The Night Beat

by Gini Koch

  The Night Beat

  The nice thing about being a modern-day undead in general and werewolf in particular was that the whole clothes issue had been solved by brighter minds generations earlier. So while I went more wolfy, my clothes didn’t rip and shred so that I wouldn’t be naked when I went back to human form. The Spandex-poly blend was a shape-shifting undead’s best friend and it was spelled to let our fur through, so when we were in wolf form we didn’t look like we were wearing stupid dog coats.

  I shoved my so far useless special gun back into its rear holster, did my best to guess where this thing’s vulnerable spot was, and gave it the old werewolf leap. I landed on what you could generously call its head and started clawing and biting.

  “Go, Vicki, go!” Maurice was all over the cheering.

  “This thing tastes worse than whatever’s in the trashcans. And a little aerial support wouldn’t be considered an insult.”

  Amanda flew up and landed on what I was going to insist, until told otherwise, was the thing’s back. Vamps can do the whole extend the claws thing, too, and when they’re really pissed, frightened or fighting something a lot stronger, they go all Nosferatu. It wasn’t Amanda’s best look, but then again, I wasn’t going to win Best in Show, either.

  Dedication

  To all those who wear a badge, uphold the law, and fight the good fight -- thank you.

  Also by Gini Koch:

  TOUCHED BY AN ALIEN

  ALIEN TANGO

  ALIEN IN THE FAMILY

  ALIEN PROLIFERATION

  ALIEN DIPLOMACY

  ALIEN VS. ALIEN (coming December 2012)

  ALIEN IN THE HOUSE (coming April 2013)

  ALIEN COLLECTIVE (coming December 2013)

  From DAW Books

  http://us.penguingroup.com/static/pages/daw/index.html

  THE ROYAL SCAM

  From Musa Publishing

  http://musapublishing.com/

  As G.J. Koch:

  ALEXANDER OUTLAND: SPACE PIRATE

  From Night Shade Books

  http://www.nightshadebooks.com/

  GINI KOCH

  THE NIGHT BEAT

  From the Necropolis Enforcement Files

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Night Beat, From the Necropolis Enforcement Files

  Published by Gini Koch at Smashwords

  Copyright 2012 Jeanne Cook

  ISBN: 9781476436470

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or any portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, contact the author: gini@ginikoch.com.

  The scanning, my uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or via other means without the express written permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic and print editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s right is appreciated.

  Editors: Mary Fiore and Veronica Cook

  Cover Artist: Lisa Dovichi

  Chapter 1

  We pulled up to the scene of the crime. Such as it was. An alleyway in downtown, filled with trashcans and darkness.

  “What do you think?” Jack asked as we got out of the ugly sedan that was supposed to fool the criminal class into thinking we weren’t undercover cops. So far as I could tell, it had never worked in the history of law enforcement, but we kept on perpetrating the illusion.

  I looked around. There was an amazing lack of activity. There was also a lack of anything that looked even slightly crime-like. Not that this meant anything. “See, that’s what I love about you. We haven’t even taken a look at the crime scene, and you’re already asking me what I think about it.”

  He shrugged. “You have good instincts.”

  Yeah, if he only knew. Then again, I didn’t want him to know.

  I sniffed. “Something smells awful.”

  Jack pointed. “Well, those overflowing trashcans might be the stench culprit. Can your tender senses take it? Don’t want you fainting on me again.”

  “Like you didn’t love it.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, well, I’ll admit getting to act all heroic was kind of fun. But, damn, you come out of a faint nasty.”

  Jack had been lucky I’d come out of the faint feeling sick, not hungry. Then again, I was lucky, too. Good partners are hard to come by. Good-looking ones who are also single and might, possibly, one day be interested in a high-excitement relationship were as rare as virgin groupies. Which, per some of my friends, meant very rare to potentially extinct.

  I shook myself to get my mind back on the matter at hand. What I’d smelled wasn’t trash. “Why are we alone here?”

  “No idea.” Jack pulled his gun as he reached into the car to grab the radio. “Darlene, this is Detective Wagner. Weren’t we supposed to have a couple black and whites here?”

  The radio crackled. “Yes. Two cars, four uniformed officers.” Darlene sounded mildly worried. I was already past that.

  I sniffed again. I didn’t smell anything living, though the trash could be interfering. But the stench I was picking up wasn’t trash, and the odds of anyone alive being in this alley were slim moving to none. I moved into the alley slowly, all senses on the alert.

  “Victoria, get your damn gun at the ready!” Jack didn’t make it sound like a suggestion.

  He was right, and I knew it. But I took out the special gun I kept at the small of my back. It was smaller, but the projectiles were more effective. I sniffed the trash bins as I went by. I also activated my wrist-com. I was far enough away from Jack that he wouldn’t hear. “This is W-W-One-Eight-One-Niner.”

  “Good evening, Agent Wolfe.” The Count’s voice was silky as always. He had unperturbed down to an art form. In all the years I’d known and worked for him, he’d never once lost his cool. “Status?”

  “Four uniforms and two squad cars missing. Downtown alley, loaded with trashcans and stink. Special stink.”

