Nine by Night: A Multi-Author Urban Fantasy Bundle of Kickass Heroines, Adventure, & Magic

by SM Reine

“...hit it. I know I did.”

  “...bullets didn’t slow it...”

  More headlights turned in from the highway. I stared in disbelief. It was the pair of riders. They rolled into the campground and parked their bikes beside a dumpster. As one, they removed their helmets. They wore the same clothing as they had earlier in the day, including the dark caps.

  I glanced at Simon, but the policeman had his attention. The riders scanned the camp, noting the police, then they had a quick conversation with each other. One pointed toward the south, toward the woods where the people had disappeared. One of the cops was already searching that area. The two who’d run off after the “bear” hadn’t returned.

  The riders jogged across the pavement to the east, both looking in my direction as they passed. They had to recognize me, but neither seemed surprised at seeing us. The gruffer one—Jakatra, hadn’t that been his name?—glared, but that might be his normal expression. The younger one, at least I assumed he was younger since he had more innocence and curiosity about him, gave me a shrug and a wry quirk of the lips. Then they were gone, seeming to disappear as soon as they stepped off the asphalt and into the brush. If they’d been carrying weapons, I hadn’t noticed them. Maybe they didn’t need them. What if that... creature was a pet of theirs, and they’d come to leash it up and take it away until it was time to send it out to kill again?

  “There’s a body over here,” came a call from the woods. “A woman. Get some backup, Steve. Whatever’s out here is dangerous.”

  “It’s a bear, right?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen a bear do anything like this. Better get these people out of here. And tell the backup to bring rifles. This just happened.”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling you,” Simon said, but the officer who’d been talking to him wasn’t paying attention anymore. He jogged back to his car and leaned in to grab the radio handset.

  I tugged on Simon’s sleeve. “Do you think we should get out of here while we can? Before they talk to the sheriff’s department and it comes out that we were around for both incidents today?”

  “That’s not our fault.”

  “No, but it might look suspicious to police looking to pin responsibility on someone.”

  “How can we be responsible?” Simon asked. “We don’t have a clue about what’s going on. What’s suspicious is... are those the same two Harleys?”

  “Yeah, our buddies in black drove in, then ran off into the woods.” I pointed in the direction they’d gone.

  “Now that’s suspicious. Those are the guys who must be up to something shifty. It’s pure coincidence that we’ve been here for both of these.”

  “Is it?” I wondered.

  “What do you mean?”

  I shrugged. The woods lay out there, dark and ominous, still being bathed by the red police lights. The shade reminded me too much of blood.

  “I found another body,” one of the police called.

  “There’s someone injured over here,” one by the smashed car said. “Steve, get the paramedics out here too.”

  The man at the radio chopped a wave.

  Simon gripped my arm. “Del, what do you mean about it not being a coincidence?”

  “I don’t know. Just musing. But don’t you think it’s weird that this has happened in the two places we were today? What if that creature is after us? Or wants something we have?”

  “Oh, sure, it’s upset it didn’t get a chance to bid for the antique coffee grinder.”

  “Hey, we’ve found some good stuff. Remember those quirky clay figurines from that Fremont pit house near the Wilcox Ranch?”

  “I remember that you wanted to donate them to a museum instead of selling them,” Simon said.

  “But we haven’t done that yet. They’re still in the van. Other stuff is too.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get your point, and I think you’re nuts.”

  I propped my fists on my hips. “Well, thank you for so thoroughly considering it from all angles.”

  “You’re welcome.” Simon waved his phone. “I’m going to see if I can get some pictures of monster footprints.”

  “What you’re going to get is arrested for interfering,” I called after him.

  More sirens were wailing, coming from the direction of the town. Why did I have a feeling we’d both be in jail before dawn?

  Two lean, dark figures walked out of the trees on the opposite side of the camp. The riders were back. They stuck to the shadows, and the police didn’t notice them. As far as I could tell nobody had noticed them. Except for me.

