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

by Richard Parry

  “I hear you, you clown, because we’re three feet apart.” Jessie’s voice, coming through his earpiece loud and clear. Also from behind him.

  Val looked back, saw Jessie get out of the van, her cap pulled low. She was carrying a case, fat and black, and gave him a nod before jogging across the street to the blare of horns and watch it, asshole or you crazy, lady? You gone get killed. She disappeared into a building across the street; the front was covered in a catwalk, getting its own impossible makeover. It wasn’t tall enough to see into level 26 of the Renaissance, but that was kind of the point. Val and Danny wouldn’t need help on 26. They’d need help — maybe — when they hit the street. The building Jessie had vanished into was low, squat, ordinary, invisible, right next to some kind of comedy place and a store pushing dollar gifts of the moment.

  It was pretty hard to find a place that was invisible around Time Square, and Val had to wonder if this was some kind of elaborate trap. The kind where the bloodsuckers knew you knew, right, and so they just sat there waiting. It wasn’t impossible. They’d talked about it, and Carlisle had called it an overdeveloped paranoia reflex and Rex had said it didn’t really matter because the damn sun is up, which more or less made the point for everyone. If the sun weren’t up, a trap would be … pretty scary. Sun up? Just normals, that’s all. That could get exciting, but in a roller coaster kind of way, as opposed to an oh-God-oh-God-we’re-all-gonna-die kind of way.

  The entrance to the Renaissance opened, taking them from New York summer heat that made your clothes stick to you five minutes after putting them on into a cool, quiet lobby. There was the usual: reception desk, concierge who was already gravitating to them like iron filings to their magnet, a bunch of octogenarians with too much luggage who were staring around them without really knowing where to go.

  “Sir,” said the concierge, “how may—”

  “I’m good,” said Val. “I’m here to see a friend.”

  The concierge didn’t even pause. “Of course. If you give me your friend’s name, I can call—”

  “I’m good,” said Val, holding up his phone. “Called him already. Just gonna wait for him here.”

  “Very good, sir,” said the concierge, losing interest as the opportunity to glean a tip vanished. Times Square tended to feel a little … transactional, that was the word.

  Val looked at Danny. “What’s the play?”

  “You’re always so … wait here,” she said.

  “I’m always so what?” he said.

  “Just wait here,” she said, striding through the lobby, past the dark glass and low tables and ostentatious—

  This world is old and sick and fat.

  —light fixtures in the roof. What would you even call those damn things? They hung from the ceiling like elongated teardrops, like some kind of ooze frozen in time. Not the kind of thing Val would want to sit under. The almost biological shapes of those light fixtures made him uneasy, but if he was being honest, being anywhere around vampires made him uneasy as well. He looked up as Danny came back towards him, a couple of bags with her. She tossed him one.

  “Stealing?” He frowned.

  “Borrowing,” she said. She nodded towards the elevators. “C’mon.”

  They walked towards the elevators, using standing guests as human sight barriers between them and any hotel staff. They made the elevators without incident, and Val nodded at an older couple, faces so tan they looked like upholstery. “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” said the guy, older, voice pegging him in maybe his sixties. His wife was grinning like it was her first time at the fair.

  Val watched Danny do the same sums he was doing, felt her hold his arm. “We’re here for our honeymoon,” she said.

  “Oh,” said the woman, nodding. “We’re here for our anniversary. Forty years.”

  “That’s gorgeous!” said Danny, a little high-school-prom in her voice. She patted the air with a hand. “Did you … did you get married here?”

  “Oh heavens, no,” said the woman, with a conspiratorial wink. “Bert wanted to elope.”

  Danny covered her mouth, making a tiny gasp. “Bert, you devil.”

  Bert grinned at them. “Where you folks from?”

  “We’re kind of traveling at the moment,” said Danny. She tugged on Val’s arm. “Mike here, well, Mike is an adventure photographer, so we travel a lot. But after our last trip to Africa—”

  “Oh my,” said the woman. “Africa?”

  “I know, right?” said Danny, bouncing on her feet. “It’s so exciting.”

