Night Owls

17

THE DRIVE FROM Night Owls to the abandoned cemetery plot in Weston was tense and silent. Val sat beside Chaz, watching his knuckles go white and whiter on the steering wheel. He was going to leave finger-sized indentations on the leather by the time he was done, but she couldn’t blame him. The big, scarred Jackal sat directly behind him, sneering into the rearview anytime Chaz glanced into it.

The skinny one was in the middle. The Bitch had pushed his hood back so she could stroke the back of his neck. Seemed he didn’t like cars very much, from the occasional low whine he let out. Val got a good look at him in the flashes from oncoming headlights—he hadn’t transformed all the way. The top half of his face looked perfectly human. The only thing that betrayed him there was the amber tint of his eyes. But below that his nose and mouth had pushed out, his nostrils lengthening until they almost touched his top lip. His chin jutted forward, giving him an underbite. It didn’t look comfortable, this in-between state.

It also meant he hadn’t learned full control yet. We can use it to our advantage. She just had to figure out how.

Ten minutes later, Chaz pulled over on the edge of an overgrown field and killed the engine. “Last stop,” he said, a little too loudly. “Everyone out of the pool.”

The lackeys got out on his side. Without Bitch next to him to calm him, the skinny kid whined and panted while he waited for his companion to exit. The other Jackal took his time, ignoring the sounds of distress coming from his right. For a moment, as the bigger one used the door frame to steady himself, Val was certain Chaz would slam the door closed on his hands. She tried catching his eye across the Mustang’s roof, giving her head a tiny shake, but he was too busy staring down the emerging Jackal.

Chaz had muttered his nicknames for them to her on the way to the car. Now, the one he’d dubbed Asshole finished unfolding himself from the backseat. He towered over Chaz, standing close enough to kiss. It was a dare. The Jackal’s breathing stayed even, his heartbeat steady. Beneath the stench of rotten meat, Val thought he smelled . . . amused.

Chaz’ heart, on the other hand, was thudding along fast and loud. Bitch heaved a sigh—they could sense it just as well as Val could. But if she wasn’t calling her lackeys off, neither would Val. Throwing down now would ruin the plans, but making Chaz back down would show weakness. That was just as bad.

There were vampires who didn’t have to speak to Command. Val wasn’t one of them. The best she could do was think don’t do it at him as hard as she could and hope he’d come to the conclusion that the timing wasn’t right on his own. After a moment in which Val was pretty certain he’d counted to ten, Chaz stepped away and swept an arm out to the side to let Asshole by.

Of course, that meant when Twitch got out Chaz feinted toward him, making him flinch. Can’t win ’em all.

“Let’s go,” said Bitch. Her tone suggested boredom, but they were racing the sun, too. Wherever they went to ground during the day, they’d have to allow for time to get there, or at least to find somewhere they could hole up. This part of Weston was all fields and farmland. The roads didn’t even warrant streetlights out this far, and the last house they’d passed was back near the Edgewood town line.

Val took point, picking her way over the low wooden fence that ran along the property. Its rails were old and soft with rot. God only knew the last time it had been repaired. They struck out across the field, cutting a swath through the overgrown grass. Soon enough Chaz’ car was only a boxy lump of shadow in the distance.

Eventually they joined up with the dirt path that came in from another angle and continued on through a line of trees up ahead. In colonial times, the path had probably been well trod by churchgoer feet. Now it was little more than an overgrown rut, but it let Val know they were getting close.

The ruins were on the other side. The moonlight picked out three crumbling, blackened stone walls, about thirty feet to a side. Two of them still had arched windows, though the glass was long gone. The wall closest to them was probably ten feet high, with a gaping maw that used to be the front door.

Chiseled into the stone above the lintel was a cross.

Bitch snarled and threw out an arm to stop Twitch and Asshole in their tracks. She turned to Val, yellow eyes flashing. “Holy ground? You think we’re stupid enough to walk on holy ground?”

“Of course I don’t. And my guess is, neither did the professor.” Val nodded toward the structure. “Chaz spent the day researching. Henry Clearwater bought the property not long after he came to Edgewood. This church was active in the colonial days, but it burnt down in the early eighteen hundreds. The people who worshiped here joined up with a bigger parish nearby and let this place go to ruin, but the higher-ups never officially decommissioned it. Which means it’s still consecrated.”

