Brave the Night: A Bully Boys Novel

by Cassandra Moore

  Fuck shit up.

  Both barrels of the sawed-off shotgun had discharged to leave the weapon empty. Before the Feral could decide to die, she lunged at it, wielding the shotgun like a bludgeon. It connected with the damaged flesh with a wet crack once, twice, three times before the creature fell to the ground. It twitched in grotesque fashion, then stilled.

  An impact from behind sprawled her into the near branches of the thorn bush. She threw her arm up to protect her face and rolled away from the sharp plant as best she could. Hot, rancid breath gusted against her cheek. Fuck, it’s right there. Frantic, eyes still shut, she drove her fist forward. Thorns scraped her fist and forearm, but she connected with furred flesh.

  It snarled. She kicked out hard until she drove it back. Only then did she open her eyes.

  All she saw was a pointed snout and rosette-shaped spots and sharp teeth. So many sharp teeth. She scrabbled towards the mangled bike to pull a hefty pistol from the saddlebag. The Feral lunged. She shoved the gun into its mouth and pulled the trigger as fast as the action would allow it. Four shots rang out, followed by a sick crunch as the Feral’s tongue caught in the weapon slide. She kicked the ruined face for good measure before she lurched to her feet.

  Andy had gone down near the truck. His screams had faded to weak, pleading whimpers and sobs. A coyote-like Feral stood over him, Andy’s arm cradled in its clawed hands. It crooned to him with eerie tenderness as it chewed his forearm, then licked the wound it had created. “Hear us, hear us, brothers, sisters, hear us sing, smart one, smart one, come with us…”

  She tried not to see the abhorrent display, or to hear the inhuman murmur that rose above the wet licking sounds. Her mind divided itself with the same detachment that had seen her through the last, worst days in the hospital, the ones where her heart wanted to make decisions her rational self knew for the wrong ones.

  Instead, she pulled another shotgun from a holster on the Russian bike. The slide racked with a satisfying crack. “Hey! Ugly!”

  The Feral’s head snapped around. Even in the dying light, she could see its pupils expand to overtake all color in its eyes. “You, too,” it growled. “New truck child. Like him. Like me.”

  “Come get me,” she said, and braced her feet.

  It launched itself across the intervening pavement, bounding on all fours with a speed that surprised her. Surprise fed her adrenaline. Time dilated. She could see its claws flex, its muscles bunch, then pounce towards her.

  She pulled the trigger. Its head bloomed open like a grotesque flower. The body tumbled to the ground and skidded to a rest next to her.

  Hot air filled her lungs as she forced herself to breathe. Time resumed its normal pace. Andy’s whimpers filtered past the ringing of her ears in the wake of the shotgun’s roar. She blinked herself back to awareness and trotted over to the wounded driver.

  He stared at his ravaged arm numbly. “It hurts,” he said.

  Erin sighed. He’s in shock. How much blood has he lost? Not as much as he should have, by the look of his clothes. “I imagine it does. We need to get you to a hospital. Can you walk?”

  “No. It hurts. But I’m hungry.” He looked up at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

  Oh, no. The westering sun had cast the truck’s shadow on them both. She pulled the borrowed cell phone out of her pocket and activated flashlight mode. That cold glow showed her what she had hoped not to see. Andy’s wounds had already begun to knit themselves together. Tan fur forced its way out of the wounds in spotty clumps. Redness chased up his veins to create a grotesque tracework beneath his skin.

  He’s turning. Her mouth ran dry. She took a deep breath to steady herself and gusted it out between her lips. “Oh, Andy. You didn’t deserve this.”

  He yanked his arm away from her to cradle against him. “It’s fine. Fine. It’s fine. Getting better. Not hurting as much.”

  She turned off flashlight mode and stood up. What did the news say? Slow change over a day’s time. Cognitive processes go first as the contagion ensures it has a compliant host. Once the infection enters the bloodstream, there’s no way to stop it. All you can do is end the infected person’s life before they become violent and infect someone else.

