Night Owls

7

VAL WAS MOVING before the words were out of Chaz’ mouth. He caught her by the elbow and tugged her back to him. Shaking him off would have been easy—Val was far, far stronger. But there were eyes on her here. She spoke through gritted teeth. “I have to go there. See what happened.”

He shook his head, the grip on her arm tightening. “You can’t. It’s a crime scene. There are going to be cops everywhere, and you can’t just go barging in.”

“I won’t let them see me. I’ll make them forget if they do.” She had to go. She had to see. If the Jackals had killed the Clearwaters, Val could track them. She could catch up to them and . . .

And what? Take down a pack on her own? She had three small stakes of rowan with her, buried deep at the bottom of her messenger bag—hardly enough to face down multiple Jackals. There couldn’t be a whole nest in town, but without going to the house, she had no way to tell how many there really were. One or two she could destroy on her own, but not without difficulty. Probably not without serious damage to herself. Val closed her eyes and sighed. “You’re right. I have to wait.”

Chaz let go. “If you want to go look around later, I’ll go with you. But he loved it here, and everyone knew it. If more information’s going to come in, it’ll make its way here pretty fast.”

Now that Val looked around, she saw that he was right. More people had trickled in, mostly shell-shocked students who stood in clusters, talking in hushed voices. One stood alone, up at the register. Justin. Val strode straight down the aisle to him. He looked frozen in place, ashen and confused. As she got closer, his dark eyes flicked to her.

“Val, they said . . . They said—”

She caught him as he crumpled and pulled him into a hug. Justin didn’t sob or moan, but Val felt hot tears wetting her blouse. Every now and then he’d tremble, or his thin shoulders would hitch, but he hardly made a sound. He straightened after a while, not meeting her gaze as he went for the tissues and wiped his eyes. It had to be slightly awkward to be held by your boss. “Thank you,” he said at last, pulling away from her.

She nodded and stepped back. “Do you want to go home for the night? Back to campus?”

“No. I think I’ll be better staying, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” He had to be thinking the same as Chaz: people would come here to share news as it was discovered. “Well, you don’t have to stay up here. Go talk to whoever you need to.”

Justin took another few seconds to compose himself, then stepped down and headed for a group of students. They made a space for him as he approached. A girl Val didn’t know slung her arm around Justin’s waist and they leaned into one another, offering comfort.

NIGHT OWLS FOUND itself hosting its own wake for the professor and Helen. Val sent Chaz to the bakery for a platter of pastries, and had Justin help her wrangle the monster-sized coffee urn they set up for author signings and book club nights. People stopped in and told stories about classes they’d had with Henry or Helen’s unflagging energy on various campus committees. No one knew much about the killing itself, only that the motive appeared to be robbery. Word had it the house had been ransacked.

After midnight, the crowd began to thin. By one o’clock, they were back down to the regulars, only more subdued. Val only saw Justin a few times after she’d relieved him of duty, always standing in a small knot of people, though usually on the outside of the group. The last glimpse she’d had of him had been around eleven thirty, when he’d restocked the supply of Styrofoam coffee cups. As she looked around now, Val realized she hadn’t seen Justin at all for the last hour.

Maybe he slipped out and went home after all. But it wasn’t like him to leave without letting her know. Her gaze fell on the door to the rare books room, and her stomach dropped. She groped for the hook beneath the register, hoping to hear the rattle of the chain, the clatter of the silver key hanging from it hitting the wall. With the news of the Clearwaters’ murder, she’d completely forgotten to take it away. Shit, shit, shit.

She grabbed at empty air.

Justin was in the back. Alone with the Jackals’ book. She couldn’t explain why—aside from that thing creeps me out—but she found herself sprinting toward the back of the store, determined to yank the damned thing out of Justin’s hands if she had to.

As she passed the end of the shelves and fumbled for her own key, the door opened. Justin backed out, placing his palm flat against the edge of the door and turning the handle all the way to shut it as quietly as possible.

