Night's Favour (13 page)

From up the street a group of thugs — all bodies now, still and cold in the morgue — came onto the screen, running towards Miles and Everard. They were surrounded, the inevitability of the situation clear to Carlisle.
 
She could see one of the thugs pushing Everard, and then Miles stepping up to help.
 
She could feel where the fight of it started, and noted how quickly it was over as Miles was knocked unconscious.

“I’m waiting for this to get interesting.”
 
She pushed a pile of DVDs aside, sitting herself on the table.

“Quiet.”
 
Elliot’s voice was hushed.
 
“It’s coming.”

They both watched as Everard was stabbed and then dragged himself off camera behind the bus shelter.
 
Elliot gestured at the screen with a remote control.
 
“It’s not easy to see here, but there’s an alley behind there.”

“That’s a fucking lousy place to not have CCTV, isn’t it?
 
A dark alley couldn’t be a more clichéd place to have shit going down.”

“I don’t install ‘em.
 
Wait.
 
Here it is.”

One of the thugs broke off from the group. It was hard to tell which one it was through the tumble and jumble of forms but Carlisle suspected it was the one who’d done the stabbing.
 
“This video quality is crap.
 
This is exactly why we can’t get prosecutions from these things — I can’t tell which one of those fools that is, and he could be carrying a Barbie Doll for all I know.”

Elliot didn’t reply, his attention fully on the screen.
 
That’s when Carlisle saw it.

“What the fucking fuck is that?”
 
She grabbed the remote control from Elliot, jamming a thumb onto the pause button.
 
The image froze, the creature clearly visible.
 
It was holding up one of the thugs by one hand, the CCTV catching a full view of it.
 
It was humanoid, standing taller than the thugs around it.
 
If it’d been a man, Carlisle would have said it was over four hundred and fifty pounds of lean muscle — not something to get in the ring with.
 
Shaggy hair draped its body.
 
But it wasn’t —
it can’t be!
— a man.
 
No man looked like that.
 
Unbidden, the vagrant’s words came back to him from this morning.
 
A wild man, he’d said.
 

“Thank God.”
 
Some of the tension seemed to blow out of Elliot.
 
“I was…
 
I was sure I was going mad.”
 
He took another drag from his cigarette.
 
“Even so — I’m not sure what’s worse.
 
Going mad, or having to work out what that —”
 
and he waved his cup at the screen “— is.”

Carlisle leaned closer to the screen.
 
“It’s some kind of animal.”

“That’s what I said at first.
 
What kind of animal is it?”

“I.
 
Um.”
 
Carlisle stood up.
 
“A wolf?”

“Right.
 
It’s the head that makes you think that, right?”

“Right.”

“How many wolves you seen with fucking hands, girl?
 
It’s got fucking hands!”
 
Coffee sloshed out of the sides of the cup as Elliot gestured, some of it running down his fingers.
 
“I had a friend once, owned a dog.
 
Cleverest fucking dog you’ve ever seen, could open a beer fridge and bring him a cold frosty.
 
He trained that dog to do all kinds of tricks. One of them was to walk on its hind legs.
 
It could do a few steps before it would fall back over.
 
Dog’s got no toes, right?
 
So just remember your wolf theory when you see the rest of it.”
 
He took the remote back from Carlisle, clicking a button.

They watched the rest of it in silence.
 
Saw the creature tear through the thugs, the ferocity of it clear even through the stilted images of the CCTV.
 
It was impossibly strong, impossibly fast.
 
Carlisle gestured for the remote.
 
“Lemme see that.”

Elliot handed it over.
 
“I’ve been through this thing frame by frame.
 
It’s not a trick, not some guy in a suit.”

“No, it’s not that.”
 
Carlisle fiddled with the remote for a few seconds until she found the rewind function.
 
“Just a hunch.
 
Bear with me.”

“Sure, whatever.
 
I’m going to get another coffee.
 
You want one?”

“What?
 
Oh.
 
Yeah.”
 
Carlisle hit the pause button, then turned to Elliot.
 
“Vince.”

“I know.”
 
Elliot was looking at his shoes.
 
“We probably shouldn’t talk to anyone about this.”

Carlisle nodded.
 
“Not just yet.
 
We want to find out what the fuck that thing is.
 
A story like this, without some evidence better than this Blair Witch shaky cam?
 
We’ll get busted back to walking a beat.
 
Also, you’ve probably had enough coffee.”
 
Elliot nodded, shuffling out.
 
The light streaming in through the open door seemed to be from another place — a reminder of just ten minutes earlier, before the world turned crazy.

Pulling a chair in front of the monitor, Carlisle skipped the video back until she found what she was after.
 
She played the segment through three times to be sure.
 
The creature had killed all the thugs without a qualm, that was clear.
 
The really curious part was how it had sniffed Miles’ unconscious body on the ground.
 
Carlisle froze the video again at that point.
 
She could see the creature clearly crouched over Miles, but it wasn’t attacking him.

“What the actual fuck.”
 
The idea was crazy — as crazy as anything in the last few minutes.
 
But the creature wasn’t attacking John Miles.

It was protecting him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Val wished John would answer his phone.
 
He’d lost his own phone somewhere along the way and had picked up a new one this morning.
 
It’d be bad coincidence if John had lost his phone too — what the hell had they been up to last night?
 
He really needed some advice.
 
