The Night's Champion Collection: A supernatural werewolf thriller trilogy

by Richard Parry

  “I’m not sure—”

  “I haven’t finished.” Miles stared the other man in the eye. “Did I sound like I was finished?”

  “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that—”

  “Witherling.”

  “Sir.”

  “Witherling, I’d like you to do me a favor.”

  “What’s that, sir?”

  “I’d like you to look that woman in the eye, and tell her that she’s going to die. Because if you keep standing there, she’s going to. And it’ll be on you.”

  “I — uh.” They were standing quite close now, but Miles broke off, going to lean against the railing. The other man followed him. They both looked down over the edge.

  “Tell me what you see down there.”

  Witherling looked over the edge, then looked back at Miles. “I“m not sure—”

  “That’s right, private. You’re not sure. Which is a shame. You seem a decent sort.” Miles clapped the other man on the shoulder again, then gave a heave. Witherling gave a startled yell, tumbling over the side. Miles watched him fall for a few seconds, wincing at the thud that came from below. “They’re not really very clever, these military types.”

  Kendrick helped Carlisle climb higher. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  Carlisle winced. “Yeah. How do you do that? Getting people to do, well, whatever.”

  “Trademark secret.” Miles tapped the side of his nose.

  “No, really. I need to know.” Carlisle coughed. “I’m probably going to die here, right? Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Right, fine.” Miles gestured over the rail where the other man had gone. “You just need to know you’re in control.”

  “Like the voice of authority?”

  “It’s not a voice, baby.” Miles winked at her. “You need to know.”

  “Christ.” Carlisle looked at the gun in her hand. “I might just shoot you myself.”

  They arrived at the level eight doorway. Miles rattled it, but it was locked. Carlisle waved with her gun. “Let me blow the lock out.”

  “Please.” Miles looked down on her, then fished something out of his pocket. He held up a key card. “Last minute shopping, remember?” He swiped the card over the lock, and the door beeped green and clicked. He pulled it open a crack, then looked back at them. “You guys ready for this?”

  Kendrick’s arm was solid around her. She felt the other woman nod; Carlisle nodded too. “You still haven’t caught up.”

  Miles’ hand was on the door. “What?”

  “Your score. You only got one on the way up.”

  “Oh come on. Style points.”

  “Style’s only good at the rodeo, Miles.” Carlisle pushed Kendrick away, taking a few deep breaths. “Stand back. It’s probably best if I—”

  “You can barely stand.” Kendrick nodded at Miles. “John or I should go first.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m feeling much better.” The lie was salty in Carlisle’s mouth. But to hell with it if she was going to let civilians ahead of her. It’s what the police were for. She shouldered Miles aside, and walked into the lobby of level eight. It was featureless, like the rest of the building. Carlisle held up a hand. “Quiet.”

  “What is it?” Miles was close behind her.

  “Didn’t I just say quiet?” Carlisle strained to her. There — down that corridor. She could hear voices, an argument breaking out. She led the other two around a corner, and caught a glimpse of Everard.

  “It’s—” said Kendrick.

  Miles’ hand clamped over Kendrick’s mouth. “Shhhh,” he mouthed at her. It was good thinking for a civilian — there wasn’t any need for anyone but them to know help was on the way. It wouldn’t change what Everard was going to do — he was committed — and it would give them the element of surprise in whatever he was facing.

  Carlisle nodded. She picked up the pace. Everard was standing in the doorway ahead of them. Carlisle heard him say, “Not today,” before walking into the room. She broke into a jog, rounding the corner moments behind him. Her gun was up ahead of her, pointing into the room.

  She saw two girls — one of them was Adalia, locked into a crazy metal chair, the other on the ground. A older woman was standing by a man on the ground, his back at a crazy angle. And Everard, who was locked in a wrestle with Volk. A surgical table was on the ground.

  “Freeze!” She pointed her sidearm at Volk, but couldn’t get a clear shot. Neither Volk nor Everard paid her the slightest attention.

