Wolf's Deal: A Nick Lupo Novella (The Nick Lupo Series)

by W. D. Gagliani

  Lupo’s head tilted. “They?”

  “They gave me tests. Uh, should I have my gun, Lupo?”

  “You want it?”

  “Nahh, I’m not the Lone Ranger. No silver bullets. I’m not really s-sure what I saw. Can’t be what I think it is. I’m… fucked up. Asshole really fuckin’ shot me?”

  “Yeah, he did. Who is they, Charlie?”

  The big man was indeed slipping, even though his bleeding had clearly stopped. Get here soon, people.

  “Bastards…” Charlie fumbled in his jacket pocket.

  Lupo tensed, the Creature suddenly ready to manifest and pounce. But Charlie was only pulling out a cell phone. “Relax, Lupo…” It slipped from his fingers and slid to the floor. He finally gripped the phone in a shaky hand and slid it across the cement to Lupo’s feet. “Open it and look at the photo that pops up.” He groaned. The pain was clearly intensifying, even without the bleeding.

  Lupo picked up the phone and saw a photo of what he assumed was Bear’s family, standing in their driveway. “So?”

  Charlie’s eyes focused again and now his words weren’t slurred, as if he’d hit a patch of instant clarity.

  “It was taken today – those are the clothes they were wearing this morning. Note that it’s a text message that included it without any text. I didn’t take it, I been at the casino the past forty-eight hours.”

  “Someone’s threatening you?”

  Bear nodded once, wincing. “They reached out to me again right after the first murder hit the news, asking me to provide a service, as they called it, for some sort of financial reward, sure. Man, I don’t even know how they got my name. They wanted me to report on you, give them information on you like they already knew you’d catch this case… But I refused, and they started dropping threats. I blew it off, but now— this is the worst. I think there’s someone at my house, parked outside. They’re going to punish me for not doing what they wanted.”

  The part about someone trying to get eyes on him hit Lupo like a sledgehammer. He digested it. Then: “So why would you risk your family?”

  “Cause it ain’t right, you know? And I think you’re on the right side. I… I think the people interested in you are the same people behind those mercenaries you and your friends took out up in Vilas.” He half-shrugged, winced. “And I don’t like being pressured. As soon as we’re done here, I’m heading home and I’m gonna get the bastard who’s threatening my family.”

  “Assuming you don’t bleed out, what’s to say they won’t know or find out you didn’t fulfill your side of the bargain?”

  “I’m a casino guy. I’ll roll the dice.”

  “You need a hospital. Ambulance. Ashley was runnin’, so they’ll be here any minute.” He didn’t bother to mention that she was trying to save the asshole behind them.

  “I can hold it together until I make sure my wife and kids are fine. The question is, what do we do right now? Do I got to shoot you to get away from here?” Now there was a gun muzzle squarely aimed at Lupo’s chest. As bad as Charlie looked, the muzzle didn’t waver.

  A back-up piece. He kept me talking, got his hand on it.

  Lupo thought fast. If Wolfpaw was surveilling him, then as long as Jessie was with him or at his home, she was in the sights of the assholes, too. Lupo had just as much reason to disengage from this scene and head home.

  “You’re free to go, Charlie,” Lupo said. “But you might want to wait until the reinforcements get here so you get patched up before checking on your family.”

  Charlie’s gaze started to waver again, and so did the gun barrel. He shrugged, more painfully this time. “Ah, fuck it.” He lay the pistol on his lap. Closed his eyes.

  Lupo looked at the remains of The Archer, the weaselly-looking guy who’d taken out a couple human beings – and once again contributed to Lupo’s tightrope walk over the ethical abyss his life had become.

  But there had been some kind of twisted, outsized hate burning there, with no regrets, no remorse, no redemption possible. Lupo’d had no choice but to allow the Creature to execute the bastard, so even if Lupo’s hybrid DNA had invaded his bloodstream he wouldn’t find himself howling during the next full moon.

  Thank fucking God they can’t come back from the dead.

  Still, Lupo grimaced.

  Fucked up again anyway, didn’t I?

  A hasty decision, leading to a massive clean-up effort and questionable results. And another line crossed, another mistake to cover up. He’d had a big one recently, and here he was again, with a similar scenario… but this time also a witness. An unreliable witness, sure, but still a witness. This thought brought up the uncomfortable question that started its rattling in the back of his brain but quickly moved forward.

