Night Falls on the Wicked

NINE

Niklas stood just out of sight, beneath a canopy of snow-draped trees behind the diner. Branches creaked in the arctic wind as he watched Darby close the door of her apartment. His breathing had yet to slow. His hands curled tightly at his sides.

A low growl burned at the back of his throat, dark and primal—the part of himself he couldn’t deny, as much as he loathed it. The beast in him simmered just beneath his rippling skin, fighting to burst free. For the first time in years, since he’d first turned, he’d doubted his ability to keep himself in check—to keep the beast away.

She did that to him. Darby. Damn her. He shook his head, bewildered. No female had ever had that effect on him before. Good thing he’d be gone soon. Far from her.

He sensed the pack was close. He could feel them on the air, in his shuddering skin, in his overwarmed blood. He didn’t need the trail of bodies they left to tell him that they were nearby.

Their numbers were small—had dwindled since he first began hunting them. This time, he’d have them. He’d have them all, but most important, Cyprian would be his.

Cyprian, who stole his mother and condemned her to hell. The bastard took everything from Niklas and he would pay for it.

He leaned back against a tree. No more chasing them from city to city, country to country, continent to continent. This was it. No matter how enticing, he wouldn’t let himself be distracted by a piece of ass. He flinched even as he thought the words. He hardly knew Darby, but he didn’t like thinking of her that way. How was it she had come to mean something to him? He didn’t know her and yet he craved her.

Even knowing he had to keep her at arm’s length, he still found himself lingering beneath the trees. She was vulnerable to more than the cold. A distant howl floated on the night as if to prove that point. His impulse was to shove off from the tree and hunt down that sound, pursue it until he found Cyprian. But another part of him couldn’t tear himself away. He couldn’t leave her unprotected. Especially on a full moon.

He settled back against the tree. Crossing his arms, he trained his gaze on the boarded-up window and tried not to focus too intently on the mental images he had of the woman preparing for bed behind that flimsy barrier.

AFTER HER VISIT TO the RC the following morning, where she gave her statement, Darby fell back into her usual pattern. Or at least she tried to. She figured she had a few more weeks in this town before it was time to move on yet again, before the weather warmed up and it became too dangerous to stay.

A part of her wanted to linger. Sam let her stay in the apartment for practically nothing. She wouldn’t find an arrangement this good in the next town. She never had before. She’d lived in some rat holes previously, living off crackers and ramen noodles. And everyone here cared about her … Maggie, Sam, Vera. And as much as she didn’t want to, she cared about them, too.

This town had been different from the others where she’d been able to lose herself in the monotony of work. The long hours waitressing tables didn’t lull her as it usually did. She felt as if she had woken from a lengthy sleep. And then there was him. And that kiss.

As she went about the day, her gaze constantly flew to the door every time she heard it chime, searching, hoping …

Only it was never Niklas. Maybe he’d moved on. And her heart sank at the thought of this. No matter how she told herself to snap out of it, the thought that he was gone, that her first taste of excitement in years had vanished and her life had returned to its same dull emptiness depressed her. She wished she’d never laid eyes on him—wished that she hadn’t woken up to how thrilling life could be again.

With a shake of her head, she tried once again to numb herself with the familiar tasks of the job, taking orders, carrying out trays laden with food, refilling glasses. The diner was still crowded with men refusing to go out to the camps until the wolf problem was handled. They came in at breakfast and stayed, talking over their coffees. A little before lunch the door chimed loudly.

A teenage boy stood on the threshold, letting the cold air inside. A customer shouted at him to shut the door. He ignored the complaint, announcing loudly in a cracking voice, “They found another body down by the river!”

Darby’s heart sank as she thought of the distant howls she’d heard the night before as she lay in her bed.

Chairs scraped as everyone poured out of the diner to investigate this latest development.

Maggie shouted at a few of them to pay their bills, snapping a dish towel after them.

Darby sighed and sank onto a stool at the counter as the diner emptied. Sam cursed from the kitchen window.

“Why don’t you round up the dishes and then take your lunch break?” he suggested to Darby. “Something tells me we’ll be empty for the next few hours.”

“Sure, Sam.”

“Oh, and I’ll get to that window this afternoon. Don’t want you sleeping in there another night like that.”

Nodding, she made quick work of busing tables. Maggie soon joined her—her cheeks flushed from her quick run outside. She muttered under her breath about having to run down customers to pay their bills.

