He hooked his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked away. It occurred to me that Carl wasn't that old. Maybe thirty-four, thirty-five. I didn't know how much of that time he'd spent as a werewolf. He lacked the confidence of maturity. How much effort did it take him to put on the tough act, to maintain that dominant stance he needed to stay in control? I'd never noticed before, but the confidence didn't come naturally to him. Not like it did to, say, Cormac.

"You want to come inside to wait for her?"

"I think I'll stay here."

He went back around the corner of the house.

Not too much longer after that, he came out the back door. Meg was with him. They stood side by side, looking down at me. I should have been butt-sore from sitting on the concrete that long. But it really was a nice afternoon. The air was starting to get a hint of twilight chill. I was comfortable.

"Hey, Meg. Tell me about James," I said without turning.

The pause before she answered went on a little too long. "Who?"

"James. Rogue werewolf."

Carl said, "Kitty, what are you talking about?"

"I think Meg's been holding out on you. I think she found somebody who looked big and tough, made him one of us, and started grooming him to be your replacement. She didn't want to fight you herself. He would be an alpha male who owed everything to her. But the guy was nuts. Unstable. She couldn't control him. She abandoned him, and he started killing. She didn't like me talking to the cops about it; maybe she was afraid I'd figure it out, catch her scent and trace the rogue back to her. So she sent Zan to get rid of me. Too bad the whole teaming-up with Arturo to hire Cormac to kill me didn't work earlier. Would have made everyone's lives easier. I think she's had it in for me for a while, ever since she thought I might threaten her place."

"Where is this James now?" Carl looked at me, not Meg.

But I looked straight at Meg. "I killed him."

Meg said, "I don't believe you."

Bingo. I got her. "Which part? That this guy exists, or that I—little old me—was able to kill him?" I stood without using my hands. "I ripped his fucking throat out, Meg. You want me to tell you what it tasted like? Should I demonstrate?"

That was way too cocky. I was starting to sound like Carl. Too late to back down now.

Meg moved a step behind Carl.

A thrill warmed me, a static shock up my spine. I hadn't even touched her yet, but she was scared. Of me. I could breathe on her right now and she might scream. I narrowed my gaze and smiled.

This was why Carl got off on being a bully. This was how it felt to be strong.

"If you want me dead, Meg, why don't you just challenge me face-to-face? Don't you have the guts?" I circled Carl, moving toward her. She moved as well, keeping him between us.

"Kitty, that's enough," Carl said.

"No, it isn't. I'm calling her out. I want to challenge her. What do you say, Meg?"

She stared at me, her body still. "I think you're crazy."

"I'm pissed off is what I am! I mean, what the hell were you thinking, dealing with that guy?"

Still, she didn't deny it, didn't confirm it. Didn't say anything.

It was going to happen. I could feel it, a charge in the air, our glares colliding. My blood rushed; I could feel my pulse pounding in my brain. My throat was tight, holding back a growl. She closed her hands, preparing.

Then Carl stepped between us. "I won't let you do this. Stand down, Kitty. Now."

"And why should I listen to you? Where were you all those times people tried to kill me? You're useless, Carl! I don't owe you anything!"

Carl took a couple of steps toward me. His posture was stiff, arms slightly bent, ready to swing fists.

However much I wanted to back away, I held my ground. Even my Wolf didn't cringe at his approach. Even she was too angry.

"I don't want to fight you," I said, my voice tight. "Let me challenge her, Carl. I thought you wanted me to challenge her."

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

With a calculating look and a thin smile, Meg turned her gaze away from me. She stepped toward Carl, touched his back, and put her face against his shoulder. She glanced at me from the shelter of his body, then closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek down his shoulder, holding his arm, clinging to him.

She showed herself submissive to him. She put herself in his power; then, it followed, he would protect her. She was asking him to fight her fight.

My jaw opened, disbelieving. "Were you always this much of a bitch?"

That was a stupid question.

"I know my place," she said. Slowly, she crouched, until she was kneeling at Carl's feet. She gripped his leg, pressing her face to his thigh.

And Carl, insecure dominant that he was, fell for it. He swelled, appearing to grow a few inches in all directions as he puffed out his chest and cocked his arms, preparing to fight.

Oh, please.

"Come on, Carl," I said. "She's putting on an act. She's scared that I might actually have a chance against her."

"You challenge my mate, you fight me."

"And what about everything she's done? Giving the photos to Arturo, sending Zan after me—and that doesn't even touch on what she did to James. She wanted to kill you! Why protect her after all that?"

"She hasn't said she was behind James."

"She hasn't denied it."

We both looked at her. I might get out of this yet.

Meg, contrite as a Catholic schoolgirl, bowing her head so her hair fell across her face, said, "James was a mistake. It'll never happen again. I'm sorry."

That was ultimately why I could never take Meg's place at Carl's side. I couldn't grovel like that. At least, not anymore. Carl needed someone who would grovel at his feet.

The sun finally dipped behind the hills. Everything turned to shadow. The sky was darkening to that rich, twilight blue of velvet, of dreams. This was the Elfland blue that Dunsany described. It made me feel like I could take a step and be in another world, a magic place where nothing hurt. Where no one hurt another. Or where the adventures someone had were symbolic and meaningful, leading to enlightenment, adulthood, or at the very least a nice treasure. Maybe a talking goose.

I'd seen plenty of magic in my world. None of it impressed me a whole lot.

I shrugged. "Well, Carl. You're free to stand by her. Just as long as you know what she really is."

I was ready for him when he sprang at me.

Carl jumped at me, hands out, fingers spread, ready to grab me around the neck. I ducked and rolled. Technically, I'd learned all these fancy moves that would topple a charging opponent, use the momentum of a larger assailant against him, allow me to swing him headfirst into the ground at my feet. Those moves worked a lot better in the gymnasium with floor mats and time to practice.

As it was, I only managed to roll out of the reach of his arms. I grabbed for him, snagging the cuffs of his jeans. He stumbled, but didn't fall. Scrambling on all fours, I put distance between us, turned and faced him, crouching, waiting.

Carl didn't seem to be in a hurry. Pulling his shirt off, baring his sculpted, powerful chest, he circled me, making a rumbling noise in his throat.

I would do a lot better as a wolf, with claws and teeth and fewer inhibitions. But if I took the time to shape-shift, he'd attack.

Maybe I didn't have to shift all the way. I could let a little bit of Wolf bleed over, gain enough advantage to hold my own. My growl started. I'd attack Carl first, then Meg.

Tensing, I acted like I was going to leap. I jerked forward and got a reaction from him. He rushed me like he thought we were going to crash together. He'd have won a head-on collision between us. But I ducked, again avoiding the force of his attack. He passed close by. I felt the heat of his blood, smelled the sweat beading on his body.