Night's Favour (38 page)

The creature bounded back towards her and grabbed a car from the side of the street.
 
Its claws punched through the windshield and rear glass as it lifted it by the roof. Holding it over its head, it walked back over to her, holding the car above her.
 
She tried to move, but she still couldn’t use her legs properly.
 
Looking up, saw the engine bay of the car above her.

The sound that hit her ears then was like a chainsaw, impossibly loud.
 
Faster than she could imagine, holes appeared in the car above her, bullets from the helicopter’s gun tearing into the car.
 
Pieces of the vehicle were shearing off.
 
It roared its defiance as it held the car above her.
 
It fell to one knee, then shook its massive head.
 
With a mighty shrug of its shoulders it flipped the car through the air at the helicopter.
 
The pilot pulled the helicopter out of the way this time.
 
The creature looked at her, then bounded off to the side of the street, ducking into an alley between buildings.
 
Bullets tracked its progress across the ground, then chipped brickwork from the sides of the building where it crouched.
 
It stepped out briefly, tearing a mailbox from the concrete ground and throwing that at the helicopter before ducking back between the buildings.
 
The helicopter’s main light lit up, and it banked so the pilot could see down the alley.
 
The engine note of the helicopter changed, and the rotors chapped at the air as it gained height.
 
Tipping forward, it tracked above the alley after the thing.

Adalia
.

Danny clambered to her feet.
 
She still felt unsteady from the pain in her coccyx.
 
A quick glance told her that her car was a lost cause.
 
She stared back down the street, towards the rising smoke.
 
She needed to get down there.
 
It didn’t look far; she could walk it.

“Come on, Danny.”
 
She looked down on the ground, saw her dropped phone —

What the hell?

The ground around where she’d been sitting was torn, pitted, a hundred little craters from bullets marking the ground.
 
There was a small patch of unmarked ground where she’d been sitting.
 
Where the creature was, there were wet marks on the tarmac.
 
She reached down and touched a spot with one hand; her hand came away red.
 
Danny pocketed her phone and limped towards where the thrown car had landed.
 
It was shredded, holes through every part except the hood she’d been staring up at.
 
The engine inside had stopped the rounds, protecting her from being riddled with bullets.
 
It wanted to stop her going back up the street, but then it had run off —

It held the engine above me
.

She looked between the torn car and the alley, then back at the lines scored onto the ground.

It was leading the danger away
.

Danny walked gingerly towards the smoke, taking the footpath.
 
She passed bodies where they’d landed, saw a baby’s pram out the corner of one eye —
don’t look don’t look don’t look
— and made her way out to a clearing of sorts.
 
A van was on the side of the road, the back torn off it.
 
Flames licked out of the van’s engine bay and dirty smoke rose to the sky above her.
 
Street lights cast their orange glow across the scene.
 
From far away she could hear sirens and the chatter of guns.
 
Bodies were scattered around, dead soldiers torn and tossed aside.
 
The occasional colourful splash of non-military clothing told the tale of a fallen civilian.

Valentine
.
 
Where was he?

She pulled out her phone.
 
It still worked despite the crack in the phone’s glass, and she pulled up Valentine’s details.
 
She dialled the number, and waited for it to be connected.
 
The ringing surprised her; she could hear her phone’s speakers ringing at the same time as the sound of a phone ringing nearby.
 
She cut off the connection and the other phone stopped ringing.

Danny stared at the phone in her hand for a long time.
 
She looked around her at the bodies.
 
Then she redialled Valentine’s number.
 

The other phone started ringing again.
 
She walked slowly around a car, and saw a pile on the ground.
 
Scraps of bloody tartan, with a — she poked through the pile — Ralph Lauren label.
 
What used to be some jeans, ripped and torn.
 
And a phone.
 
Her photo was flashing up on the screen, the caller ID identifying her not as Danny Kendrick but as
Drop everything and answer!

A sad smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

She crouched down, leaning her back against the car.
 
She felt so tired.
 
She looked through the tattered clothes again, her eyes spotting a glint of metal.
 
She reached for it, pulling up a tiny cylinder with a domed head.
 
It was a bullet.

A silver bullet.

She leaned forward, scrabbling through the bits of cloth.
 
She found a handful of silver bullets, scattered and fallen in amongst Valentine’s clothes.

No
.
 
Her hand covered her mouth.
 
It couldn’t be
.
 
Danny had been with Valentine at the hospital as that creature had torn up the place.
 
He couldn’t be that thing.
 
Not unless —

Not unless what, Danielle?
 
It was simple.
 
It was impossible.

Not unless there were two.
 
What had John said?
 
“
Are they hunting werewolves or something?
”

They were trying to hunt Valentine.
 
That thing in the street back there, it was Valentine, she was sure of it.
 
It had tried to protect her, it had shielded her from being shot, before it —
Valentine
, she corrected herself — before Valentine had run off, drawing them away.
 
He’d been so badly shot, the blood matting over his fur, covering the pavement beside her.
 
It could only be Valentine. He was protecting her from them, after he’d tried to get Adalia from them.

She didn’t know who
they
were yet, but she was sure that they had —
my baby
— her daughter.

Danny scooped up Valentine’s phone, wallet, and after a moment’s thought, the silver bullets.
 
