T.J. looked away. Carl was the only person who could make him look sheepish. “Sorry.”
“You should have called me.”
I was still trying to catch my breath. “How—how did you know where to find us?”
He looked at T.J., who was scuffing his boot on the asphalt. T.J. said, “I left him a note.”
I closed my eyes, defeated. “Can’t we do anything without telling Carl?”
Carl growled. Human vocal cords could growl. The guys in pro wrestling did it all the time. But they didn’t mean it like Carl meant it. When he growled, it was like his wolf was trying to climb out of his throat to bite my face off.
“Nope,” T.J. said.
“T.J., go home. Kitty and I are going to have a little talk. I’ll take care of you later.”
“Yes, sir.”
T.J. caught my gaze for a moment, gave me a “buck-up” expression, nodded at Carl, and walked down the street. Carl put his hand behind my neck and steered me in the opposite direction.
This was supposed to be my night.
Usually, I melted around Carl. His personality was such that it subsumed everyone around him—at least everyone in the pack. All I ever wanted to do was make him happy, so that he’d love me. But right now, I was angry.
I couldn’t remember when I’d ever been more angry than scared. It was an odd feeling, a battle of emotions and animal instinct that expressed itself in action: fight or flight. I’d always run, hid, groveled. The hair on my arms, the back of my neck, prickled, and a deep memory of thick fur awakened.
His truck was parked around the corner. He guided me to the passenger seat. Then, he drove.
“I had a visit from Arturo.”
Arturo was Master of the local vampire Family. He kept the vampires in line like Carl kept the werewolves in line, and as long as the two groups stayed in their territories and didn’t harass each other, they existed peacefully, mostly. If Arturo had approached Carl, it meant he had a complaint.
“What’s wrong?”
“He wants you to quit your show.” He glared straight ahead.
I flushed. I should have known something like this would happen. Things were going so well.
“I can’t quit the show. We’re expanding. Syndication. It’s a huge opportunity, I can’t pass it up—”
“You can if I tell you to.”
I tiredly rubbed my face, unable to think of any solution that would let us both have our way. I willed my eyes to clear and made sure my voice sounded steady.
“Then you think I should quit, too.”
“He says that some of his people have been calling you for advice instead of going to him. It’s a challenge to his authority. He has a point.”
Wow, Carl and Arturo agreed on something. It was a great day for supernatural diplomacy.
“Then he should tell off his people and not blame it on me—”
“Kitty—”
I slouched in the seat and pouted like a little kid.
“He’s also worried about exposure. He thinks you’re bringing too much attention to us. All it takes is one televangelist or right-wing senator calling a witch hunt, and people will come looking for us.”
“Come on, 90 percent of the people out there think the show’s a joke.”