  I put my back to the van and checked the police cars, making sure armed men were in earshot if I shouted for help. The younger rider carried a stick. He was walking and gesturing, waving it about as he spoke with his comrade. The flashing police lights fell upon them for a moment, and I realized it wasn’t a stick, it was an arrow. My arrow. Nobody else had been running around with a bow. I’d only shot the one, and it had hit the creature. At least I’d thought it had. How had these two gotten it? What if they knew where the creature had run to and had retrieved it somehow? I chomped down on my lip, torn between wanting to jump out and interrogate them and knowing it’d be smarter to hide in the shadows and hope they didn’t notice me. They couldn’t be happy about the fire extinguisher incident, not to mention those slashed tires... Albeit they’d since replaced those tires, for there was no sign of the damage on their Harleys.

  As they neared the dumpster where they’d parked, I caught a few snippets of their conversation over the clamor of approaching sirens. And it floored me. Whatever language they were speaking, it sure wasn’t English. I didn’t think it was a romance language either. True, I wasn’t hearing them well, but I’d studied enough Roman history in school that I figured I could identify something based on Vulgar Latin. It didn’t sound Slavic or Germanic either, though I was less familiar with those groups of languages. Their words had a lot of variation in tone—I thought I heard a couple that were repeated, only with different inflections. It reminded me of Mandarin, but these guys were awfully white for Chinese people. On looks alone, I would have guessed them Scandinavian, but even in those countries, they’d stand out.

  I was so intent on listening to their words, that I almost missed the fact that they’d reached their motorcycles and turned to look at me. The older rider twitched his head—it wasn’t quite the side-to-side motion of a head shake, but it had the same negative gist—and hopped onto his bike. He roared away without a backward glance. One of the cops shouted at him to stop, but an ambulance and a news crew rolled into the campground, and the Harley weaved around a couple of cars and disappeared from sight. This was about to become a circus. The remaining campers who’d apparently been reluctant to leave their tents and motorhomes to talk to the police, flowed out of hiding as soon as the news van stopped.

  The remaining Harley rider, Blue Eyes, walked toward me, my arrow held at his side. As he drew closer, I could see his face and hands well enough to tell that there weren’t any signs of injury from the fire extinguisher propellant. My own skin was raw and red in spots, and I hadn’t even been the target.

  I shifted from foot to foot and scanned the trees for Simon, but I didn’t see him. The authorities were swamped by now too. This guy better not be trouble, because it looked like I was on my own for dealing with him.

  “Hello,” he said. “I am Eleriss. What is your name?”

  “Er?” I’d been tensing, ready for him to stab me with the arrow, so this frank introduction took me off guard.

  He tilted his head. “Er?”

  “No, I mean, it’s Delia.” Belatedly, I wondered if I should have lied.

  “I located your arrow.” Eleriss held it out to me.

  “Uh, thanks. Was it in the haunch of anything when you located it?”

  “Haunch? Ah, no, the jibtab would not be injured by such a weapon. Perhaps you... what is the expression? Gave it a hangnail?”

  In the poor lighting,
it was hard to tell, but I thought a slight smudge darkened the arrow tip. Maybe I’d made the creature bleed at least. Truth be told, I was impressed I’d hit it at all given how much my hands had been shaking. Of course, that might be a smear of dirt on the arrow too.

  “But you attacked it,” Eleriss said. “It will remember you now.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “This... conveyance-house—” he pointed at the van, “—will not protect you from its fury if you cross it again. The jibtab is very strong.”

  “So moving back to New Mexico would be a good idea now?” As soon as I said it, I rejected the idea. On the off chance that something—a jibtab, whatever that was—was hunting me, I wouldn’t lead it back to my family.