  The shotgun held more shells. She pumped it to put one in the chamber.

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

  “There might be more Ferals in the area. I’m just making sure we’re ready for them.”

  “There are.” As intense as his gaze had been a moment before, it softened, as if he listened to the echoes of old memories buried deep in his mind. “I can hear them singing. Can you hear them?”

  She licked her dry lips and regretted it. The news didn’t say anything about singing. “No. I can’t. Just you. What are they singing about?”

  “Lost pack. Pack who stopped singing. They need to find the lost pack. Make more pack.” His head tilted to the side with a canine curiosity. “Why can’t you hear them?”

  “Not everyone can. It means you’re a strong protector, if you can hear them.” He’s losing it. I don’t have long. She thought fast. “Do you want a gun, too?”

  “A gun? Why?”

  “To protect me with. Remember what you said, when we were talking? You can protect me from Ferals. Protect me and prove to your ex-girlfriend you can.” Mindful to move slowly, she edged toward the passenger door.

  That jarred a memory. He bared his teeth. “Yes. I can protect her. You. You need protecting.”

  “That’s very true. Just a minute, all right? I’ll get one of your guns.”

  “And food. Meat.”

  “And food. Just sit right there. Watch the other direction. You’re my lookout while I get you a gun. That’s protecting me.” She pointed out into the desert away from her.

  “I have your back,” he promised, and turned to look where she pointed.

  She leveled the shotgun and fired. His body slumped over.

  “Oh, shit,” she said aloud, as her hands started to shake. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. You were an asshole, and I wanted to hit you, but I didn’t want that. Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. I have to get away from here. Oh, God, the werewolf. He was alive. Please, still be alive.”

  Focus returned. Her mind seized on the clear course of action, and her body followed. Adrenaline tapped in for round two of the fight as she spared a moment to grab her bags out of the truck, then sprinted back to the motionless man on the pavement. “Hey, stay with me. Your heart’s still beating. Keep that up. The Ferals are gone, but I’d bet more are on the way. We really need help.”

  They were sitting ducks if they stayed, but they were lone prey on the run if they took off for town alone. Even if she made it, she didn’t know the fastest way to the hospital, or if the usual medical facilities even treated werewolves. No ambulance would come out here.

  She swiped the phone open and thumbed through the contacts. No Anita. But… “Alpha.” Alpha? Great. Andy, the universe wants you to have irony for the road.

  The line rang twice before a deep voice answered. “Levi? We were starting to worry.”

  “Don’t stop worrying. Levi is hurt. We’re on the highway, something like twenty miles out of town. The sun is going down and there are going to be more Ferals soon.” She held the phone to one ear while she hefted her bags into the sidecar with the other.

  “More Ferals. How many were there?” the voice said. She knew the tone, because she’d used it. Concerned but calm, the voice of reason in a terrible situation.

  “Just the three that I killed. There might have been more before. I didn’t see what happened to Levi and his friend. They were down when we got here.”

  “We? Who is this?”

  “Erin Calloway. I think they were coming to get me.” Guilt gnawed at her. She shoved it away. “Levi and his friend never showed at the bus station. I hitched a ride with a trucker. We almost ran over Levi and the bikes on the road. The Ferals ambushed us when we got out of the truck.”

>   “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. A little banged up, but all right.”

  A door slammed in the background of the call. Heavy boots crunched on the ground. “You said Levi is hurt. Tyler?”

  “He’s dead. There wasn’t anything I could do. I’m sorry.”

  Silence. Then, “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do this. What about the truck driver?”

  “He was going Feral. I handled it.”

  Another pause. “The truck?”

  “Wrecked. I’m going to put Levi in the sidecar and ride for town. I can try to fit Tyler in for you, if you don’t want me to leave him.” There wouldn’t be much room, but she hated to abandon him out here. You died for me. Leaving you in the desert is a shitty way to thank you.

  “Save the living first. The dead can wait,” the voice said. The poor connection couldn’t mask the anguish behind the statement. “Drive safe, Erin. We’ll meet you on the road. You won’t ride home alone. That’s a promise.”