It’d been a long time since he’d been on a date, but he remembered enough about it to know that turning up at her work around lunch time was a sure sign of desperation, so he was going to leave it a while longer.
 
Beyond that, he was lost.
 
Still, John wasn’t answering.

So, coffee.

He knew a little place, run by some Italians — they roasted their own beans, you could smell the place on the air before you got close enough to see it.
 
He hitched his pants up again.
 
It seemed crazy, but he was sure his pants were looser now than when he’d seen Barnaby Phillips in the morning.

No: that was definitely crazy.

Val reached the coffee shop, the doorframe chipped and peeling.
 
A little bell rang as he walked in the door, the smell of fresh brewed coffee hitting him. There were a few smells sent right from Heaven.
 
Baking bread.
 
Fresh mowed lawns.
 
Coffee.

“Oh hey, mister Everard!”
 
It was Tulip, the daughter of the owners.
 
She was running the register today.

“How you doing, Tulip?
 
How’s school?”
 
He walked towards the counter, eyeing up the food displayed in the glass-fronted cabinets.
 
Muffins went very well with coffee.

She made a face, pushing up her glasses.
 
“You sound like my Dad.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.
 
Just asking.
 
What about Robby, then?”

“We broke up.”

Val looked up from a tray of caramel slices.
 
“No way.
 
I thought you two were going to get married some day.
 
I’m sorry about that too.”

She giggled.
 
“Don’t be silly.
 
Anyway, it’s fine, I’ve got an exam this week.
 
The usual?”

Val nodded.
 
“Sure.
 
And could I grab one of those slices too?”

“Sure thing mister Everard.
 
Say, have you lost weight?”

“I guess.”
 
Val put some cash down on the counter as she bagged up the slice for him.
 
He’d always been interested that food that was bad for you was bagged just like porn — brown paper bags that you couldn’t see through.
 
That might be a sign of some kind, but he wasn’t going to get philosophical before he’d had his coffee.

Tulip rang up his order then started counting out his change.
 
He held up a hand.
 
“Don’t worry about it.”

She tilted her head a little.
 
“You sure?
 
You’ve got over ten dollars in change!”

“Yeah, I’m sure.
 
I know your Dad’s allowance doesn’t stretch that far these days.”

“Thanks, mister Everard.
 
You’re the best!”

As Val waited for his coffee, he stared out the small window of the coffee shop.
 
It’s possible that John was just busy today and not picking up his phone, but he’d usually send him a text in a break.
 
Whatever — he’d stop by the gym.
 
He needed to pick up some new clothes anyway, and his usual clothes store was nearby.
 
That way he could talk to John about tonight and get some advice on a good first date dinner venue.
 
He grabbed his coffee off the counter, waved to Tulip, and headed back out on the street.

☽ ◇ ☾

She looked at him over a magazine with a casual disdain he was used to.
 
It wasn’t just the way her eyes kept checking out his gut, or the way she chewed her gum, but how she wasn’t really paying attention to him.
 
Her name badge said Marcy.

Val tried for a smile anyway.
 
“Is John here?”

The gum popped, a small but perfect bubble breaking over glossed lips.
 
“John who?
 
We got a lot of Johns.”

Val kept the smile plastered on his face.
 
“John Miles.
 
He works here.”

She glanced up.
 
“John Miles?”
 

“That’s right.
 
You seen him today?”

“No.”
 
She looked back down at her magazine.

“Wait.
 
You haven’t seen him today, or he hasn’t been in today?”

She sighed with the gravity only a late teenager could muster.
 
“Haven’t seen him because he hasn’t been in.
 
Had a lot of his clients calling up.”
 
She looked at Val’s gut again.
 
“Are you one of his clients?”

“No, but —”

“Thank God.
 
I am so over taking his messages for him.”
 
She turned another page in her magazine.
 
It was some kind of gossip mag, with too-thin women doing things with too-fat men.

“Well, did he call?
 
Did he say why he wasn’t coming in?”

“No.”
 
She didn’t look up this time.

He was used to people looking past him because he was fat, but today it was important.
 
No one had seen John, he wasn’t answering his phone, and this tart was giving him attitude?
 
Val slammed his hand down over the counter on the surface of her magazine, making her start back in alarm.
 
Her name badge jiggled.
 
“For fu-“

A hand clamped down on his shoulder.
 
“Big man.”
 
A throaty chuckle followed the hand.
 
“How you doing?”

Val jumped a little, looking around.
 
It was John’s friend, Emilio.
 
Seeing the familiar face, Val’s anger drained away.
 
“Oh hey.
 
Emilio.”

“Say.
 
You remembered my name!
 
I wouldn’t have thought you had the blood sugar for that after yesterday’s workout.”

Val smiled.
 
“I don’t think we were introduced.”
 
He stood back slightly, and pointed at the badge on Emilio’s chest.
 
“Your name’s right there.”

The black man chuckled.
 
“It sure is, it sure is.
 
Say, you here for John?
 
He hasn’t come in today.”

The girl piped up.
 
“Em!
 
This asshole —”

“What?
 
He did what, Sandy?”

“Well, he banged the counter, and look what he did to my magazine!”

Emilio glanced out the window.
 
“I’d guess you probably deserved it again.”

“What?”
 
Her voice was up a few octaves.
 
“Get rid of him!”

“When did you get promoted to be my boss?
 
Besides, big man here —”

“Val.
 
Valentine.”
 
Val offered his hand.