He turned around and yelped when he found himself nose to nose with Val, the momentary fright on his face collapsing into guilt.

“I thought I said that room was off-limits.” She’d said it to Chaz, but Justin had been right there. He’d damned well heard.

His cringe intensified. “I just . . . I just wanted to sit in there for a few minutes. It’s one of his favorite places. Was.” He took the key from around his neck and held it out for Val. “I’m sorry.”

The chiding she’d had ready died on her lips. What harm had been done, really? Justin couldn’t understand the language the book was written in, and he’d carried it around all day before he brought it here. It could have been warded. She could smell it on him, the faint tang of rot on his hands. He’d opened the bag, probably flipped through the damned thing. If there’d been any spells set to go off when the cover was opened, they’d have triggered by now. Since the back room hadn’t exploded, she had to assume it was unprotected. Val sighed and took the key. “It’s all right. We’ve all had a long night. Why don’t you head on home and get some sleep?”

Justin hesitated and looked around the store.

Val understood. Here, at least, he was among people. The rooms in Bryant Hall were all singles and most of his floormates would be asleep at this hour. She knew what it was like to lie in the dark, alone and grieving. “You can stay if you want.”

“No. I’ll be okay.” He mustered a smile and gave her an awkward squeeze on the arm. “Thanks, Val.”

She watched him go, his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. In a way, Val envied him: when he got back to his room, he’d be able to cry.

It was one of the few things vampirism had stolen from her that she actually missed, now and then. She could look at as many pictures of sunrises as she wanted to online, or watch thousands of videos shot by amateurs on beaches at dawn. Chaz had gotten used to her telling him what to order a couple times a week, and let her sniff to her heart’s content before he dug in.

But being dead seemed to have closed up her tear ducts, and while maybe others could weep near her, no one could weep for her.

THE JACKALS CAME at closing time.

The store was empty except for Val and Chaz. She was at the register when the bell above the door jingled. Chaz was somewhere near the back; she could hear the rhythmic sweep of the push broom against the tiles. Stay back there, Val thought, even though it was useless: she wasn’t strong enough to Command with her will alone, and calling out would let them know he meant something to her.

So she kept her mouth shut as three of them filed in, all trench coats and hidden faces, and hoped the floor in the children’s section was covered in dirt and tiny candy pieces. “Can I help you find something?” Her voice was steadier than she’d expected it to be. The rowan stakes were still in the office. Even if she made a run for it, Val knew she couldn’t take them all at once. Best just to stand her ground and see what they wanted.

If they so much as look at Chaz askance, I’ll make him run.

They wended their way past the display tables, the smell of decay roiling along ahead of them. Two of them were taller than Val, one bulky, one thin. The third was small and slight, and when she stopped on the other side of the counter, she pushed her hood back so Val could see the four long scars running down her cheek. They marred an otherwise pretty face, now that the snout was gone. She’d probably been popular, back when she was human: high cheekbones, pixie-ish nose, full lips. If she gave her hair a wash, she might even turn some heads now.

“Hello, Leech.” She grinned up at Val. In the light, her teeth were jagged and yellow.

Well, almost pretty. “Didn’t I tell you to get the hell out of town?”

“We’re on our way out. Just needed to pick up one last thing before we go.” The two behind her lifted their noses and sniffed.

“It’s here.” The one on the left closed his eyes, panting a little. He looked Justin’s age, maybe younger. His cheeks were a minefield of acne scars; apparently becoming a Jackal didn’t fix your skin problems like vampirism did.

The other one nodded, turning until his nose pointed toward the rare books room. He was, as Chaz might say, built like a brick shithouse. Val wondered if a blow from the fire extinguisher she kept behind the register would even have any effect on him, or if he’d only grin and shake his head at her like the bulldog did in the cartoons, when the cat finally got in a solid hit. “In there.”

