The Night's Champion Collection: A supernatural werewolf thriller trilogy

by Richard Parry

  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.

  “Right.” Emilio’s return grip was strong. “Val here is going to do a workout with me. I tell you what, Sandy. You go get a glass of water. Calm down some. We don’t need to say anything more about this. We certainly don’t need to tell anyone you’re wearing Marcy’s name badge again, do we?”

  Sandy looked down at her chest, the movement quick and involuntary. Staring daggers at Emilio, she got up from behind the counter, throwing Marcy’s name badge on the desk. She then turned without another word and walked through a door, the sprung hinge flapping the panel behind her.

  Emilio chuckled again. “I swear, we never should have hired that one. Got the work ethic of a narcoleptic.”

  Val laughed. “Sure. Thanks. Say, have you seen John?”

  “Well, no. He’s not come in today.” Emilio rubbed his chin. “Didn’t you guys go out for a celebratory drink last night?”

  “Yeah.” Val shuffled one of his feet. “I don’t remember what happened.”

  “No shit. I’ve had nights like that too. Ain’t no thing, Val. John, he’ll be throwing up into whatever he can find about now. You, on the other hand, look like you could use a workout.”

  “A workout?”

  “Is there an echo in here? A workout. My client canceled last minute, so I’ve got a slot. On the house.”

  “Well, sure. But on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I need some advice too.”

  That booming laugh again. “Uncle Emilio will help you out, Val. Come this way. You can ask as many questions as you like, if you can still breathe.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Val chewed, thinking about the question that sat fat and heavy between them. It was almost visible to him, like the salt and pepper shakers or the rather excellent steak. He put down his knife and fork, and chased back his mouthful with the wine. It was a good sign they both liked the same wine.

  “C’mon. It’s not that hard of a question.” Danny eyed him over the top of her glass, an eyebrow raised.

  “The problem is, it’s got more than one answer, and that’s sort of like you getting two questions instead of one.”

  “It’s not my fault that your life’s so terribly complex you’ve got two jobs—” A shriek of over-loud laughter cut her off, a table of older women trying to relive their youth through a shared meal and too much wine. “Jesus. Anyway. It’s not my fault you’ve got two jobs.”

  “I didn’t say I had two jobs! I said I had two answers.”

  “Holy shit.” Danny put down her knife and fork.

  “What?”

  “Seriously. You’re embarrassed about it. That’s why.”

  “What? No! Anyway, you were embarrassed about your name.”

  “You totally are!” Danny grinned, picking up her knife and fork again. She sliced into her steak — she’d ordered the rib eye, leaving Val impressed that she was unafraid of getting steak caught between her teeth on the first date. “I don’t even care anymore. You said you liked my name. It’s you who hates your name.”

  “Danielle? I love your name. It’s you who cuts it down to a bite-sized portion. You try being a boy named Valentine at school — that’ll redefine your perspective.” Val puffed out his cheeks. “Okay. Here it is. I’m a bum.”

  She laughed at him. “Val’s not bite-sized? I like Valentine better. I thought you said you worked in computers? Anyway, I said I don’t care anymore.”

  “You burned up your question for an answer you don’t care about?”

  “I get a refund on that question.”

  “I gave you the answer!”

  “You gave me an answer, after I didn’t care anymore.” She pointed at him with her steak knife. “Doesn’t count.”

  “You’re changing the rules?” Val tried to drink from his glass and found it was empty. “Hell. This is thirsty work. I’m up against the Stasi.”

  “The Stasi wouldn’t let you have such a fine Pinot gris.” Danny nodded at him. “Well chosen. I’m not changing the rules.”

  “Wine lists are the language of my people. You so are changing the rules. One question each.”

  “I’m just making some refinements.”

  “You’re a contracts lawyer?”

  “No, but I work in hospitality. The contracts there will make a lawyer out of anyone.”

  Val nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Fair enough that I get another question, or fair enough that I work at a bar?”

  Their waiter returned. “Sir. More wine?”

  Val nodded. “Thank Christ. Same again?”

  “Very good sir. It will be just a moment. Your.” The waiter tried again. “The second steak should be here momentarily as well.”

  As he walked off, Danny pointed with her chin at his back. “That guy really didn’t like you ordering two steaks.”

  “Yeah.” Val glanced down at his belly. He was sure it looked smaller than this morning. “I’ve never done that before. Is there a rule against it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I mean, I’ve ordered two breakfasts before.”

  “For yourself?”

  “Yeah. I was at this little place uptown. I’d never been there before. Can’t remember the name of it. Anyway. The breakfast they made was amazing. Truffle fries on the side of eggs and bacon. That kind of thing.”

  “Wow.”

  Val grinned at her. “You bet. So I finished my breakfast, and I realized that I could probably go another round.” John called him the Mike Tyson of eating. Always ready to go another round. “So I went to the counter, and ordered another breakfast.”