  Kendrick rushed behind her to Adalia, trying to free her from a chair. Miles moved to help her. They were struggling with the clamps on it. Carlisle looked at her sidearm, then back to Volk and Everard. The bluff would need to be good.

  “You want a silver round in the head? I said, freeze!” Carlisle shouted it this time, then pointed her sidearm at the roof and fired a round. Neither Volk nor Everard looked at her, but they stopped moving. “That’s right. Silver. Got your attention?”

  The girl on the ground got up and moved to help Kendrick and Miles. Kendrick eyed the other girl, but Adalia said something to her mother and she moved aside, letting the girl help. Kendrick’s attention seemed to be pulled towards Volk.

  “Detective Carlisle?” It was the woman. “I’m Elsie Morgan.”

  “Ms. Morgan? You’re under arrest.” Carlisle didn’t look away from Volk. “And you. Asshole. Step the fuck away. Over there.” She waved her gun at the wall furthest from Adalia.

  Volk showed his teeth. Was that a smile? “Of course. There will be another time.”

  Carlisle was sure that Volk wasn’t speaking to her. Everard spoke up. “Another time.” They stepped away from each other, walking a step at a time backward. Like dogs, circling each other. Not dogs, she corrected herself — wolves.

  “You too. Move the fuck over there.” Carlisle nodded at Morgan. “Next to the big man.”

  Volk leered at Elsie. “Is good. We can continue conversation, da?”

  Carlisle nodded to herself. It was good partitioning. Dead guy on the floor — he wasn’t bothering anybody. Morgan and Volk — the bad guys — over by the other wall. Her friends behind her. And she was guarding the door. It’d do for a rush job.

  “There, honey.” Miles spoke from behind her. “What the hell do these needles do? I’ve pulled the drip out of Adalia’s arm, but—”

  “Ah.” It was Morgan. “I wouldn’t touch those if I was you.”

  “No shit. John, put that needle down.” Everard’s voice was calm. “Don’t even touch what comes out of it.”

  “It’s bad?”

  “Your face will melt off.”

  “Really?” Miles sounded doubtful. “Why’d they have Adalia hooked up to it?”

  “Because that bitch wanted something from me.”

  “Da. She can be very persuasive.”

  “Shut it, Ivan.” Carlisle waved the gun at the Russian. “Anything you say can and will be—”

  “I know Miranda. But I do not think you know me.” Volk sniffed the air. “I do not smell serebrom.”

  “Feel free to test it out for yourself.” Carlisle’s gun moved back to cover Volk as she turned partially towards Miles. She was about to ask him to get the girl out of here. She never got the chance.

  Tim Spencer stood in the doorway, a pistol in one hand. “Isn’t this cozy.” He looked around the room. “Police. That complicates things a little.” He shrugged, then leveled his pistol and shot Carlisle four times with it. She felt the bullets hit home, falling back, a spray of blood against the clear glass window at the back of the room. She was lucky, in a way, that the man was injured — his shots were low. Two bullets hit her legs. Only two bullets for her chest. The vest took the worst of it, but she went down, the scream coming from her as the pain rose up.

  Hell of a way to be lucky.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Val didn’t take his eyes off Volk. He hadn’t stopped watching the man when Carlisle and John
and — God, what’s she doing here, she can’t be here, she can’t — Danny walked through the door. He didn’t want them here. Despite that, he felt the comfortable warmth of their presence in the room. The other—

  Brother / Father / Saviour / Killer / Sickness / Enemy / It must die.

  —man stood across from Val. He was next to Elsie Morgan, the woman who’d brought him here. Val felt the irony of Birkita being with his—

  Pack.

  —friends behind him, rather than with her mother and the Russian. Val could smell the cordite in the air; the smell clung to Carlisle, standing tall at his side, like a coat she’d thrown on against the winter. Thick and strong, it spoke of passage through enemies. He could smell the blood too, the metal tang of it sharp in the back of his throat. His lips pulled apart, teeth showing.

  Carlisle was herding the room, organizing people like she’d done this a hundred times. Val heard a new voice — Spencer — and felt Carlisle’s attention swing to the door. The shots rang out hard and fast. Just for a second, Val’s attention wavered from Volk, his eyes pulled to Carlisle as she stumbled back, red splashes coming from her, through her, and she was down.

