Night's Favour (42 page)

“I — I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”
 
John tried on the megawatt smile again.
 
“It doesn’t change anything.
 
He’s still our friend, and he’s still been shot by bad people.”

A cry came from the lounge.
 
Danny and John ducked out of the kitchen to see Carlisle wrestling with Val.
 
She had a cloth in one hand, and he was holding that away.
 
“What the fuck, Carlisle!
 
It burns!
 
Make it stop!”

Carlisle held up her free hand.
 
“Ok.
 
It’s just to stop infection.”

“God!
 
It feels like my whole chest is on fire!”

“It’s the silver.”
 
The words landed like pennies dropped into a pool, each one hitting distinctly.
 
Danny stepped forward.
 
“Valentine, do you remember last night?”

“God!
 
It hurts!”
 
Val’s eyes were red.
 
He flailed, kicking the blanket off, and lurched to his feet.
 
He stared down at himself.
 
“Which one of you assholes took my clothes?”
 
He cried out again, a hand clawing at one of the marks —
Jesus, what the fuck
, thought John — on his chest, and he sank to one knee.

Carlisle stepped forward, drew one hand back, and slapped him across the face.
 
“Get your shit together, Everard.
 
There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“There’s nothing — are you crazy?”

John stepped forward, snaring the blanket from the ground.
 
He draped it around Val’s shoulders.
 
“Hey.
 
She’s telling the truth.
 
I pulled you off the front lawn no more than twenty minutes ago.
 
You’d been shot, and were full of holes.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve been shot.
 
I feel like I’ve been set on fire.”

“You were covered in blood.
 
I thought — well.
 
The chicks thought you were going to die, but I knew you were fine.
 
Right?”

“It’s the silver.”
 
Danny went over to the mantelpiece and picked up a glass containing the silver shells.
 
“I think you were shot with these last night.”

“Last night —”
 
Val sank back onto the couch.
 
“Where’s Adalia?”

No one spoke for a moment.
 
John looked at them all, then sighed. “Ok, let me see if I can get this right.
 
Last night, you were dropping Adalia off.”

“With Mandy, right.”
 
Val hunched forward again as a spasm shook took him.

“Is it the pain?

“Keep talking.”
 
Val’s teeth were clenched.
 
“It helps.
 
Takes my mind…
 
My mind off it.”

“Right.”
 
John started again.
 
“You were dropping Adalia off.
 
Then, some guys snatched her.
 
Danny says you went after them, but that’s all we got.
 
We don’t know what happened then.”

Val’s eyes moved up and right as he tried to remember.
 
“I was… running.”
 
He clenched his teeth again, then held up a hand.
 
“No, it’s passing.
 
God.
 
I was running after them.
 
They had a van.”

“Do you remember Adalia?”
 
Danny crouched in front of Val.
 
“Did you catch up?
 
Did you see?
 
Did you see where they took my baby?”

“I —”
 
Val reached a finger out and touched Danny's lips.
 
“I can see her eyes.
 
As I was falling.”

Carlisle returned from the kitchen —
Man, she moves quietly
— with the large cup of coffee.
 
She handed it to Val.
 
“Drink this.”

“What is it?”

“What does it smell like?”

He looked at the cup.
 
“Coffee.”

“It’s coffee, then.
 
Drink it.”

Val sipped from the cup, then gulped, his throat working as he emptied the cup.
 
“God, I’m hungry.”

John laughed.
 
“Same old Val.
 
I think I saw some cereal in the kitchen.”

“Cereal?
 
I could do a steak.”
 
Val looked at him, then at Danny.
 
“What?
 
What is it?”

John sat down on the couch.
 
“How many unbelievable things have you heard this week?”

“I’m not sure.”
 
Val winced again, but it didn’t look like he was in as much pain anymore.
 
“A few?”

“Right.
 
So, buddy.
 
There’s no easy way to say this.”

“Say what?”

“You’re a werewolf.”

“Fuck off.”
 
No one said anything.
 
Val looked at them all.
 
“No really.
 
Fuck off, I’m not in the mood.”

Danny reached out a hand to him.
 
“Let’s get you that steak.
 
Then we can talk.”

Val grabbed her hand like a drowning man reaching for a rope.
 
“Right.
 
Thanks.”
 
They moved to the kitchen.

“Smooth, Miles, smooth.”
 
Carlisle frowned.
 
“You could have been a bit more delicate.”

“This?
 
From you?
 
I wasn’t swabbing him with bleach.”

“No.”
 
Carlisle sat on the couch next to him.
 
“How are we going to convince him?”

“If he doesn’t believe, I’m not sure there is any convincing him.
 
Come on.
 
I could do some steak too.”

☽ ◇ ☾

“So.”
 
Val chewed while he talked.
 
“All y’all think I’m a werewolf.”

“Yep.”
 
John sipped his coffee.
 
They sat around the small kitchen table.
 
A paint brush still sat in the middle, a reminder that Adalia wasn’t with them.

“You know werewolves aren’t real?”

“Yep.”
 
John sipped again.

“So — I don’t bark at the moon.”

“Full moon’s not for a couple days.
 
Give it time.”
 
Danny nodded at his plate.
 