  “We have so many varieties of special stink, Agent Wolfe. Truly, make a selection and advise.”

  “Snacked on the uniforms as appetizers and ate the cars for roughage kind of stink.”

  “Ah. Do you require backup?”

  “Ya think? It’s just me and my partner here. My human partner.”

  “Yes, the human partner you pant after.”

  “Funny. The human partner I want to both keep alive and keep in the dark. I’d like to see the sunrise, too.”

  The Count sighed. “It’s overrated. Fine. Aerial support on the way. Underground support already activated by Agent Goode.”

  Good old Monty. I thanked the Gods and Monsters for his rebel attitude. He didn’t like to follow orders but he was all over following me. He said I always landed the best cases. If his parts didn’t fall off on a regular basis, we might be an item.

  “Great news.” I was at the end of the alley. No more trashcans, no sign of anything. Murky darkness in front of me. I pointed my gun into the center of it. “This is Prosaic City Police, drop your weapons, put your hands up, and come out slowly.”

  No movement, no noise. No surprise. I sighed. I couldn’t risk a look over my shoulder. I hoped Jack was still at the other end of the alley, covering me. “Fine, have it your way. This is Necropolis Enforcement. Drop any non-organic weapons, put your arms, flippers, claws, tentacles, or any other extremities up, and walk, slither, stomp, crawl, et cetera, out of the darkness or be exterminated with extreme prejudice.”

  The murky darkness started boil
ing up and moving. It was still murky and dark, but it was forming into a shape. I stared at it as the hair on the back of my neck started to rise. My nails extended and so did my teeth. Some things you can’t stop, even if you want to. Fight or flight is in every living being that’s got mobility. And even beings like me have a fear of the dark, the old dark, built into us.

  “Count?”

  “Yes?”

  “We are in so much trouble.”

  Chapter 2

  “Jack, stay back and take cover!”

  I heard him shouting for backup. Great idea, but not under these circumstances. I tried to figure out how to tell him to belay that without explaining why, while at the same time backing slowly to keep out of reach of the monster in front of me.

  The sound of large wings floated on the wind and I wasn’t alone any more. “Vic, what’s up?”

  “Um, Amanda, I thought vamps had the best night vision and all that.”

  “I was just being casual and human-like in my form of greeting.” Amanda Darling was both a vampire and my best friend. She was older than me and sometimes had trouble letting go of the old-speak. “I can see what’s in front of us. Unfortunately.”

  Someone behind me snorted. “She’s so cute, isn’t she? Pathetic, but cute.” Maurice swished into view. He didn’t have to swish, but he really enjoyed it. Unlike his sister, Maurice adapted to whatever age and mores he was in without a blink or a twitch. We all envied and hated him for that ability. “What have we here? A big, manly slime monster from the bowels of the earth? I’m all a-flutter.”

  “You know, Maurice, a gay vampire is so clichéd.”

  “But, Vicki, I do it so well.” Maurice and Amanda looked alike. That was it in terms of proof of real blood ties. Then again, for our kind, blood ties were made as easily as born.

  The slime monster was undulating. I didn’t think that boded well for us. “Someone needs to distract Jack.”

  “Ooooh, I will!” Maurice said. “He’s so tall, dark and handsome.”

  Amanda and I risked it and exchanged the “he’s such a jerk” look. “Maurice, Jack’s straight,” she said. “And he’s Vic’s.”

  “Not yet,” another male voice said. Ken Colt was one of the younger vamps, but he was a natural. He did the whole turning to mist and hover invisibly thing as easily as breathing. Easier, all things considered. “But I agree, the human needs to be distracted. Who do you want to do it, Vic?”

  “You.” Ken wasn’t gay, wasn’t female, and Jack knew him. He knew him as my ex-boyfriend, but that wasn’t important now.

  Ken sighed. “Figures. Jealous to get you back or just chat sports?”

  “Whatever, Ken. Kind of busy here.”

  “Doing nothing. Fine, fine, going off to distract and protect the human. I think I’m going with mind-control, though. We want all those human snacks sent back to police headquarters.”

  “Good, good. Carry on.” The slime monster was forming tentacles. “Count, we’re going from bad to worse.”

  “Slime monsters are difficult, Agent Wolfe, but hardly worth the panic in your voice.”

  “How about something that looks like a slime monster, but isn’t. You know, something with tentacles and no face and that sort of fun thing?”

  “Ah. How big?”

  “Pretty damned.” Amanda and I said that together. Because it was growing.

  “I think we need to call in H.P.,” Maurice said in a small voice. Maurice didn’t scare easily.

  The Count sighed. “The professor is resting.”

  “This is his area and we’re not equipped for this,” I snapped. “Slimy here has eaten four of Prosaic City’s finest, eaten two of our snazzy squad cars and, most likely, several bums, hookers, and drug dealers. For all I know he has some pigeons in there, too.”

  “Rousing the professor now. He’ll be to you shortly.”

  “What about Edgar?” Amanda asked.

  “Not his forte,” Maurice said dismissively. “He’s better with the human side of things.” This was true.