  It was only for a second.

  Volk pounced, grabbing Carlisle’s gun from the floor. Val tensed to spring — it’s only a gun — but held back. Volk wasn’t pointing the gun at him. The gun was pointed to Val’s right, towards his friends. Val was sure he could deal with just one shooter, and edged in front of the chair, keeping—

  Cub.

  —Adalia at his back.

  Spencer smiled a tired, dead smile and limped over to join Volk and Elsie. The man raised his rifle and pointed it in their direction. “Everard. You’re a hard man to put down.” The emphasis on the last two words was unmistakable. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do with rabid dogs?”

  Val saw the slight tightening of Elsie’s eyes. She was looking behind Val. “Birkita. Come over here. You’ll be safer.”

  “Safer?” There were tears in the girl’s — Birkita’s — voice. “You tried to kill my friend!”

  “It was make-believe. A trick.” Elsie lied like a pro — something to remember for later, if later ever came. “Now come over here.”

  “It’s okay.” Val nodded, sparing the girl a glance. “Birkita? Go to your mother if you want. You should make up your own mind.”

  “My own mind?” She seemed uncertain. “Why?”

  Val swiveled back to Volk, clenching his teeth. “I — I’m pretty sure that today’s not going to have a happy ending.” He thought of a girl named Amy. “You should choose who you want to end it with. John?”

  “I’m here.”

  “I know. You’re always there.” The half-smile pulled at Val’s face. He hadn’t done anything to deserve such a friend. “Can you check Carlisle?”

  “I don’t think so.” Spencer looked between them. “I think we’re just going to—”

  “No.” Elsie interrupted Spencer with the ease of a person used to giving the orders. She held her hand out, and Birkita started to walk to them. “We don’t have what we want.”

  “Yeah. Yeah we do.” Spencer’s head nodded towards Volk. “I’ve made a deal. We finish with Everard, and Volk will give us the gift.”

  “Is this true?” Elsie turned to Volk, her eyes searching for something.

  “Da.” The Russian was holding Carlisle’s sidearm like it was a water pistol. “The mistake must be fixed. Then we can go see movie.”

  She turned back to Spencer. “He’s lying to you.”

  “Of course he is.” Spencer tapped a belt around his body, studded with grenades. “That’s why I brought these.”

  “My friend.” Volk’s teeth were showing. “What did you bring? Not something made with silver. We have had that talk.”

  “These grenades are filled with silver nano particles. They’re linked to my vital signs.” Spencer tapped a small box at his waist. “If I go down — well, whoever kills me is going to get a silver enema.”

  “I am hurt you do not trust me.”

  “You should be thankful I’ve been this … thoughtful. It’s how we can be sure that Everard won’t kill us. And — naturally — that I get the gift without you taking a little too much.”

  “Da.” Volk seemed thoughtful. “Silver particles? What are particles?”

  “I don’t have time for a chemistry lesson. But I do have time for a lesson in human nature.” That dead smile crossed Spencer’s face again. “Everard, you have to choose. Who dies first? It’s going to be one of the girls.”

  The rifle in Spencer’s hands moved back and forth. Danny stood next to Val. “Me. I go first.”

  “What?” Val looked at Danny. “No. Please.”

  Pack mate!

  She put a finger on his lips. “Shhh. You can’t do what you need to do if you’re thinking about me. Save my baby.” She leaned in close to his ear. “I love you too.” Then she turned and ran at Spencer.

  Val’s hand was reaching for her back as the shots spoke hard and true. He didn’t feel the bullets, and looked at Spencer’s rifle, seeing the curl of smoke rising from the barrel. His eyes followed the line of the shot, back to—

  No.

  His eyes wouldn’t see. It couldn’t be. There was blood, so much blood, and she was—

  No!

  Volk was laughing from the other side of the room, then pointed Carlisle’s gun at Val. “Here. I help.” He pulled the trigger, the shot slapping into Val’s arm. Val didn’t notice, all he could see was—

  He held the elevator doors open. He’d wanted to tell her since the day he’d seen her. “I love you.” Then he dropped into darkness.