  Eleriss considered my question for a moment, mouthing, “New Mexico,” a couple of times. “Ah yes,” he said, “the territory adjacent to this one. Perhaps a farther destination? Your Alaska may be safe for some time.” He smiled, like a man making a joke, but I didn’t find any of this amusing.

  “Safe for some time? What do you mean?”

  “It is lightly populated by humans, so will not attract the wrath of the jibtab’s master for now.”

  I digested that for a moment. It was hard to concentrate as fully as I would have liked with people shouting and setting up lighting and equipment in my peripheral vision. It was only a matter of time before someone came over and wanted to interview me. Or arrest me. I wasn’t sure which sounded less appealing.

  “Just to be clear, you’re not the jib-thing’s master?” I asked.

  Eleriss took a step back. “Me? I would not create anything to harm humans. I like humans.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  This guy was seriously weird. I was beginning to think there was some merit to Simon’s idea that our strangers were Vulcans, or nut jobs who thought they were Vulcans. Would he be affronted if I told him Prescott didn’t have a Live Action Roleplaying Group?

  “It would not be within my abilities to create a jibtab regardless,” he said. “I am not a... scientist, is that the profession?”

  “For someone who makes monsters? I don’t know—I didn’t see those classes under any of the degree paths at ASU.”

  He did that head tilt that seemed to mean he was trying to figure me out.

  “So if you didn’t make it, what are you and your buddy doing here?” I asked. “Why do you keep showing up when it kills someone?”

  He could have asked me the same question, but he didn’t. He probably knew we were clueless. “We can track it.”

  “Oh? Do you know where it is now?”

  “It ran up a dirt road over there.” Eleriss pointed in the direction that the first people had been killed.

  I knew the road. We’d hiked up it to a trail that led to a lake. It’d been a nice hike, and there was no way I’d do it again now.

  “Are you trying to kill it?” I asked.

  “That is not currently within our power.”

  “Then why follow it?”

  “We seek to find that which can destroy it. Also, we seek to protect humans from it.” Eleriss gazed toward the woods where the husband and wife had fallen. “We are failing thus far.”

  “Join the club. That which can destroy it—you want to kill it then?”

  “That is desirable, yes.”

  “Maybe my friend and I can help. We’re good at research. Simon over there has GPS apps that can find all sorts of things and lead us to them.” I decided not to mention the broken shovel haft.

  “You would be wise to leave this place. Your Alaska would be a good destination.”

  “That’s a little cold for my desert blood. Besides—”

  “Ma’am?” a man asked from the side, startling me. It was the police officer who’d been talking to Simon earlier. Simon stood by the patrol car, a sheepish expression on his face. Ugh, they must have caught him practicing his photography skills.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “We’re going to need you to come downtown to answer some questions.” The officer’s eyebrows twitched. “Again.”

  Double ugh. The left hand had been talking to the right hand. He eyed the arrow I was holding, but all he said was, “This way, please.”

  I pointed to the van. “Mind if I park this back in our spot? It’s in the way here.”

  He considered me for a moment—deciding if I was a flight risk? “Good idea. Make sure you get those headlights fixed too. You can get a citation for that.”

  A half million sarcastic comments came to mind, but he walked away before my mouth could get me into trouble. More trouble, I amended as I watched someone guide Simon into the back of the patrol car. I wondered why nobody had come up to Eleriss, wanting to question him. I was reluctant to leave in the middle of our conversation. However, when I turned back to where he’d been standing, he was gone. His Harley was gone too. How had he managed that without me hearing it start up?

  “This night is getting weirder and weirder,” I muttered.

  CHAPTER 8

  The fluorescent lights of the police station stung my eyes after the midnight darkness outside. When we walked in, I expected to be taken to a concrete room with nothing except a table, two chairs, and a one-way mirror while Simon was tossed into an identical room next door. Once there, I assumed they’d question us separately, trying to get us to contradict each other and maybe throwing in some Prisoner’s Dilemma tactics. Apparently I’d been watching too much TV. Or maybe those things only happened at big city police stations. Instead, the officer who’d driven us there ushered us to a corner of the waiting room with instructions to, “Hang tight.” He walked back outside, leaving us to our own devices with no one except a yawning young officer behind a desk to keep an eye on us.

