What else could I do but mutter, "Thanks." Then I stepped close to Rick and said softly, "It's going to take more than this to get rid of Arturo."

"Yes. It's going to take the city's werewolves supporting me," Rick said.

"No. Even if I thought I could take on Carl and Meg, even if I took over the pack, I wouldn't do it and then turn my wolves into cannon fodder for your little war."

"And that is exactly why you should lead the city's wolves, and not Carl. Carl wouldn't hesitate to use them as cannon fodder."

"You're trying to turn this back on me, to appeal to my sense of duty. It's not going to work. Just this once I'm going to be selfish and stay the hell out of it."

"You'll have to do what you think is right, of course."

"Oh, no you don't! You're not going to guilt me into this."

"Wow," said Violet. "You were right, Rick. She is kinda jumpy."

"Kitty, let's take a walk," Rick said, nodding toward the door.

Charlie stepped forward, frowning. "You sure it's safe?"

"It'll be fine," he said. He opened the door and gestured me outside. Dutifully, I exited.

I was happy enough to be outside the close, stuffy air of the warehouse, and the smells and stares of beings who didn't much care for me. Were-African wild dog? If I hadn't actually seen him…I wondered what he was like as a human.

Rick guided our walk along the wall, staying in the shadows and out of the streetlights. He kept his gaze forward, like he wasn't at all concerned. We reached the corner of the building, and he still didn't say anything. I couldn't say that I knew him all that well, but he seemed unusually pensive. Lost in thought.

“They don't trust you," he said finally. "They think I'm making a mistake, trying to recruit you. I thought if they met you, they'd change their minds."

"Rick, I've got my own worries right now. I've got too much to lose to…to fight someone else's war."

"I thought maybe you'd be interested in revenge."

I shook my head. "I put too much distance between me and them to want revenge anymore."

"T. J. would have sided with me without any doubts."

"Don't you dare use him as a pawn in this," I said, my voice rough. "He doesn't deserve that." Even though Rick was right.

"I'm sorry." His voice was muted. We walked a few more paces, until the silence was too much.

"Charlie and Violet," I said. "Where'd you pick up those two?"

He actually smiled, an offhand amused smile. "Charlie was turned about forty-five years ago by a West Coast vampire of my acquaintance—a bit power hungry, a bit mad. I helped Charlie escape from his Family. About thirty years ago, he met Violet and turned her himself. They decided they were made for each other, and I can't say I disagree. They've operated independently since then. They seem to have a lot of fun being petty outlaws—it tends to make the Families twitch."

"So they're not from the eighties."

"They got a bit stalled there, didn't they? Charlie owes me a favor, so he came."

The others probably all had stories like that. Rick had helped them, now they answered his call. But would they be enough to confront Arturo?

"Is that everyone you have? Are others coming?"

"I could use more," he said. "I ought to have more to face Arturo."

"You're talking like this is going to be a war. Like you and Arturo have armies. Is that what this is going to be? Vampires and werewolves battling in the streets of Denver? That can't happen. I'll tell the police—I have a contact with them."

"This has been going on for hundreds of years under the noses of mundane authorities. No one will notice."

He was right. People like us were killed all the time and no one much noticed. Through most of history there'd been a curtain drawn over our world.

"That's changing. The Denver PD has a Paranatural Unit, did you know that? If bodies start turning up, they'll notice. Look at how the newspaper played those nightclub attacks. You can't operate under the old assumptions."

He studied me sidelong. "What's your story? You're on edge, even more paranoid than usual. It's more than your mother's illness, isn't it?"

I almost told him. It was on the edge of my tongue. I hadn't told anyone but Ben, and for a moment I thought that if I told Rick about the miscarriage, it would explain everything. He'd leave me alone.

I ought to be milking it for all the pity I could.

"Rick, it's all I can do to take care of myself right now. I can't help you." I didn't want to get involved. I couldn't get involved.

He nodded, lips pursed thoughtfully. "I'm going to move soon. I have to do this before Mercedes leaves town. She has to spread the word that a new, stronger Master is in control here, and that Denver is off-limits."

"What's the deal with her? How is it she has both you and Arturo cowering?"

He smiled, a wry and bitter expression. "A Master vampire is a Master only as long as other vampires recognize him as such. Arturo will be desperate to prove that he's still in charge. And she has the power to decide that he isn't. When she moves along on her concert tour, the news of that will spread."

"So she's the vampire gossip mill and everyone tries to get on her good side? It can't be that simple. What happens if she decides to nudge things along in one direction or another?"

"Maybe we'll find out. Kitty, I know you have pressing concerns, but if Carl and Arturo win, you won't be able to stay to help your mother. You'll be in danger, and you see how easy it is to get to you."

"You're trying to scare me. I've already been scared. It's a lot harder to terrify me these days."

"I imagine so. Just remember, fear is good. Fear is a survival mechanism."

"And a tool used to manipulate others. Rick, I need to get back."

"All right." We turned the corner to where his slick BMW was parked.

We drove the whole way back to KNOB without saying a word. He stopped in the parking lot next to my hatchback and let me out without argument. He didn't have to do that. Carl or Arturo would have kept me locked up, just to show who had the power.

It occurred to me that Rick was one of the good guys.

"Thanks," I said, climbing out of the car.

"Just a minute. Take this." He reached over and offered me a slip of paper. It had a phone number written on it.

"This yours?" I said, and he nodded. "In case I change my mind?"

"Or if you need my help."

I couldn't decide if the gesture was out of optimism or pity. I stuck the number in my pocket. "Rick. How old are you?"

He shook his head, quirking a smile. I’m not going to answer that."

"If I keep asking, you might one of these days."

"I admire your persistence, Kitty."

I almost laughed. "At least somebody does. Good luck, Rick."

"I'm thinking I'll need it."

I closed the passenger door and he drove away, and I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

When my cell phone rang the next day, I checked the caller ID and my heart caught in my throat. It was Dad.

"Hi, Dad? What is it?"

Like I was afraid he would, he said, "The test results came in." His voice was serious, tired. Bad news, I was ready for bad news. "It's positive. Malignant. She's going in this afternoon to talk to the doctor."

"Do I need to come over? Do you want me to come over? What can I do?"

Nothing. Nothing but sit here and worry.

"I'm going with her to the doctor, but if you could come over for dinner, I think it'd be good. I think it would help."

"Really?"

He sighed. "I don't know. This happens to people every day—but it feels like we're the first people in the universe to have to deal with it. Does that make any sense?"

"Yeah, it does. You want me to pick something up? Chinese? Pizza? Just so no one has to cook."