Shades of Night (Sparrow Falls Book 1)

by Justine Sebastian

  “Right?” Nick said.

  “Right,” Nancy agreed. She frowned and tipped her head to the side. “So why are we freaking out about it?”

  “I’m not freaking out,” Nick said. “As for you, I don’t know why you’re upset. This is good, Nance.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Nancy said. She took a ponytail holder from her pocket and pulled her hair up and away from her face. “Come by the ER tomorrow after I start my shift and I’ll get those stitches out for you.”

  “Why can’t I come tonight?”

  “Because you’ve been drinking. Don’t look at me like that, Nick. I can smell it. I don’t blame you. I could use a drink myself.”

  “Maybe your next day off we can get shit-housed,” Nick said.

  “Plan,” Nancy said. She studied him carefully. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

  “Yep,” Nick said. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Not to cut the party short, but if you’re going to make your shift on time then you should probably get a move on.”

  Nancy followed the direction of his gaze and cursed as she popped upright again. “Crap,” she said as Nick followed her to the door. “I’m going to be late, there’s no way around it. I hate being late.”

  “Sorry,” Nick said as he walked out with her to the car.

  “It’s not your fault,” Nancy said as she got in. She fastened her seatbelt then looked up at Nick standing by the open door. She glanced at his arm then back at his face. “You take care of yourself though, you hear me? If anything happens, you call me, all right?”

  “What could happen? It’s healing, not in danger of rotting off,” Nick said.

  “I don’t know what could happen,” Nancy said. “Anything. Nothing. Just call me and let me know if you’re having trouble of any kind.”

  “Like growing pointed ears and howling at the moon?”

  Nancy flinched, which surprised Nick. He hadn’t truly believed she could think something that damned ridiculous.

  It bit you.

  So fucking what?

  “Nick—”

  He held up his hand to stop her from spouting whatever crazy shit was floating around in her head right then. “Don’t,” Nick said. He took hold of the door and said, “Drive safe, Nance. See you soon.”

  He shut her door and stepped farther away. She hesitated a moment before cranking up and flipping on her headlights. She turned around in the front yard and drove away, tapping her horn in a quick beep-beep farewell honk.

  Nick stood there until the sound of her car receded entirely and it was only him and the nighttime once again. He was starting to wonder if he was the only sane person he knew anymore. He expected off the wall ideas and kooky theories from Wes and even Hylas, but Nancy shocked him. She was open-minded, but what she was tiptoeing around suggesting had nothing in common with open-mindedness and everything in common with empty-headedness. Nancy was not a moron or subject to flights of fancy, she thought cryptozoology was junk science and paranormal stories were good for a shiver or even a scare, but she didn’t think they were true.

  He breathed deep of the night air, sorting through and cataloging all of the smells that hit him. Nick didn’t know what was causing it, but it might be fun to explore it further. The same went for his newly improved hearing and he cocked his head to have a listen to the world around him.

  It was then that he realized he heard nothing but stiff silence. The wind was blowing, but too gently to cause any sound. Nick tensed and backed toward his doorsteps, on high alert as he looked around. He neither saw nor heard anything, but that didn’t mean nothing was there. Regardless of its size, Nick had a feeling that whatever had bitten him could be as quiet as it wanted to be.

  Bolting up the steps and into the house, Nick’s heart thundered in his chest. He was afraid, God help him, he was. There was no way in hell he’d get away from that thing again; the first time had been pure dumb luck. He shut and locked his front door then went to get his whiskey for a much needed swallow. He sat down and stared at his door, half-expecting it to collapse inward under the weight of that giant creature as it tore inside to devour him. He remembered the dead man in Michigan and he really did not want to have that in common with the dude.

  After a few minutes spent calming down (and drinking whiskey in large, deep swallows) Nick was able to think rationally again. None of those smells had been off, each one had its place and could easily be assigned a name. It was frightening how easily Nick recognized different things—deer, squirrel, his good friend the randy fox; the quickly fading odor of Nancy and car exhaust.

