Lauren Roy - Night Owls

They sailed across the room, the Jackal along for an unwilling ride before they crashed into the far wall. A thud and the sound of shattering glass came from the room next door as their impact dislodged whatever Jarrod’s neighbor had hanging on the other side. Time to get the hell out of here. The maneuver had also knocked the Jackal’s hand away from Val’s throat. “Jarrod,” she rasped. Yep. Crushed windpipe.

The kid’s head turned toward them slowly. The Jackal’s lull still held him in its sway. Well, good. Val could use that.

She filled her voice with Command. “Open your window. Screen and all.”

He turned without a word and did as she asked. Then stayed there, swaying slightly. In her way.

“Jarrod, lie back down.” The Jackal struggled behind her. Val jabbed her left arm back, hearing the Jackal’s grunt as her elbow connected with its stomach. “This was a dream. You were sleepwalking, even.”

He nodded, his head bobbing comically.

“And from here on out”—she caught the Jackal’s other hand and pulled its arm around her waist tight, like a lover’s embrace—“ lock your goddamned door. ” Val threw herself forward, dragging the Jackal along with her up onto Jarrod’s bed, through the wide-open window, and out into the night.

They didn’t stay suspended in midair like Wile E. Coyote in the cartoons. The arc of descent started immediately, cold wind rushing up past Val as the ground surged up to meet them. She had just enough time and momentum to twist them around; she got a good gander at the stars, even, or what few were still left in the sky.

Dawn’s coming. Have to end this fast.

The Jackal hit first, taking the brunt of the impact. Val heard the air whump out of its lungs.

She rolled off it, skin and fabric tearing further as she pulled her claws out of its wrist. Then she was back on top, straddling the former woman and pinning its arms beneath her knees. The Jackal bucked weakly, but it couldn’t shake her off. Val leaned on its shoulders and bent until they were nose-to-snout. The rot was worse this close up, coming from the Jackal itself and exhaled with every shuddering breath. Val could see the vestiges of humanity in its face, and knew that when it wasn’t hunting, it could pass for human. The snout would push back in, the eyes lose their glow. Just like she’d lose her fangs and claws later on.

“This town’s off-limits to you.” Command didn’t work on them, but intimidation might. Val bore her fangs and saw the Jackal’s tawny eyes roll down to see them.

It wheezed beneath her, trying to suck air back into its chest.

“You understand me? Nod if you do.”

Instead, it grinned, revealing its own row of sharp teeth. “Can’t . . . kill me . . . can you?” It bucked again, a little stronger now.

“Right this second? No, I can’t. But you’d better damned well believe I’ll be carrying rowan and silver next time we meet.” She glanced up again. No more stars, and the sky had gone from black to indigo.

The Jackal snorted. “Have to get . . . to ground? Leech? ”

Val brought one gnarled, taloned hand up and let it rest on the Jackal’s cheek for a second, before she raked it downward. Four parallel grooves opened up, oozing black blood down into the thing’s hair. Half an hour ago, they’d have closed up almost as soon as they’d been opened. With dawn coming, they continued to bleed. “We both do, and you know it. But I’d wager I can stand it longer than you can. You want to take that bet?” She sat back, settling down on the Jackal’s stomach. “I can get nice and comfortable, if you want to test it out.”

Panic crept into the thing’s eyes. “No . . . No. ” It writhed, whining and mewling when it realized Val wasn’t going to budge. “Please.”

“I’ll let you up. But you’d better run . Clear? And tonight, when you drag your ass out of whatever hole you’ve crawled into, you keep running, until you’re out of this town.”

It nodded again, eager. “Anything. Please.”

Val let it squirm a second or two longer, then climbed off it and gained her feet. The Jackal scrambled up, too, backing away from her toward the woods. They regarded each other for a moment, as Val felt the fatigue creep into her bones. She suspected she could hold off longer than the Jackal, but it wasn’t something she truly wanted to test. Then the thing flashed its yellow teeth at her one last time, and loped off into the trees.

Val didn’t watch it leave. She turned and fled herself, as fast as she could go. With each step, she felt her speed draining away, her muscles protesting against the abuse. She felt the burn in her bones as the sun came ever closer to the horizon. The sight of her street filled her with relief and dread at the same time. She’d never seen the Maple Road sign in light this bright, ever. It stung her eyes.

She didn’t bother with her keys, or even her front door. Val rounded the back of the house and scrambled up the drainpipe, not caring if any of her neighbors saw. The sun was coming. The sun was coming. She tore out the screen and flung it to the ground. She set her palm flat against the window frame and pushed upward. The old wood groaned, then the locks gave way and the window was open.

For the third time in as many hours, Val found herself diving through a window. This time, into her own bedroom, where—when she regained her feet—she drew her velvet blackout curtains behind her and panted with relief. She was safe. She’d beaten the sun, chased off a Jackal, and saved a kid’s life—a full night’s work if ever there was one.

Val shuffled toward the bed. I’m going to sleep like the dead, har har. She collapsed onto the mattress, not even bothering to get under the blankets. As she drifted off, a breeze made its way through the still-open window and around the edge of the curtain. She could smell the rot of the Jackal on it. Probably went to ground not far from here.

Except, there was something else tangled in with the decay, acrid and sharp, like a dog had marked its territory. Her Jackal hadn’t smelled like that. This scent had a distinctly male tang, which meant—

Which means there are more of them. She fought against the fatigue, managing to sit up and even getting one leg over the side of the bed. But it was too late. Outside, to the east, the sun peeked above the horizon.

Darkness descended.

ELLY SETTLED BACK into the chair. She tapped at the rim of the teacup, trying to organize the flood of questions that had sprung to mind. Father Value had never been forthcoming with The Big Answers, preferring to tell her what she needed to know when she needed to know it. Most often, that came in the form of a crash course while they fled from terrible things.

So to sit here, calm and relaxed, with the whole day in front of her to pick Henry Clearwater’s brain, was a bit overwhelming. She sipped at the whiskey. Father Value had taught her to ask the most important questions first, usually because the Creep was dying and you needed information before he could gasp out his last breath.

Outside, the sky had gone from dusky blue to robin’s egg, and she relaxed a little more. Professor Clearwater was right; they wouldn’t come until nightfall now. Maybe there was time for the interesting questions, too.

“Why did you leave the Brotherhood?”

Henry smiled, but it wasn’t one of amusement or mirth. His eyes went somewhere far away, and his fingers made hollow thumps as he drummed them on the arm of the chair. “Because it was time to, Elly. Our job was done.”

“Done? I’ve helped kill fifty Creeps in the last three years, and there are still more out there. How can it be done?” It probably wasn’t too polite to yell at him, but she couldn’t help the anger that crept into her voice. How could he say that? How, after hearing her story, after she’d told him that a nest of at least six or seven had come after them the other night?