The woman’s grin widened. “Did the old man bring you a present today, Leech? Something that wasn’t his?” She leaned across the counter, dropping her voice. “We went looking for it, and it wasn’t at his house. He didn’t want to tell us where he’d hidden it, but he talked in the end.”

“Screamed, really,” said the one on the left, the skinny one.

Val gripped the counter so hard the wood groaned. Blood thundered in her ears; she wanted to lunge at them, tear at their throats and make them howl for what they’d done. Their rancid blood would make her gag, but it would be worth it, so worth it to make the Jackals pay. Her gums prickled as her fangs unsheathed.

“All swept up, Val, just need to—” Chaz froze beside the rack full of maps as four heads swiveled toward him. The dustpan he carried dipped and spilled its sandy contents all over his shoes. “Val?” In his other hand, he held the push broom. He switched his grip on it, getting ready to bring it up like a baseball bat, but before he could, the right-hand Jackal moved.

Its motion was a blur even to Val’s preternatural senses; to Chaz, it must have seemed to reach him in an eyeblink. She couldn’t Command him to run now: the Jackal’s hand slipped around his throat, its grimy black claws making indents in his skin.

For his part, Chaz took it well. After his initial start, he stood calmly, still wielding the broom even though he didn’t have the range of motion to swing it. He glanced down at the wrist holding him and saw the fine, dark fur. “Oh. Uh. Fuck,” was the extent of his commentary.

“How about you show me that book,” said the woman, pulling Val’s attention back, “and he doesn’t have to get hurt tonight.”

“Val, no. Fuck these guys. Don’t—”

Right Hand lifted his other arm almost casually and extended his index finger, the claw hovering less than an inch from Chaz’ eye. The unspoken threat shut Chaz up.

“All right.” Val reached under the register and retrieved the key from its hook. “All right, you can have it.” She let it dangle before the woman, but pulled it back before the Jackal bitch could take it. “I’m going to have to let you in.”

The woman growled. “You don’t want to piss me off, Leech. Whatever you’re trying to pull here—”

“I’m not trying to pull anything.” Val set the key down on the counter. “If you pick up that key, it’s going to hurt like hell. It’s silver. Go ahead and touch it if you don’t believe me.”

The woman jerked her head, and Left Hand reached past her to prod the key with the tip of his finger. As soon as his skin made contact, the flesh turned black. Tendrils of smoke curled up like a cigarette left to burn in an ashtray. The Jackal yanked his arm away and danced backward. He whimpered as he stuffed the injured finger into his mouth.

Val had expected the woman to react at least a little. Instead, she watched her companion’s pain with clinical observation. She’s not an alpha. She didn’t smell like one, and an alpha never would have let Val get the drop on it the way she had last night. But she might be fucking the alpha, or could be an alpha’s pup. Val tucked that away to mull over later. Provided there was a later.

The woman didn’t wait for the whimpering to stop. She shrugged and faced Val. “Fine. Lead the way.”

As much as she loathed turning her back on a Jackal, Val stepped away from the register and headed toward the back. She took the aisle that Chaz and Right Hand were in, pausing before them to bare her fangs at the creature holding her friend. Up close, she could see beneath his hood. A network of scars covered his face, souvenirs from years of fights. She wondered how many times he’d challenged an alpha and lost.

Right Hand flashed long canines at her. One of the front ones was chipped. She imagined the ragged bite marks he would leave on Chaz’ flesh if she screwed this up.

She dipped her head in acknowledgment—you win this round—and turned to Chaz. “Will you be all right while I . . .” She gestured at the rare books room, but what she meant was, “while I leave you with these things that wouldn’t mind having your spleen for a snack.”

He grinned at her despite the smell of fear-sweat rolling off him. “Peachy keen.”

Then the Jackal woman gave her a shove and got her moving again.

VAL OPENED THE door for the Jackal bitch but didn’t follow her inside. She wanted to be able to keep an eye on the two up front. “The book’s on the desk. Take it and get the hell out of here.”