  Could he trust Charlie Black Bear?

  The tall Indian seemed to have returned from wherever he’d been momentarily. His eyes wide open now, he stared feverishly at Lupo, the pistol once again pointed at him.

  Bear said, weakly: “Maybe we can work this out between us.”

  Lupo felt his nakedness now, almost as though he’d been stripped of secrets as well as his clothing. He just didn’t know the extent of the problem. Had Charlie seen him change and kill The Archer? Or had he known about it, the change, before? And how could Charlie Black Bear really have known before, unless he was telling the truth about somebody having clued him in, trying to maneuver him into keeping an eye on Lupo? Threatening him to do it, as he claimed?

  There were so many disturbing levels to what Charlie had revealed. The main thing was that someone was paying attention to Nick Lupo – not the cop Nick Lupo, but the werewolf Nick Lupo. Of this he was suddenly certain

  As certain as the fact that there was a sour fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

  Over in the corner, the ghost of Sam Waters nodded in agreement.

  Lupo snorted – a yes-man ghost, or did the specter actually know something?

  And just the fact that I’m wondering this must mean I’m losing my mind.

  Jesus, how did everything get so complicated?

  He had to wonder again about his kind. How many were there?

  Who’d even known there were any others of his kind? His entire youth and most of his adulthood he had never crossed paths with another werewolf. Apparently there were people who knew, people who cared, and people who used the knowledge to their advantage. Maybe it was many people.

  And these people were not above murder, as his experience with the Wolfpaw mercenaries had proven. And now.

  Lupo sighed, but inside he was shuddering. “What do you have in mind?”

  Bear tried to grin, but the pain was evident in his drawn features and he failed. “Look, from what I can tell, you’re one of the good guys.” He paused to groan. He closed his eyes momentarily. “The people who want you, they seem to know way more than I do about you. To my cop’s sense, they’re the bad guys. We could end this very messy right now. But I… I propose a truce.”

  Then Lupo flinched as Charlie suddenly emptied the pistol into The Archer’s body from where he lay.

  The slugs whistled past him, barely inches away. They wouldn’t have killed him, but Charlie didn’t know that. Still… Good thing he’s a good shot even when half-dead.

  Charlie grinned weakly. “Look, the Archer dude’s dead. This gun can’t be traced to me, take it with you. Get out now. Say I saved the reporter lady just before he could waste her while she was splattered on the target. Then all I know is he hit me with this fuckin’ arrow, bolt, whatever, and somebody else came out of the shadows over there and shot the fucker right after that. They had a guard dog or a fuckin’ fighting pit bull and the goddamn dog mauled the corpse. Hell, I kinda think that’s exactly what I saw. So then I get bandaged up when your friend brings the cavalry, and then I go get my family out of trouble. That’s all I care about right now…”

  Lupo stood still, assessing the offer. The sweet, peppery smell of cordite was still in the air, swirling above them. �
��You think your story’ll hold up?”

  “Hell, I’m not even sure I know what I saw. I’m fading in and out right now. I don’t have the gun, after you ditch it. They’ll have nothin’. But you gotta get goin’.”

  Lupo nodded. He’d have to find Jessie and send her back north fast, in case they were gunning for them both. After he made sure to show up at the scene, clothed again and much too late, long after Charlie.

  “Trust?”

  “Works both ways.”

  “Hope we can work together someday, Lupo. We’ll pretend none of this ever happened, right? Wipe the slate.” His voice hitched and he coughed, the spasm causing him to hiss in pain. He gasped. “Work for you?”

  Lupo nodded again. But before he could respond more clearly his attention shifted. From off to their right an almost translucent Sam Waters was pointing insistently at his own wrist.

  Jesus. Do ghosts wear watches?

  Okay. He’d walk away and return to lead the mop-up at the crime scene, Charlie Bear would check on his family if he could manage to walk, they’d find The Archer dead – perhaps victim of a mysterious accomplice. There were plenty of prints on the bolts, on the weapon itself. There would be no doubt the dead guy was The Archer.

  Lupo sighed. It was messy, very messy. Maybe they’d figure out why the asshole had snapped and started killing casino workers and maybe they wouldn’t, but Lupo’s corner of this would stay in the dark. Bear’s would, too.

  They heard sirens, loud and getting louder fast.