“What’s this world coming to when you think it’s okay to steal food? It’s a thankless job, Darby. You need to get out before it ruins your legs. Not to mention your face.” She motioned to her sagging jowls. “Think I’d have wrinkles like this if I’d married myself a doctor and played tennis twice a week and got pedicures every month? No sirree. Instead I look like this—a saddlebag with eyes.”

“Are there lots of doctors around here? Or tennis courts?” Darby couldn’t help asking, her lips curling in a teasing smile.

“Go ahead and laugh, girl. No one said I had to stay in this town, but I did. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out. Especially now, with wolves making a meal out of everyone …” She paused, shaking her head. Turning, she looked out the window. Her heavily lined faced stared out at the world with a hopelessness that Darby felt echo inside herself. Everything was white or gray. Snow and the drab colors of the buildings surrounding them. “Don’t know why anyone would want to stay here.”

Darby’s teasing smile slipped from her face. Without comment, she moved into the kitchen and changed her shoes. Stepping outside into the cold, she tromped around to the back of the diner, her mind drifting to whatever poor dead soul was mauled last night.

Maybe she needed to go ahead and leave now before the next dead body showed up. Halfway up the wood steps, she stopped and gawked at the sight before her.

The pieces of cardboard covering her window were gone. A new window glinted at her, the glass clean and clear as ice. She looked over her shoulder as if she would see someone there who could explain this to her. She knew Sam hadn’t done it—he wouldn’t have had the time. Who then? The RC? He hadn’t mentioned anything to her this morning in his office.

Niklas’s face materialized in her mind. Had he done this? She turned in a small circle, scanning the back lot of the diner as if she would find him out there.

Nothing. He wasn’t around. She didn’t see him … didn’t feel him. And for some reason she was beginning to suspect she had the ability to sense him—whoever, whatever he was. He was no ordinary man. Ironic, considering she was no ordinary woman. And he knew that. He’d asked her what she was last night like he knew she was something else. She hadn’t forgotten the strangeness of that question.

Shaking her head, she turned back around and unlocked her apartment. Once inside, she was struck by how warm it was. Very warm. She glanced around and stopped cold at the sight of the brand-new heater. Holding out a hand, she wiggled her fingers in front of it, letting the gust of warm air blow over her chilled flesh.

He did this. She knew it. A deep smile curved her mouth.

He might have torn himself away from her last night and practically run away … but he’d come back and done this for her. She shook her head, still bewildered as to why.

Moving to the window, she stared outside again. She knew she wouldn’t see him there, but that didn’t stop the hope from springing in her heart. Wrong or right, she wanted to see him again. Even if it was only for one night. One more kiss.

Face it, Darby. You want more than another kiss from the man … from whatever he was.

She sucked in a bracing breath and reminded herself that nothing had changed. She was still a woman who couldn’t stay anywhere too long, still couldn’t get involved with anyone. She was too unpredictable, too dangerous.

The fact that he might be just as dangerous, maybe even more dangerous, didn’t make it okay for her to be around him.

THE DINER WAS PACKED later that evening, the usual crowd of loggers and locals all talking about the body found down by the river—Jeremiah Hollis, a foreman for one of the camps who hadn’t gone on strike and had stayed behind.

Darby dropped a plate in front of a little girl, a welcome change from the burly men packing the place tonight. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the grilled cheese and golden french fries. She was maybe seven years old, sweet-faced with a cloud of brown hair that seemed to float around her shoulders. A small beauty mark dotted the skin just below her left eye, drawing attention to the green-blue of her eyes.

Darby watched as the girl scooted her little fort of carefully arranged sugar packets to the side, her tiny fingers precise and cautious as she maneuvered the pink and blue packets to make room for her plate.

Darby cocked her head, watching in bemusement, feeling a flash of memory of herself somewhere else doing the same thing. Another time and place. She remembered sitting beside her mother as they ordered breakfast at their favorite neighborhood diner.

Her mother wasn’t much of a cook. They ate at that diner several nights a week. Maybe that’s why Darby gravitated to diners. They were a familiar comfort. Home in many ways.

Her gaze drifted to the woman in the booth, the girl’s mother. Looking at her, it was like seeing her mother again—the sunken eyes, shadowed and dim from lack of sleep, from constant worry and fear. Here sat another soul beaten and battered from life.

It was as though she had been given a glimpse into her past and a chord of empathy struck deep inside her.

Shaking off the troubling musings, she complimented the little girl, “Aren’t you pretty?”

The girl ducked her head coyly against her mother’s shoulder and played with a fry.

“What do you say, Aimee?”

