Adalia smiled. “That’s a good idea.” She clicked on the TV, and started to flick through the channels. “I haven’t seen this one before. It’s called Dr. Phil.”
“Ugh.” Birkita shook her head. “He’s not a doctor.”
“He’s not?”
“No. Well, he’s got a PhD. But it’s not in medicine.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
Birkita laughed. “It’s okay, I didn’t either at first. But I have a lot of time to read in here.”
Adalia stared at the face of Phil McGraw on the TV. “Doctors help people. Does Dr. Phil help people?”
“Sometimes. I dunno. I guess.”
“That’s what I want to do when I grow up.”
“You want to be on TV?”
Adalia laughed. “No! I want to help people.”
Birkita looked at her for a few moments. “I don’t think you need to wait until you grow up, Adalia. I think you’re doing it already. Okay … great. Dr. Phil it is.”
They sat back on their individual beds, and talked, and laughed, and joked about the people on the Dr. Phil show. Prancer sat on the bedside table next to Adalia, keeping watch. Adalia really hoped Prancer could grant wishes. She didn’t want her new friend to die.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
John woke with a start in the predawn light. The chair he’d been sitting in had grown hard and cold overnight, it felt like the damn thing had fused to his spine. He was sitting on the porch of Danny's house, and the chair was some old torture device re-purposed as a rocking chair. He’d hated it almost instantly, and the feeling was obviously mutual: he’d barked his shins against it twice just trying to sit down, and when he managed to seat himself it had whacked him in the back of the head as the seat leapt forward. He’d have to talk to Danny about her choice in outdoor furniture when this was all over.
Sooner or later, this would all be behind them. He’d be able to get whatever was going on with Val straightened out, convince those two crazies inside he was just some guy, and they could go down and share some laughs over a brew. Everything was funny in hindsight.
John put his hands — carefully, or the damn thing would smack him again — on the arms of the rocking chair, and stretched forward. Getting to his feet, he arched his back. It popped a couple of times. He turned his head around to look at the chair. There were movies about possessed things, like that doll — what was it, Child’s Play? He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a serial killer stuck inside the frame of that damn chair. It wasn’t natural how sore he was. He turned back around and looked out over Danny's front lawn.
That’s when he saw Val.
He was lying face down, buck naked, covered in blood. John hoped it was Val, because finding a strange naked guy on the lawn would just add too much weird to an already off-the-chain situation. John was running before he realized it, grabbing Val by the shoulder and turning him over. He looked a mess, some big wounds — Christ, is that what bullet holes look like? — in his neck and shoulders.
“It’s me, buddy, it’s John,” he said. “Let’s get you inside. Wouldn’t do for either of us to be seen out here like this, what with you being naked.” He tucked his arms under Val, and heaved him up. “Christ, you’re heavy. Come on buddy. Let’s get you up.” John walked, stiff-legged, back up to the house, and kicked on the front door. “Hey! Open the door!”
There was no response. He kicked again. “C’mon guys! It’s Val! He’s hurt!”
John heard the scrabble of the lock being drawn, and Danny yanked the door open. She took one look at Val, then stepped aside. “In the lounge. Put him on the couch.”
“Isn’t Carlisle sleeping there?”
“She’s awake. Been awake for hours.” Danny shut the door behind him, then led him down the hallway to the lounge. “Here.”
John laid Val down, then scrambled for a blanket, tucking it over his friend. “He’s hurt pretty bad. I don’t know what happened.”
“They shot him.” Danny stood with her arms crossed. “They shot him again and again, and they wouldn’t stop.” She reached out slowly, her hand touching the wound on his neck. Her hand came back wet and red.
John looked up at her, then stood up. He put his hands on her shoulders. “It’ll be okay. He’s here. We’re here.”
“It won’t be okay. Look at him!” Danny stopped before the sob could come out. John looked away.
Carlisle came out of the kitchen with a pan filled with water. “Kendrick. Clean towels. Whatever you can get. Fast.”
