Wolf's Deal: A Nick Lupo Novella (The Nick Lupo Series) (19 page)

Thank fucking God they can’t come back from the
dead
.

Still, Lupo
grimaced.

Fucked up again anyway, didn’t I?

A hasty
decision, leading to a massive clean-up effort and questionable results. And
another line crossed, another mistake to cover up. He’d had a big one recently,
and here he was again, with a similar scenario… but this time also a witness.
An unreliable witness, sure, but still a witness. This thought brought up the
uncomfortable question that started its rattling in the back of his brain but
quickly moved forward.

Could he
trust Charlie Black Bear?

The tall
Indian seemed to have returned from wherever he’d been momentarily. His eyes
wide open now, he stared feverishly at Lupo, the pistol once again pointed at
him.

Bear said,
weakly: “Maybe we can work this out between us.”

Lupo felt
his nakedness now, almost as though he’d been stripped of secrets as well as
his clothing. He just didn’t know the extent of the problem. Had Charlie seen
him change and kill The Archer? Or had he known about it, the change, before?
And how could Charlie Black Bear really have known before, unless he was
telling the truth about somebody having clued him in, trying to maneuver him
into keeping an eye on Lupo?
Threatening
him to do it, as he claimed?

There were
so many disturbing levels to what Charlie had revealed. The main thing was that
someone was paying attention to Nick Lupo – not the cop Nick Lupo, but
the werewolf Nick Lupo. Of this he was suddenly certain

As certain
as the fact that there was a sour fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

Over in the
corner, the ghost of Sam Waters nodded in agreement.

Lupo snorted
– a yes-man ghost, or did the specter actually know something?

And just the fact that I’m wondering this must
mean I’m losing my mind
.

Jesus, how did everything get so complicated?

He had to
wonder again about his kind. How many were there?

Who’d even
known there were any others of
his kind
?
His entire youth and most of his adulthood he had never crossed paths with
another werewolf. Apparently there were people who knew, people who cared, and
people who used the knowledge to their advantage. Maybe it was
many
people.

And these
people were not above murder, as his experience with the Wolfpaw mercenaries
had proven. And now.

Lupo sighed,
but inside he was shuddering. “What do you have in mind?”

Bear tried
to grin, but the pain was evident in his drawn features and he failed. “Look,
from what I can tell, you’re one of the good guys.” He paused to groan. He
closed his eyes momentarily. “The people who want you, they seem to know way
more than I do about you. To my cop’s sense, they’re the bad guys. We could end
this very messy right now. But I… I propose a truce.”

Then Lupo
flinched as Charlie suddenly emptied the pistol into The Archer’s body from
where he lay.

The slugs
whistled past him, barely inches away. They wouldn’t have killed him, but
Charlie didn’t know that. Still…
Good
thing he’s a good shot even when half-dead.

Charlie
grinned weakly. “Look, the Archer dude’s dead. This gun can’t be traced to me,
take it with you. Get out now. Say I saved the reporter lady just before he
could waste her while she was splattered on the target. Then all I know is he
hit me with this fuckin’ arrow, bolt, whatever, and somebody else came out of
the shadows over there and shot the fucker right after that. They had a guard
dog or a fuckin’ fighting pit bull and the goddamn dog mauled the corpse. Hell,
I kinda think that’s exactly what I saw. So then I get bandaged up when your
friend brings the cavalry, and then I go get my family out of trouble. That’s
all I care about right now…”

Lupo stood
still, assessing the offer. The sweet, peppery smell of cordite was still in
the air, swirling above them.
 
“You
think your story’ll hold up?”

“Hell, I’m
not even sure I know what I saw. I’m fading in and out right now. I don’t have
the gun, after you ditch it. They’ll have nothin’. But you gotta get goin’.”

 
Lupo nodded. He’d have to find Jessie
and send her back north fast, in case
they
were gunning for them both. After he made sure to show up at the scene, clothed
again and much too late, long after Charlie.

“Trust?”

“Works both
ways.”

