Bring On The Night (8 page)

Haywood was losing to the werewolf. It looked even bigger than Margot and clearly had experience fighting. It pinned Haywood down, sinking its claws into his forearm. Without thinking, Brandon rose from his hiding place and ran to them, swinging the nunchucks at the wolf. He was rewarded with a satisfying crack as the nunchucks opened a wide gash on the wolf’s head, followed by a blast of pain from his own injured shoulder. He sank to his knees and watched as Rowdy fired her crossbow, planting an arrow in the wolf’s chest. Haywood pulled himself up to sit in a pew, holding his arm and looking ready to pass out. Rowdy rushed to him, pulled a first aid kit from her backpack and got to work.

“Lenny, we need cover!” she yelled. Brandon looked back to the altar to see Lenny. The boy stood with his arms outstretched, held in place by the three vampires feeding on him. Raising the nunchucks, Brandon hauled himself up and charged at the nearest vampire. All three of them scattered before he could get there, though. Jessie and her tanto might have been the reason but he wasn’t sure. His vision tunneled until all he could see was Lenny, left on the ground like a broken doll, covered in his own blood.

* * * *

The Joshua Shelter was located in a renovated warehouse several blocks from the abandoned church. It should have been an easy walk. Not too bad of a run, either. Brandon would not forget how strange the air felt on his face, how clean it was, as he ran as best as his injured shoulder would allow, Haywood’s nunchucks still gripped tight in one hand. On Kirkbride’s orders Rowdy sped ahead, her feet barely touching the ground. He kept going, thinking of the safety ahead and not what was behind him. It should have been a quick trip. Time seemed to stretch out like a rubber band and Brandon saw everything again, whether he wanted to or not.

He heard a banging ahead as Rowdy reached the shelter and threw the door open. By the time he got to the door, she had already gone for the first aid kit. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, blinking in the bright light, not sure what to do. The pain in his shoulder ebbed and peaked in waves and right now was definitely at a peak. The torn remains of his shirt clung to his skin, sticky with sweat and dried blood. Rowdy ran back in carrying a big plastic box full of supplies, setting it down on the long prep table half covered with pots and pans. She swept everything to the floor, the clatter of metal hitting the floor making him jump. He was about to speak, to ask what he could do to help, when shouting sounded from the alley. She looked up from unpacking bandages and he went to the door to hold it open. As soon as they were in, he shut the door, using every lock it had then sagged against it. He shut his eyes tight but all that did was bring forth more images from the church.

Brandon rapped his head against the door and opened his eyes. Lenny lay on the prep table, Haywood on one side, Kirkbride and Rowdy on the other. Puncture wounds in Lenny’s wrists leaked blood on the table and floor. There were more wounds on his neck. Rowdy pressed bandages to those wounds to try stopping the bleeding.

Brandon blinked, remembering the look on Lenny’s face as the vampires fed on him. He didn’t think there was a word to describe the kind of agony he saw there.

A puddle of blood formed on the floor under the spot where one of Lenny’s hands hung off the table. Brandon watched it, mesmerized. Drops of blood kept falling, making the puddle grow larger, falling almost in a rhythm. He heard an uneven rasping sound but didn’t know or care where it came from. His entire focus remained on that puddle of blood, and the drops that were feeding it. The drops seemed to be slower.

A sharp voice made him snap out of it.

“Will! Will! William!” Haywood screamed. He pulled Kirkbride away from Lenny, and Brandon realized Kirkbride had been doing CPR. “It’s no good. He’s gone, Will.”

Rowdy began to scream. Kirkbride took her in his arms and held her, not trying to quiet her. Haywood closed Lenny’s eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, heedless of the blood. Their collective anguish filled the room and Brandon wanted to run from it, get as far away as he could. He found his chance when he saw a flash of movement at the other side of the kitchen, in the door leading to the shelter. Jessie stood there, staring. Soaking wet, she was covered in blood, her clothing torn and hair a wild cloud. Brandon made his way to her and pulled her from the doorway into the short hall, yanking the door halfway closed.

“Did you get them?” he asked. “The three that did that?”

