After demanding about three more times that I call back tonight, he hung up.

T.J. smiled. "I could hear him on the phone. He sounds great. You're real lucky."

He hadn't let go of me all morning. No matter what happened, he'd be right there. He was pack, and he cared.

"Yeah," I said to him. "I am."

Carl crossed his arms. "That's it," he said. "You'll quit the show now."

I pressed my face to T.J.'s leg. I didn't answer; I didn't argue. In the face of all the evidence, he was right. I should quit. I didn't know how to explain to him that I couldn't. So I didn't. T.J. tensed, like he knew what I was thinking.

"He's right, Kitty," he whispered.

I covered my ears. I didn't want to hear this. I sat up and scooted away from T.J. until I was in the middle of the bed, and hugged my knees.

"Aren't you even the least bit upset at Arturo for hiring that guy in the first place?" If it was even Arturo. I was going to have to find out. Maybe Rick knew something.

Carl bristled, his shoulders twitching, his mouth turning in a snarl. "This isn't about Arturo. This is about you putting yourself in danger."

"I have to find out if Arturo was behind this. You could talk to him. Will you help me?"

Carl didn't answer. He just glared at me. T.J. looked back and forth between us, waiting for some cue.

T.J. settled his gaze on me and said, "If you quit the show, I'll call out Arturo for you."

Carl jumped onto the bed. I yelped; T.J. scrambled away, slipping off the bed and crashing to the floor. He rolled onto all fours in a heartbeat, but kept his distance. Carl pinned me, trapping me with his hands propped on the bed on either side of my head, his weight on my body. Trembling, I tried to pull away.

I wasn't ready to take on Carl.

"I don't bargain," he said, his voice low. He glanced sideways at T.J., who looked away, submissive. "You will do as I say. I'll take care of Arturo."

I didn't believe him.

I squeezed my eyes shut against tears, looking away even as I felt his breath on my cheek. He was close enough to bite. I nodded, wanting only for him to leave me alone, wanting only for it to stop. If we were human, and this was a human relationship, I'd have been expected to leave him. This was abuse.

After a moment, he wrapped himself around me, holding me tight. He only wanted to take care of me. The Wolf loved him so much.

It took until noon to convince them I was all right I told them I needed to rest I needed to go back to KNOB, if only to tell them I was finished. When I told them this, I believed it myself.

But by evening, all I felt was angry.

Everyone—receptionist assistants, teenies—stared at me as I walked through the reception area at the station that afternoon. No one said a word. It felt like one of those naked dreams. The Wolf—she loved it. All those chunks of living meat quivering like prey. But I kept it together. I'd had lots of practice keeping it together.

I didn't know what they were all thinking, how many of them thought it was for real, how many thought I was crazy. Some fear misted the air. Also curiosity.

I hadn't had a chance to talk to Matt last night. The police dragged us to separate rooms for our statements. I didn't know what he thought about me now. He'd worked on the show long enough, I was pretty sure he believed.

He met me in the hallway. Grinning, he handed over a shoebox full of messages. I took it studied him. A little bit of fear tensed the edges of his jaw. His shoulders were tight his heartbeat thudded a little too loud. But he kept cool, managing to stand there like nothing was wrong. I loved him for it.

"You okay?" I said.

"Yeah. You?"

I shrugged. "It's weird. Everything's different now. Like I sprouted a second head."

"Or a tail and claws—sorry. But—you're for real, aren't you?" I nodded, and he shook his head. "You're right. It's weird. That guy was right. Kitty's a pretty funny name for a werewolf."

"I'm never going to live it down."

"Ozzie's in his office. He wants to see you."

Oh, great. I smiled grimly in thanks and continued down the hall.

Ozzie stood when I opened the door. He was definitely nervous. So was I, for that matter. I tucked the box under my arm and cringed against the doorjamb. What the hell was I going to tell him?

Then I realized—I'd gone submissive, but he couldn't read the cues. He was my boss; it made sense, but still… I made a conscious effort to stand straight.

"Hi, Ozzie."

"Kitty. This is—" I waited for him to speak, ducking my gaze, apologetic, not sure why I felt like I had to apologize. Then he melted, pleading with his hands. "Aw, Kitty, why couldn't you tell me? You didn't have to keep it secret."

"I kind of did, Ozzie. There are people out there who don't really like people like me. It may be tough to deal with after this."

"Do you need more security? We'll get you security—"

And what would Carl and T.J. say about that? I was supposed to be quitting. I glanced at some of the messages. Some I expected—reporters from National Enquirer, Wide World of News, Uncharted World . Some I didn't— CNN ? Newsweek ! Geez, why did T.J. always have to be right?

I shook my head. "No, I've got friends. It's okay. Any word yet on how this is playing out?"

He handed me a paper marked "Preliminary Ratings." The numbers were… big. This couldn't be right.

"We're flooded with requests to replay the show. An instant poll suggests the show's credibility shot through the roof last night. At least among the people who believe all this shit. Before, you were just easy to talk to. Now, you know what you're talking about. The people who don't believe it think it's a publicity stunt to garner ratings, and they're dying to see how you're going to keep it going. This is gold, Kitty. Can you keep it going?"

Carl would just have to deal. I'd show him his half of the money when the next expansion went through. Then he could deal, I was sure. "Absolutely."

"Right… look for the message from Howard Stern. He wants to do a joint show, kind of a double interview with both of you taking calls. Cross-pollination of audiences, I think it sounds great. I talked to Barbara Walters—"