She needed to get out of here.
 
She could still hear the sirens, and sooner or later she’d be caught up answering police questions.
 
She didn’t have the time for that, not with Adalia and Valentine out there.
 
Danny needed police help, but she couldn’t get that inside an interrogation room.
 
If she could get back to Carlisle, she was sure she could explain all this —
look, Carlisle, Valentine’s a werewolf and mysterious black suited soldiers have taken my daughter, could you make some calls?
— well.
 
She could try.

Danny looked around, spotting a car with its door hanging open.
 
The front was knocked in a little, and she saw that it had collided with another car.
 
They were sitting in the intersection, but their occupants — and the story behind the crash — were long gone.
 
She hopped inside, finding the keys in the ignition, and started it up.
 
The fan belt screeched at her as she gunned the car down the street, heading for home.

☽ ◇ ☾

Danny sat hunched on her couch, the blanket pulled close around her.
 
She gripped a mug of scotch in her hands with the same white-knuckled intensity she’d held a steering wheel an hour ago, rocking back and forth a little.

“What?”
 
John looked at her, then burst out laughing.
 
The laughter faded as she didn’t join in.
 
“Holy shit.
 
You’re not joking.”

“I’m not joking.
 
And I wasn’t talking to you.”

Carlisle cleared her throat.
 
“Let me try.
 
What?”

“Like I said.
 
It’s too hard to explain any other way.
 
Valentine’s a werewolf.
 
There’s a bunch of soldiers out there.
 
They’ve grabbed Adalia, and Valentine’s caught up in it somehow.
 
Melissa,
please
.
 
They’ve got my baby.
 
We’ve got to go get her!”
 
Danny sipped at the scotch, the fire of the drink hitting her.
 
She needed Dutch courage right now, something to stop her hands shaking.

“I —”
 
Carlisle sat down.
 
“Yes.”

John did a double take with his head.
 
“What?
 
Look, Melissa, she’s been knocked about, maybe a hit on the head.
 
She’s not making —”

“She’s making perfect sense.”
 
Carlisle reached for the bottle of scotch, pouring herself a generous two fingers and slamming it back.
 
“Vince showed me something.
 
A surveillance tape of when you and Everard were…”

“You can say it.”

“Mugged.”

“Right.
 
So what was on the tape?”

“Nothing I can explain.
 
Not soldiers.
 
But something.”

“Something?
 
What the fuck is something?”

“Ok, it’s not something.
 
It was definitely a werewolf.
 
Huge.
 
Fur.
 
Claws.”

“You didn’t think to bring this up before?”
 
John’s voice was rising and he got out of his chair, pacing the room.
 
“Why?”

“I didn’t believe it myself.
 
The tape was blurry.”

“How blurry did it have to be to not make out a fucking werewolf?”

“Look, I —”
 
Carlisle refilled her scotch glass.
 
Danny watched her, sipping from her own again.
 
“He saved your life.”

“What?”

“He killed the muggers.”

“Val?
 
Val wouldn’t kill a fly.
 
He’s not wired that way.”

“It doesn’t matter.”
 
Danny's voice was hoarse —
my baby, they’ve got Adalia, my little girl
.
 
She looked at John. “We’re wasting time.
 
Do you want me to say you were right?”

“Right?”
 
John ran a hand through his hair.
 
“About what?”
 

“At the hospital.
 
You said they were hunting werewolves.”

“I was making a joke.
 
I don’t want to be right.
 
I want you to make sense.”
 
He stuck a hand in his pocket for his phone.
 
“I’m calling a cab.
 
Going to go down there, take a —”

The plink as the bullets hit the coffee table cut him off.
 
Danny was dropping the silver bullets one after the other next to the bottle of scotch.
 
“I found these in his clothes.”
 
She tossed his wallet on the table after them, then Valentine’s phone.
 
“And his wallet.
 
Phone.
 
Just bloody clothes.
 
They shot him with silver.”

John looked at the small pile underneath her on the couch.
 
“But —”
 
He looked lost, his voice small.
 
“They shot him?”

“Yeah.”
 
And took my little girl.

“Christ.”
 
John looked at her, then at Carlisle.
 
“Melissa.
 
We’ve got to find him.”

“You believe us now?”

“No.
 
But Val?
 
He’s my friend.
 
My best friend.”
 
John swallowed.
 
“I remember what the silver did to his hand.
 
Aller…
 
What was it?

“Allergic dermatitis.”
 
Danny nodded.
 
“I think it’s a bit worse than that.”

“Whatever.
 
Allergic dermatitis.
 
I don’t care if you crazy bitches think he’s a werewolf or not.
 
But if he’s been shot?
 
With these?”
 
John shuffled a foot through the bullets on the ground.
 
“We got to help him.”

Scotch sloshed into Carlisle’s glass again.
 
John snagged the bottle from her.

Carlisle glared.
 
“Hey.”

“Focus.
 
What do we do next, Melissa?”

“I think it’s obvious.”

“For those of us without your excellent Police training.”
 
John crossed his arms.
 
“Enlighten the masses.”

“Sure.”
 
Carlisle tipped the last of the scotch from her glass into her mouth.
 
“They’ve taken Adalia because they want a hostage.
 
We don’t need to find your daughter.
 
We need to wait for them to call.”