“I don’t know many people who eat steak for breakfast.”

“I do.”
 
John waved his cup.
 
“Lots of bodybuilders do.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Sorry.”

Carlisle shifted in her chair, wincing.
 
“I tell you what, Everard.
 
You tell me about how I take one lousy shell, and I’m still feeling like I’ve been kicked in the proverbial balls.
 
You get shot five, six times and you’re sitting pretty, eating your third steak.”

“It’s good steak.”

“It could be pumpkin pie for all I care.
 
Those weren’t flesh wounds.”

Val nodded.
 
“Let’s say I take this as true.
 
I mean, I’ve been going through some weird shit lately.”

“Like what?”

“Aside from the burning my hand thing yesterday with the waffle iron?”

“Aside from that, yes.”

“I’m talking to myself.”

“Lots of people do that.”

“No, I mean, I’m really talking to myself.
 
Like, I’m getting instructions or something.
 
But it’s really me.”

“Ok.
 
Usually only serial killers do that.”

Danny leaned forward.
 
“Now you’re not helping.”

“Sorry.”

“Also,” said Val around a mouthful of steak, “I’m pretty sure I killed more than ten people yesterday.”

The table sat quiet between them.
 
John tried first.
 
“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t.
 
Considering the circumstances.”
 
Carlisle reached for the coffee, pouring another hit.
 
“Is it too early for whiskey in the coffee?”

“I’m saying it because you should know, Melissa.”
 
Val gestured at her with his fork.
 
“You said something to me, that I didn’t look like a murderer to you.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what do you think now?”

“I still don’t think you look like a murderer.
 
Heck if I know what you are.
 
But you’re on our team.”
 
Carlisle sipped her coffee again.
 
“Christ, Miles.
 
I thought you said you could make coffee.”

“I can.”

“This is worse than the shit at the station.”

Val put his knife and fork down.
 
“Look, I don’t care.
 
All I want to know is, how can we use it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, yesterday a little girl got taken because of me.”
 
Val stopped for a minute.
 
“I’m sure of it.
 
The ‘biopsy.’”
 
He gave air quotes around the words.
 
“The hospital.
 
It’s all been a bit too right-place, right-time for it to be coincidence.
 
So.
 
They want me for something.
 
Can we use that?
 
To get Adalia back?”

“Maybe.”
 
Carlisle looked out over her coffee cup.
 
“They need to let us know what they want first.”

“You can’t go.”
 
John looked at them each in turn.
 
“Come on.
 
There’s no chance that’s a two-way ticket.
 
These guys have left a trail of bodies worse than an airline crash behind them.
 
One more?
 
It’s not going to make a difference.”

Danny didn’t say anything.
 
Val reached over and put his hand over hers.
 
“It doesn’t matter.
 
It’s my fault.”

“It’s hardly your fault.”

“Semantics.
 
I’m responsible.”

John watched as Danny put her other hand over the top of Val’s.
 
“No, John’s right.
 
You can’t go.”

“She’s your daughter.”

“I —”

“Whatever.”
 
Carlisle cut across them both.
 
“It doesn’t matter yet.
 
We don’t know what they want.
 
If they call — if, mind — then play along.
 
Tell them what they need to hear.
 
Set up a meeting.
 
We can decide what to do after that.”

“Won’t we have decided?”
 
John wiped a finger through the grease on his plate and licked it clean.
 
“I mean, if we set up a meeting.”

“They’ll think so, sure.”
 
Carlisle nodded.
 
“But what we’ve done is set up a place and time we’ll know where they are.
 
That gives us a bit of an advantage.”

Val leaned forward.
 
“It’s not your daughter, though.”
 
He looked at Danny.
 
“What do you want?”

“I want my little girl back.
 
I want her home.”
 
Danny looked between Val and Carlisle.
 
“We’ll do what Melissa says.
 
If they call.
 
Then we can get them.”

John nodded.
 
“That’s the spirit.
 
A bit of payback is probably in order.”

Val nodded.
 
“I can be faster next time.
 
They won’t get away.”

Carlisle held up her hands.
 
“Whoa.
 
Relax.
 
This isn’t some John Wayne shit here.”

“Right.”
 
Val nodded again.
 
“Sorry.
 
It’s just —”
 
He looked at Danny.

“I know.”
 
Carlisle leaned forward.
 
“They owe me one too.
 
Vince — my partner — is still missing.
 
No one’s returning my calls.
 
They killed a lot of my friends at the station.”

“You’ve got friends here, Melissa.”
 
Val nodded at them all around the table.
 
“Good friends.”

John turned on the megawatt smile.
 
“You know what they say.
 
Friends help you move.
 
Good friends help you move bodies.”

That’s when Val’s phone rang.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Elsie looked at Sam across the table.
 
The grandfather clock ticked, a sound she usually wasn’t aware of.
 
Usually.
 
The burner phone sat between them on the desk, the clean black plastic a contrast to what she was about to use it for.
 
She’d had to do hard things before, but kidnapping — she stopped her thoughts in their tracks.
 
Get a hold of yourself
.
 
This wasn’t a kidnapping; she was saving a life.
 
And if the science could be leveraged, exploited in the same way so many promising medicines were today, it would make more money for the company by saving more lives.