by Sasha White
“Yeah. Benny really needs this place tenanted and I can’t complain about the size of the yard or the privacy.” I nuzzled his ear. “Think we can afford it?”
“Well, I’m never living where you had sex with Wagner, and I think we’ve removed all traces of Nero here. Besides, the Estates were affected badly by the last big attack. The Count thinks it might be a good idea for us to base out of here. So, yeah, I think we should see about affording it.”
“The neighbors are nice. Not nosy.”
“And we have a personal relationship with the Reverend, too.” Ralph snorted. “Though I like Helen a lot more.”
“Oh, Jeremiah Johnson’s not so bad, once you get past the stuffed-shirtedness.”
“Yeah. I have to admit that the itchy werewolf suit bothers me a lot more than Johnson does. And I hate having to spend at least half my existence now in human form.”
“Not my fault I needed a new partner on Night Beat.”
“Explain how you ended up with three of them, then?”
“Well, Sexy Cindy’s a natural and until Freddy shows that gray zombie look he’s invaluable. Covers us for the three different undeads rule even while on Prosaic City P.D. business. Besides, your job is to protect me, so I don’t know why you’re complaining.”
“The suit itches, remember?”
I nudged him. “But you’re not wearing the suit now.”
Ralph changed to human and grinned at me. “True enough.”
I rolled onto my back as I went to human, too. “Not trying for puppies today?” I was almost disappointed. Ralph had introduced me to a lot of new things, including that there was nothing better than having sex with another werewolf, in all three forms.
He stroked my hair. “Not today. Well, not this moment. How about that?”
I was already familiar with his stamina. “Not a problem.” The afternoon was young, after all, and we didn’t go on duty again for another night. Ralph rolled on top of me and I sighed. “Does unlife get any better than this?”
Ralph kissed me. “Not that I’ve found in over four centuries.”
“Makes eternity seem too short.”
He grinned. “I’ll do my best to make all parts of it last forever.”
There was an old saying, and I’d found it was true – once you went werewolf, you never went back. I was a weregirl in love and it finally felt right.
What the next nights would bring I didn’t know, but I figured unlife was a journey, not a destination. And come what may, I was going to enjoy the ride – in the donated S-Class, with my mate and our pack along for the wild ride. Unlife truly didn’t get any better than this.
The End
Thank you for reading The Night Beat. I hoped you enjoyed it.
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Preview of Night Music, Necropolis Enforcement Files #2, by Gini Koch
Chapter 1
“Detectives Wolfe and Rogers, please come in.”
Ralph picked up our car’s radio handset. “Here, Darlene. What can we do for you?”
“You can identify where you are.”
“En route to the disturbance in Prosaic City’s Cultural District. The one you assigned to us.”
“Which one of you is driving?”
“Victoria is.”
“Really? And yet I have no calls about a dangerous driver on the road.”
I reached over and took the radio out of Ralph’s hand. “You’re hilarious. What’s going on, Darlene? You only asked us to head to the Cultural District ten minutes ago.”
“The Chief wanted you there eleven minutes ago, however, Detective Wolfe.”
“I’ll do my best to drive faster.” I handed the radio back to Ralph and put the pedal down, so to speak.
“You mean more recklessly,” Freddy said from the backseat, as I skidded us around a corner perhaps a trifle faster than official guidelines would have suggested.
“Girl knows how to get us there,” Sexy Cindy countered, also from the backseat. “Though I do love it when you make this thing move.”
The thing was a nice S-Class Mercedes, and we were in it because it had been donated to the Prosaic City Police Department’s Night Beat Division, specifically to me, after our last big case.
Unlike the normal cars most undercover and plainclothes detectives got, which screamed “undercover policebeings present”, the S-Class actually allowed us to drive under the radar of about ninety-nine percent of the perps in Prosaic City. We didn’t drive the car through Necropolis, but if we’d had to it would have blended in there, too. It was that kind of car.
“Why aren’t we running the siren and lights?” Ralph asked.
“Because they hurt our ears, why are you even asking?”
“Because you’re narrowly missing other cars and pedestrians and by barely I mean by a hair. Literally. I measured. The populace should be warned to get out of our way.”
“You feel free to lean out of the window and howl. That’ll work just as well but won’t cause physical pain to the driver.”
“We’re supposed to protect and serve under the auspices of the oaths we took for both Necropolis Enforcement and the Prosaic City Police Department.”
I recognized this. Ralph was readying to give me another lecture. At least it wasn’t about werewolf rights or the clinical breakdown of werewolf mating habits that took all the fun out of mating. I reminded myself that he was cute, loyal, brave, loving, and amazing at the whole mating thing, plus he had a great butt and truly awesome hair in human form. And he was a great looking wolf, too. Over the past couple of months I’d learned to list Ralph’s pros quickly when his Lecture Mode loomed.
I’d learned to interrupt him mid-lecture well before we were a couple. “You do realize that if I’m grabbing my ears in pain it means both paws are not on the wheel, right?”
“The question might be – would I even notice in terms of the quality of driving?”
“Coming from someone who never bothered to learn how to drive, that’s pretty barking funny.”