“Shit,” said Bitch.

“Yep. And if Chaz found all that on Wikipedia, I’m guessing Henry Clearwater knew a hell of a lot more. Pretty convenient place to stash things you don’t want the local demon-souled rabble getting their hands on, wouldn’t you say?”

The Jackals’ heads all swung toward Chaz. Twitch stepped up behind him, considering. “But he’s not demon souled.”

Chaz held up his hands. “Uh-uh. Oh, fuck no. You think the professor would’ve left a loophole like that open? Look at the door frame. Shit, look at the grass.” He pointed his penlight a little ways ahead of them, then a bit to the right, then a bit further. Every ten feet or so, sigils were burnt into the dry grass. Several other, smaller rings were visible closer in. “Those things ring the whole clearing. And there are more on the building itself.” He sidestepped away from Twitch, but bumped into Asshole. He pretended not to notice the big man, addressing Bitch instead. “I can’t read runes for shit, but it’s a safe bet those are wards to keep out everything that’s not, y’know. You guys.”

Val watched the other woman, trying to gauge her reaction. This was the part where Cavale’s plan branched off into any number of possible outcomes. So far, it had gone smoothly—the Jackals had come to this place; Chaz’ lines had been pitch-perfect. Best case, Bitch and her lackeys would dismiss Val and Chaz and puzzle out their own way across the grounds. When they called it a night, Elly and Cavale would follow them home. Val glanced around at the line of trees ringing the meadow. Whatever Cavale had done to hide the two of them had worked: if Val hadn’t known they were dug in somewhere nearby, she’d have thought her own little group was all alone.

But the Jackals hadn’t stopped staring at Chaz. He seemed to notice the thoughtful expressions Bitch and Twitch had adopted, and when Asshole shrank the distance between them from inches to centimeters, he swore and tensed.

“Leave him alone,” Val said. “He’s not your guinea pig.” She didn’t have to fake the nervousness that crept into her voice. Cavale had drawn the wards, but if Chaz stepped past them and they didn’t do anything, the game was up. “There has to be a better way. Get someone down here to dismantle them and send in your own servants. Leave mine out of this.”

Bitch folded her arms and eyed Chaz. “Why should we waste our own?”

At her nod, Asshole grabbed Chaz’ shoulders and started forcing him forward.

“Hey, what the fuck? Hey.” Chaz thrashed in the bigger man’s grip, but it did him no good.

Even if Asshole hadn’t had the size advantage, a Jackal’s strength would rival Val’s own. “Come on, no!” Chaz whipped his head back, his skull smashing into Asshole’s chin. Asshole barely even grunted. He didn’t slow down.

As they approached the outer ring, several of the closest sigils started to glow a deep cobalt blue. Chaz threw a panicked look back at Val.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said. Still no movement from the woods. Cavale and Elly had to be able to see what was happening, but they hadn’t broken cover. What did the glow mean? Cavale hadn’t said anything about real, working wards. So what the hell were these? “No one has to get hurt.”

Bitch shrugged. “Maybe not. But this is so much more efficient. We can tell our people what to expect.” She turned back to Asshole. “Go ahead.”

At first, as Asshole’s shove sent Chaz staggering across the runes, Val thought the glow was the extent of the effect. Then all the sigils lit up, so bright that they all had to shade their eyes. The air around Chaz sizzled as the glow coalesced around him.

Chaz wheeled back around to face them. His mouth opened in a silent scream as brilliant blue flame licked up over his face. Val screamed aloud for him, shoving her way past Bitch. A few feet away, she stopped. Cavale’s runes started in the same place as the consecrated ground, and even though Chaz was just out of arm’s reach, he might as well have been a mile away. She could see his eyes, bright with pain, but moving through this was like swimming through molasses—if a swarm of angry bees were mixed into the molasses, that was.

Every inch of her skin stung as she forced herself closer. If I can get to him . . . If I can just get a hand around his wrist . . . The Jackals had gone silent behind her. She almost had him. She was so damned close. Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he crumpled to the ground.

No breath. No heartbeat. The body on the ground before her was lifeless and unmoving.

