Night's Favour (22 page)

They tumbled together, crashing through a wall leading into one of the wards’ rooms.
 
A woman screamed.
 
Regular beds, curtained for privacy.
 
Machines.
 
People.
 
Plaster dust floated around them, sticking in red and grey to Val’s wrist.
 
They broke apart, and Val scrambled through the dust, his fingers catching —
yes!
—
something
.
 
He held the metal tray in both hands, and swung it edge-first into the janitor.
 
The dust gave him a split second’s advantage, the edge of the tray hitting the other man in the side of the head.
 
He swung again and again, blood flecking the curtains around them.

With a hollow gong, the janitor bashed the tray out of Val’s hands, reaching for his throat.
 
He roared, the sound primal.

No man should make that sound —

The first gunshots broke out.
 
The staccato of weapons fire sounded like — what had Carlisle said?
 
She’d called it a
firefight
.
 
Val stared at the janitor, holding his eyes for a few heartbeats.

“So.”
 
The man spoke thickly accented English.
 
“
Oni prixodjat dlya vas
.”
 
He stepped back from Val, and they circled each other in the dust.
 
“Or for me.”
 
He ran a hand, the arm thick with muscle, through his greasy hair.
 
“You and I.
 
We will finish this another time,
da
?”

And then he was gone — running out of the ward.

Fight.
 
Kill!

Val’s heart was pounding in his chest.
 
He looked around, took in the frightened faces of the people around him.
 
Listened to the gunshots.
 
Then —

“Fuck.
 
Danny!”
 
He ran back out into the corridor, checking the rooms quickly.
 
More faces had appeared at the entrances to the wards, but he didn’t see her —
there
.

Pack mate.

Danny was crouched down behind a bed, a man standing unsteadily in front of her.
 

“Val?”

The voice made him do a double-take.
 
“John?
 
My God!
 
John!”
 
He stepped forward, grabbing John in a bear hug.

“Easy!
 
Easy tiger.”
 
John pushed him back.
 
“I don’t have any underwear on, you know?
 
Also, my ribs hurt.”

Val held him at arm’s length, the grin coming easy.
 
Then he let go, coming around the bed.
 
Danny and Val looked at each other, then he reached down and grabbed her into a hug.
 
“I’m so sorry.”
 
He held the back of her head.
 
“I should have stayed with you.”

She hugged him back then her hands pushed — gently — against his chest.
 
“It’s ok.
 
Valentine.
 
Seriously.
 
What the hell’s going on out there?”

The gunfire was louder now, and they could hear screaming too.
 
They listened as the hammering of weapons came from the direction of the emergency waiting room.

Val held his hands out, palms forward.
 
“Ok.
 
I’ll — shit.
 
There’s not a lot of time.
 
Short version.”

John nodded, fumbling for some crutches.
 
“Short version’s good.
 
Where the hell are my pants?”

“I came here.
 
From the police station.
 
Some assholes shot up the place.
 
There was a cop with me.”

“Great.
 
Get him —”

“Her.”
 
Danny raised an eyebrow at him, but he pretended not to see it.
 
“Carlisle.
 
I’m pretty sure she’s one of the good guys.”

“Like I said, great.”
 
John found some pants, wincing as he pulled them on.
 
“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.
 
Get her, and let’s get out of here.”

Something very loud exploded from the direction of the waiting room.
 
The could hear the sounds of falling masonry in the brief lull.
 
Then they heard a roar.

“What the fuck was that?”
 
Danny's eyes were wide.

“I — look, I don’t know.”
 
Val risked sticking his head around the corner of the ward door.
 
“It’s clear.
 
We’ve got to get out of here.”
 
He reached a hand towards Danny.
 
She took it.

“Sure, help the girlfriend.
 
Nothing for your old buddy John.”
 
John had managed to get his pants on now, hastily buttoning up his fly.

Val glanced at Danny —

Pack mate
.
 

Then at John —
 

Pack.
 

“This is going to sound crazy, but you probably both should stay behind me.”

“You Rambo now?”
 
John was looking at the drip going into his arm.
 
“Aw, hell.
 
How do I get this off?”

Danny let go of Val’s hand, and moved up to him.
 
“John’s right.
 
We need a doctor to get this out.”
 

John started to say something, and Danny grabbed the needles and yanked them out.
 
“Fuck!
 
Christ!”
 
He looked at her.
 
“What did you do that for?”

“Don’t be a baby.
 
You’re not going to be able to run dragging an IV drip stand behind you.”

“Guys.”
 
Val looked at them both.

Pack is all
.

They both paused, looking up at him.
 
His throat felt tight.
 
“Guys, I’m going…
 
I think something really bad is happening here.
 
We need to get Carlisle.”

“She’s a cop.”
 
John tugged on his shirt, a small yelp escaping him as he flexed his ribs.
 
“She can look after herself.”

“Last time I saw her, she was in surgery.”

John looked at him.
 
“Fair call.
 
So we get the cop.”

“No.”
 
Val looked at him.
 
“I’ll get Carlisle.
 
After I get the two of you out of here.
 
To the carpark, at least.”

“You can’t go this alone.”
 
Danny looked up at him, coming closer.
 
“We’re in this together.”

