Night's Fall (Night's Champion Book 2)

by Richard Parry

  “The capital of inbreeding,” said Carlisle. “What of it?”

  “Minnesota,” said Danny, slower this time.

  “I don’t follow,” said Carlisle, “unless you don’t think I’m being fair with the inbreeding comment.”

  Danny ran a hand through her curls — God damn but how does she look like a supermodel after sleeping in the back of a truck for six hours — before she spoke again. “Alaska,” she said, “is over two thousand miles from Minnesota.”

  Carlisle blinked. “That can’t be right,” she said.

  “Which part?” said Danny. “The part where the planet is always the same size, or the part where we did it in a night?”

  “The part where we’re in Minnesota,” said Carlisle.

  “We are,” said Ajay, “in Minnesota.”

  “We didn’t pass through border control at the Alaska border,” said Danny. “Did we?”

  “No,” said Carlisle and Ajay together.

  Ajay cleared his throat. Carlisle could see his face still was still ashen. More than just tired. More than just not sleeping for a night. “We didn’t have the time,” he said, “to do this the usual way.”

  “What,” said Carlisle, “is the usual way?”

  “Driving all night.”

  “What,” said Carlisle, “did you do?”

  “I made a deal,” he said. “I made a trade.”

  Danny leaned forward, her hand resting soft and steady on the seat in front of her. Her voice was so quiet Carlisle almost couldn’t hear her. “Who did you make a deal with?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Ajay. “It will either all be okay, or we will all be dead. We have to get to Chicago.”

  “To Valentine,” said Danny.

  “No,” said Ajay.

  Carlisle sighed. “Ajay?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know what she is, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding slowly.

  “Do us all a favor,” said Carlisle. “Don’t make her play guessing games. She’s not rich on patience.”

  “Hey,” said Danny.

  “Tell me it’s not true,” said Carlisle.

  Danny said nothing. Ajay swallowed, then said, “The monster is in Chicago.”

  “Val’s not a monster,” said Danny. “Say that again and I’ll—”

  “I said the monster,” said Ajay. “Valentine is no monster.”

  ∙ • ● • ∙

  The Yukon turned into the lot of a convenience store. A paper cup, caught up in a cradle of snow, disappeared under a wheel. The machine grumbled as the engine walked them forward. Ajay slid the machine into park, dropped a hand to the brake and pulled it on. “We’re here.”

  “Where’s here?” Adalia had woken up a few miles back, but her voice was still blurry with sleep.

  “Paradise,” said Ajay. “I believe we can secure our entry to the promised lands.”

  Carlisle peered through the windscreen. They’d left Pigeon River Bridge behind them, the cold of the North giving way to the cold of the South. It hurt less, but she felt it more. It was closer to home. “This looks like a shitty convenience store.”

  “Exactly so,” said Ajay. “I believe they sell corn dogs here.” He pushed his door open, the air of Minnesota pushing into the cabin, a new breath of life Carlisle didn’t know she needed.

  Danny put a hand on her arm. “Careful,” she said.

  “Careful of what?” Carlisle’s hand was on the Yukon’s door, ready to follow Ajay out and into the convenience store.

  “You know,” she said. Her eyes found Ajay’s receding form.

  “Yeah, I guess I do,” said Carlisle. She got out of the Yukon anyway, her feet taking her into the store. It’s destiny, Carlisle. Get a corn dog, save the world.

  She heard the clunk of the door as Danny followed her, caught two sets of footsteps as Adalia spilled out into the wide open world. Carlisle walked into the store behind Ajay, not looking behind her. Those two needed some privacy, some time to work a few things out. Come to think of it, so did she.

  The inside of the store was all waxed linoleum, the faint scent of disinfectant not really overcoming the smell of old mold and bad coffee. The old cop habit wouldn’t die, her eyes finding the middle aged guy with the neck beard behind the counter, an old black and white set turned on behind him, a TV show playing with the sound down low. Her eyes found the counter top crowded with opportunistic sales promises, jerky nestled alongside a couple boxes of Snickers. The counter would hide a weapon, some kind of shotgun unless she missed her guess. Her eyes continued their walk of the inside, finding a dark doorway out the back, plastic strips hanging down as a guard against entry. No one else inside.

