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

by Richard Parry

  “I miss him,” said Pearce. “I—”

  “He says,” said Adalia, “that it was his fault.”

  “He was just a child,” said Pearce.

  Adalia shrugged. “He says he was racing Bobby. He wasn’t listening. Rushing ahead.”

  “He liked the wind,” said Pearce.

  Adalia took a cautious step out from behind the Yukon. “He lives in it now. The wind, I mean.”

  Carlisle could see Pearce’s throat work, but no sound came out. The Major took four swift steps towards Adalia, crushing her in a hug. Carlisle could see Adalia stiffen, then relax as Pearce said something to her. Pearce held Adalia out at arm’s length, studying her for a moment, before turning to Carlisle. There were tears in her eyes. “You look after her. You look after her, you hear me?”

  “Always will, and that’s a fact,” said Carlisle. “You be there when I call, is all.”

  “I’ll be there,” said Pearce, and turned away. She was clothed in military fatigues, urban camouflage for a capable warrior, armor of a sort, but near as Carlisle could tell she was probably naked for the first time in years.

  “I’m sorry, Melissa,” said Adalia. “I didn’t want to scare her away.”

  “Kid,” said Carlisle, “it’s fine. She’s got shit she needs to do.”

  “Language,” said Adalia, with the ghost of a smile.

  “Fuck that shit,” said Carlisle. “What did she say to you anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “She asked me to tell him that it was her fault,” said Adalia. “She said thank you.” The girl shuffled her feet. “What’s happening to me, Melissa?”

  “Something beautiful,” said Carlisle.

  “How do you know?” said Adalia, the edge of something anguished in her voice.

  “Because,” said Carlisle, “it’s you.” She checked her weapon, still snug against her spine, then patted the side of the Yukon. It had done them good, giving out here at the edge of the city only when the last of its fuel had run dry. Maybe she should get one when they put the world back together. Driving these last few miles without a windscreen had chapped her lips, made her eyes dry. Thank God. “C’mon.”

  “Where are we going?” Adalia looked around the city, the buildings standing tall and empty. “Where is everyone?”

  “Can’t help with the second one,” said Carlisle. She stretched nice and slow, feeling something scrape on the inside. God damn, but Danny owes me a bottle of something expensive. “Let’s go get your mom.”

  “Do you think it was a good idea sending Ajay up ahead?” Adalia pushed her hair back away from her face. “It’s just that—”

  “Last thing I did to your mom was shoot her,” said Carlisle. “I sure as hell wasn’t going.”

  “She threw him into a wall,” said Adalia.

  “He deserved it,” said Carlisle. “Still does, I think.” A flare sprouted up from around the corner of a building a few blocks up, it’s bright red tip dancing ahead of a soft trail of smoke. “Well, there we go. He didn’t try to shoot her with the flare, so I reckon we’re good.”

  “Okay.” Adalia reached out a small hand, snaking it inside Carlisle’s larger one. “Okay.”

  They started walking, the pain in Carlisle’s ribs dragging her steps. “Kid,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t walk so fast,” said Carlisle.

  Adalia looked at her, then at the space off to Carlisle’s other side, as if she was listening. “He says that talking about things can take your mind off the pain.”

  “He’s there?” Carlisle jerked her thumb at the empty air.

  “Sort of,” said Adalia. “It’s difficult to explain.”

  “Tell him,” said Carlisle, “that it’s going to take a lot of talking to make me forget about an entire chest full of broken bone.”

  “He says,” said Adalia, “that when he died, his body was ground underneath the wheels of a semitrailer.” She hid her face behind her hair, but Carlisle caught the edge of a smile peeking through.

  “You tell him,” said Carlisle, “that only proves he’s a quitter.”

  “I’ll tell him,” said Adalia. “Why don’t we let Mom go kill the bad guy? Or guys?”

  “We will,” said Carlisle, “but I want to speak to her first.”

  “What for?” Adalia helped Carlisle around some trash strewn in the street.

  “Because,” said Carlisle, “she owes me a bottle of Glenfiddich.”