  The elevator arrived with a chime, Val holding the door for the other couple. “Where you folks from?”

  Bert nodded his thanks as he entered the elevator after his wife. “Jean and me, well, we moved about some too, but we’ve retired in Florida.”

  “Retired?” said Danny. “You must have done so well for yourselves, you’re both so young.”

  Jean laughed. “Oh, dear, you’re so sweet.”

  “Darn it.” Danny patted her pockets. “Mike, baby, I’ve left my card in our room.”

  Val patted his own pockets. Follow her lead. “I … darn. I left mine with—” and he groped through his mind, Bobby being too close to Bert “—Andy. He took some of our bags on ahead.” He looked at Bert and Jean. “Our son. We, uh, eloped as well.” He faced Danny again. “It’s no problem, we’ll just call him down.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Jean, swiping her card against the elevator. “Just press your button, dear.”

  Danny put a hand on Jean’s arm. “Thank you so much. Andy will probably have his headphones on anyway.”

  Val stabbed the number 26, the elevator’s door’s closing with a cultured rumble. Val agreed to tell Bert and Jean about Africa over a drink later before the couple got out. The elevator doors slid closed behind them, and Danny relaxed with a sigh. “Give me vampires any day.”

  “‘Mike?’” said Val. “Do I look like a Mike?”

  “Hang on,” said Danny. “I think all that gushing made me throw up a little in my mouth.”

  “Right,” said Val, then, “thanks.”

  “You’d have hit someone,” she said.

  “I know,” said Val.

  “And the police would have come,” she said.

  “I said thanks already,” said Val, as the doors to 26 opened onto soft carpet and silence.

  “We’re not ready,” said Danny, “for the police to come.” She gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek, then walked out on to 26, dropping her … borrowed … bag on the carpet. He smelled the air, something old and decayed underlying the scents of carpet cleaner and bleach. There was a faint smell of blood, the subtle hint of it recirculated a thousand times around the floor by the air conditioning.

  Death is here.

  “I know, buddy.” Val cocked his head. “Nice and slow.” He dropped his own bag, the need for that camouflage gone. They padded on the carpet, two predators in a nest of vipers. “I got to wonder,” he said. “Why the Renaissance?”

  “It’s a nice enough hotel,” said Danny. “It’s right in Times Square. If you were a bloodsucking motherfucker, you’d probably want take-out within walking distance, right?”

  “Right,” said Val. They looked around. They were on a standard floor hub, elevator doors yielding to a corridor. Left was just a couple of rooms, and Val dismissed them without even checking the numbers. Too close to the main traffic area. It’d want something quiet, private, a killing box with a view. Right it was, then. They rounded the corner, then Val said, “‘Darn?’”

  “It seemed the best word for the situation,” said Danny, eyes forward. “There.” Dark wood, a door like any other, near the end. Fire escape stairs led down at the end, a convenient second route if the thing needed to run. Room 2602. No different, from the outside, from 2601 across the hall, except a lot more killing had happened inside. There was a sign hung from the door handle, and Val picked up the black card. Don’t even think about knocking, it rea
d, History being made. He snorted, handed it to Danny. She read it, tossed it aside. “See? Nice enough hotel. Someone’s got a sense of humor.”

  Val knocked on the door. He reached back into his mind, to that time—

  He stood on the stage. The motley crowd sat, hushed, expectant, before he burst into his next ribald song. The accent he used was borrowed from a laborer he’d met on the road, all hard sounds said the wrong way. The accent was the people of this crowd, and they loved that he was one of them.

  —when he’d had an ordinary house, Baitan keeping him from falling into a complete pit of mess. He remembered the sound of her voice, how the lilt of her Filipino accent was wonderful to listen to. He put that into his voice. “Housekeeping,” he said. Room service wouldn’t have been right … vampires didn’t order a burger to their room, unless they wanted to eat the delivery service itself.

  No response. He looked at Danny for a five count, then knocked again. “Housekeeping,” he said, but louder.