  —her hair, the crimson spreading out below her, as her dead eyes—

  NO!

  John was shouting something, but Val couldn’t hear it. Elsie was grabbing for Birkita’s arm, trying to pull the girl away from the middle of the room, but Val ignored it all. Another shot hit his chest, but he felt nothing, all he could feel was—

  Danny leaned in close, the heat of her finger still on his lips. She whispered, “I love you too.”

  —the pounding pressure in his head, the feeling rising through him like a wave, the force of it too much to hold. No one should have to feel this, not again, not ever, not anymore — please God no, not Danny, no—

  The beast broke from within him as his useless humanity fell from him like his flesh, thrown aside like old rags. The rage tore through, and he roared his loss and hate.

  THEY WILL ALL DIE.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  John scrambled across the floor, pulling Adalia close to his chest. “Don’t look honey. Don’t look. Close your eyes.” He held the girl close to him, hunching to create a shield with his body. She was crying against him, the sobs wracking her little frame. John heard the shot and held Adalia tighter. He could see the patch of red on Val’s arm. His friend’s face was stricken, one arm held out towards Danny. He didn’t look to be taking any notice.

  “Val! Get down!” John shouted it, but the second gunshot came anyway. It hit Val’s body, but the man didn’t even move.

  Volk was looking at the pistol in his hand, then back at Val. His eyes widened. John looked, and saw—

  My God. My God. My God.

  Val stood, a scream of rage coming from him. He spread his arms wide, then clawed at his chest, big hunks of skin sloughing off. Val grew, his body twisting, becoming more massive, his face twisting, his teeth—

  John blinked, and saw the creature. The change hadn’t taken more than a count of three. The creature — Val, my God, it’s Val — stood over them all, then walked towards Danny's fallen body. The weight of it cracked the floor tiles; John could feel the size of it as the floor moved under him.

  Volk spoke into the silence. “No. Is not possible. To change, you must die.”

  Val nuzzled Danny's body. A little blood was left on his snout, and he licked his nose. A low whine escaped him, turning into a low growl.

>   “Ah.” Volk showed his teeth at Spencer. “You have done a very stupid thing.”

  Spencer had turned pale, his hands shaking as he tried to put a new magazine into his weapon, a red one. “For Christ’s sake, do something!” His fingers fumbled, the magazine dropping to the floor. Spencer dropped to his knees, scrabbling for the lost magazine.

  “Okay. So is not serebrom.” Volk sighed, then inverted Carlisle’s sidearm, pointing the muzzle at his chest. He breathed in once, twice, then pulled the trigger. Elsie screamed as the shot sprayed red out the back of the man, and Volk’s body tumbled to the ground.

  John looked over at Elsie. “Get her out of here!” He nodded at Birkita, who was hunched next to the wall, saying something over and over. She held a — what the hell? — small toy in her hand. It looked like a pony.

  “No!” Elsie stood. “She needs it! She’ll die without it!”

  “She’ll die if you stay!” John looked around. He’d dropped his gun, it had to be here somewhere—

  Val broke off from Danny's body, crossing the room in two strides. He stood over Spencer, his head touching the ceiling, looking down at the man. Spencer managed to get the magazine into his rifle, bringing the weapon up, but it was too late. Val grabbed the man in one clawed hand and flung him across the room. Spencer landed next to John and Adalia, scrambling to his feet, and leveled the rifled at John.

  “Don’t fucking move! You touch me again, I’ll execute these two!” The words were tumbling from Spencer, his rifle shaking slightly as he jabbed it at John.

  John moved — slowly, Miles, slowly — and put Adalia behind him. She’d gone quiet — God, she shouldn’t have seen this, she shouldn’t be here — and limp. He stood, facing Spencer. “You piece of shit.”

  Val moved a step forward, but John held up his hand. “No, buddy. Not this time. You can’t carry anymore. It’s too heavy.”

  Spencer squinted at John. “What?”