“Hope we can
work together someday, Lupo. We’ll pretend none of this ever happened, right?
Wipe the slate.” His voice hitched and he coughed, the spasm causing him to
hiss in pain. He gasped. “Work for you?”

Lupo nodded
again. But before he could respond more clearly his attention shifted. From off
to their right an almost translucent Sam Waters was pointing insistently at his
own wrist.

Jesus
.
Do ghosts wear watches?

Okay
. He’d walk
away and return to lead the mop-up at the crime scene, Charlie Bear would check
on his family if he could manage to walk, they’d find The Archer dead –
perhaps victim of a mysterious accomplice. There were plenty of prints on the
bolts, on the weapon itself. There would be no doubt the dead guy was The
Archer.

Lupo sighed.
It was messy, very messy. Maybe they’d figure out why the asshole had snapped
and started killing casino workers and maybe they wouldn’t, but Lupo’s corner
of this would stay in the dark. Bear’s would, too.

They heard
sirens, loud and getting louder fast.

Lupo waved
and edged toward the same way he’d entered. Bear smiled crookedly and his head
lolled to the side a little.

A few
minutes later, Ashley arrived with an ambulance and with Jessie and her medical
bag in tow, and a convoy of flashing, beeping squad cars led by a grim DiSanto,
ever ready to provide the cavalry’s arrival. DiSanto was a great guy to bring
up reinforcements – he’d done it before and he had a Napoleonic aura as
he led the way into the warehouse, Glock at the ready. Ashley’s face fell when
she realized her scoop was beyond help, but she rallied quickly when she saw a
new victim she could interview.

Nick Lupo
waited a few moments and made sure he himself arrived appropriately out of
breath with his clothes rumpled and stained – no trick there – his
own unfired piece drawn. He grabbed Jessie in a tight hug before letting her
attend to Charlie as the paramedics stood by, deferring to her take-charge
attitude and title.

“Where were
you?” Lupo whispered in her ear before letting her go. Jessie gave him a wink as
she knelt next to Charlie and turned serious. He wasn’t going to get the story
now. He realized that, and part of him suppressed a tiny barb of rage.

He was glad
to see her handle Charlie like the pro she was, and soon they had him
stabilized and on a gurney heading for the double doors of the waiting red and
white bus.

Then the
antenna-festooned caravans with numerals and call sign letters painted on their
sides arrived by the dozen to tell of The Archer’s death.

Ashley
didn’t have her interview, but the scoop was hers anyway and she smiled as if
none the worse for wear. She went live, wearing her fear-edged rumpled look
like a badge of honor.
What victim?
Lupo wondered.

The circus
started.

LUPO

The circus
had been over for a couple days. They were in Jessie’s cottage on Circle Moon
Drive, a low fire snapping in the hearth.

“I hear them
sometimes,” Jessie said. Wind whispered through the pines and firs that
surrounded it all the way down to the water’s edge, where a soft current kissed
the bank. Leaves rustled as the air rippled the upper branches of the trees
outside, and from inside Lupo couldn’t help but think of David Lynch.

“Who?”

She was
quiet, their argument still bubbling between them.
It was just slot machines, Nick! Yeah, but you disappeared and left
your phone in the car! So what? Could have been you on that target! But it
wasn’t!
And around.

Now there
was peace, but uncomfortable. Chill, like outside.

“I don’t
know who they are. Ghosts, maybe. People who’ve passed through the house as
owners, or guests. I hear them from upstairs and they’re gathered around the
bar, except I know there’s no one there.”

Lupo
shivered involuntarily. He felt the fine hairs on his neck stand up.

“There’s no
one there, see,” she continued. “I mean, it’s not the neighbors who dropped in
or anything, not
people
, and I know
the door is locked, but I can’t go down there because I’m afraid I’ll see them
anyway. And if I see them, I’m afraid they’ll see
me
.”

Ghosts
.

Jessie
sipped her cooling coffee, trying to warm the mug with both hands. Maybe trying
to warm up in that sudden North Woods chill. She knew about the Wolfpaw probe
of Nick, now, and they’d argued about that, too.