The girl’s “Thank you” was barely audible, lost in the thick cowl of her purple sweater.

Darby glanced to the mother. Close to Darby’s own age, she was pale with tired and beaten eyes. The tabletop in front of her was empty.

“Are you sure you don’t want to order something?” Darby asked gently.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” Her eyes dipped, avoiding Darby’s gaze, as if afraid to let Darby see the truth there. That she wasn’t fine. That she was hungry but could only pay for one meal.

“From out of town?” By now Darby recognized most of the locals.

“Yes. We’re waiting on the bus. Got some time to kill.”

“I’m going to see my grandma!” the little girl piped up, bouncing in the red vinyl booth. “Daddy has a new lady friend staying with him and there isn’t enough room for us anymore.”

The child declared this openly, honestly, her wide eyes reflecting no awareness that this was wrong … that a father shouldn’t kick his wife and child to the curb for his new “lady friend.”

A painful lump formed in Darby’s throat. She knew from firsthand experience that a father never should do that. But fathers did. Fathers left all the time when things got too tough or the fun simply ran out.

“Aimee,” the young mother chided, color staining her wan face as she folded the little girl’s hand into her own.

Empathy filled Darby’s heart for the pair. Well, at least they had each other … and someplace to go. And maybe a helping hand along the way.

With a brusque nod that she hoped disguised the sudden emotion she felt, she ripped off the check and set it down on the table. “Here you go.” She smiled at Aimee. “Enjoy your dinner.”

Walking back to the kitchen, she grabbed a bowl from the towering stack. In one smooth move, she poured a good portion of beef vegetable soup from the large electric pot, taking satisfaction at the sight of healthy chunks of potatoes, carrots and sirloin. Sam’s soups were definitely hearty. Perfect fare in this weather. She’d eaten more than her share.

Weaving through tables, she stopped and deposited the bowl in front of the young mother. She laid a napkin and spoon down, too.

The woman blinked as if coming awake from a daze and looked from the bowl to Darby. Her thin shoulders stiffened. “I didn’t order this.”

“We have plenty of it … and we’re throwing it out after tonight, so you might as well enjoy some.”

The woman glanced down at the steaming bowl, looking torn, the hollows of her cheeks more pronounced as she weighed the price of her pride versus the need for food in her belly.

“Go on,” Darby prompted. “Hate for good food to go to waste.” She flicked a glance at the girl munching happily on her grilled cheese, her innocent eyes drifting between her mother and Darby. “You need your strength.” She didn’t say it, but her thoughts came across loud and clear. Your daughter needs you strong.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice shaky as she picked up her spoon.

With a nod, Darby turned and went about her work. She returned later, happy to see the soup bowl empty.

“That was very good.” The young mother pushed long bangs in need of a trim from her eyes.

Darby removed the bowl. “Sam’s a great cook. Especially his goulash. You ever stop this way again, be sure to try it. Will give you a whole new perspective on goulash.”

“I’ll do that.” She smiled. “Do I pay you here or—?”

“Yeah, you can pay me.”

Darby tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and waited as the woman dug into her tiny coin purse. She handed some badly creased and wadded bills to Darby. Their fingers brushed and a jolt of electricity passed into Darby at the contact—a sharp current of energy she hadn’t felt in a long time. Because she wanted it that way. She’d worked hard, done everything in her power to make certain that moments like this were kept to a minimum.

She gasped, her entire body locking up tight, freezing motionless. Suddenly she was somewhere else. A hazy shadowland. Dusk blanketed the fading day. Snow covered the ground. Sleeping buildings, already closed for the day, watched with darkened windows for eyes as little Aimee was there, walking hand in hand with her mother. Blurry figures approached, men and yet not. Something more. Something else.

Creatures of nightmares. Eyes like glowing pewter. They moved so fast, streaks on the air.

Darby was there, a mere spectator, unable to help, unable to do anything but watch everything from an angle somewhere above them.

They sprang. Their silver eyes flashed on the air. The mother and daughter didn’t stand a chance against them. These were predators. Lycans. They swept the mother and daughter off their feet in a move so terrible and beautiful it seemed choreographed, something they had done countless times. The creatures folded them into their arms and whisked them away before they even had a chance to scream.

But Darby did. She let loose a choking sound. The cry strangled in her throat as she returned to herself in the middle of the diner, shaking where she stood in the bright fluorescent light, clutching the other woman’s hand in a death grip, witness to her murder. Hers and Aimee’s. Murders that had yet to occur. Murders that were going to happen.

Unless she did something about it.