  Each thing he smelled had every right to be there and none of those odors belonged to a predator. There was only one thing in the immediate vicinity that Nick couldn’t smell and that was himself. That didn’t mean other creatures couldn’t smell him though; couldn’t be frightened and sense a threat in his scent. In his presence.

  Nick sat in the dark with his whiskey and prodded his new canine teeth as a snake of fear slithered through his guts.

  It bit you.

  30

  Nick passed out on his sofa around dawn and awoke with a snort around two o’clock that afternoon. He caught himself just as he was sliding off the couch to the floor, hair brushing the carpet already. He lay on the couch, the world spinning behind his closed eyelids and a vicious hangover starting up its timpani banging inside his head. His stomach roiled and he was greasy with booze-sweat. His dreams were a disjointed mess of images; snow and rain, pine needles softly prickling the pads of his feet. The smell of warm flesh in his nostrils, the taste of hot blood in his mouth. The feeble jerk-kick-thrash of a still-struggling whitetail deer as he began to tear into its soft belly before it was completely dead.

  The recollection made his stomach flip violently and Nick barely had time to make it to the kitchen sink before he vomited. Hot bile burned his throat and made his head shriek as the force of throwing up made his headache worse.

  “Oh, fuck,” Nick groaned as his stomach trembled. He dry-heaved a couple more times, strings of drool hanging from his lips before he trusted himself to move enough to rinse the sink and wipe his face on a dish towel.

  He staggered down the hall to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, which made him pause to dry heave again. His muscles trembled and his stomach ached from the force of it, but he actually felt a little better by the time he took a piss and lurched back down the hall to the couch. He had things to do, like wash his bloody pillowcases from yesterday and he really needed to go to the grocery store, but the idea of even that much activity made him want to curl into a ball and hide for the rest of the month.

  Nick lay on the couch and closed his eyes again, absently licking his teeth, the recollection of the deer’s flesh ripping beneath their force making them ache with the want to chew. He groaned and rolled over onto his side, back to the room, and concentrated on keeping the world—and his still protesting belly—motionless. Eventually sleep came and Nick did not stir again until after five that evening when someone started rap-tap-tapping at his chamber door.

  “Ugh,” Nick said as he forced his eyes open. He felt almost normal again, a little achy and starving, but his headache had kindly fucked off and he no longer felt like he was in danger of barfing up his appendix.

  “Maybe he isn’t home.” The voice on the other side of the door was a soft mutter; his unexpected caller was talking to himself. “Should I leave a note? No. Maybe. I don’t know. Is that weird? Maybe it’s weird.”

  Nick got up, went to the door and opened it. “Hey, Wes.”

  Wes jumped and looked up at him with his big, startled eyes. Then he smiled, though he was also gently wringing his hands. “Nick,” he said. “Thank goodness. Hello.”

  He hugged Nick then, arms going around his waist and clinging tightly to him.

  “Whoa,” Nick said as he patted Wes’s back then stroked his hand over his hair, soothing and finding he also just wanted to touch him. “What’s going on?”r />
  “I’ve been so worried,” Wes said. “In the hospital, you looked so bad and I thought it was awful to see you like that. Then I heard you were released, which is good because if they let you out then that meant you were going to live for definitely. Then I didn’t hear from you though and I started to get worried again and I…” He pulled back from Nick and blinked at him owlishly then glanced down at his feet. “I missed you, Nick.”

  That was really sweet and those words from Wes sent a funny little flutter through Nick that he found a bit annoying. More so because he had missed Wes as well, but hadn’t called him because there were other things going on; things that didn’t make Nick very good company at the moment.

  “Did you drive here alone?” Nick asked, looking out at the yard to where Wes’s truck sat, chrome shiny and cherry bomb red paint gleaming in the sunset.

  “Yes,” Wes said with a nod. “I wanted to see you and well, I told you: I can drive.”

  “I told you not to do that,” Nick said. His arms tightened around Wes who was still leaning against him, pulling Wes closer. Protecting him from God knew what.

  Wes huffed and peered up at him again. “You’re not the boss of me, Nick.”