We’d have probably kept on bantering about this but we arrived. The Cultural District was in the nicer part of Prosaic City’s new Downtown area. It was always a pleasant surprise to be heading to the city’s nicer areas to fight crime. The criminals tended to be easier to deal with.
“You’re setting a bad example for our rookies,” Ralph said as I pulled up into the No Parking Police Only section and everyone unbuckled their seatbelts. Considering Ralph and I were werewolves, Freddy was a zombie, and Sexy Cindy was a succubus, no one really had to buckle up – once undead, you’re hard to kill via conventional means. Seeing as I was driving, everyone buckled up religiously. I’d decided weeks ago that I shouldn’t let it offend me. Much.
“They’re not really rookies anymore.” Once a being’s intimately involved in averting Armageddon, it’s hard to consider said being as inexperienced. However, Freddy and Sexy Cindy were Necropolis Enforcement’s newest recruits, so they didn’t have the time behind the badge that Ralph and I did.
Sexy Cindy nodded. “And as not-really-a-rookie, I want to point out that what I’m seeing looks like a lot more than a disturbance.”
Ralph and I looked where she was, Ralph rolled down his window, and we both took a good, deep sniff. I smelled fear, anger, excitement, various narcotic substances, lots and lots of alcoholic substances, and all the other bodily smells people in crowds give off. Managed not to gag as the hair on the back of my neck started to raise.
As Ralph rolled his window back
up, I grabbed the radio again. “Dispatch, this is Detective Wolfe. We are at the scene. Are we the only Prosaic P.D. here?”
“No,” Darlene replied. “There are a variety of uniforms already in attendance. They’re requesting backup, however.”
“I’m sure they are. Because this isn’t a disturbance – it’s a full-on a riot.”
Chapter 2
“Not sure, Detective,” Darlene said calmly. “The uniforms weren’t that specific. That’s why the Chief wants you there, to assess the situation and stop whatever crime or crimes are in progress.”
“Got it. We’ll report in as needed. If you don’t hear back from us in fifteen minutes, though, take our request for more backup for granted.”
“I will do, Detective.”
We got out of the car. I locked it and ensured the keys were safely tucked away in the pocket of my leather jacket. It was just starting to get cold in Prosaic City and even though werewolves don’t feel the elements the way humans do, I liked the extra protection. Besides, this jacket looked really cute on me.
All of us examined the scene. We were in the Cultural District, meaning we were in an older part of Prosaic City that had been revitalized a few times to now be a hipster and artistic hot spot. Cars and any other motorized vehicles weren’t allowed into this area – deliveries and such were hand-trucked in for those buildings near the center or delivered to the back for those on the outskirts.
The center of the District was a square, three blocks in from any side. Brick and wrought iron fencing surrounded a grassy park with a large, old-fashioned gazebo in the center. A few high-rises were dotted around the streets that made up the Cultural District’s outer perimeter, but most of the buildings were one- to six-story affairs, with businesses on the street and sometimes second floor levels, and urban lofts in the upper levels. The Cultural District was popular enough that it rarely had vacancies.
The center area was packed. I saw a lot of people slamming into each other. There was a chance this was a rave of some kind, in which case, the slamming was probably intended as fun. We were too far away to be sure, however, and the chance of this having started out as good natured slam dancing and ending up in an all-out brawl wasn’t slim. I remembered the punk rock scene from a few decades back, and this was somewhat reminiscent.
“No wonder the Chief wanted us here fast. Regular weapons out, batons in particular. Let’s go break up whatever’s going on.”
“Where’s our riot gear?” Sexy Cindy asked.
“Are you sure it’s a riot?” Freddy asked. “Could just be folks having fun.”
“We’re unlikely to need riot gear. And, our being here could just be a big misunderstanding. That’s why the Chief wants the four of us to take in the scene, determine what’s really going on, protect the citizenry, stop the riot if there is one or tone down whatever the party is if there isn’t.”
“She makes it sound so easy,” Freddy said.
“Well, it’s easy for me.” It usually was. Werewolves were strong and fast and we were equipped with a variety of things that made riot control fairly simple.
“We’re not you,” Freddy pointed out.
Freddy had been a bum when we’d found him, and Sexy Cindy had been a street hooker. In their prior human lives, he’d been a theology professor and she’d been a preschool teacher. It was always interesting to me to see which human life experiences came to the fore when they were faced with stressful situations. They were getting better at holding onto their better past lives, but in situations like these the “street” part of them surfaced easily. Sometimes that was a good thing, of course. So far, though, they seemed as normal as any of us got.
“I’d feel a lot better in riot gear,” Sexy Cindy added. “Not a lot of use for my talents in a crowd like this.”
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short. Succubus charm works in a variety of situations.”
“What does zombie charm do?” Freddy asked. “Because I’m with Cindy – I’d feel better in the riot gear.”
“I’d feel better if we had some uniforms with us going in,” Ralph mentioned.
“They’re there already, at least per Darlene.” It was clear the others were going to stall as much as possible. Well, enough of that – I was the senior officer in charge. “Follow me.” I headed towards the crowd.
