Night's Favour (44 page)

“How do I know that you’ll return Adalia to me?”

“I thought we were being completely honest.”

One beat.
 
Two.
 
“How do I know that you’ll return Adalia to … to Ms. Kendrick?”

Excellent.
 
He understood the situation.
 
“Valentine, you don’t know.
 
You can’t know.
 
But please understand, as a mother — I have no desire to hurt Adalia.
 
But I will if I must, you must believe this.”

“I believe you.”

“Consider it an act of trust.”

“I’m not sure we’re real big on trust right now.
 
Maybe I can make a suggestion.”

“By all means.”
 
Elsie raised her eyebrows.
 
It was unusual for takeover targets to be this open to discussion.

“Sweeten the deal.
 
You say you’re going to make big cash money on this.
 
Make a deposit.
 
A gesture of good faith.”

“To you?”

“No.
 
To Ms. Kendrick.”

“Ah.
 
To compensate her for her trouble.”

“Yes.
 
That’ll buy some small measure of trust.”

Sam shook his head at her over the table.
 
He mouthed something at her, but she ignored it.
 
Elsie chewed the proposal over in her head for a little while.
 
“We can accommodate that.”

“Great.
 
You do that, and then I’ll come to you.”

“Of course.”

“Elsie.”

“Valentine.”

“Don’t fuck me around on this one.
 
I’m not in the mood.”

She stared at the phone.
 
“I’m not sure if you’re in the position to be in the mood or otherwise.”

A laugh came down the line.
 
“I really don’t think you know what this virus does.”

“I’ve seen the videos, Valentine.
 
We believe we have a suitable… suppressant.”

“I’m sure you believe you do.
 
Whatever.
 
Where and when?”

“Do you know what GPS co-ordinates are?”

“I’ve got Google Maps.”

“I have a set of co-ordinates here for you.
 
Don’t be panicked; it’s a section of forest out of the city.
 
There’s nothing there.”

“You want me to hike into the woods?
 
I love the smell of nature and all, but it’s hardly useful.”

“One of my subcontractors will collect you and take you to my facility.”

One beat.
 
Two.
 
“I think I’ve… worked with your subcontractors before.
 
They’re not very friendly.”

“Ah.
 
I see your point.
 
You’re concerned that you will be harmed.”

“I’m concerned that they’re going to want to fuck up my shit, yes.”

Elsie looked at Sam across the table.
 
“I will send my assistant to liaise with you instead, then.”
 
Sam’s eyes goggled at her.

“Your assistant.
 
Does he wear black?”

Elsie looked at Sam across the table, eying him up and down.
 
His mouth was open, but nothing came out.
 
“He’s wearing a fashionable blue suit right now, as it happens.”

“Just him?”

“Just him.”

“He doesn’t have ninja skills or a concealed knife?”

“I don’t believe so.
 
He’s handy with more administrative functions.”
 
Damn the man again.
 
He
was
likeable.
 
Perhaps there was a way — no.
 
There wasn’t a way — they’d worked this out before.

“What’s his name?”

“Sam.”

“Sounds made up.
 
Too boring to be real.
 
Not like Elsie.
 
That sounds like you could be on TV.”

“I think my Hollywood career is behind me, Valentine.
 
Be there.
 
At the co-ordinates.
 
Tomorrow.
 
Ten AM.”

“Why not today?”

“There are details I need to attend to.”

“Details.
 
Like silver bullets and soldiers.”

“Like gene sequencing equipment and scientists.”

“Ah.
 
No bullets?”

“I regret that there will be bullets.
 
Do you have a pen?”

“I can probably find one.
 
Why, you want a love letter?’

“For the co-ordinates.”

“Right.”
 
Everard was smart; he didn’t try and talk her around.
 
Elsie liked people who understood their position in things, the way the world worked, and how they needed to work together to get the right outcome.
 
It was a shame they hadn’t considered this earlier.
 
She recited a set of numbers off to him from memory.

He read them back to her on the phone.
 
“Got it.
 
Right.
 
Tomorrow.
 
Ten.
 
Ok.”
 
And like that, he hung up.

Elsie stared at the phone for a few moments longer, then pressed a button to turn it off.

“What!” said Sam.

“Relax, Sam.”

“I — relax!”

“He’s going to cooperate.”

“That’s easy for you to say.
 
You’re not going out there with, with a…”

“Say it.”

“With a werewolf!”

Elsie sighed.
 
“That’s a little melodramatic.”

“Like I said, that’s easy for you to say.”

“Sam.”
 
She looked at him over the table.
 
He wasn’t usually resistant to her ideas.
 
“You’ll be fine.
 
We have Adalia.”

“And he’ll have me.”

“He’s a programmer, for pity’s sake.
 
He’s not going to kidnap you in some freak revenge kick.
 
The worst thing you’ve got to worry about is getting a cold in the woods.”

Sam slumped back in his chair.
 
“Can I take Spencer?”

“I think that would be a bad idea.
 
I’m not confident that the good captain has been completely forthright with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think he needed to shoot Mr. Everard.”

“The man was hanging from his helicopter.”

“So he says.”

“You don’t believe him?”

“I don’t believe he’s unmotivated by revenge.
 
I believe that between Everard and Volk, a significant portion of Ebonlake has been put six feet under.”

“It makes you wonder.”
 
Sam stared out the window.
 
Elsie thought his expression was more glum than usual, but he’d get over it.
 
He always did.

“About what?”

“Why haven’t any of them turned?”

“They haven’t been infected.”

“Well, sure, but why not?
 
Why just Everard?”

“We can postulate.
 