  That made Nick grin; it was such a grown-up (not at all) thing to say and yet, it was perfectly Wes. Why use harsh words and turns of phrase when you can gently rebuke someone instead? The horror of it all was that Nick thought Wes was really goddamn cute and that shit would never do.

  Except it seemed to have already, well, done and that was… something.

  “Come in,” Nick said. He stepped back, letting Wes go so he could come inside the trailer.

  Wes stopped wringing his hands to stick them in the pockets of his khakis and look around the place. “Are you doing all right?” He asked as his roving gaze swept back over Nick and locked there.

  “Yep.” Nick tilted his head for Wes to come sit on the sofa with him.

  “Are you sure?” Wes asked. “You were attacked by a werewolf, Nick. That can’t be an easy thing to deal with.” Wes shifted on his feet and snorted softly. “Heck, I know it isn’t an easy thing to deal with. The nightmares are still so bad. Sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever get a good night’s rest again. You have to be going through hell.”

  “I’m fine,” Nick said. Mostly because he was exercising common sense and refusing to buy into the Werewolf of Sparrow Falls hype. That and a healthy dose of denial and avoidance with a side of whiskey and painkillers if it all got to be a bit much.

  Nick had never been accused of having good coping skills.

  Wes folded his hands in his lap, tapping each finger on the backs of his hands in turn. He struggled with his pinky and Nick watched him do so with a twinge of guilt for what had happened to him. Nick had been chomped on by that thing, but all of his digits were in working order, he had no nerve damage to speak of. Wes was horribly scarred, it had messed up one of his fingers; even healed, some of the scars pained him because of resultant nerve damage. It struck Nick as being oddly unfair.

  “You never said what happened,” Wes said. “I almost asked your cousin, but, well… I don’t think she likes me very much.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t know you.” The words were out of Nick’s mouth before he could think to reel them back in. Wes smiled at him, bright and pleased. Nick sighed and let that one go with a thought of, Damnit.

  “Okay,” Wes said. “Um… Maybe she’ll get to know me then.”

  Nick nodded, but did not speak to either confirm or deny. Wes smiled that same sweet, dimpled smile at him again and Nick thought he was fucking doomed. End of.

  “So…” Wes started.

  “So, what?” Nick asked. “You want the rundown of events as I remember them, Officer Panzram?”

  Wes rolled his eyes and pinked, a soft flush of color running along his cheeks. Nick had never met a grown man who blushed like that and found that he liked it. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Lange,” Wes said, playing along.

  “Fine, nosy breeches,” Nick said. “You know what they say about curiosity and the cat though.”

  Wes nodded. “Oh, yes, curiosity killed the cat.” He slanted his eyes to the side to look at Nick, a little smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “But satisfaction brought him back.”

  “So any forthcoming revelations will not prove to be fatal?”

  “Nope.”

  “All right then,” Nick said. “Here goes.”

  Wes listened, attentive and entranced as Nick went over everything that had happened as far as he knew. He told him about Nancy’s call and concluded with, “Then the goddamn thing bit me. The pigs showed up though and it ran off. I passed right the fuck out not long after that.”

  Wes sucked in a sharp breath, hand going up to cover his mouth. He looked at Nick, his eyes so huge they were like saucers in his face. “Oh, oh no,” Wes said behind his palm. “Oh my goodness gracious alive.”

  He sounded like he was going to start crying any second.

  “Jesus, Wes,” Nick said, reaching for him, wanting to make that terrified, stricken look on Wes’s face disappear. Wes started to pull away from him when Nick reached for him and he paused, confused by that.

  Big, glassy tears spilled over the rims of Wes’s eyes and ran down his cheeks. He blinked once, twice, three times then scooted over like a flash to lay his head against Nick’s shoulder, tears soaking through his shirt.

  “What the hell?” Nick asked as he held Wes. That was not the reaction he had expected at all. “Hey, stop. Shh… hush. I’m all right, Wes.”

  “No, you’re not!” Wes wailed against Nick’s chest. His shoulders jerked with a sob then he snuffled softly and seemed to pull himself together with considerable effort.

