over to live. "Hello, Arturo. You're on the air."

"Katherine," he said tightly. "I wish to speak to you privately."

"You call me during the show, you talk to my listeners. That's the deal." Maybe if I was brazen enough, I'd forget that he'd tried to have me killed.

"I do not appreciate being treated like your rabble—"

"What do you want, Arturo?"

He took a deep breath. "I want to talk to Estelle."

"Why?"

"She's one of mine."

Great. This was getting complicated. I covered the mike with my hand. "Matt, how does three-way calling work again?"

A few seconds later, I had Estelle back on the line. "Estelle? You still there?"

"Yes." Her voice was trembling. She swallowed.

"Okay—I have Arturo on the other line—"

She groaned like I'd just staked her. "He'll kill me. He'll kill me for leaving him—"

"On the contrary, my dear. I want to take you home. You're hurt and need help. Tell me where you are."

Her breath hiccuped. She was crying. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

"It's far too late for that," he said, sounding tired.

I couldn't believe what I was about to say. "Estelle, I think you should listen to him. I don't know what I can do for you. Arturo can get you to a safe place."

"I don't believe him. I can't go back, I can't ever go back!"

"Estelle, please, tell me where you are," Arturo said.

"Kitty?" Estelle said, her voice small.

"Arturo—you promise you aren't going to hurt her?"

"Katherine, you're being harsh."

"Promise."

"Katherine. Estelle is mine. She is part of me. If she is destroyed, part of me is destroyed as well. I have an interest in protecting her. I promise."

Drama, tension, excitement! What a great setup for a show! But at the moment I would have given my pelt to have the whiny goth chicks back.

"I'm going to break for station identification. When we return, I hope I'll have a wrap-up for you on our sudden special broadcast of 'Elijah Smith: Exposed.'" I switched the phone lines off the air and said, "All right, Estelle. It's up to you."

"Okay. Okay. Arturo, come get me. I'm at the Speedy Mart on Seventy-fifth."

Arturo's line clicked off.

"You okay, Estelle?" I asked.

"Yeah. Yes, I'm all right." She had stopped crying and seemed almost calm. The decision had been made. She could stop running, for a little while at least.

I had one more call to make—to the cavalry, just in case. I should have called the police. Hardin—she'd help Estelle. Yeah, she'd take Estelle to a hospital. And they wouldn't know what to do with her. They wouldn't understand, and it would take too long to explain.

A normal person would have called the police. But I pulled a scrap of paper out of my contact book, got an outside line, and dialed. After six rings, I almost hung up. Then, "Yeah." Mobile phone static underlaid the voice.

"Cormac? Have you been listening to the show tonight?"

"Norville? Why would I be listening to your show?"

Oh, yeah, he could pretend, but I knew the truth. He'd listened once, it could happen again. "One of my callers is in trouble. Arturo says he'll help her, but I don't trust him. I want to make sure she doesn't get caught in a cross fire. Can you go help? Make sure nobody dies and stuff?"

"Arturo? Arturo is helping? She's a vampire, isn't she." It might have been a question, but he didn't make it sound like one.

"Yeah, actually."

"You're out of your mind."

"Yup. Look, chances are Arturo will get to Estelle first and the Church people won't even find her. But if the Church people do show up, they'll have some pretty hardhitting supernaturals with them. You might get to shoot one."

"Whoa, slow down. Church?"

"Church of the Pure Faith."

"Hm. A buddy of mine was hired to go in there and never got through. I've been wanting to get a look at them."

"Here's your chance," I said brightly.

"Right. I'll check it out, but no promises."

"Good enough. Thanks, Cormac." I gave him the address. He grunted something resembling a sign-off.

Matt was signaling through the window. Time up. On-air light on. Okay. "We're back to The Midnight Hour. Estelle?"

"Kitty! A car just pulled up. It's not Arturo; I think it's people from the Church. They'll kill me, Kitty. We're not supposed to leave; they'll take me back and then—I've told you everything and now everybody knows—"

"Okay, Estelle. Stay down. Help's on the way."

Matt leaned in and didn't bother to muffle his voice for the mike this time. His expression was taut and anxious. He actually looked harried. "Line four again."

Maybe it was Arturo checking in. Maybe I could warn him. He was Estelle's only chance to get out of there. "Yeah?"

"Kitty, do you need help?" said a gruff, accusatory voice.

Not Arturo. Carl. Why was he worried about whether I needed help now of all times?

"I can't talk now, Carl." I hung up on him. I'd catch hell for that later.

Carl and I were going to kill each other one of these days.

Switched lines again, had to double-check to make sure it was the right one. "Estelle? What's happening? Estelle?" A sound rustled over the mouthpiece, then a banging noise like something falling. My heart dropped. "Estelle?"

"Yes. I'm hiding, but the phone cord won't go any farther. I don't want to hang up, Kitty."

I didn't want her to hang up. A nasty little voice in my head whispered ratings. But the only way I was going to find out what happened was if she stayed on the line.

"Estelle, if you have to hang up, hang up, okay? The important thing is to get out of there in one piece."

"Thank you, Kitty," she said, her face wet with tears. "Thank you for listening to me. No one's ever really listened to me before."

I hadn't done anything. I couldn't do anything. I was trapped behind the mike.

After that, I had to piece together events from what I was hearing. It was like listening to a badly directed radio drama. Tires squealed on asphalt A car door slammed. Distant voices shouted. The phone slammed against something again: Estelle had dropped the handset. Running footsteps.

I paced, my hands itching to turn into claws and my legs itching to run. That happened when I got stressed. I wanted to Change and run. Run far, run fast, like Estelle had tried to do.

I called Cormac back.

"Yeah?"

"It's me. Are you there? What's happening?"

"Give me a break, it's only been a minute. Give me another five." He hung up.

Then on the other line, bells jingled as the door opened and closed. Footsteps moved slowly across a linoleum floor. I heard a scream. Then sobbing.

What was it about Elijah Smith that could make a vampire afraid of him?