  • • •

  “This is a nice place,” said Ajay. After they’d caught up to him — and a human-again Danny — they’d agreed to go back to John and Sky’s apartment. They’d talked about seeing their friends again, as if it was just another Sunday in the park. Not as if the apartment would be empty, their small family dead and gone. “Or, I can see that it would be, if the lights were on.” He held a glow stick above his head, everything in the stairwell being washed in a luminous green color.

  Carlisle coughed, then winced. Stop doing that, Carlisle, you know it hurts. “I just hope they’re here.”

  “They’ll be where we need them to be,” said Ajay.

  “Whatever, Yoda,” said Carlisle. She turned around to Danny. “You okay?”

  Yellow eyes looked back up at her from the dark below. “I’m fine.”

  “Okay, Captain Creepy,” said Carlisle.

  “You brought silver,” said Danny.

  “Yep,” said Carlisle. “Now hurry up.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m going to need to shoot someone with it,” said Carlisle. She looked at Adalia, then at Ajay. “Probably not one of these two though.”

  Danny stalked out of the shadows into the pool of dim green light. Her eyes were bright, and she walked with the strength of an Amazonian goddess, her steps deliberate as she mounted the stairs. The blanket around her shoulders didn’t make her look battered or lost — if anything, it highlighted the feral thing that sat behind her eyes. “Us?”

  Carlisle sighed. “Do you want me to?”

  Danny’s yellow eyes didn’t blink. “It burns.”

  “That’s not really answering the question, is it?” Carlisle sighed again. “Use your words, Kendrick. Fucking vowels and—”

  “Language,” said Adalia, but there was a tight tremor of fear in her voice.

  “Vowels and consonants,” said Carlisle. “As a werewolf you’ve got your uses, I’ll give you that, but as a mother you’re doing a shit job.”

  Something like a growl came from Danny, and she started to step forward.

  “And as a friend,” said Carlisle, “it’s like you didn’t read the same book the rest of us did.” She wanted to scream — you almost killed me! — but Kendrick wasn’t in a listening mood.

  Probably wouldn’t be for a few hours. Ajay had found her, buck naked in downtown Chicago, nothing on but a smile. And it wasn’t a nice smile. They’d found a blanket — Carlisle figured they’d borrow some of Sky’s clothes when they got to the apartment.

  She narrowed her eyes. Come to think of it, were Sky and Danny the same damn size? Hell if I know. Just keep breathing. She rattled the Aleve in her pocket. The stuff just wasn’t cutting it. Maybe Miles will have something stronger — the man cries more after a workout than anyone I’ve ever met.

  The noise of the Aleve drew Danny’s gaze. “Medicine.”

  “That’s right.” Carlisle shuffled back on the step. Damn, but those eyes were uncanny.

  “Pain?”

  “Two for two,” said Carlisle. “You’ll be on Jeopardy before you know it.”

  Danny’s hand reached out, almost touching Carlisle’s ribs. “Because of me?”

  Carlisle sighed. “No, Kendrick.” She rubbed her face. “Because of me. Because of me.”

  Danny’s fingers were gentle as they touched Carlisle’s side. “Why?” The yellow of her eyes was very bright, the green of the glow stick doing nothing to wash the color away. Carlisle could smell her, the primal sc
ent of an animal underneath the smell of woman.

  “Because we needed you,” said Carlisle. “I couldn’t do it myself.” She looked at her feet, then pushed Danny’s hand aside with a slow motion. “I couldn’t save them, do you understand? I’m sorry. I’m too tired. Too slow. Too weak.”

  “Detective,” said Ajay, “the entire city of Chicago was trying to kill everyone on that road. Your actions saved us.”

  “My actions saved most of us,” said Carlisle. “Someone had to pay.”

  “Damnation,” said Adalia. Her face was hidden by her hair, but Carlisle thought she was looking at her mother.

  “Salvation,” said Ajay. The green light washed around the stairwell as he gestured with the glow stick. “Two sides of the same coin, paid in blood. Do you not see it?”

  “No,” said Danny. Her hand reached up to Carlisle’s face. “Why?”

  “I told you why,” said Carlisle. She tried not to flinch from Danny’s touch.