  “There’s been enough people hurt today. You and your pack be careful too, um…”

  “Shane.”

  “Shane. Be careful, Shane.”

  “We will.” The call disconnected.

  She shoved the phone into her pocket. “Your alpha’s on the way, Levi. He’ll catch up with us on the way. Let’s get the hell out of here. Up you go.”

  Levi groaned softly when she slipped his arm over her shoulders for leverage. “…Ferals.”

  “Not anymore. Hold on.” She grunted as she stood, one hand holding his arm on hers and the other around his waist. Not ideal for a good lift, but she didn’t have far to go. “Going to lay you backwards into the seat in three, two…”

  Another groan of pain. “Tyler.”

  “Let your alpha worry about him,” she said while she bent his knees to stuff his feet into to the sidecar around her bags. She hated to lie, but she couldn’t have him struggle against her to go find his packmate when they had no time to spare.

  No need to worry on that front. He had passed out again before she could finish her sentence. She gave the sidecar a hard shake to ensure he wouldn’t fall out, then jogged around to the other side of the bike so she could throw a leg over the seat. Ten seconds to pull her hair back into a tie felt like too long to wait for their escape, but she spent them anyway.

  An eerie, high-pitched howl echoed in the distance, its origin back the way she had come. As it became questioning yips, another howl rose, and another, until the sound filled the bloody sunset light. Goosebumps prickled over her arms and stung the scratches she’d picked up in the fight. The Ferals called for their own. All too soon, they would arrive in search of those who didn’t answer the call.

  Erin paused. “It does sound a little like singing,” she murmured.

  Then she turned the key in the ignition and the motorcycle roared to life. Familiar engine noises drowned out the terrible melody and harmony of howls and barks, the wordless questions that could have no answer but the silence of the bodies around her. Wish I had a helmet. Wouldn’t it be ironic as hell if we survived a Feral attack only to crack our skulls open because we hit a pothole. That sounds like something today would do. Shit. Tyler, Andy, I’m sorry.

  She put the bike in gear and sped towards town. The dead needed nothing from her now, not even her regrets, but the living still counted on her. Your pack has already lost someone tonight. I’ll be damned if they lose someone else because I didn’t keep my shit together and drive.

  Those ten seconds to corral her hair into an elastic seemed like a much smarter investment the faster she pushed the bike. Errant hair ends whipped her face and neck as air currents swirled around her. A little voice in her mind urged her to drive faster, to take her eyes off the road for a glance back at the Ferals she feared nipped at her heels, but she didn’t dare look away. The road was long, and the shadows lengthening. Surrendering to paranoia could mean another tragedy to cap out the day.

  In the middle of the desert with an unconscious werewolf in her sidecar and a pack of predators behind her, she remembered what it felt like to stand by herself against the worst life could throw at her. How lonely it was to stand in the tide, with the water rising around her and the waves rolling in.

  Until a dozen lights appeared on the horizon. One, then two more, then three in a row, and more behind them. Headlights, she realized, stretched across the width of the road to take up both lanes of the highway.

  The pack had arrived and they rode, Hell for leather, to stop the tide from pulling her under.

  She would have known the alpha wolf even if he didn’t ride at the head of the pack. A big man, broad and strong, but his presence loomed even larger. He sat his motorcycle as though he were ten feet tall and could carry the world on his wide shoulders. Those who rode with him didn’t simply drive behind him. They followed, she could see that even without knowing them, and they would do so no matter where he led.

  Wind whipped his black hair around his square-jawed face. His expression didn’t betray anything but a dark, unbreakable determination. But when they locked gazes, his eyes told her a different story. She knew that haunted look too well, felt the pain there resonate with her own.

  Motorcycles swerved to leave a corridor through the pack formation. She drove through it, and in the side mirror, she could see them all loop around to change direction behind her. Four sped past her to take point. The rest fell in at the rear to guard against whatever might chase them.