  Other than him. Without really wanting to, she found herself beside Ajay in an aisle that sold boxes of breakfast cereal. She cleared her throat. “I thought you wanted corn dogs.”

  “I do not believe corn dogs are a part of a nutritious breakfast,” he said. “The little one. She needs—”

  “I know,” said Carlisle. Then, “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “Is Cap’n Crunch a good choice?”

  “No,” said Carlisle. “She’ll eat it though.” She knew what Adalia liked, what she would gravitate to with the endless enthusiasm of youth. “Here,” she said. “This is better.” She pointed at a box of Frosted Flakes.

  “’High in Vitamin A,’” said Ajay, reading the front of the box. “Is this really better?”

  “It’s all a point of view, isn’t it?” Carlisle shrugged. “She likes the tiger.”

  “I like him too,” said Ajay. “He is very fierce.”

  “He’s a clown,” said Carlisle, but the smile pulled at her mouth despite herself. She was standing close to Ajay without wanting to. She licked her lips and made herself take a step back. Something snagged at the back of her mind, like she she’d just forgotten why she’d walked into a room. “Is there … is there something missing?”

  “Missing?” said Ajay, looking at her. He put the Frosted Flakes in the crook of his elbow, then started to walk away. “We all want what we can’t have, Detective.”

  That brought her up sharp and hard, like a leash around her neck. “What?”

  “A promise got us here,” said Ajay, “and that means that for us to get what we wanted, other people had to miss out. Our world stands on an edge, a balance point. Take from here, and you must give there. A fair trade.” His tone was even but his face was sad.

  “What,” said Carlisle, “have you done?”

  Danny walked into the store, the door swinging open, the bottom edge scraping against the linoleum. Carlisle looked at her friend, watching as she moved into the store. Danny looked distracted, Adalia following a few steps behind her, the teenager playing with her phone.

  “’Sup,” said Carlisle.

  Danny ignored her, doing a slow walk around the inside of the store. Carlisle watched her for a moment, then looked back at Ajay. “Do I need to ask again?”

  “It’s not so much what I did,” said Ajay, “as what was done.”

  “You’re a really frustrating guy to have a conversation with,” said Carlisle. “Anyone ever told you that?”

  “Yes,” said Ajay.

  After a moment, Carlisle said, “See? It’s that shit. This is where you step in and say something else that makes sense.”

  “Everything I say makes sense,” said Ajay. “You just don’t know the dance yet, Detective. Do you want to?”

  “Dance?” said Carlisle, distracted. She found herself looking at Danny again, the other woman still walking around the store. The clerk had noticed too, was standing up a little taller, his posture speaking volumes. “Danny?”

  “There’s something … gone,” Danny said, and Carlisle felt something colder than ice in her veins.

  She turned to Ajay. “What,” she said, “is going on?”

  Ajay looked sad again. “What must happen, has happened.”

  Da
nny’s face turned towards them, and Carlisle stopped cold. Danny’s eyes had turned yellow, feral and bright. Her voice was cut with something hoarse. “Where is he?”

  “Who?” said Carlisle, looking at Ajay. “Danny? Calm down.”

  Danny took long strides across the store to stand in front of Ajay. “Where. Is. He.” Carlisle could see the strength in the set of her shoulders.

  “Danny,” said Carlisle. “Easy. We’re just talking. You have to use your words. Remember your words?”

  She could see Danny’s head cock to the side a little, caught movement as Adalia stepped backward towards the front of the store where the clerk was. One less thing to worry about.

  “One has been taken,” said Danny. “It won’t be long before he tries to take one of us.”

  “You can only take,” said Ajay, “what is freely given.”

  “Who’s been taken?” said Carlisle. But she felt it, that something missing, gone from the edge of her mind. She could feel where it used to be, but not what it was.

