"You can't do this." An empty, unconvincing denial.

"But I have done ever so much worse to get where I am."

I flashed on the memory of him dropping Carl with a twist of his arm. He'd incapacitated Hardin with a word. He was too strong, I couldn't stop him.

I wished I had telekinesis, to throw him across the room. I wished to bring down lightning bolts from the sky. I wished for a bag of garlic and a bottle of holy water. I wished I was religious and wore a cross around my neck.

I considered. I took a step back, into the doorway, where I could see Detective Hardin leaning just outside. Her cross would hurt him, but it had to touch him.

"Katherine," Arturo said. "You shouldn't have to think about this. I can feel her pulse under my hand. I can stop it."

I needed another few seconds.

"Ben, too," I said, stalling. I turned my back to him, feigning despair, to hide what I was doing when I shifted aside the collar of Hardin's shirt. "Don't hurt him. Ben and I for Carl and Meg."

"Of course. I assumed as much."

Hardin didn't move, didn't so much as blink. Her eyes were half-lidded, staring at nothing. I touched the chain, and my fingers started to itch. It was silver. Damn.

Oh, well. I'd just have to cope. Gritting my teeth against the sting, I gripped the silver cross and chain and yanked. The latch broke, the necklace fell into my hand. The itch of the silver against my skin turned into a burn.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure Hardin's all right. You'll let her go, too? She doesn't know what she's dealing with."

"She won't even remember what happened."

"I don't want to be your lackey."

"I don't want a lackey, I want a partner I can trust."

Hands at my sides, clenched into fists, gritting my teeth against the searing pain of the silver, I moved toward the bed, my gaze downcast. I would not look into his eyes.

My mother still slept. Arturo's touch was so light, he didn't wake her. I stared at that hand. I put my own on the edge of the bed, like I was preparing to surrender, to hand myself over to him. This had to work.

"I think," I said slowly. "I think you should leave my mother alone."

I put the cross on his hand.

Like a snake had bitten him, he flinched away, jerking his hand back and cradling it to his chest. The cross spilled onto the sheet covering Mom's chest. I picked it up and let it dangle, so he could see what it was, ignoring the pain it caused.

"Get out," I said, still not looking at his face, those eyes. I had to assume he was glaring at me. When he didn't move, a rage bubbled within me. Weeks of frustration, fear, and pain boiled. Damn the ones who had made me live in fear.

"Get out! Get out of here!" This came out as a growl, and Wolf stared out of my eyes, flexed inside my hands, my fingers curling like claws. I would Change right now and leap on him. Maybe he'd be able to stop me. And maybe he wouldn't.

He moved toward the doorway, and I followed. I watched his shoulder, not his face. A rumbling in my chest felt like the start of a growl. I wanted to rip his throat out. My mouth hurt from wanting to grow fangs.

His lips turned in a careful smile. Lowering his gaze, he gave a small bow, his hand still clenched to his chest. The gesture was courtly.

Then he fled before me, like anyone would before a ravening wolf.

Actually, as much as I would have liked to see him run from me, he merely turned to the doorway and vanished with a breath. I shook my head, convinced I'd seen it wrong. He'd managed a vampire's exit, the moment of shadow and the disappearance.

I clutched my stomach and felt like the luckiest girl in the world. He'd left me and Mom alone.

And my hand felt like it was going to fall off.

"Gah!" I dropped the cross and chain onto Mom's bed. That was where I wanted to leave it, with her, in case he came back. I stretched my hand—a rash severe enough to show raised welts covered my palm. "Shit," I muttered.

"Kitty? Hm…what time is it? It's dark." Mom turned her head and mumbled, sounding very small and lost.

"Sh, Mom. It's okay. Everything's okay. Go back to sleep." I touched her hand, her forehead, brushing aside strands of ash-colored hair. I tried to sound soothing and not rattled. "Just go back to sleep. I'll come see you later."

"All right."

"I love you."

She smiled briefly as she drifted back to sleep. Still drugged out on painkillers, she'd never really woken up.

Relieved, I sighed. She was safe. She'd be safe. Could I collapse yet?

"Where is he? Where'd he go?" Hardin appeared in the doorway again, crossbow in hand, her gaze wild.

"He's gone. You still want to arrest Denver's Master vampire?"

"Jesus Christ," she hissed. She rubbed the back of her neck, where the chain had broken off.

"Detective, could you do something for me?"

She joined me by the bed. "Is she all right?"

"Yeah. Could you tie this chain around her somehow? I don't want to touch it if I don't have to." I showed her my injured palm.

"That's my cross," she said.

"I had to borrow it."

She considered me a moment, then shook her head. Her taut expression managed to convey both trepidation and annoyance. But she did get the chain tied around Mom's neck.

"The silver did that to you?"

Wincing, I nodded. "With silver bullets, it's not the bullet that kills a werewolf. It's the silver poisoning the blood."

"Not very pretty I bet."

"No, I imagine not."

Straightening, Hardin regarded me. The trepidation was fading, losing to a severe look of aggravation. "You're going to have to explain what that bastard did to me."

"The vampire hypnotic voodoo."

"Uh. Yeah."

"How do you think they get people to stay still while they drink their blood?"

She scowled. "I hate it when this crap actually makes sense."

"Don't look at his eyes next time, okay?"

"Let's get going."

I touched Mom's hand one more time. She was sleeping, and the cross was visible, lying at the hollow of her throat. She was as safe as I could make her. Which wasn't very. I hated to leave.

"She'll be okay," Hardin said, touching my arm. "I'll make sure security is watching her room."

Like that would help. Arturo would just work his wiles on them.

"I'll have them string garlic in the doorway." She grinned, but it wasn't much of a joke.

We heard pounding footsteps ahead of us. Four cops, running down the corridor. Hardin's backup.

"Took you guys long enough!" she barked at them. "Come on, we're heading out."

They shrugged and mumbled excuses. But I looked at the clock—the whole exchange with Arturo had only taken a couple of minutes. We hadn't been here that long. Time had stretched to make it seem so.

After Hardin had a word with security, we walked out of the hospital together. "Your boyfriend was going to this guy's home base. Where?"

"You know Obsidian? That art gallery on Fourteenth? He's in the basement."

"How many people has he got with him?"

"I don't know. I've seen as many as twelve or fourteen. All vampires."

"Well, this ought to be fun. Sawyer, you got that surveillance file on Mercedes Cook? She's a known associate. We might get some idea of what we'll find there."

"Yeah, it's in the car."

"Sawyer," I muttered. "Isn't that the guy who shot me?" The cop in question ducked and ran ahead of us. Avoiding me. Oh, it was him.

"Let it go, Kitty," Hardin said. Then, "Sunglasses."

"What?"

"You think sunglasses would work against that hypnotic crap?" She pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her pocket and went through the ritual of lighting up. Her gestures were manic, determined.

"I don't know."

Officer Sawyer handed her a manila folder, which she handed to me. Then she gathered her people around her: four uniformed officers who looked ready for war. I was frankly dumbstruck.