  “Thanks for parking the van,” Simon said.

  Aware of the cops in the front seat of the car, we hadn’t spoken during the hour we’d waited in the back while the police dealt with the bodies and the chaos of the campground. Simon had been typing on his smartphone the whole time while I’d watched in mute horror as a female officer came to get the kid out of the trailer and lead him away, picking him up at one point to keep him from running into the woods to find his parents.

  I’d decided to hold off on messaging my own parents, though the whole event had made me want to hear their voices. But it’d already been late, and I hadn’t wanted to explain why I was calling from a police car. No need to worry them until I found out if we were going to be charged for something.

  “No problem,” I murmured. “I mostly wanted to put the arrow in the van, so nobody would think to stick it into an evidence room.”

  “They weren’t amused when I tried to play investigative photographer and sneak in close for a last couple of pictures.” He tapped his phone. “I finished writing up a blog post though. Tomorrow when this hits the news and people start searching for monster sightings, our website should pop up.”

  I glared at him. “I told you not to put this stuff up there.”

  “Someone’s going to cover the story anyway. Why not someone who was actually there and saw what happened?”

  “Because you want to cash in on it. That’s our professional business site, damn it.”

  “One that will make our business more money if it gets more traffic. Do you want to live on peanut butter and jelly and sleep in a van for your entire life?”

  I dropped my head into my hands. After the long and eventful day, I didn’t have energy left to argue with him over this. I hoped the authorities got to the bottom quickly, and our lives returned to normal. Though a part of me wanted to speak with Eleriss again, especially given that he’d almost been... amiable. Weird and obscure, but amiable. Maybe he’d tell me about that device in the bedside table.

  “What did you mean evidence?” Simon asked after a while.

  “Huh?”

  “You said you didn’t want your arrow thrown in an evidence locker. Was there something on it?”

  “A smudge. It migh
t be dirt, but...” I shrugged. “I cut off the tip and stuck it into an envelope addressed to Autumn in Flagstaff.” I patted my pocket. “If we get out of here without trouble, I’ll mail it as soon as we walk by a box.”

  “Autumn... which one of your friends is that?”

  “The one who used to insult you all the time.”

  “You’ll have to be more specific than that. Not all of your friends appreciated my unique characteristics.”

  “She’s the archaeology student who graduated at the same time as I did and who works at the same firm as I... would have.”

  “Would have?” Simon asked. “Technically, you did work there, didn’t you? For a day?”

  “It was three days, thank you.”

  Though after the first day of cataloguing rocks at the cultural resource management center in Flagstaff, I’d been certain the job wouldn’t work for me. My professors had all warned me that real archaeology wasn’t anything like they showed in the movies, and I’d been prepared for days upon days of sifting through dirt without finding anything significant, but tedious and repetitive office work in a room without windows? With no field excursions on the calendar for the rest of the year? I couldn’t handle that. But I hadn’t been able to find any other openings in the field—I’d been lucky to get that one as a kid fresh out of college—and none of the archaeologists I’d talked to had been leading the lives I’d imagined anyway. I’d called Simon and asked if he thought I’d be nuts to quit, but he’d always had that entrepreneurial streak, and he’d come up with Rust & Relics right away. I wasn’t making any more than I would have at that entry-level job—and some months it was less—but we had spent a fun summer exploring the state and scampering all over the mountainsides, hunting for old treasures. Despite the sneers of my peers, it suited me. Or at least it had until the bodies started showing up.

  “What can she do with the arrow?” Simon asked.

  “Autumn specializes in the chemical identification of organic residues that’ve been absorbed into historic materials.”

  “Uh huh, so what can she do with the arrow?”