“They call in from all over,” I said. “I don’t really know how many of us there are. But they’re out there. Most of them lead pretty quiet, normal lives. They keep themselves secret and no one knows they’re there.” And you can do the same, was the conclusion I left unspoken. Walters nodded thoughtfully, which heartened me. Maybe he really had been inspired. “Full moon’s in a couple of days. You two feel up to maybe spending it outside?”
They looked at me, eyes wide, like kids who just found out they might get to go to Disneyland.
“Really?” Tyler said, hesitating, obviously not believing it.
“It’s a step,” I said. “You want to get out of here, you want to go home, you’re going to have to deal with the full moon. You can come spend it with my pack. See how real werewolves handle it.”
“I’d go for that,” Tyler said, glancing briefly at the camera in the upper corner of the room, where Shumacher was watching, before looking back at me. I wouldn’t blame him for thinking this was some kind of psychological experiment. Subject them to stress and disappointment, and so on.
“It’s not a done deal yet,” I said. “You need to be honest about whether you think you can handle it. Because if you screw this up, you may not get another chance. And if you hurt any of my people, I’ll finish you off myself.”
“You could try,” Walters grumbled.
I looked at him. “Yeah. And what would you say if I told you I’ve done it before?”
“What, stopped a werewolf?” he snickered.
“Killed,” I said. “Killed a werewolf.”
He frowned and looked away, suddenly uncertain.
Tyler smiled wryly. “I believe you. I don’t want to fuck with you.”
“Good man,” I said. “Walters?”
“I want to get out of here,” he said softly.
“Then we have to toe the line,” Tyler said to him, leaning in, a private conference. “Follow the rules and we get out. Got it?”
Walters nodded, closing his eyes, gritting his teeth, as if it was an effort.
“I still need to talk it over with Dr. Shumacher and my people. But if you’re up for it, we’ll come get you on Tuesday.”
“Kitty. Thanks,” Tyler said.
“I WAS under the impression that werewolf packs were not meant to be run by committee,” Ben said as we pulled into the parking lot behind New Moon Monday evening, just before closing time.
“Yeah,” I said. “But I don’t want to be like all those other werewolves, you know?”
“Says the werewolf named Kitty.”
“It’s too late to change my name now,” I grumbled.
A half an hour later, we stood before our pack of werewolves and explained the situation. Everyone had an opinion.
“I do not like the idea of baby-sitting those guys,” Becky said, glaring at me from her seat at the end of the table. “We can’t control them. They can’t control themselves.”
Twelve of the pack’s seventeen members were here. Word had gone out through Shaun. I’d told him over the phone what I wanted to talk about, he saw others of our pack as they came in and out of the bar, and the grapevine would have continued from there. They came to find out if what they’d heard was true: was I about to let a couple of new wolves join the pack? We clustered around a few tables in the back of the restaurant. Head of the pack, Ben and I sat at our own small table for two, presiding over the gathering.
Becky wasn’t wrong. She had every right to be worried, since she’d dealt with them up close. Our outing at the restaurant last week hadn’t immediately made everything all sunshine and show tunes.
“I know,” I said. “We need a plan. Several of us need to look after each of them. Help keep them in line, keep them grounded.”
“You’re asking us to keep tabs on a couple of Green Berets here? Are we even up for that?” Jared was in his late thirties, unassuming. Older and more experienced than I, but with no desire to be a leader, so he deferred. Like a lot of us, he just wanted to be left alone to live his life. And like it did for a lot of us, the pack helped keep his wolf side sane.
I couldn’t bullshit these guys. They’d only go along with me as long as I kept the pack stable.
“Um, yeah,” I said. “But they’re motivated. They want to go home. They need our help.”