  Danny’s fingers lingered for a moment before falling away. “Who you were is gone, dead and buried, heart of my heart, Pack of my Pack.”

  “Don’t you fucking start,” said Carlisle. “I’ve got enough mystic shit with these two.” She jerked a thumb sideways at Ajay. “He’s the worst.”

  “She is the Sword,” said Ajay, eyes on Danny. “It is her place to—”

  “You carry her memory here,” said Danny, touching Carlisle’s chest above her heart. “Listen to my words. The memory of the little girl you were nips at your heels. I tell you this: the frightened child you were has died, but you burden yourself with her carcass. I have seen dragons circle against the fingers of the sun, warring in the space between the moon and earth. Their fire burned the air, and their scales fell like rain. All were weaker than you.” She pulled the blanket around her shoulders, then pushed up the stairwell into darkness. Her voice drifted back down to them. “You … let me save my only cub, heart of my heart. You will always run at my side.”

  Carlisle looked at Adalia, then at Ajay. She felt the press of the Eagle at her back, touching her spine like the fingers of a friend. “Huh,” she said. She thought for a moment, before calling up into the dark above. “Don’t think that pretty speech squares us. I still want my bottle of Glenfiddich.”

  • • •

  “I got this,” said Carlisle. “You look like a fucking vagrant.”

  “Language,” said Adalia, but Danny nodded. She stepped aside, holding out her hand in a gesture of after you.

  Carlisle stepped up to the door, taking in the plainness of the surface. It seemed like such a long trip to come to such an ordinary door. It’s what’s behind the door that counts.

  “What if he’s not home?” Adalia was shifting from one foot to the other. “I mean, them. What if they’re not home.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Danny.

  “Everyone,” said Carlisle, “needs to relax. I feel like it’s my prom night, except instead of Zach Hollywood waiting for me in a tuxedo there’s just John Miles.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Zach Hollywood was someone worth getting out of bed for.”

  “Or into bed?” Danny gave her a half-smile.

  “That came later,” said Carlisle, pulling her jacket straight. She rapped on the door, three quick strikes with her knuckles. They left smudges on the paint, and Carlisle held her hand up, seeing the skin missing from her knuckles. Been a busy day. She’d bet the smudges would be more red than black, but it was hard to see in the washed out green light from the glow stick.

  “Are they home?” Adalia leaned forward. “Are they here?”

  “Relax, kid,” said Carlisle.

  “They’re home,” said Danny, her smile widening in the dim light. “They’re talking about whether they should open the door.”

  Carlisle rapped on the door again. “Miles, open the fucking door. I know you’re in there.”

  John’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door. “Oh shit, it’s the pigs. Flush the stash.” The door pulled open, and John was cast in silhouette from the relatively bright light streaming into the corridor. “Oh,” he said. “It’s just you. I thought was had a real problem.”

  Danny shouldered past Carlisle and grabbed John in a hug. He hugged her back, then seemed to pause. “Are you … am I dreaming? Are you naked?”

  Danny pulled her blanket tighter, but tossed him a tight grin. “First and last time you’ll get that kind of action, John Miles.” Her eyes went from him into the apartment.

  “Oh,” said John, after a minute. “He’s back there. You know the way.”

  Adalia squealed, rushing at John and jumping up. He mock-staggered, then helped her down. He turned on the Miles Megawatt Smile, then knelt down a little. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” said Adalia. Carlisle watched, feeling the tension fall away from her. Finally. Finally she had people she could trust.

  If only it wasn’t that clown John Miles. “Miles.”

  “Yo,” he said, tousling Adalia’s hair.

  “Miles, this is—” Carlisle started, turning to Ajay.

  “What have they done to you?” Danny’s voice was rising to a shriek from inside the apartment. “WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU?”

  Carlisle was past John, Adalia shoved behind her and back into the corridor, the Eagle bright and heavy in her hand before she’d even thought about it. The weight of the weapon lead her whole body, checking the doors and corners as natural as breathing. She took in the same apartment she knew, made smaller than she remembered by strangers standing among her friends. Old guy, probably harmless. A kid, all elbows in that awkward time of becoming a man — no gang patches, straight-laced type right from the pages of a home interiors magazine. Probably harmless. John’s squeeze — Skyler Evans — something haunted around her eyes, holding what looked like a — is that a fucking Ramset gun? — power tool, trying to work out which direction to point it. Possibly dangerous through hysteria.