As we got closer to the crowd the sound of music reached my ears. Which was unusual because I should have heard it sooner.
“I didn’t hear music before,” I said to Ralph.
He shook his head. “I didn’t either. Then again, maybe the band was taking a break. I sure hear it now.” He winced. “They’re not very good, whoever they are.”
“Crowd don’t agree with you,” Sexy Cindy said.
She was right. The body slamming had simmered down and the crowd seemed intent. We got closer.
“Try to stay together unless we see that we have to split up,” I advised the others. Sexy Cindy and Freddy moved closer to me and Ralph. They weren’t dumb beings.
We began moving through the crowd. No one tried to stop us, and no one was doing anything out of the ordinary. They were all bouncing or bobbing to the beat. Such as it was.
As we neared the little park, I spotted the act that was in the gazebo, which was doubling as a stage – two kids who looked like they were in their late teens or early twenties. The boy was playing a beat-up guitar, badly, and the girl was shaking a ratty tambourine, not on beat with the boy. They weren’t the worst musical act I’d ever heard, but they were pretty close.
However, no one else seemed to think so. Everyone within my field of vision was into the band, uniformed cops included.
Werewolves are very instinctual and whenever things were off the base of my tail got twitchy. Right now, the base of my tail felt that we should be bobbing and bouncing, but not to this particular beat. The base of my tail wanted us to take to our paws and get out of here.
Ralph nudged me. “Check in with Darlene or we’ll have police here in riot gear, and I’m not thinking we need them.”
“I’d feel better about it if all the uniforms weren’t acting like groupies.”
“I’d feel better if I thought the Chief wanted us here because of the riot or these musicians,” Freddy said. “Because I think maybe the Chief wanted us here because of that.” He pointed. Towards the sky.
We all looked up. To see what I was pretty damn sure was a dragon.
So much for any of us feeling better about anything.
Chapter 3
My first impulse was to shift to werewolf form to fight, or wolf form to run away really, really fast. However, I’d been in Necropolis Enforcement for my entire undead existence, and running away wasn’t in the Enforcement Handbook. Neither was panicking the human populace by turning into a werewolf in front of a huge crowd.
Instead, I went for my second impulse – I hit my wrist-com. “This is Agent W-W-One-Eight-One-Niner. We have a situation.” I ensured I sounded tense. This wasn’t hard.
“Agent Wolfe, while it’s always nice to hear you following procedure to the letter, didn’t you just go on duty not thirty minutes ago?” The Count sounded unworried. In approximately two hundred years I’d been with Necropolis Enforcement, I’d never heard him really rattled. Wondered if my latest news would test that record.
“We did, and were sent to Prosaic City’s Cultural District to quell a disturbance that’s turned into what we believed was a riot but instead seems like a very popular, crowded concert. However, riot still seems likely if not imminent.”
“Are you requesting reinforcements?”
“Yes, but not for that, so much. It’s for what I think could cause or influence the riot. We appear to have a dragon.” At least, we had a huge, golden lizardy flying creature with a horse-like snout, lots of scales and claws, and what really appeared to be the ability to flame, at least if the smoke trickling out of its mouth was indicative. I chose to make the leap and call it a dragon until evidence to the contrar
y might surface.
The Count was silent for a few long seconds. “I see. Sensors have not indicated a…visitor of…that size.”
“Then the sensors need to be scheduled for maintenance. Because the four of us here see a dragon in the sky.”
“Sensors include angels, Agent Wolfe. None of whom have checked in to share a visitor from another plane of existence.”
“Maybe it snuck past them.” How would be the question – it was sixty feet long if it was an inch, with a wingspan double that.
“Do the four of you hear or smell a visitor?”
The Count had a point. I’d contacted him based on visual only. Freddy being a zombie and Sexy Cindy being a succubus meant neither one of them were going to be able to hear or smell anything, in that sense, though both of them were great at smelling evil. Sexy Cindy could use her powers to fly up to the dragon, but that idea only had merit if we wanted to send the dragon a Sexy Cindy Marshmallow for roasting.
So I listened, as did Ralph. I could hear the sounds of people humming along, singing along, sharing how much they loved this band with each other, but what I couldn’t hear was the word “dragon” which, all things considered, I should have.
The song ended and with it all the peace, love and harmony. The crowd got ugly, fast. Ralph growled softly. “I don’t hear the dragon. But everyone here is ready to riot again.”
Either the duo on stage had picked up the same thing or they’d merely paused between songs, because they started up again. And the crowd instantly calmed. This was unsettling, to say the least, but not as unsettling as what was in the sky.
Hearing having offered no dragon confirmation, we both sniffed towards the sky. “I smell dragon,” we said together.
“It’s nice that the two of you practice speaking to me in unison,” the Count said. “It shows an interesting dedication to both duty and couple-hood. However, I won’t argue with werewolf noses. We’ll send a team to engage and remove.”
There was something wrong. Well, wronger than everything else. “Hold on, Count.” The dragon wasn’t flaming, circling, or attacking. It was hovering, head cocking back and forth.