Carl came around the side of the house. He stopped when he saw me, closing his fists and hunching his shoulders, posturing. I glanced at him, then turned my face back to the sun, basking.
"Hi, Carl."
"What were you looking at?" He said this suspiciously, like he thought I was hiding something.
"I don't know. I thought I saw something. T.J., maybe."
Carl relaxed a little and continued toward me. He leaned against the wall, towering over me. "I haven't seen him in days. I know he likes to go roaming. I thought you might know where he went this time."
"He's hiding. The police are looking for him, for killing Zan."
After a pause he said, "Zan is dead?"
I looked at him. I assumed T.J. told him everything. "You didn't know?"
"Meg told me he left. Ran off. I thought maybe he and T.J. ran off together." He made a suggestive humph, adding meaning to 'together.' Geez, even if Zan had swung that way, T.J. had better taste.
"Meg's a liar."
"Why would T.J. kill him?"
"Zan attacked me. T.J. was protecting me."
"Why would Zan attack you?" he said.
"Are you serious? Are you really so clueless about what's happening in your own pack?"
His shoulders tightened, hackles rising. Then he blew out a breath in a sigh and let himself slouch. "What am I going to do with you?"
I hugged my knees and glared out at the hills, painted gold by the sun. Shadows of the trees lengthened, crawling toward me.
"I'm going to have a talk with Meg. I don't know what you're going to do. You'll either stay out of the way, or you'll back Meg. I don't know which."
"Can you take down Meg?"
"I can try."
"Then you'll take her place."
"No. I don't want her place." I wanted my own place; how could I make him see that?
"I can't be head of this pack by myself." He sounded almost panicked.
"Maybe you could learn."
He said, his voice tight, "Why won't you even consider it?"
"Because I don't need the pack. I have my own life." Rogue wolf. I could do it. "So, are you going to back her up or stay out of my way?"
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.