She fell to her knees as she broke through the other side of the barrier. The sluggishness was gone, but the stinging intensified. Val shoved it aside and crawled the last few feet to Chaz. “No,” she muttered, pulling him into her lap. The last of the cobalt fire guttered out. It didn’t burn, but then, maybe it wouldn’t. She had no idea what Cavale had done. “Oh God, Chaz, I’m sorry, I’m—” She broke off when she saw the smirk on his lips.

His eyes were open and tight with pain and confusion. Beneath her hands, she felt his heart give a few stuttery thumps as his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Her supernatural senses insisted that the man in her lap was dead, but plain old touch and sight told her differently.

Then, infuriating as ever, he winked.

Relief coursed through her, drowning out the sting of holy ground for the moment. She could hear the Jackals moving away, twigs and branches snapping as they tromped off in the direction of the road. A glance back confirmed it. The three of them were visible for a few more seconds until the trees and the dark swallowed them up. They must have seen enough. The chase was up to Cavale and Elly now.

Val peered down at Chaz. His grin had grown to shit-eating proportions. “I’m going to kill you,” she mouthed.

“VAL’S GOING TO kill you,” said Elly. “Both of you.” She watched the runes trigger and squinted as the fire flared around Chaz. “And there she goes.” The vampire’s scream rent the air. The night-creatures, who had restarted their chirping and scurrying once they realized Elly and Cavale weren’t there to eat them, went silent again. She turned to Cavale. “How long can she stay there?”

His eyes were fixed on the Creeps at the edge of the woods. “She’ll be fine for a few minutes. She knows to get out before it gets too bad.”

Chaz collapsed. Elly saw Val reach him, but then the fire went out and she couldn’t make out more than a hunched shape in the middle. In theory, Val was finding out that Chaz was just fine right about now. The wards had been pretty ingenious on Cavale’s part. He’d spent most of the day trying to figure out something that’d keep the charade going if the Creeps decided to call their bluff and make Chaz go into the husk of the church. At first, he’d wanted to go with a simple illusion, something that would look like the wards had tripped. Chaz could have run inside the ruin and hidden there until the Jackals left.

It had seemed solid enough until Elly mentioned the attack at the Clearwaters, and the impression of hundreds of Creeps attacking. One of them—she guessed it was the female—could make illusions of her own, which meant it was possible she’d see right through Cavale’s. But a smaller one, confined to Chaz himself, might work. Cavale had run it by Chaz and they’d both agreed to leave Val out of the loop on it. It was better if her reaction was real. Elly wondered if Cavale had told Chaz the part he’d asked her to add in, where his heart really would stop for a few seconds.

Probably not. It was a tactic they’d used once before, while hunting with Father Value. That time, Cavale had been the bait. Even though Elly’d known he’d come out of it—that his heart would start beating again and he’d get up and stake the Creeps as soon as the trap was sprung—she’d been haunted by the image of his waxy skin and dead eyes for weeks after. She knew the fear and relief that had to be coursing through Val right about then.

Cavale was tugging on her arm. “The Creeps are leaving. Let’s go.” They hefted their backpacks, holy water sloshing away inside. Elly hated having to leave some of the supplies behind, but they could come back for them. They had enough to take these three on if it came to it, even though the mission was to follow, not to fight. Still, she couldn’t help hoping for some kind of fisticuffs.

It was easy enough to follow the Creeps’ trail through the woods. They weren’t concerned about subtlety, so they left a swath of broken branches in their wake. Every so often their voices echoed back to Elly and Cavale, usually one of them laughing at something the others had said. They sounded like hyenas, then, only throatier. Once they got to the road, though, they picked up speed.

Elly and Cavale could run, but for nowhere near as long as the Creeps could. “We’re going to lose them. Should I go back and see if Chaz will give us the car keys?”

“No. Hang on.”

Hanging on wasn’t easy. Every second they delayed, the trail got colder. Father Value had taught them both how to track, but doing it on pavement was unreliable at best. Unless . . . “What are you doing?”

“Check this out.” Cavale pulled a small, round mirror out of his pocket. Glued to the back of it was a safety pin. He opened the pin and pricked his finger, then squeezed a few drops onto the mirror. He smeared them into the shape of an arrow-headed rune. It lit up, then began to spin. Seconds later, the arrow pointed along the road toward the center of Weston. “Chaz let me draw another one in black chalk on the backseat. One of them leaned against it enough for it to transfer. As long as they don’t decide to go swimming or something, we’re set.”