Val took a deep breath, then sighed.
 
“Ok.
 
I’m pretty new at this, but — whatever.
 
At least Carlisle should be able to sort out any parking tickets we have after this.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Mavis watched as men entered the emergency room reception.
 
She’d been behind this desk so long it seemed a vocation rather than a job.
 
In this waiting room, she’d seen relief, and despair.
 
Anger had sat in those chairs alongside hope.
 
And — like that nice young man, Mr. Everard — she’d seen love.
 
Never before had she seen a group of men walk in with
guns
.

Oh, of course she’d seen guns before.
 
Police carried guns, a part of their kit, alongside their black shoes and badges.
 
Police held guns with caution, the way her husband — God rest his soul — handled the rat he’d found in a trap years ago.
 
They could be dangerous.
 
No, these men carried their guns with a practiced ease, as if they were harmless — like they were carrying a stack of towels.

Only one of them didn’t carry a rifle of some kind.
 
He seemed a little smaller, but she expected that was just because he wasn’t wearing one of those ridiculous jackets.
 
A pistol sat on his hip.
 
She looked over the frames of her glasses at him as he came to the front of the desk.
 
He moved stiffly; she’d seen enough injured people come and go from here to know that he was carrying some pain in through that door with him.
 
Her intuition said he wasn’t here to check in, though.
 
He was here to check
on
something.
 
It was the way he looked around, the tilt of his head as he took in the people seated in the waiting room.
 
His glance never sat on any one thing for longer than a moment.

His men stood around him, but facing away, their backs to him — and to her.
 
They stared at the people in the room, their guns held across their chests.
 
Mavis felt a little shiver of —
heavens
— that was real fear she felt.
 
She’d felt something like that when the police had arrived at her door years ago, to tell her about her husband.
 
Still, her husband hadn’t chosen a woman to be coddled, and she’d wrapped up her courage around her like the shawl she’d worn to the door back then.

She gathered that courage around her again.
 
It’d have made it easier if she’d had a shawl with her now, but some things couldn’t be helped.
 
Mavis looked over the rim of her glasses at the man, and held up a board with a form clipped to the front.
 
She tried to clip a smile to her face at the same time.
 
Mavis leaned forward to offer it to him, covering her press of the silent alarm button.
 
It was always best to get security on to these matters as quickly as possible — nip any unpleasantness in the bud.
 
“Hello.
 
You’ll need to fill out a form, and then take a seat.
 
We don’t allow guns in here.”

“Ma’am.”
 
The man didn’t look at her, and ignored the board.
 
“We’re looking for a man.”

“Oh, there are rules.
 
We can’t divulge personal information —”

“Ma’am.
 
It’s my brother.”
 
He looked down at her.
 
“A family matter.
 
You know how it is.”

The smile slipped from Mavis’ face.
 
She put down the board.
 
“Of course, you must be terribly worried.
 
Your brother’s name is..?”

“Everard, ma’am.”
 
He pulled a photo out of his shirt pocket and held it out to her.
 
“I’ve got a recent photo of him.”

Everard.
 
Why, that nice young man had just left this very room.
 
She didn’t take the photo.
 
“I’m sure we haven’t admitted anyone by that name.
 
Do you have some ID, Mr. Everard?”

“He’s my brother by marriage.
 
You know how it is.”
 
A half smile tugged at the edge of the man’s mouth.
 
The smile didn’t reach his eyes; those eyes were flat and lifeless.
 
The last time Mavis had seen eyes like that, she’d been in the reptile house at the zoo.

Mavis looked up at him.
 
“Lovey, why don’t you and your… friends take a seat.
 
I’ll see if I can find any information on your brother.”

The man didn’t move.
 
He looked down at her name badge.
 
“Mavis, is it?
 
Mavis, can I tell you what I think?”

Mavis nodded.
 
“Of course, dear.”

“Mavis, I think you’re hoping that your hospital security will get here.
 
I really hope — for their sake, of course — that you haven’t called them.
 
My… friends here are very efficient at what they do.
 
Their job is to help me track down my wayward brother-in-law.
 
That’s all we want.
 
If we can find Mr. Everard, we can go on our way.
 
There’s no need for any fuss.”
 
He smiled that dead smile at her again.
 
“We’re good at getting what we want.”

She felt something cold lick at the bottom of her stomach, her heart beating hard.
 
“I… see.
 
Mr…?”

“You can call me Spencer.”

“Very well, Mr. Spencer.
 
I’d love to help, but really.
 
No one’s come in here by that name.”

Spencer placed the photo down on the counter, sliding it slowly closer to her on the desk between them.
 
His voice grew quiet, and he leaned in closer.
 
“My brother in law is a resourceful man.
 
This isn’t the first time we’ve tried to find him.
 
He often uses a different name.
 
Please.”
 
He tapped the photo with his index finger, almost gently.
 
“Take a look.
 
A close look.
 
A lot depends on this.”

Her eyes left his face, and she adjusted her glasses — Mavis only needed them for close work — as she looked at the photo.
 
It
did
look like that nice young man who’d been in here earlier.
 
She didn’t know what men like these would want with Mr. Everard, but it couldn’t be anything good.
 
She’d known their type ever since her first encounter with a schoolyard tyrant.