  And there, at the breakfast bar, Valentine Everard, looking weaker than she’d seen a man look before. Pale, leaning against the counter top, a stricken look on his face that Carlisle could have pictured being one of joy three heartbeats earlier. Danny Kendrick, naked as the day she was born, blanket tossed aside in rage and confusion, eyes bright and yellow as she looked around the room for something to kill.

  Carlisle lowered the Eagle, sneaking it away to sit in the comfortable place by her spine. “Kendrick,” she said. Then, louder, “Danny.”

  Danny looked at her. “They’ve taken away my Valentine,” she said. Carlisle had thought her naked a second ago, but saw her now as a woman who was fully clothed in pure anger and fear.

  “Well,” said Carlisle. “I am going to admit to being confused.” She didn’t turn her head away from Danny before speaking again. “Sky? Sky, I’m going to ask you to put the Ramset gun down.”

  The old man spoke up as he rose from the couch. “That’s a good idea,” he said.

  “She’s crazy,” said Sky. A quick glance showed she still held the weapon.

  “I would say,” said the old man, his voice even like the calm in the eye of the storm, “that she is about a hair’s width from doing something bad.”

  Carlisle looked at the old guy. His very calmness spoke more than his words, his understanding of the word bad very clear. “Police?”

  “Fire,” he said.

  “Figures,” she said. “Sky, can you put the gun down? You can’t hurt her with it.”

  The old guy was walking in careful steps towards Danny, palms out. “It’s okay,” he was saying. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” she said to him, hands balled into fists. “It’s been taken.”

  “Yep,” he said. He leaned down, picking up the blanket. “Thing is, we’re going to get it back. Aren’t we?”

  “Who has it?”

  The old guy put the blanket around her shoulders, tugging it together at the front. “I like a pretty girl as much as the next guy, but you’re dis
tracting John,” he said.

  “Priorities,” said John.

  “Hey,” said Sky.

  Val rubbed his face with a hand, then moved out from behind the breakfast bar. “It’s me,” he said to Danny. “It’s still me.”

  “There’s so little left,” she said, something catching in her voice.

  “I know,” he said. “I made a mistake.”

  Danny reached a hand up — good Christ, she’s shaking like a leaf — to touch the side of his face. “Is it you?”

  “It’s me,” he said. He looked like he wanted to touch her. He looked like he hated himself — for what, Carlisle didn’t know. He tried for a smile, but it slid off his face. “Hey. At least you know.” He started to turn away.

  “Know what?” Danny hadn’t moved, her hand still outstretched.

  “You said you needed time,” he said. “You wanted to know if it was—”

  “The Night,” she said.

  “The Night,” he said, nodding. “Well, now you know. It’s the Night. Without it, I’m just … empty.” What he didn’t say was, and you don’t love me without it.

  “No,” said Danny.

  “It’s okay,” said Val, as if he was readying himself to lift something heavy. “I understand.”

  “No,” she said. “You silly, silly man.” She stepped towards him.

  “What?” he said.

  “Without it in the way, I can see what makes the heart of you,” she said. “That’s what I love.”

  “What?” said Val again, with the tone of a man who’d just received a death row reprieve. He was touching Danny’s face, and then they were kissing. The blanket fell away again. Fuck’s sake, that woman cannot keep her clothes on. Still, if I looked that good with 40 years on the clock I’d probably run up and down the street buck naked too.

  “So,” said Carlisle. “Sky?”

  “Yes?” Sky was still standing close to the Ramset gun, the tool within easy reach.

  “Sky, do you have any spare clothes? Kendrick’s giving me an inferiority complex.” Carlisle felt the weight of the last few days heavy on her shoulders. So tired. “And beer. Do you have beer?”

  Sky nodded. “I’ve got some clothes.”

  “I looted beer,” said John. “We’ve got plenty of warm beer.”