  Shane’s massive bike pulled up beside hers. Their eyes met again. He tipped her a slow nod of respect. She returned it with a small, wry wince of a smile. Then their gazes returned to the road, and at last, she could breathe a much-needed sigh of relief.

  They needed no words. Only the roar of engines as they rode into the deepening gloom, towards the safety of Coyote Trail.

  4

  Kindred Souls with Sorrows in Harmony

  He found her sitting on a small, decorative boulder at the edge of the hospital property. Neither the harsh parking lot lights nor the smudges of dried blood did her complexion any favors, and her clothes had enough wrinkles to put a Shar-Pei’s face to shame. Yet as she looked out over the dark road that led away from the medical center, with her gaze far away and thoughts turning behind her eyes, Shane thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  Locking eyes with her on the road had jolted him as if he’d grabbed a live wire. That instant connection had burned straight through him to leave him rattled, but also relieved. Relieved because he could see her strength, because he believed she could take care of his packmate and hold up her end of the rescue while he wrangled the rest of it into line. But rattled because that connection felt raw, alive, beautiful, and he didn’t dare look too closely at what it could mean.

  Emotions already ran high. He’d just lost a friend. Ties bound by loss and adrenaline hadn’t served him well thus far.

  “Not getting checked over inside?” he asked, though he hated to disturb that pensive look.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. Her eyes, he noted, were a lovely hazel green. “Nah, I’m all right. Just a few scrapes from when I ended up in the thorn bush, and a couple bruises from the road. Nothing worth a hospital bill over.”

  “They probably wouldn’t even charge you, if you wanted to give the doctors a look. You were helping one of us.”

  “No need to bother them over it.” She looked back out over the darkened streets. “Besides, after everything else today, I don’t think I can face going into a hospital. That’s more emotional bandwidth than I have to spare right now.”

  Mindful to let his boots crunch on the gravel so she could hear him behind her, he stepped up to stand next to her rock. “Rough experience in one?”

  “Rough, and kind of fresh. I was going to go in, but the doors opened, and the smell of the sanitizer blew out. That was enough for me.” Small furrows knit her eyebrows together.

  That tiny expression offered Shane enough of a gl
impse at what must lurk beneath the casual façade for him to let it go. “I understand. If you change your mind, though, I’d be glad to give you the name of a doctor I trust.”

  “Thanks.” She gestured at the rock next to her. “Want to sit?”

  “Sure.” He settled on one side as she scooted over to the other. Their arms brushed as he did. His skin tingled in the wake of her touch. “Saying ‘thank you’ for what you did today seems pretty damn insufficient. So does saying ‘I’m sorry we failed you’.”

  “Hey. You didn’t fail me at all.” Her head turned so she could level a fierce stare on him. If Anita had a mighty will to wield in her gaze, Erin had a raging fire to burn away the bullshit. “Did you know the Ferals would be out there today?”

  Shane shook his head. “Ferals are always out there, but this behavior is new. They had to have hit Levi and Tyler with the sun still up. That’s not normal for Ferals. Neither is taking down two armed wolves on the road.”

  “Then you did what you thought was right at the time. Now that you know better, they won’t catch you out again.” She leaned sideways to nudge his shoulder. “So, none of that guilt crap. If anyone gets to feel guilty, it’s me.”

  “Why the hell would you feel guilty?” Shane’s turn to stare.

  She had the grace to look sheepish. “They were out there because of me. If I’d been able to arrange my own ride, Tyler would still be alive, and Levi wouldn’t be in the hospital.”

  “I’ll give you points for the attempt, but that’s all. We choose to take risks every day, Erin. That’s what we do. We protect this town and everyone in it. You’re part of that. And if you’re fixing our bikes, you’re family on top of that. So. None of that guilt crap.” He offered her a smile.

  When she returned it, he couldn’t suppress the faint warmth in his chest. “All right. If you don’t get to feel guilty, neither do I.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Her gaze wandered back towards the building. “How’s Levi?”