Danny nodded. “Right. Okay.” She looked around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. “I can do that.” She went back out to the hall.
John took the pan from Carlisle. “It’ll be okay.”
She gave him a flat look. “Right.”
“He … he made it here.”
“Did you take a pulse?”
“Did I..? Uh.”
Carlisle crouched down, pulling out one of Val’s hands from underneath the blanket. “It’s there. Strong, too.”
“Is that good?”
“It’s unbelievable.” She pointed at Val’s neck. “That should have killed him.”
“You’re sure?”
“This isn’t the movies, Miles. One bullet’s normally enough. Two’s being sure. Three’s showing off.” She pulled the blankets back, showing the holes up and down Val’s chest and stomach. “How many do you count?”
“There’s more than three.”
“Great. Head of the class.” She sighed. “He should be dead, Miles. Do you believe in werewolves now?”
Danny came back in, carrying a load of blankets and towels of mixed sizes. “I didn’t know what to bring, so I got everything.”
“Perfect.” Carlisle grabbed a towel from the top of the pile, swabbing it in the water. “We’ve got to get him cleaned up. See what the damage is.”
“With water?” John looked at the pan. “Isn’t that, uh, a bit septic?”
Carlisle gave him that flat stare again. “The bullets were a bit septic. Anyway, I’ve put some peroxide in the water.”
“Peroxide?”
“Best stuff I could find under the sink.” Carlisle continued to swab away the blood and grime. “Shit. He’s been through the grinder.”
“What can we do?” John stepped from foot to foot.
“Can you make coffee?”
“Coffee?”
“There’s that echo again.”
“Right. I can make coffee.”
“Great. Make it strong and hot. Three spoons of sugar in the cup.”
“I thought you cops were just into donuts. That’s a lot of sugar.”
“It’s for him, not me.” Carlisle squeezed out the cloth again, the water running red out of it. “Honey would be better.”
“There’s some in the pantry.” Danny nodded to the kitchen. “Let’s go. Leave her be.”
“Sure.” John followed Danny to the kitchen. He put his hands against the bench and breathed out. “Christ. Val’s been shot.”
“Yes.” Danny's voice was small. “He’s been shot. Trying to get my little girl back.”
John shook his head. “This whole week has been crazy.”
“What do you mean?”
“The last time Val got in a fight, we were in school. He’s a lover, not a fighter.”
“Mm.” Danny put heaped spoons of coffee in the bottom of the press.
“I … I didn’t mean it like that.”
“What? Oh.” Danny nodded. “I wasn’t thinking of that either. It’s just … it’s like we know two different people.”
John wrangled some cups out of the cupboard, thinking about that. “You’re right.” He put the cups down, and started spooning honey into the largest one. “I’ve known him since he was a kid.”
“It’s not that.” She leaned her hip against the bench. “The way you tell it, he’s a real gentle soul. Nice-guys-finish-last type.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I…” John fiddled with the cups. “He’s never been much into confrontation, no.”
“See, the Val I met recently? He’s always racing ahead. He was after armed men, trying to get to Adalia.”
“Adrenaline.”
She stared at him.
“Okay, maybe not adrenaline. I get your point, but…”
“But what?”
“Well.” John coughed. “It might not be the best time, but he seems to really like you. Ever since…” He stopped.
“What?”
“No, it’s nothing. Forget it.” John reached for the coffee press.
Danny pulled it away. “It’s not nothing.”
John sighed. “Okay. Look. He’s my friend, and I don’t want to go all primal on you—”
“So don’t.”
“—But I don’t want you to break his heart.”
“Break? His heart? Why would I do that?” Danny's eyes were wide.
“Oh, hell. You wouldn’t mean to. It’s just … well, he hasn’t been like this with anyone since Rebekah.”
“Who’s Rebekah?” She was using the tone. John hated it when chicks used the tone.