They grinned at each other. Creeps hated water.

The rune-compass led them through Weston proper, past all four of its streetlights, and right up to the Edgewood town line. From there, they turned onto the road Elly recognized as the one from her bus trip. They were on a stretch that was neither Edgewood nor Weston now, made up of clusters of small businesses separated by long stretches of empty plots. Elly counted two car repair shops, a landscaper’s headquarters, and a place whose sign announced Snowblowers are now in stock!!!

Just as they passed the sign, Cavale stopped short. “They’re up ahead.”

Past the next set of streetlights, a corrugated metal building sat in the center of a dirt lot. It was maybe thirty feet by fifty, with no windows aside from the ones on the garage door at the front. Those were painted over with black. Elly craned her neck and saw another, regular door on the side. “We should go get a better look, see how many are inside.”

“The sun’ll be up soon. We can do it then.”

“But if we go now, maybe we can hear who it is they’re reporting to. Whether it’s someone inside, or if they’re making a phone call.”

He was winding up with an argument, but before he could make it, he went very still. “Elly,” he said, staring at a point over her shoulder. He didn’t need to finish. She ducked and whirled, Silver and Pointy falling into her palm. She couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face—after spending most of the day either preparing or watching Cavale do his thing, it felt damned good to finally be able to do hers.

The Creep hadn’t expected her to drop. As his momentum carried him past her, she reached out and snagged his ankle. Gravel skittered across the road as he went sprawling. Something clanged against the asphalt. Tire iron? Elly scuttled over to him, keeping out of range in case he sat up and swung. She could see the L-shaped rod clutched in his hand. Yup. Tire iron.

To her side, Cavale had set down his backpack and retrieved a soda bottle filled with holy water. He loosened the cap and tossed it to her. She caught it with her free hand as the Creep pushed up onto his elbows. Now she had a dilemma: give him a good dousing, or go straight to her old standby?

Use every advantage, Eleanor. Father Value hadn’t survived as long as he had by ignoring that rule. It wasn’t time for her to start. She gave the cap a twirl and heard it spin away along the shoulder of the road. She advanced on the Creep, the bottle in her left hand, Silver and Pointy ready in her right. The Creep was on one knee, his right leg behind him. He looked like a runner waiting for the starting pistol.

Elly wasn’t much for waiting. She squeezed the bottle, sending an arc of water out in front of her as she charged forward. The Creep sprang, too, face-first into the water. His howl of pain choked off as his skin started to smoke. This close, Elly could see the fur on his muzzle and the sharp points of his teeth as his lips pulled back. He swiped at where she’d been standing, but she’d gotten him right between the eyes. He was fighting blind.

She dodged beneath the first swipe and danced back a step as he swung the tire iron in a wide arc. It whooshed through the air less than a foot from her head. She glanced to see where Cavale was and realized they had more company. He and another Creep were circling one another like boxers. A third was jogging toward them from the corner of the building.

None were the Creeps from earlier. Which means these ones are buying them time. For what, though? Elly dodged another swing. She needed him to get rid of that tire iron so she could get close enough for a staking. She let her instincts guide her through the motions of fighting while she turned plausible explanations over in her head.

Dawn was coming. It made no sense (duck, sidestep, try to flank) for the Creeps to finish their briefing if there were people who could come in during the daylight and (hop back, feint, pitch the empty bottle in the other direction) kill off the rest of their nest while they slept. Creeps weren’t known for bravery and sacrifice—they wouldn’t (leap while he sniffs in the direction of the noise, raise the spike high) trap themselves in a warehouse just to get information to their betters.

So either they think these three will take us out easily—

Elly drove Silver and Pointy home right between the blinded Creep’s shoulder blades. He shrieked as the tip pierced his heart from behind. Beneath his clothes, greasy ash spread outward from the wound, leaking out from his sleeves and cuffs. The clothing held his shape a moment longer, until Elly yanked out the spike and stepped away. Everything fell in a heap.

—or these ones have been abandoned and the rest of them are busy fleeing.

She turned to see Cavale shove his Creep up against the snowblower sign. They were captured in silhouette for a second, the Creep’s neck stretching as he snapped his teeth at Cavale’s face. Then Cavale pulled a rowan stake from his belt and plunged it into the Creep’s eye. It went down yelping, cradling its head. Rowan didn’t work as fast as silver, but this one wasn’t getting up again anytime soon.