  “I—” said Ajay, and was cut off as Danny grabbed at him. Ajay tried to move away, his movements fast — watch that, something inside Carlisle said, you might need that later — but not fast enough. Danny lifted him off the ground by the front of his jacket, one fist bunched in the material. Her other hand was cocked back in a fist, her teeth showing.

  “Where,” said Danny, “is he?”

  “He’s gone,” said Ajay. “He is … finally safe. I know where the dead go when they die.”

  “Everyone,” said the clerk, “needs to calm the fuck down.” He had the weapon out — yeah, pistol grip shotgun, right again Carlisle — leveled across the store.

  Carlisle had her sidearm out, the weapon pointed across the store in return. “Easy chief,” she said. “Put the gun down.”

  The clerk blinked, then turned his gun across the space towards Carlisle. Such a narrow pivot range. A few degrees, a hint of movement. Enough for everything to change. Carlisle watched as the gun moved away from Danny, the end of the barrel moving a foot, no more, the mouth of it full of desperate promise. She saw the moment everything changed as the weapon shifted across a space filled with another person.

  Adalia.

  The girl was frozen in place, her phone still in one hand. It felt like everything was moving slower now, so slowly that it hurt to watch. Carlisle could see the change in Danny, the set of her shoulders as fear met fight. She watched her friend heft Ajay like he was a sack of meal, then tip her shoulder into the throw as she tossed him across the room towards the clerk. Seeing Ajay hit the wall felt like being punched in the gut, made Carlisle wanted to double over, but her training took over and she was already moving, she’d felt herself begin to run before she’d seen Danny even start to move. She sprinted across the tired linoleum, head low as the voice of an almost forgotten instructor — head down, cadet, it’ll get shot off — spoke at the back of her mind. The shotgun fired, boxes of breakfast cereal showering the air around her with colored flakes and shredded cardboard. Something tugged at her arm, but she was there, already at the front of the store, grabbing Adalia into a protective hug, her body closing around the girl. She heard the teenager start to scream, the noise cut off as they fell hard against the counter at the front of the store. Carlisle’s gun was gone, a spin of bright metal along the floor.

  The shotgun went off again, followed by a scream that turned half way — no, no, NO — into a roar, saw Danny walking towards them both, something wrong in her walk, something animal in the movement as red dripped and spattered along the ground in her wake. Carlisle held Adalia close, her hand over the girl’s eyes as she watched Danny shift into something else. She got herself up on her knees, still holding Adalia and made a break for the door. The shotgun went off again behind her, and there was no scream when the shot hit, just something that roared out its primal anger.

  Carlisle bounced against the door on her way out, the glass in the frame shattering around her. Her hip collided with the Yukon out the front and she stumbled, catching herself before she went over. She stood in the lee of the vehicle, then held Adalia out in front of her. “Are you okay?”

  The girl’s eyes were wide, shock and something very much like fear on her face. “I…”

  “Were you hit?” Carlisle was almost shouting the words, then grabbed at the girl, turning her around. No blood, no blood, thank God, no blood—

  “I’m okay,” said Adalia. “I’m okay.” There were tears in her eyes.

  “Okay,” said Carlisle. Her eyes went to the store. The gun had stopped firing, and only a low growl came from inside. The lights had stuttered out, leaving the inside dim in the half light of winter. “Okay,” she said again. “Look, kid.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Kid, I need to go get your mom.”

  Adalia bit her lip. “But—”

  “Kid?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Kid, I need to go get your mom.” Carlisle rubbed at her arm, her fingers coming away sticky and wet. Huh. “Because I promised her.”

  “I understand,” said Adalia. “But what if—”

  “Kid?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know,” said Carlisle. “Also, I need to get that asshole Ajay.”

  “Isn’t he—”

  “Wouldn’t count on it,” said Carlisle. “Get in the car. Stay down. Be back soon.”