Lupo stared
off to the side. He wondered what Jessie would say if he told her that Sam
Waters –
dead
Sam Waters,
killed by his own impetuous shotgun blast on that damned beach not far away
–
that
Sam Waters was right now
sitting on the motionless rocking chair in the corner, nodding at him and
smiling grimly.

Agreeing with her
.

He decided
not to tell her.

Now Lupo
shivered in the chill, too.

EPILOGUE

CHARLIE
BLACK BEAR

His wound
hurt like a sonofabitch, but the EMTs that came with the police after the
doctor –
she was Lupo's
woman-friend, wasn’t she? What had gone on there?
– had done a good
job with the damage the bolt had caused. The projectile hadn’t hit the femoral
as they’d first thought. Barely missed it, but he’d bled like a bastard anyway.
He had been told to stay, but had taken leave of the hospital when he was
convinced he wouldn't bleed to death anytime soon. They would have restrained
him, but he sneaked past the nurses’ station during the media commotion. The
ruckus was his cover. He was bandaged, tourniqueted, IVed, and hopped up on
morphine. And still the pain throbbed almost unbearably both when he limped and
when he didn't. But he was mobile enough; right now that was all that counted.
He’d yanked the lifelines and melted out a fire stair door before anyone could
notice.

He pulled
into his driveway and left the car on, popped open his door and lurched out,
staggering more than a little. Wincing as the pain lanced through him.

Stopping to
look, he saw the front door ajar. His hair stood on end and for a moment he
felt none of the pain, but a deep sense of dread like none he had ever felt
before.

He fumbled
out his Glock and made the walk to his front door, one of the longest walks he
had ever been determined to finish. His dread trumped pain and he no longer
felt anything at all, at least not physically.

The door
being ajar, that was the problem. His wife and kids would never have left it
that way, not even in the midst of a tornado warning.

That door
told him more than he wanted to know, and somehow also not enough.

The voice on
the phone, the odd requests, the photograph as threat. All those ran through
his head now, but now it was too late.

He reached
the door and nudged it open with the gun barrel, hearing nothing inside. He
stepped over the threshold and immediately skidded on the slick blood lake
that covered the hardwood floor.

By the time
he regained his balance and saw what had been left for him, the screaming had
begun. Only after his voice failed did he realize the screams had been his.

He sank to
his knees in the blood of his butchered family and wept.

The End

*

About the Author

W.D. Gagliani
is the author of
the horror/crime thriller WOLF’S TRAP (Samhain Publishing) – a past Bram
Stoker Award nominee, as well as WOLF’S GAMBIT (47North), WOLF’S BLUFF (47North),
WOLF’S EDGE (Samhain), WOLF’S CUT (Samhain), and the upcoming WOLF’S BLIND
(Samhain, late 2015). Gagliani is also the author of the hard-noir thriller
SAVAGE NIGHTS (Tarkus Press), the story collection SHADOWPLAYS, the novella THE
GREAT BELZONI AND THE GAIT OF ANUBIS, and the holiday-themed short story
e-books “The Christmas Wolf,” “The Christmas Zombie,” and “The Christmas
Mummy,” and “The Christmas Vampire.”

Since 1998, Gagliani has published numerous short stories in various anthologies
such as ROBERT BLOCH’S PSYCHOS, UNDEAD TALES, MORE MONSTERS FROM MEMPHIS, THE MIDNIGHTERS
CLUB, THE ASYLUM 2, WICKED KARNIVAL HALLOWEEN HORROR, THE BLACK SPIRAL,
ZIPPERED FLESH 2, MASTERS OF UNREALITY, DARK PASSIONS: HOT BLOOD 13,
MALPRACTICE: AN ANTHOLOGY OF BEDSIDE TERROR, SNAFU: AN ANTHOLOGY OF MILITARY
HORROR, SNAFU: WOLVES AT THE DOOR, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES: VORACIOUS IN VEGAS, and
THE X-FILES: TRUST NO ONE (the last eight with frequent collaborator David
Benton), and more, including online and print publications such as SPLATTERPUNK
ZINE, DEAD LINES, and the early e-zines HORRORFIND and THE GRIMOIRE.