  Lupo waved and edged toward the same way he’d entered. Bear smiled crookedly and his head lolled to the side a little.

  A few minutes later, Ashley arrived with an ambulance and with Jessie and her medical bag in tow, and a convoy of flashing, beeping squad cars led by a grim DiSanto, ever ready to provide the cavalry’s arrival. DiSanto was a great guy to bring up reinforcements – he’d done it before and he had a Napoleonic aura as he led the way into the warehouse, Glock at the ready. Ashley’s face fell when she realized her scoop was beyond help, but she rallied quickly when she saw a new victim she could interview.

  Nick Lupo waited a few moments and made sure he himself arrived appropriately out of breath with his clothes rumpled and stained – no trick there – his own unfired piece drawn. He grabbed Jessie in a tight hug before letting her attend to Charlie as the paramedics stood by, deferring to her take-charge attitude and title.

  “Where were you?” Lupo whispered in her ear before letting her go. Jessie gave him a wink as she knelt next to Charlie and turned serious. He wasn’t going to get the story now. He realized that, and part of him suppressed a tiny barb of rage.

  He was glad to see her handle Charlie like the pro she was, and soon they had him stabilized and on a gurney heading for the double doors of the waiting red and white bus.

  Then the antenna-festooned caravans with numerals and call sign letters painted on their sides arrived by the dozen to tell of The Archer’s death.

  Ashley didn’t have her interview, but the scoop was hers anyway and she smiled as if none the worse for wear. She went live, wearing her fear-edged rumpled look like a badge of honor. What victim? Lupo wondered.

  The circus started.

  LUPO

  The circus had been over for a couple days. They were in Jessie’s cottage on Circle Moon Drive, a low fire snapping in the hearth.

  “I hear them sometimes,” Jessie said. Wind whispered through the pines and firs that surrounded it all the way down to the water’s edge, where a soft current kissed the bank. Leaves rustled as the air rippled the upper branches of the trees outside, and from inside Lupo couldn’t help but think of David Lynch.

  “Who?”

  She was quiet, their argument still bubbling between them. It was just slot machines, Nick! Yeah, but you disappeared and left your phone in the car! So what? Could have been you on that target! But it wasn’t! And around.

  Now there was peace, but uncomfortable. Chill, like outside.

  “I don’t know who they are. Ghosts, maybe. People who’ve passed through the house as owners, or guests. I hear them from upstairs and they’re gathered around the bar, except I know there’s no one there.”

  Lupo shivered involuntarily. He felt the fine hairs on his neck stand up.

  “There’s no one there, see,” she continued. “I mean, it’s not the neighbors who dropped in or anything, not people, and I know the door is locked, but I can’t go down there because I’m afraid I’ll see them anyway. And if I see them, I’m afraid they’ll see me.”

  Ghosts.

  Jessie sipped her cooling coffee, trying to warm the mug with both hands. Maybe trying to warm up in that sudden North Woods chill. She knew about the Wolfpaw probe of Nick, now, and they’d argued about that, too.

  Lupo stared off to the side. He wondered what Jessie would say if he told her that Sam Waters – dead Sam Waters, killed by his own impetuous shotgun blast on that damned beach not far away – that Sam Waters was right now sitting on the motionless rocking chair in the corner, nodding at him and smiling grimly.

  Agreeing with her.

  He decided not to tell her.

  Now Lupo shivered in the chill, too.

  EPILOGUE

  CHARLIE BLACK BEAR

  His wound hurt like a sonofabitch, but the EMTs that came with the police after the doctor – she was Lupo's woman-friend, wasn’t she? What had gone on there? – had done a good job with the damage the bolt had caused. The projectile hadn’t hit the femoral as they’d first thought. Barely missed it, but he’d bled like a bastard anyway. He had been told to stay, but had taken leave of the hospital when he was convinced he wouldn't bleed to death anytime soon. They would have restrained him, but he sneaked past the nurses’ station during the media commotion. The ruckus was his cover. He was bandaged, tourniqueted, IVed, and hopped up on morphine. And still the pain throbbed almost unbearably both when he limped and when he didn't. But he was mobile enough; right now that was all that counted. He’d yanked the lifelines and melted out a fire stair door before anyone could notice.

  He pulled into his driveway and left the car on, popped open his door and lurched out, staggering more than a little. Wincing as the pain lanced through him.