Cavale straightened and pointed across the lot. The third Creep seemed to have changed its mind about joining the fight. It loped away past the building, a man-shape running on all fours.

Elly moved over to stand with Cavale. The Creep writhed in pain at their feet. “I don’t think anything’s going to be inside that place.”

“They ought to have swarmed us, if they were defending their territory.”

“Do you think we tipped the other three off? Did they know we were following?” She looked down at the Creep. “Wait, we can just ask.”

Its good eye rolled in fear when she hunkered down beside it. The stake still protruded from its other one.

“Is anyone left in that building?” She pointed with her silver spike, making sure the light from the sign caught the metal.

The Creep moaned. “Please . . .”

“Answer me and I’ll help you. Who’s in there?”

“No one. No one! Everyone ran.” He bucked beneath her as a spasm hit. The rowan was making its way to his brain.

Not yet. “Why did they run?”

“Alpha. Alpha said . . .” He trailed off and barked a harsh laugh.

Elly shook him, resisting the urge to twist the stake. It might wake him up, but it might do more damage and render him incapable of answering. “What did your alpha say?”

“Said. Said the leech wasn’t alone. Said . . . Value.”

So they know we’re here, too. She’d never thought of herself as particularly egotistic, but she couldn’t deny the swell of pride that came with knowing she and Cavale had factored into the Creeps’ retreat.

Its speech degenerated into moans and babbling, then. Its other eye filmed over and sunk in.

Elly took Silver and Pointy and finished the job. She wiped the spike off on the bottom of her shirt, then picked up a handful of dirt from the side of the road and dry washed her hands with it. She didn’t think she’d been hit by any blood, but the ash was a pain in the ass to get off.

Cavale held up one of the bottles of holy water. “You know, you could have used this.”

“Meh. We might need that later.” She waved it away. Picking up her backpack, she headed across the lot.

The side door of the Creeps’ former nest was unlocked. She opened it carefully, in case they’d left one unlucky packmate behind for an ambush. Cavale stood directly behind her, ready with a bottle and the tire iron he’d retrieved from beside Elly’s Creep’s remains. Nothing. The place wasn’t empty, but it had clearly been abandoned. Rags were strewn everywhere. Flies buzzed atop piles of garbage. Creepscrawl covered most of the walls.

They picked through the refuse, looking for anything that might be useful. The best they found, though, were three discarded sweatshirts. Cavale held up the mirror and the rune pointed at them. He picked one of them up and ran a finger down its back. He held up a chalk-smudged digit for Elly to see. “So much for tracing them further with this.”

Dawn had lightened the sky by the time they trudged out of the nest. Elly was dead tired. They still had the trek back to Crow’s Nest ahead of them. She looked hopefully along the road, willing a car to come along so she could stick out her thumb. But the ones that did pass by kept on going. No one wanted to stop and pick up two grimy-looking kids in the wee hours. Okay, one grimy-looking kid. Cavale was rumpled but nowhere near as filthy. Though it probably didn’t help that he’d held on to the tire iron.

Then there came the rumbling of an engine. It had to be an older car; nothing new made that much noise. Cavale squinted uphill as the car crested it. “Son of a bitch,” he said, but he was smiling. He waved wearily at the Mustang as it approached and pulled over on the opposite side of the street.

Chaz unrolled his window. “You kids want a ride?”

They clambered in, Cavale in front, Elly in the back. It felt good to sit down and close her eyes.

“I’ve been driving around for an hour trying to find you guys. You two okay? And where the hell did you get that?” Elly cracked one eye open to see him gesturing at Cavale’s prize.

“Oh. Yeah.” Cavale held the tire iron up so Chaz could see it. “Thought maybe you could use this. As long as you’re not going to hit me with it for what the wards did.”

“Nah,” he said. “But you probably don’t want to hand it to Val. She might use it.”

Elly lifted her head up off the seat rest. “Where is Val? Did she have time to get home before sunrise?”

In the mirror, Chaz winced. “No, she’s, uh. She insisted I come find you and make sure you were all right.”

“So did she go to ground or something?”

The wince deepened. “She’s in the trunk, asleep.”