But of course that wasn’t good enough. The woman seemed content to leave Val in the doorway. As soon as she set eyes on the book, it was as if she’d forgotten about the vampire behind her altogether. She stood staring down at the top of the desk for a long moment, the set of her shoulders rigid, breath coming in a pant as she sniffed the air. New mothers weren’t half as careful with their firstborns as the Jackal woman was as she lifted the book.

The Ziploc bag fell to the ground like a discarded candy bar wrapper. The woman’s eyes shone as she leafed through the onionskin-thin pages. She turned toward the door as she flipped, enough for Val to see the rapture on her face turn to rage. “Where is it?” she snarled, flipping faster.

“Where is what?”

The Jackal woman looked up at her, tawny eyes flashing. “You changed it. You stole it.” She turned the book around and showed Val the pages.

Blank.

Not the whole book, but a page here, a page there. Val couldn’t make sense of the text that remained. A mere glimpse of the writing made her stomach roil. But there were definitely whole chunks of it missing. “I didn’t do anything to it. I don’t even know what it is.”

“You did it. Or he did it. But since he’s dead, you get to fix it. But first.” She strode past Val and shouted to Right Hand. “Kill him.”

“No!” The Jackals could move fast, but so could Val. She grabbed the bitch and shoved her back against the wall. The book thudded to the floor in a flurry of pages. After a moment, the Jackal woman stopped fighting, laying her throat bare for Val—a dog submitting to its master. Val shifted the key in her palm so it protruded out from between her middle and index fingers. She held it against the woman’s throat. The flesh sizzled and burned like a piece of plastic held over a flame.

Despite the pain, the woman didn’t scream.

Right Hand paused, poised on the edge of carrying out his order. Left Hand wavered up by the register. Val could see him weighing his options—would a sudden move help or hurt? He’s still a pup. Too indecisive.

“Here’s how this is going to work: you do it and I’ll kill her,” Val called. “Then since my hands will be free, I’ll come for you two.” The key made a pretty terrible knife, but Val wasn’t afraid of a bit of a mess. Using it to cut the woman’s jugular would be like cutting twine with a dull blade. But if they hurt Chaz? Worth it.

The woman had the balls to smile. “You think you can take them both?”

Val kept her hand at the bitch’s throat, but glanced back at Right Hand. She thought about the scars on his face again. He might just be old enough. The other two seemed oddly young, as Jackals went, but this one struck her as more wary, more weathered. “Has your alpha ever mentioned Sacramento?”

“What’s that have to do with—” The bitch hushed as the silver pressed in harder.

Right Hand nodded, wary.

“I was there. So you know that means I can kill the both of you, easy. Don’t you?”

Left Hand whined low in his throat, still sucking on his burnt fingertip. Beneath Val, the Jackal bitch had gone very still, her eyes darting from Val to Right Hand and back. “Let him go,” the bitch said. The panicked, wheedling tone from this morning was back.

Right Hand did as he was told, pushing Chaz away from him with a bit too much force. Chaz stumbled forward. He caught his balance with the broom and held it out in front of him as he put distance between himself and the Jackals.

Val dragged the bitch down the aisle and past Right Hand. They swept past Left Hand, too, straight to the door. She shoved the abomination out onto the sidewalk and held the door open for the other two. They got the hint and squeezed past, trying not to touch her as they slunk out into the night.

The bitch crouched down, one hand to her throat, gulping in the chilly air. “Two days,” she rasped.

“For what?” Val twirled the key around on its chain. Wish I’d thought to use it as a garrote. Then she wouldn’t still be talking.

“To find what’s missing. To make it whole again.”

“You three really want to come back and try my patience?”

“Not just us.” Right and Left helped the bitch to her feet. She lifted her glittering eyes to meet Val’s. “If you don’t get those pages back, we’ll bring friends.” They backed away, until the shadows covered them. The bitch’s voice hung on the air: “We’ll bring a whole nest.”