  Stopping to look, he saw the front door ajar. His hair stood on end and for a moment he felt none of the pain, but a deep sense of dread like none he had ever felt before.

  He fumbled out his Glock and made the walk to his front door, one of the longest walks he had ever been determined to finish. His dread trumped pain and he no longer felt anything at all, at least not physically.

  The door being ajar, that was the problem. His wife and kids would never have left it that way, not even in the midst of a tornado warning.

  That door told him more than he wanted to know, and somehow also not enough.

  The voice on the phone, the odd requests, the photograph as threat. All those ran through his head now, but now it was too late.

  He reached the door and nudged it open with the gun barrel, hearing nothing inside. He stepped over the threshold and immediately skidded on the slick blood lake that covered the hardwood floor.

  By the time he regained his balance and saw what had been left for him, the screaming had begun. Only after his voice failed did he realize the screams had been his.

  He sank to his knees in the blood of his butchered family and wept.

  The End

  *

  About the Author

  W.D. Gagliani is the author of the horror/crime thriller WOLF’S TRAP (Samhain Publishing) – a past Bram Stoker Award nominee, as well as WOLF’S GAMBIT (47North), WOLF’S BLUFF (47North), WOLF’S EDGE (Samhain), WOLF’S CUT (Samhain), and the upcoming WOLF’S BLIND (Samhain, late 2015). Gagliani is also the author of the hard-noir thriller SAVAGE NIGHTS (Tarkus Press), the story collection SHADOWPLAYS, the novella THE GREAT BELZONI AND THE GAIT OF ANUBIS, and the holiday-themed short story e-books “The Christmas Wolf,” “The Christmas Zombie,” an
d “The Christmas Mummy,” and “The Christmas Vampire.”

  Since 1998, Gagliani has published numerous short stories in various anthologies such as ROBERT BLOCH’S PSYCHOS, UNDEAD TALES, MORE MONSTERS FROM MEMPHIS, THE MIDNIGHTERS CLUB, THE ASYLUM 2, WICKED KARNIVAL HALLOWEEN HORROR, THE BLACK SPIRAL, ZIPPERED FLESH 2, MASTERS OF UNREALITY, DARK PASSIONS: HOT BLOOD 13, MALPRACTICE: AN ANTHOLOGY OF BEDSIDE TERROR, SNAFU: AN ANTHOLOGY OF MILITARY HORROR, SNAFU: WOLVES AT THE DOOR, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES: VORACIOUS IN VEGAS, and THE X-FILES: TRUST NO ONE (the last eight with frequent collaborator David Benton), and more, including online and print publications such as SPLATTERPUNK ZINE, DEAD LINES, and the early e-zines HORRORFIND and THE GRIMOIRE.

  A collection of some collaborations between David Benton and W.D. Gagliani, MYSTERIES & MAYHEM (Tarkus Press), is available for Kindle and all other formats. Five of their collaborative short stories are included, as well as one solo short story from each author, and a bonus guest short story.

  The author has also written book reviews, articles, and interviews published since 1985 in venues such as THE MILWAUKEE JOURNAL SENTINEL, CHIZINE, CEMETERY DANCE, HORRORWORLD, PAPERBACK PARADE, CINEMA RETRO, HELLNOTES, FLESH & BLOOD, BOOKPAGE, BOOKLOVERS, THE SCREAM FACTORY, HORROR MAGAZINE, SF CHRONICLE, BARE BONES, and others. His nonfiction has also been published in the classic Writers Digest book ON WRITING HORROR (edited by Mort Castle), THEY BITE! (edited by Jonathan Maberry and David Kramer), and in the Edgar Award-nominated THRILLERS: THE 100 MUST READS (edited by David Morrell & Hank Wagner), published by Oceanside for the International Thriller Writers. In October 2011, The Writer magazine published his article on writing werewolf epics.

  His interests include old and new progressive rock, synthesizers and electronic music, weapons, history (including alternate history, secret history, and steampunk), military history, movies, book reviewing, and plain old reading and writing. He is an Active member of the Horror Writers Association (HWA), the International Thriller Writers (ITW), and the Authors Guild. He lives and writes in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Find him at his website (www.wdgagliani.com), on Facebook (www.facebook.com/wdgagliani) and on Twitter (@WDGagliani). He loves to hear from readers.