  “No way.”

  “Woman behind the counter looked at me like some kind of alien.” Val shrugged. “It was good the second time too. I live by my decision.”

  Danny nodded. “I had a customer last week.” She stopped to chew another mouthful.

  “Just the one?”

  “You’re not as funny as you think you are. Anyway. He kept ordering plates of fries from the kitchen.”

  “I see nothing wrong with a good plate of fries.”

  Their waiter arrived with a second bottle of wine, offering it label first to Val. He nodded. “Yep, that’s the one. Thanks.” He pushed his empty plate away from him, watching as the waiter refilled his glass.

  “I can’t remember if it was after his fourth of fifth plate. They were these big bowls, you know, chunky fries, probably a good two or three large potatoes in each bowl.”

  “Sounds like a good bowl of fries. Do you reckon it would have been too low class for me to ask for fries with my steak?”

  She giggled. “It’s never low class to have fries with steak. It’s what fries are for.”

  “Dammit all. I should have got fries.” The waiter was back, delivering a second main course of steak in front of Val. “Thanks buddy. Say, can
we grab a bowl of fries between us?”

  The waiter looked down his nose at Val. “Fries, sir?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  “I … very good, sir.”

  Danny looked at the waiter’s retreating back. “I think you’re getting special sauce with your fries.”

  Val looked back over his shoulder. “You think so? I’m not sure it’s that kind of place.”

  “It’s always that kind of place. Anyway, this guy with the fries.”

  “Right. Five bowls of fries.” Val sipped his wine.

  “So I bring him his fifth bowl of fries, and he just starts chowing down like he’s starving.”

  “That’s a little unusual.”

  “And so I ask him, ‘Can I get you anything else?’”

  “Like another bowl of fries?”

  Danny nodded. “It’s what I was expecting. He looks at me, right, then pushes his chair back.”

  “Like he was going to get up?”

  “Except, he then just bends over at the waist, and throws up all over his feet.”

  Val clapped his hands together in front of his face. “Oh man! That’s nasty. I thought you only got sick people in medicine.”

  “So I’m standing there, this guy’s just thrown up literally into his shoes. There’s bits of fries everywhere.”

  “You’re standing in it?”

  “I’m standing in it. And the guy turns to me, and get this, he says, ‘Can I get another bowl of fries?’”

  Val swallowed another mouthful of steak. “What did you do?”

  “I got him another bowl of fries. Customer’s always right.”

  “I don’t think I want to know if there’s another end to this story. So your turn.”

  “Hey! I got a refund on my question.”

  “You squandered it, the penalty shot only stays open for so long. Like I said. Your turn.”

  “What’s the question?”

  “Same question.”

  Danny looked at him over a fork of steak. “I picked you as more original.”

  Val lifted the bottle. Danny nodded as she chewed, and he topped her up. “Seriously. What do you do?”

  “You met me at my work.”

  “That’s where you work.” Val chased a piece of steak through his blue cheese sauce. If she was ordering steak, he was going for the cheese sauce. “It’s not what you do.”

  “This is really good steak.”

  “No kidding. My favorite steak place.”

  “When you told me to meet you at a steak joint..? I figured ten dollar steaks with a garden salad. Like you had no class.”

  “I never said I had class, but damned if I’ll eat bad steak. Stop avoiding the question.”

  “I’m a sciences major.”

  “That’s what you’re trained in. Still not what you do.”

  “You realize you’re getting three answers for the price of one?”

  “It’s legit. You’re avoiding the question.”

  “I swim.”

  The waiter returned. “Your … fries, sir. The kitchen took the liberty, I hope you don’t mind. Truffle oil, sir.”

  Val nodded up at him. “It’s like you knew what we were talking about. Thanks to the chef.” The waiter walked away, back stiff. “That man’s going to give himself a prolapse just walking around.”

  “My question now.”

  “No way. You’ve told me what you do. You swim. Sciences major. And you work in a bar.”

  Danny looked down at her plate. “It’s not that bad a combination.”

  “Didn’t say it was. Sounds… eclectic.”

  “Now you’re saying I’m crazy.”

  “Eclectic, not eccentric.”

  “Same thing.”

  “I sense a trap.”

  “You’re not as stupid as you are funny looking.” Danny grinned at him.

  “I’m touched. Let me guess. Bar work pays the bills? But your sciences major — it’s in something to do with water. Chemistry?”

  “Close. Marine biology.”

  “I work in computers, so I might be wrong here, but that doesn’t sound close.”

  “We’re all just bags of chemicals.”

  Val swirled some wine in his glass, then took a sip. “And we can add more chemicals to the mix at any time…”

  Danny snagged the bottle from the table, swirling it around. “We’re hitting this one pretty hard. Sure you can keep up with me? Remember, I work in a bar.”

  “Last time I heard a challenge like that, I woke up chained to a lamppost.” Val thought for a moment. “You’re on.”