The virus is most likely transmitted via body fluid, similar in nature to HIV.
 
It’s definitely not aerosolised transmission, or everyone would have it.
 
Perhaps it’s carried in the saliva, or perhaps it needs to be blood to blood.
 
We need a specimen to test.”
 
Elsie nodded at the piece of paper in front of her.
 
“We’re about to get one.”

“Everard’s the only one that’s been bitten?”

“Volk has a singular MO.
 
He stacks his victims like cordwood.”

“I read the report.”

“I think he doesn’t want to infect other people.”

“He doesn’t strike me as altruistic.”

“I don’t think he does it to save people, Sam.
 
I think he doesn’t want to share his power.”
 
Elsie looked out the window.
 
“Soon, we’ll have that power.
 
And then we can tie up the loose ends at our leisure.”
 
She looked over at Sam.
 
“Dress up warm.
 
Like I said, you don’t want to get a cold.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Val knew what he had to do before he’d finished the call with Elsie.
 
He’d taken the scrap of paper with GPS coordinates in front of him and pocketed it.
 
The discussion with the rest of them had been — well.
 
John had said he’d be crazy to go.
 
Carlisle had echoed the sentiment — she’d gone further and said they should grab Sam in some sort of eye-for-an-eye vendetta.
 
But it was Danny that had secured his course of action.

“Don’t go,”
 
she’d said.
 
But her eyes had pleaded with him to make the other choice.

As if there was any choice but one.

It’d been a long time since he’d felt in control.
 
His body was changing — for the better, there was no denying it, but it was like a series of mystery presents.
 
His life had been shifted off its reliable, predictable rails.
 
First he’d been fired — or suspended, the words made no difference — and then by getting caught up in this, whatever this was.
 
He’d made a new friend, grabbed a new life by the horns.
 
He’d fallen in love.

Ok — that last wasn’t so bad.
 
Sometimes being out of control was a good thing.
 

Danny.
 
She seemed tough and capable, in charge of her own life and living it her way — but when she’d told him not to go, he saw she was lost and alone.
 
Her daughter had been snatched, and no one could be tough enough for that.
 
Val had looked her in the eyes and agreed not to go.
 
The lie was the easier sin; he’d be able to live with it.
 
If she hated him for it —

Pack would do it for us
.

— then that was something he’d also be able to live with.
 
It’d be hard, but not as hard as carrying the burden of another dead child.
 
He’d do whatever it took to make sure Adalia came home.

They’d all agreed to sleep on it, but he’d already decided what to do.
 
He’d got up earlier than the rest of them, stepping outside alone before dawn had had a chance to colour the sky.
 
He’d left Danny's house without looking back, his steps taking him through the quiet streets, the predawn light giving a not-quite-real quality to the cars and buildings he walked past.
 
Val felt like he wasn’t there, that this wasn’t real, except — well, he felt more
alive
than he had in years.
 
Or ever.

The only people he passed were early morning joggers, trying to bounce away those calories.
 
He’d never been a member of their religion, and — he looked down at himself — he knew he hadn’t earned the body he walked in.
 
It was a tremendous gift, but it wasn’t his by any right or fairness.
 
It was a currency, shored up to pay a debt.
 
It was time to go pay up.

Volk — now there was a guy.
 
Val didn’t know why they’d leapt at each other, but something inside him had —

Maker.
 
Father.
 
Betrayer.

— twisted at the sight of him, and he knew the same was true of the other man.
 
A common enemy had stopped them before, but next time — well.
 
Val didn’t like to fight, it had made him feel sick and scared before; even watching it on TV wasn’t something he could do.
 
None of that mattered when it came to Volk; something just took over.

His mouth twisted in a half-smile.
 
When it came to Volk, it’d be on like Donkey Kong.

Not that it was going to matter.
 
By the end of today, he didn’t expect to be in a position to care.
 
He didn’t know where Volk had gone, but he was off the radar for now.
 
There were bigger problems to solve.
 
Val put his hand in his pocket, the paper crinkling against his fingertips.
 
A month ago, he wouldn’t have been able to tell crafted paper from regular run of the mill pulp, not by touch anyway.
 
Now he could feel the texture of the paper, the fibres that had been pressed together to make it.

A diner up ahead was opening up for the day, light spilling out onto the sidewalk.
 
He’d need some food to keep going — Val patted his stomach, flat and hard.
 
A month ago, it’d been round, soft from long nights with a bottle for company.
 
His new body wanted food, and lots of it.
 
He pushed through the door to the diner, nodding to the girl behind the counter.
 
“Yeah, look.
 
Do you have a big breakfast?”

“Sure do.
 
Eggs, bacon, hash browns, mushrooms, tomatoes —”

“Great.
 
I’ll have three.”

“Three eggs?”

“No.
 
Three breakfasts.”

The girl behind the counter goggled at him.
 
“Sir, they’re quite big.”

“How big?”
 
Val tapped on the counter.
 
“Like the size of a Labrador?”

She giggled, then caught herself.
 
“More like the size of a cat.”

“I could eat a horse.
 
So best give me four.”

She nodded.
 
“Coffee with that?”

“As much as you’ve got.
 
Keep it coming.”
 
Val pulled out some cash as she rang up the order, then went to grab a seat.
 
The diner was empty aside from him, the newspapers on the tables crisp and unused.
 
It wasn’t often you got to read the paper first in a place like this — by the time he got out of bed and shook off the booze, the papers were folded inside out, a jumbled mess of articles and grease marks.
 
Today he’d get to read the news in his own time.
 
It’d be an hour or so to get to where he needed to be, which left plenty of time for breakfast.