  She stood up, tugging at the edge of her jacket in the cold. Her fingers flexed, wanting to hold the shape of a gun. Not that it would do anything here. Wrong damn tool, definitely wrong damn situation. Still keeping low, she edged towards the front of the store, then grabbed a last breath of fresh air before stepping back inside.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Talin stalked back and forth in the converted warehouse, the beast pulling at his skin like a fresh new shirt. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or desire or little pieces of both mixed together, but he thought he could hear the city screaming through the big open windows. The winds were cold, a hint of ice carried on the softness of the air, and he breathed it in, closing his eyes and reveling in it.

  The sound of fluid dripping drew his attention back to the room, a faint annoyance teasing at him. His new ears let him feel the texture of the sound, a heavy liquid falling in a regular cadence to land — spat, spat, spat — against the cold concrete floor. Talin let his eyes open and looked back over what he’d created. It was art, pure and simple, something this rotted and decadent city sorely needed.

  Looked at from a distance, it was hard to see where one ended and another began. There were arms, legs, torsos, all naked, mixed and matched against each other. Nature had created them wrong, this one’s belly too fat for his frame, that one’s legs stick-thin against a long body that craved a catwalk. He’d found them all outside, just walking about, living their tiny lives one beat at a time. Together, in his masterpiece, they formed something bigger, bolder than they could ever have been.

  Still. It was missing something. Another piece. Or pieces. He wasn’t sure — he wouldn’t know until he’d—

  Hunt.

  —managed to complete it, one bit at a time. Talin let his eyes wander to the sides of the room, piles of discarded clothing, handbags, briefcases, shoes, and jewelry cast aside like the dross they were. This new power he’d taken—

  Stolen.

  He shook his head. This new power — he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to think as he wanted — he’d taken let him act as he should, without consequence or fear or petty desire. All his ambitions were pure, although he wasn’t sure when he’d wanted to become an artist. That was—

  Memory deep as stone, quiet as earth.

  —something unexpected. Still. He felt it was time to gather himself up and hunt within this new city he’d made.

  ∙ • ● • ∙

  The miles lost themselves under his feet as he loped along the sidewalk. Such a thin strip of pavement made possible by the dreams of tiny men. He would harness t
hose dreams, yoke them to his purpose and rule this city — and then, the world.

  The stumbling, seething crowd streamed along in his wake. One or two were strong enough to keep pace at his side, but even with the will of—

  They will do as they are told.

  —the Night inside him, urging them on — well, they failed, one by one. There, a man — perhaps once fit and hale, a body made strong by a religion of exercise — fell away, his feet stumbling as his heart gave out inside his chest. Talin marveled as a child no more than ten years old coughed and stumbled, blood bubbling from his lips as his body gave out.

  Never before have I felt this strength. The other, he wasted his gift on trying to fix the weak — the weak can never be fixed.

  His run took him into the city proper, buildings stretching up around him. I hate the feel of this city, but it can be fixed. Changed. Forged. He paused at an intersection, his followers stacking up around him, waiting, breathless, eager, the glory of madness in them. Talin blinked, looking across at a police blockade.

  It is always the way. There are some who can resist. And for them — there is always art.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Sergeant Willis had always tried to do the right thing. That was really how he liked to roll. Back in college, he’d thrown some balls around, dated a cheerleader, found he liked it. Walked her down the aisle, put a ring on her finger — a rock the size of a five year old child’s head attached to a band of pure platinum.

  It had cost him three months’ salary, cold hard cash that couldn’t have been used in any other way than doing the right thing — making Libby happy. Truth be told, it’d been a little more than three months of his salary, but he hadn’t told Libby that. It wasn’t important, you know? Fifty years from now he’d never remember how much it cost, but he’d always remember the smile on her face.

  When his Dad was bailed up with that infection, he’d dropped some vacation time on the problem, moved into the old man’s house for a couple weeks, spent time hammering and sawing, putting in new drywall, fixing the place up so he wouldn’t get sick again. Hell, it wasn’t that far away from a real vacation anyway. Libby had come along and made them iced tea to drink on the porch when it got too hot to do much else. At least people hadn’t been shooting at him.