  “Fuck,” came a voice from inside, muffled by the door. “I’ve got the fucking … what’s it … fucking Do Not Disturb sign out, asshole.”

  “No English,” said Val. “Housekeeping.”

  He heard with his perfect ears someone walking across the carpet, the sound so quiet an ordinary human wouldn’t hear it. No heartbeat. No problem.

  Well, maybe a little bit of a problem. It was still a vampire — a young one, sure, but all teeth and hunger and killing.

  Enemy of Pack.

  Val felt his lips pull back from his teeth as the door opened. A man stood there, pale, shirtless, the look of annoyance-turning-to-anger melting into surprise. “You’re not—”

  Danny’s fist caught him in the face, teeth shattering and knocking the thing back in a tumble. He rolled back into the room, hitting a low table, crushing it to kindling. Val and Danny slipped into the room, Val pulling the door closed while Danny ran past the fallen vampire to the windows. Dark, heavy curtains shut out the world.

  Shut out the sun.

  She reached a hand up, fingers curling into a fist in the fabric. And paused. Waiting.

  Val crouched down in front of the fallen vampire. Danny’s fist had done a good job, the thing’s front teeth gone. They’d grow back in a few minutes, sure, but until then his options for a refill were limited. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Val.”

  “You’re dead,” said the vampire.

  “Give it a tug,” said Val.

  “What?” said the vampire. Danny twitched the curtain. A beam of pure white light left a spear through dust motes in the air, and the thing ducked down, covering its eyes with a scream. “Fuck! Stop! Fuck!”

  Val looked at Danny, and she closed the curtain again. “Hi,” he said again. “I’m Val.”

  “Sure, Val, whatever,” said the thing.

  “And you are..?” Val frowned. He softened his voice, but not in a friendly way. “It’s usually polite to introduce yourself back.”

  “Right,” said the thing. “Jeremy. Jer. Or … well, Jeremy.”

  “Jer,” said Val, “is what your friends call you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do I fucking look,” said Val, teeth bared, “like a friend?” He knew his eyes would be bright yellow, felt his voice gain the texture of the monster…

  We are one. We are the same.

  …champion inside him. The Night was right. They were the same. Now, more than ever.

  The vampire looked up, actually looked at Val, for the first time since they’d come into the room. Saw the vampire’s eyes scan his face, saw the dismissive attitude of the everliving damned fall away as it recognized him, really understood what he was. “You’re … we ended you all.” Val waited for a moment. The vampire — Jeremy, for fuck’s sake what kind of vampire name was that anyway — blinked, then said, “Well, okay. Clearly we missed one or two.”

  “Do you know why I’m here?” said Val.

  “You want to kill me,” said Jeremy.

  “No,” said Val.

  “Uh,” said Jeremy. “You’re here for the view?”

  “We’re here,” said Val, “to give you a small chance to be useful to the world again.”

  “I can’t tell you about them,” the creature — Jeremy, goddamn it, his name was Jeremy — said.

  “Fine,” said Val. “That’s not what we want. Jeremy, let me be honest with you. We didn’t find you by accident. We already know about them.”

  “You do?”

  “We do,” agreed Val. “What we’re hoping for is a … little more science.” Jeremy laughed, bloody teeth stumps looking a little less jagged than before. Val kept going. “We want you to tell us how you work.”

  “I’m a vampire, bro,” said Jeremy. “Like in the books.”

  Val sighed. “We both know,” he said, “that’s not true. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “No,” said Val. “Here’s how it’s going to work. I see three outcomes.”

  “Three outcomes,” repeated Jeremy.

  “Exactly three,” said Val. “In the first one, your teeth finish healing, and you think you can take us. You do your thing.” He blinked yellow eyes at Jeremy. “You hope the Night is what you’ve been told, what you remember, and that little you — a fresh, young, baby vampire, new in your powers and basically weak as a kitten — can take both of us. You hope that will happen before Danny,” and he nodded towards Danny, and the window with the sun at its back, “pulls that curtain opens and turns you into a fire hazard.”

  “I don’t like option one,” said Jeremy.