  “Yeah, really, I am,” Nick assured him, confused as hell and growing concerned about Wes’s mental state.

  “No, you big, dumb, pretty, sweet… Nick. Nick.” Wes looked at him and wiped at his face with the back of his hand.

  Nick stared at him and stupidly wondered where his hanky was. “You are taking this really badly,” Nick said. “It’s kinda weird. No. It’s not kinda weird. It is weird.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Wes asked. “You really don’t.”

  “I don’t get what?” Nick asked. “I’m getting kind of annoyed and weirded out, I know that much.” And worried, he was definitely worried about Wes right then, but be damned if he would say that out loud. That would be giving too much away.

  Wes sniffled again and cupped Nick’s face in his hands. He looked so damn sad and afraid as he stared into Nick’s eyes. “It bit you, Nick,” Wes said. “Do you know what that means? You were bitten by a werewolf. I didn’t know that, I thought it was like what happened to me, but this is… This is so much worse. If it bit you then—”

  Nick shut him up by kissing him hard, hands going to the sides of Wes’s neck and pulling him close as he licked into his mouth. Shut up, shut up. Shut. Up. It was all he could think and all he knew to do to derail where the conversation was going. Yes, he had been bitten by a mutant dog- or wolf-thing, but that didn’t mean shit. Nick was tired of hearing it, tired of thinking about it and in that moment, more than anything, he was tired of seeing that haunted, frightened look on Wes’s face. He hated that look and would have done anything to make it go away.

  “Hush,” Nick said when he broke the kiss. He leaned his forehead against Wes’s. “Just stop it, Wes.”

  “But, Nick…”

  Nick kissed him again, anything he would say lost in warm crush of their mouths. Wes leaned into him with a soft moan and when Nick pulled back again, his eyes were dazed.

  Best of all, that look was gone.

  “I know what you’re doing,” Wes said, flicking his gaze down to Nick’s mouth then back up to meet his eyes. “It won’t work, you know.”

  Nick smiled and leaned in to nip and lick the side of his neck. “No?” he murmured against Wes’s throat as he shivered. “Not…” Another nip,
a soft sucking kiss. “…even a…” Nick drew Wes’s earlobe in between his teeth and nibbled it gently. “…little…” He nuzzled the soft patch of skin behind Wes’s ear, breathed in the scents of his shampoo and light, expensive cologne; the almost scorched caramel scent that was just Wes lurking beneath it. He bit over Wes’s pulse then breathed softly against the moist skin, “…bit?”

  “Fiddlesticks,” Wes hissed between his teeth as he tilted his head to the side and shivered all over.

  Nick’s smile broadened and he nipped him once more before he rose from the couch to tug Wes along with him down the hall to the bedroom.

  Afterward, Nick rolled over onto his back, breathing heavy and sweat cool and damp on his skin. Wes moaned and stretched out on his belly, loose-limbed and shaking ever so slightly. He scooted over and turned on his side to lie next to Nick, head pillowed on his shoulder. He stretched again with a sleepy smile that turned to a frown.

  “Owie. Something poked me,” Wes said, lifting up to feel around in the bed covers.

  Nick snickered and turned to look at him. Wes rolled his eyes, but smiled back.

  “Very mature,” Wes said as he felt beneath his arm for the offending whatever it was. He found it and pulled it out to examine it in the light from the bedside lamp. “What is— Oh. Um… Nick?”

  “Hmm?” Nick grunted when Wes tapped his shoulder. He opened one eye to look at what Wes was holding out to him. “Shit.”

  “This is a tooth, Nick,” Wes said. He held it up to his face for closer inspection. “It’s a whole tooth, too. Why is there a tooth in your bed?”

  Nick didn’t know how to answer him, so he just reached over and plucked it out of Wes’s hand. He flicked it off the side of the bed to land behind the nightstand, out of sight and out of reach.

  “Did you lose a tooth?” Wes asked.

  “No,” Nick said. I lost four, but don’t worry, they grew back.

  “Then how—”

  “I dunno,” Nick said.