  Danny giggled, then poured them both more wine. “Yeah. We’re all a chemical mix.”

  “What about love? What about poetry?”

  “It’s from the chemicals. Trust me, a few more bottles of this wine and you’ll sing, dance, and write the best sonnet of your life. You’ll also hate yourself in the morning.”

  “Personal study.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve got a degree in chemicals. Marine biology. Whatever.” Val waved his wine glass. “You work in a bar. Only reason you’d do that is if you want to learn something you can’t learn somewhere else.”

  “I could just be another sciences major who can’t get a job.”

  “A bum?”

  “I’m not like you.”

  “I can tell. No really — sciences majors get jobs just fine. It’s lawyers who can’t get jobs, especially if they’ve got morals.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Truth hurts. Yeah. You’re studying something.”

  Danny nodded at him, her smile fading a little. “Funding’s hard to get.”

  “What is it?”

  “Viruses. Bacteria.” Danny swallowed another mouthful of steak. “Things that go bump in the night in the ocean.”

  “Fish get sick?” Val tried the fries.

  “Everyone gets sick. Fish don’t have government health care.”

  “I’m not sure government health care is all it’s cracked up to be. You’re trying to work out how they get sick?”

  “They get sick a lot like we do. I’m trying to work out how to make them better, especially when we keep shitting in their ocean and killing them all.”

  Val looked down at his plate. “I’m glad I didn’t order the fish special.”

  Danny pointed at him with her knife. “You’d never get to second base ordering fish around me.”

  “I’m not sure we’re at first base yet!” Val looked into his wine glass. “Or do I just not remember? I’m sure I’d remember something like that.”

  Danny pushed her plate away. “I’m stuffed.”

  “No room for dessert?”

  She looked at him, head tipped sideways. “Are you crazy? There’s always room for dessert.”

  • • •

  The night was chilly around them. Danny hugged his arm. “I’ve had a really good time tonight.”

  “Me too.” Val grinned into the darkness. “A really good time.”

  She looked up at him. “Feel like walking me home?”

  “I’d like that.” Ahead of them, a small group of people — men — were grouped around a young woman. Val watched them without really paying attention. “You got work tomorrow?”

  “You see those guys?”

  “What? Yeah.”

  “I think that girl doesn’t want to be with them.”

  She is not Pack.

  Val looked at the group again. “I’m not sure.”

  “How can you not be sure? Fine. Look, I’ll show you.” Danny detached herself from his arm, striding towards the group.

  “Fuck.” Val followed her, an uncertain two or three steps behind.

  “Why don’t you leave her alone?” Danny looked up at them, fists clenched on hips. The line was so clichéd as to be laughable, but no one laughed.

  The biggest one of them, a tremendously ugly man sporting a green Mohawk, leered down at her. “Look what we have here!”

 
One of his friends snickered, the chains joining the piercings in his ears to his lips jingling. “First time I’ve seen a guy hide behind his girl.” Chains sniffed.

  Val reached to put his hand on Danny's shoulder. “Maybe we should—”

  She shook him off. “What, it takes four of you to handle a girl?”

  Mohawk looked at her, then at Val. “Man, you should get your bitch under control. Someone might get hurt.”

  “Uh, yeah—”

  Danny held out her hand to the young woman. Now they were closer, Val could see the tracks of tears down her face. “Come on. We’ll take you home.”

  A man behind the girl, decked out in ripped denim, grabbed the young woman’s shoulder. She struggled against his grip. Denim gave a small, ugly laugh. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

  The fourth man, the hair on his arms curling out from under the sleeves of a faded Metallica T-shirt, looked at Mohawk. “This is taking too long. This part of town? We’ll get seen. C’mon.”

  Danny tried to shoulder through the group to reach the young girl. It was such an unexpected movement that it almost worked. If Val could have picked the part where it all went wrong, it was right there, the moment in time where her hand touched Mohawk’s chest, where she turned the motion into a shove. It wasn’t much, she was barely brushing past him, but Mohawk was already pumped.

  Val was just two or three steps behind her — such a short distance. He started to move forward, but he was never going to make it in time. He knew that. On his first step forward, he could see Mohawk’s expression change from confusion to anger. On his second step, he saw Mohawk’s raised arm swinging. His third step was too late.

  Pack.

  Danny's body staggered back as Mohawk’s backhand hit the side of her face. Val couldn’t be sure but it looked like the blow caught her on the jaw, her head whipping around. She didn’t make a noise as her body slammed into wall of a building, the back of her head hitting the old bricks.

  Mohawk’s body pinwheeled away, rising up through the air and slamming into the same brick wall, a stream of blood and teeth following his short flight through the air. He hit the wall with an audible crack, one of his arms caught up between his body and the wall, and bounced back off onto the sidewalk. Val looked down at his fist, the blood on his knuckles bright in the street lights. He hadn’t remembered swinging his arm.