She nodded. “Draven and Margot got away. They split up. Draven and another vamp took off with the wolf you hit. I went after Margot but I lost her in the water. Did you get hurt again?”

He was surprised at the quality of her voice. It sounded almost tender. “No. I just...” His voice trailed off.

“You’re in shock,” she said. “You need your wound cleaned, antibiotics. Some whiskey wouldn’t hurt.”

She started to go in the kitchen but he stopped her. “I think we should let them have a little space right now.”

“You need help and they’re the one with the supplies. They...” She stopped at the sight of them.

The three stood together over Lenny’s body, Rowdy looking tiny and fragile between the two big soldiers. She held Lenny’s hand tightly between both of hers. Haywood covered her hands with one of his. Kirkbride did the same and began to lead them in prayer. “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.” As the other two joined in, Jessie backed quietly out of the door, closing it softly.

For a long moment she seemed reluctant to meet Brandon’s gaze. “Let’s sit out here and wait awhile.”

He nodded. They sat, leaning against the walls opposite each other and quiet in their own thoughts.

* * * *

Kirkbride exited the kitchen. The last thing he felt like doing right now was dealing with the vampire but he wanted to get it over with. He offered Brandon his hand to help him up. “We’ve got a better first aid kit in there.” He jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Go, let Haywood fix you up.”

Before Brandon could respond, Kirkbride turned his eyes to Jessie. “We need to talk.”

Jessie rose to her feet and gave Brandon a nod as he returned to the kitchen. Kirkbride led her to the shelter’s small office and closed the door behind them.

Kirkbride stood behind his desk, staring blankly out the small dirty window. “How many did you get?”

“A wolf, four vamps. Margot and Draven got away. They split up. I followed Margot but she went into the harbor. I couldn’t track her in all the funk.”

He said nothing for a long moment. “The four vampires...”

“The three that killed your boy are dead,” she said quietly.

He nodded, still not looking at her. “I took out a vampire. There’s one werewolf pretty badly injured, leaving the two leaders and how many more, do you think?”

“Uh, two vamps. I got the sense this was the whole crowd, but I could be wrong.”

“You should stay away from Haywood and Rowdy. I think right now they’d kill you on general principal.”

“What about you?”

He turned to face her. “You make one move to help the pack, I’ll kill you myself.”

She showed no surprise. “I told you my purpose here. You know you’re not going to have to kill me. You’re grieving and you want someone to take it out on and I’m the only vampire right in front of you now, so you threaten me. Did it help?”

He came at her, his face full of hatred, his arm raised and fist clenched. She made no move to stop him, and that fact shamed him more than all the other reasons he had to be ashamed of this moment. He stopped himself, his fist so close to hers his knuckles nearly touched her skin. For a moment she looked so small to Kirkbride, smaller even than Rowdy, but he knew she had enough strength to hurt him easily. She could kill him easily, but she simply stood there, looking up at him, unflinching, unafraid to meet his eyes.

He lowered his arm. “I don’t know what would help this.” He walked back behind the desk and sank into the chair.

“Finishing off the pack, for one thing. I know that’ll do me a world of good.” She sat in the folding chair, pulling it closer to the desk. “There’s something else we need to discuss right now, Brother William.”

The strange tone of her voice rang alarm bells. “What?”

“Do you know if they made him drink?”

Fear edged out the grief. He stammered for a moment, unable to say anything.

“Do you know what to do?” She kept her voice low and even.

“Is there any way to tell, other than the obvious?”

She shook her head. “If they did make him drink, you don’t want to see what comes next, and you damn sure don’t want that little girl to see it.”

“Will cremation, would that...” He was unable to get the rest of the words out.

“Scatter his ashes. You’ll have to do it before the next nightfall. If he was turned, that’s when he’ll rise.”

He shot up out of his chair and ran to a side door leading to a small bathroom, barely making it before his stomach rebelled. He retched until his stomach felt empty as the rest of him. He flushed the toilet and hobbled to the sink, splashing water on his face. He avoided his reflection as long as he could, not wanting to meet his own eyes. Scared of what he’d see there. He never should have let those kids go out with him and Haywood. So stupid, so careless, thinking he could give them all the training they needed to fight.

“I know this is brutal, but it’s better than the alternative.” Jessie stood in the doorway.