  The slime monster that was more than a mere slime monster continued to form. I continued to shift into full attack form. Nails an inch long and razor sharp? Check. Fangs ready to rip and tear? Double-check. Eyes and ears altered to see and hear better? You got it. Damned fur all over my body, doubling as camouflage and protection? Sure. Problem was, in this day and age, fur wasn’t camouflage any more. Fur was a sign you were odd at best, and a werewolf at worst.

  I was both. I was also out of options. The monster finished forming. It was twelve feet tall if it was an inch, and almost as broad as the alley. I aimed for what was likely either its head or its main organ area and fired.

  Chapter 3

  “Impressive lack of something happening,” Maurice said nervously.

  I continued to fire. I spread the shots around -- up, down, interesting patterns -- to keep the monster guessing. Guessing about where it was going to get tickled next, as far as I could tell. Despite their reputation and my previous experiences with them, the projectiles weren’t working. At all.

  The monster raised a limb. A limb covered with about a thousand tentacles that all had awful suckers and pincers on them, but a limb, nonetheless. “Any ideas?”

  “Turn to mist, fly away?” Amanda didn’t sound like she was joking.

  “Cry like a baby?” Maurice didn’t sound like he was trying to be funny, either.

  There was a rumbling noise, and the monster lost a few feet. Now it was only about six feet tall. And dark. Not handsome, however. Neither was what came out of the hole in the ground the monster had fallen into, but I was sure happy to see it.

  A thick, long, and altogether huge white worm wrapped itself around the monster, effectively preventing it from attacking. Not from struggling, but you couldn’t have everything.

  “Good boy, Rover,” a deep, rumbling voice said. Monty’s head peeked out from the hole. “Vic, only you would find an ancient Sumerian demon while on routine patrol.” He looked around. “Rover, tighter, boy, tighter.” The worm constricted and the monster struggled a little less.

  “H.P.’s on his way,” I offered.

  “Good. We’ll need his help.” Monty slowly crawled out of the hole. All his parts stayed put, which was pretty impressive. He’d been a lich for so many centuries it was sort of amazing he didn’t disintegrate, though he insisted turning into stone was a bigger risk. Hard to prove it by my experience.

  Rover had the monster well-wrapped, but he was only a giant white worm, after all, and his power wasn’t going to hold an ancient demon forever. “Monty, is anyone helping Rover control our monster?”

  “Dirt Corps is on it,” he said, rather huffily.

  “Oh, good.” I tried to keep the concern out of my voice. Dirt Corps consisted of undeads who weren’t exactly up to Enforcement standards. Most of them weren’t whole bodies, even. Though, you had to give them a lot of credit for willing. Not a lot of credit for success, but sometimes they got lucky.

  I looked over my shoulder. Jack leaned against the sedan with the dazed, confused and happy look on his face most humans got when a vamp was exerting serious influence. Ken, ever the multitasker, was on the radio, imitating Jack’s voice and ordering all police units elsewhere.

  Maurice drew in his breath sharply, always fun when it was a vamp doing it, and I turned around. To see the monster stepping out of his hole, a variety of Dirt Corps grunts clinging to his, for want of a better word, legs, and Rover draped over Monty’s shoulders, looking tired. White worms were able to adjust their size, and Rover was back to his usual five feet, though he looked a little flabby around the middle, likely from his efforts to contain Slimy.

  “Why is it never easy?” I asked no one in particular. Until H.P. showed up and told us, exactly, what to do to stop this thing, we only had one option.

  It was time to kick icky butt and take unpronounceable names.

  Chapter 4

  The nice thing about being a modern-day
undead in general and werewolf in particular was that the whole clothes issue had been solved by brighter minds generations earlier. So while I went more wolfy, my clothes didn’t rip and shred so that I wouldn’t be naked when I went back to human form. The Spandex-poly blend was a shape-shifting undead’s best friend and it was spelled to let our fur through, so when we were in wolf form we didn’t look like we were wearing stupid dog coats.

  I shoved my so far useless special gun back into its rear holster, did my best to guess where this thing’s vulnerable spot was, and gave it the old werewolf leap. I landed on what you could generously call its head and started clawing and biting.

  “Go, Vicki, go!” Maurice was all over the cheering.

  “This thing tastes worse than whatever’s in the trashcans. And a little aerial support wouldn’t be considered an insult.”

  Amanda flew up and landed on what I was going to insist, until told otherwise, was the thing’s back. Vamps can do the whole extend the claws thing, too, and when they’re really pissed, frightened or fighting something a lot stronger, they go all Nosferatu. It wasn’t Amanda’s best look, but then again, I wasn’t going to win Best in Show, either.

  However, six inch claws that looked like sling blades were impressive weapons. She slashed, I clawed, we both bit. We weren’t doing anything other than ensuring we’d need the biggest bottles of Listerine in the universe later.

  Maurice got into the act. He hated going into what was politely called the Ancient Vampire Form, but he wasn’t an idiot. If we didn’t stop this thing, we were going to be dinner or minions. We were at the top of the food chain and refused to leave that spot without a fight, and if we’d wanted to be minions we would have already committed our souls to the Prince.