“It’s—”
“Is he still pining after some woman who broke is heart?” Danny pushed the coffee press back towards John. “He doesn’t seem like that.”
“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s not really my place to say, but … Rebekah and he were college sweethearts. She fell for him in the final year, asked him to go to the prom. You got to understand, he was a little heavy even back then.”
“He’s not fat.”
John thought back to Val, lying on the lawn. “No, no he’s not. Not anymore, anyway. So Rebekah, she’s sweet on him. Sees something no other girl in the school can see.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Not a big ladies man, our Val. She chased him for a month before he realized she was after him.”
Danny giggled. “You didn’t say anything?”
“Hell no. You see a woman like that, it’s a good sign you should be running. She’ll want kids next.”
“But he worked it out.”
“Yeah.” John ran a hand across his face, remembering. “God. He even wore a white tux to the prom.”
“He didn’t!”
“He did. I’ve got photos. He’ll never let me show you.”
Danny smiled down at one of the coffee cups. “It’s okay. I believe you.” She looked back up at John. “So … where’s Rebekah now?”
John’s felt the smile fade from his face. “She died.”
“Jesus!”
“Yeah.”
“What … what happened?”
“Usual thing. They got married.”
“No … how did she … she died?”
“Yeah. Val, well, he likes to drink.” John swallowed. “Hell, this’ll come out anyway. You should probably hear it now.”
Danny looked uncertain. “Know what?”
John stared out the kitchen window. “They got married right after school. Best damn advertisement for marriage I could think of.” The megawatt smile teased at his face. “Almost converted me.” He held up a hand. “Almost. Anyway, turns out she did want kids, and that cured me of marriage. They were trying to have a baby. Rebekah got pregnant pretty quickly.”
“Val didn’t say he had kids.”
“He doesn’t. You know, it’s funny, thinking about this. It’s been a long time since Val and I have talked about it at all. But I know … well. Rebekah and Val were always happy to put me up. Whenever I had a new girl, they welcomed her like she was The One. Rebekah treated me like one of her brothers. I guess that’s a good thing, right?” John’s shoulders slumped. “They were at a cabin, getting some space. In the woods. Don’t worry, it’s not a horror movie cliché. She still had a bit of time before the birth and wanted to blow off steam. Val wanted to stay in the city, just in case. She won the argument … said that at least the place would be far enough away from a corner store she wouldn’t keep asking for pickle juice.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine that? Pickle juice. She just drank it straight out of the jar.”
Danny reached out a hand to touch John’s shoulder. He shook it off. “It’s okay. Anyway, as Val tells it, she went into labor early. They’re in this cabin, in bumfuck nowhere, can’t get a phone signal. He’d had a couple of drinks. The police report said he was borderline.” He shrugged. “Maybe not ‘fine,’ sure. I don’t think that matters to him anymore.
“So — hospital’s hours away, but they need to get her some medical help. They’re packing shit into the car, but the contractions are coming on super fast. You know in the movies when a chick goes into labor and 20 minutes later a baby comes out? It’s not like that. Takes hours, normally.”
“I’ve got a daughter. You’ve met her.”
“Oh. Sure. Right. Sorry.” John fiddled with the coffee press, then pushed it aside. “He was driving her back into the city. They were pretty close to town, and their car stalls at an intersection. It’s the middle of the night, not a star in the sky. Car’s dead. Sitting in the middle of the road. So Val, he’s trying to work out what’s going on with the car, fiddling with the keys, whatever, and this other driver comes at them down the road. He’s speeding, out of control, something like that.” John looking out the window again, but he wasn’t seeing Danny's yard. “Hits the side of the car where Rebekah is sitting. Kills her instantly. The baby too. Just like that, his wife and child were dead.”
John started to pour the coffee.
“My God.” Danny looked out the window.