  “Cool,” said Val. Jeremy shifted, and Val reached out a hand, palm outstretched. “Jeremy? Don’t fucking move. Seriously.” Jeremy settled a little, and Val pulled his hand back. “The thing inside my head? It really, really—”

  Rend this tiny thing. Destroy it, and all its kind.

  “—really wants an excuse to visit a world of hurt on you. You hear what I’m saying?”

  “I get you,” said Jeremy. “What’s option two?”

  “Option two,” said Val, pulling the black bag folded under his jacket, “is that you get in the body bag, we carry you out, take you back to our lair, and experiment on you.” The problem with these vampires was that they sounded just like people. It was … difficult to not see some base humanity there. And if you saw that, you took pity on it. Then you died.

  They have killed us all. We are the last.

  Then again, race memory helped a lot to overcome any residual squeamishness.

  “Okay,” said Jeremy, “what’s the real option two?”

  “Sorry. You’re getting in the bag.” Val shrugged. “I don’t have an option three, but if it’s any consolation, we won’t really experiment on you. Much.”

  “Much? What the fuck does that mean?” Jeremy looked back at Danny, saw her smile, and shuddered. He turned to Val. “I don’t like option two much, Val, if I’m being honest.”

  “Would it help,” said Val, “if I told you why?”

  “You want to kill us all,” said Jeremy.

  “Not really,” said Val.

  “What?” said Jeremy.

  “I’ve got a, what would you call it, a kind of deal going on with … the Universe,” said Val. “Something was done a very long time ago, before either of us were born. It made the world wrong. Dragons, Jeremy. Do you know you motherfuckers killed all the dragons? They were magnificent.” He paused. “It wasn’t really your fault, as near as I can tell, any more than you can blame grass for being green.”

  “We don’t have much time,” said Danny. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

  “Hold up,” said Val, looking at her. She saw that I’ve got to try look, and her eyes softened just a little. He turned back to Jeremy. “You get me, Jeremy? Grass, and being green?”

  “No,” said Jeremy.

  “So the thing is,” said Val, “about ten years ago I was bitten. Crazy part is I don’t even remember it. I was in a, w
hat would you call it, an alcohol-induced coma at the time. Now a part of me, it’s grass, and it’s green. All the time. It is what it is. I am … what I am.”

  “Oh,” said Jeremy. “And all this greenery,” and here, he made a tiny and slow, oh-so-slow circular movement with one of his hands, “is me.”

  “The problem with an analogy is if you torture it enough, it loses all its shape,” said Val. “But sort of. You can’t help being you. You were … bitten, as well.”

  “Right,” said Jeremy. He gave a harsh laugh, something that said I know why you hate me, because I hate myself too. “What about it?”

  “The deal I’ve got going on with the Universe,” said Val, “is that we get to put it right. The terms of the agreement are more … flexible.”

  “What the hell does that mean, Val?” Jeremy looked at Danny again, then back at him. “I’m not seeing what you’re saying.”

  “We want,” said Val, “to remove vampires from the world. We don’t really want to remove the people they once were.”

  Jeremy looked at him, long and slow, then said, “Hand me the bag.”

  • • •

  “It doesn’t really look like a roll of fabric,” said Danny. “It looks like a torn-off piece of curtain with a dead body in it.” She nudged the edge of the bundle containing Jeremy with her toe. They’d wrapped his body bag with the curtains from Jeremy’s room, but body bags had that characteristic bend in the middle. Couldn’t mistake it, they were riding down 26 floors in an elevator with a body … in a body bag.

  “Hey,” said Jeremy, voice muffled from the inside.

  “This part of the plan,” said Val, “was always going to need a little more speed than style.”

  The elevator chimed, opening onto the Renaissance’s lobby. There was the usual small crowd waiting for the next elevator, and the people started to enter before what they saw pushed them back like an invisible hand. Val could see it in their faces, the look of surely not or is that..? or what the actual fuck playing out in similar ways. Val bent over, picked up Jeremy’s half-bag-half-curtain tube, and stepped out after Danny.