He looked up, meeting her eyes in the mirror. He straightened and grabbed a hand towel to dry his face. “I’ll do what I have to do.”

“Yeah, I get that about you.”

“You have a reflection.”

“Yes.” She peered in the mirror. “Which looks like crap right now. I need to get back to my hotel. It’ll be dawn soon. I want a shower and I want to sleep and as soon as it’s dark, I’m back out there with you. I want that pack dead.”

He led her out of the tiny bathroom and back to their seats. “The wolf can be out in the daylight, can’t she?”

“And she’ll be able to track Brandon. What are we going to do about that?”

Kirkbride gave her a look. Could he trust her with the reporter’s life? She’d done nothing to make him doubt her but it was still a big risk to take. He didn’t have much choice, though. He needed Haywood to stay with Rowdy. As for Kirkbride himself, he knew how he’d be spending much of the day. The thought sickened him. He would not bring along someone he barely knew, not for that. He had to do this alone.

* * * *

Brandon woke with a start, unsure of where he was for a moment. Then he remembered—the vampire’s hotel room. He rubbed his sore shoulder gently and sat up slowly, looking around for Jessie. She sat on the floor, her back to the wall and knees drawn up to her chest. She wore jeans and a dark purple cotton tank top, barefoot, long black hair cascading around her. She held a book in one hand, brows drawn together as she read. Brandon watched her for a moment. Her skin was pale, but not abnormally so. If he saw her on the street, in a coffee shop or someplace, would he be able to tell there was something different about her? She didn’t look particularly strong, but he knew she could not only wipe the floor with him, but Kirkbride and Haywood too, one after the other, and probably not even break a sweat. A hundred questions ran through his mind and it occurred to him this might be his only chance to get a few answered.

He moved to the edge of the bed, trying to get her attention without startling her. From the look on her face when she glanced at him, he realized she’d probably known as soon as he’d woken up.

“He left some painkillers for your shoulder.” She pointed at the nightstand before returning to her book.

He downed the pills and drank most of the bottle of water left next to them. “Uh.”

“He said he’d check in, but he didn’t say when.” She looked up from her book. “Why don’t you take a shower? You’ll feel better.”

He considered this for a moment. “Can we talk? After? I’ve got some questions, if you don’t mind.”

“I was wondering when you’d remember you’re a reporter.” Jessie gave him enough of a smile to turn his ears pink.

Hurrying through his shower, Brandon was glad Kirkbride had let him stop and grab a few things from his apartment on the way to the hotel. He’d be happy to never see those bloodstained clothes again. He shaved, brushed his teeth and combed his hair, all things that did, as Jessie had suggested, make him feel better. The claw marks on his shoulder looked red and raw in the fluorescent light, and would likely leave obvious scars. He picked up the wad of clean bandages and ointment Kirkbride had left on the bathroom sink and returned to the main room.

“Uh, I’m gonna need help,” he said.

He stood next to the bed wearing a pair of cargo pants and no shirt, an expectant look on his face. She stared at him in a way that made him think she was checking him out. His overpriced gym membership paid off in that moment. “What is it you’d like me to help you with, Brandy?” she teased.

A nervous laugh escaped him and he held up the bandages. “This. I need help with this. I don’t think I can get these bandages on by myself.”

She sighed, turning a page down on her book and tossing it aside. “You know, if you’d thought of me playing nurse earlier I could have given you a sponge bath.”

They situated themselves at the foot of the bed. She took the roll of bandages from his hands.

He said, “I think Reverend Kirkbride would stake us both if he came back here in time to catch that.”

Jessie smiled. “I think you’re right.” She opened the tube of medicine and carefully applied it to the claw marks. He worked hard not to flinch, though it was an effort. “Did you still want to ask me questions?”

“Only about a hundred or three.” The feel of her fingers on his skin unnerved him more than he wanted to admit. Cool, but not cold. “Let’s start with werewolf scratches.”

She nodded. “It’s good you washed them. Keep doing that, even if it hurts. This looks like it’ll be okay but if it isn’t better in a week, you may have to come up with a good lie and go see a doctor. Attacked by a mastiff is a good cover.”