“Police charged him with DUI, but not vehicular homicide. They said he was blameless for the deaths but shouldn’t have been behind the wheel, like it’s supposed to be some kind of runner-up prize. He’s never acted blameless since then. Hasn’t been a night since the accident he hasn’t drunk himself unconscious.” John looked up at Danny. “Until he met you.”
“Me?”
“Sure. That night we were mugged? And he met you?”
“I remember.”
“He wasn’t drunk. It was like he’d been sipping water all night. Booze couldn’t touch him. Haven’t seen him drunk since.” John nodded his head towards the lounge. “The man on that couch did not get drunk last night. That’s a new Val.” He sipped his cup.
“I … I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” John tried on the megawatt smile again. “It doesn’t change anything. He’s still our friend, and he’s still been shot by bad people.”
A cry came from the lounge. Danny and John ducked out of the kitchen to see Carlisle wrestling with Val. She had a cloth in one hand, and he was holding that away. “What the fuck, Carlisle! It burns! Make it stop!”
Carlisle held up her free hand. “Okay. It’s just to stop infection.”
“God! It feels like my whole chest is on fire!”
“It’s the silver.” The words landed like pennies dropped into a pool, each one hitting distinctly. Danny stepped forward. “Valentine, do you remember last night?”
“God! It hurts!” Val’s eyes were red. He flailed, kicking the blanket off, and lurched to his feet. He stared down at himself. “Which one of you assholes took my clothes?” He cried out again, a hand clawing at one of the marks —Jesus, what the fuck, thought John — on his chest, and he sank to one knee.
Carlisle stepped forward, drew one hand back, and slapped him across the face. “Get your shit together, Everard. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“There’s nothing … are you crazy?”
John stepped forward, snaring the blanket from the ground. He draped it around Val’s shoulders. “Hey. She’s telling the truth. I pulled you off the front lawn no more than twenty minutes ago. You’d been shot, and were full of holes.”
“I don’t feel like I’ve been shot. I feel like I’ve been set on fire.”
“You were
covered in blood. I thought — well. The chicks thought you were going to die, but I knew you were fine. Right?”
“It’s the silver.” Danny went over to the mantelpiece and picked up a glass containing the silver bullets. “I think you were shot with these last night.”
“Last night…” Val sank back onto the couch. “Where’s Adalia?”
No one spoke for a moment. John looked at them all, then sighed. “Okay, let me see if I can get this right. Last night, you were dropping Adalia off.”
“With Mandy, right.” Val hunched forward again as a spasm shook took him.
“Is it the pain?
“Keep talking.” Val’s teeth were clenched. “It helps. Takes my mind … my mind off it.”
“Right.” John started again. “You were dropping Adalia off. Then some guys snatched her. Danny says you went after them, but that’s all we got. We don’t know what happened then.”
Val’s eyes moved up and right as he tried to remember. “I was … running.” He clenched his teeth again, then held up a hand. “No, it’s passing. God. I was running after them. They had a van.”
“Do you remember Adalia?” Danny crouched in front of Val. “Did you catch up? Did you see? Did you see where they took my baby?”
“I…” Val reached a finger out and touched Danny's lips. “I can see her eyes. As I was falling.”
Carlisle returned from the kitchen — man, she moves quietly — with the large cup of coffee. She handed it to Val. “Drink this.”
“What is it?”
“What does it smell like?”
He looked at the cup. “Coffee.”
“It’s coffee, then. Drink it.”
Val sipped from the cup, then gulped, his throat working as he emptied the cup. “God, I’m hungry.”
John laughed. “Same old Val. I think I saw some cereal in the kitchen.”
“Cereal? I could do a steak.” Val looked at him, then at Danny. “What? What is it?”
John sat down on the couch. “How many unbelievable things have you heard this week?”
“I’m not sure.” Val winced again, but it didn’t look like he was in as much pain anymore. “A few?”
“Right. So. There’s no easy way to say this.”
“Say what?”
The Night's Champion Collection: A supernatural werewolf thriller trilogy Page 25