Nyte terrors, p.1
Nyte Terrors, page 1
part #2 of The Nyte Patrol Series
Nyte Terrors
Nyte Patrol, Book 2
Alex P. Berg
Copyright © 2019 by Alex P. Berg
All rights reserved. Published by Batdog Press.
No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, except by an authorized retailer or with written permission from the author. For permission requests, please visit: www.alexpberg.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents portrayed in this novel are a product of the author’s imagination.
Cover Art by: Ravven (www.ravven.com)
If you’d like to be notified when more Nyte Patrol novels are released, please sign up for the author’s mailing list at: www.alexpberg.com/mailing-list/.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
About the Author
1
I sat on my suitcase, back to the wall, grunting as I drove my weight into the bunched clothes underneath. The halves touched and my heart soared. I leaned over to grab the zipper, but in doing so, my weight shifted, giving the luggage the opportunity it was waiting for. As I slipped backward, the suitcase popped open, dumping me ass on the ground and feet in the air with a pile of crumpled shirts in my lap.
I heard a snort. “You want some help with that, Lexie?”
Heather stood in the doorway to my room, a loose UT sweatshirt hanging from her frame. She held a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats in one hand, a spoon protruding over the edge.
I blew a strand of hair out of my face. “I mean, sure. If you’re up.”
Heather had long everything. Long lustrous blonde hair, long eyelashes that were perfect for batting, and long legs made even longer by the tiny pink athletic shorts she wore. “Don’t say it like that. It’s barely nine.”
“You going to help or not?”
Heather set her bowl on the desk and strode over with gazelle-like grace. She gave me a hand and pulled me up. “You almost had it. How about you sit again and this time I tackle the zipper?”
I gave her a cheeky smile. “Why should I do the sitting? You saying I have a big ass?”
“I mean, I’ll take some if you’re willing to share. I see the way boys look at it. Hell, sometimes I can’t stop looking at it.”
I gave her a playful shove. “Shut up.”
I sat. Heather gave me an assist with her elbow and tugged the zipper shut with a few sharp pulls.
“There. Hopefully it holds.” She stood and returned to her bowl. She grabbed it as she looked around the room, now populated only by suitcases and boxes. “Looks like you got just about everything.”
“That’s what happens when you wake up at seven. You get things done before lunch.”
Heather hopped onto the desk and waved her spoon at me. “You realize I never said you had to take off first thing in the morning.”
The university closed the dorms at the end of the spring semester, but since our softball season extended a few weeks past that, I’d needed temporary housing. “I know, but this is your place. I don’t want to feel like a third wheel.”
“You mean a second wheel? I’m the only one who lives here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Seriously.”
Heather was an awesome friend. Heck, maybe the best friend. She’d put up with a lot of my crap over the past season, what with me injuring my shoulder, suffering a crisis of confidence, erupting at practice, and nearly getting kicked off the team before learning a few lessons about responsibility and humility. She’s seen me at my worst, and I knew she meant every word she said. She’d let me stay at her apartment all summer if I needed to, and her parents wouldn’t bat an eye at the prospect, either. They were even more charitable than Heather, but the fact of the matter was I didn’t want anyone’s charity. My family’s financial situation wasn’t the best. The fact that I was still living at the dorms in my junior season was a constant source of embarrassment, one that I couldn’t talk to Heather about. Staying at her place cultivated a sense of jealously within me, and I wanted none of it.
“I appreciate the offer, Heather. Really, I do, but it’s time. The season’s over. We got bounced. I should do the same.”
Heather snorted as she spooned Mini-Wheats into her mouth. “I’m still salty about that. We were an out away from Super Regionals. One. That’s going to haunt me all summer.”
I shrugged. “There’s no shame in losing to Florida State, especially on a walk-off. We beat expectations. A lot of people didn’t even think we’d beat Cal.”
Heather smiled. “Yeah, well we showed them, didn’t we?”
“Damn straight.” I held out a fist. Heather bumped it. “I think we made a hell of a comeback, especially considering the start to the season we had.”
“We killed it, girl. And all we needed—or should I say all you needed—was a little confidence.” Heather shook her head as she spooned down another bite. “You know it pains me to say this, but I think you getting tangled up with those Nyte Patrol folks made you a better softball player. You were so listless and depressed before you met them.”
It was true, at least to a degree. My shoulder injury and the self-doubt it had instilled in me vanished upon teaming up with Larry, Dawn, and Tank and taking down Ivan Romanov. I’d finished out the season strong with the best two month batting average of my life, but at the same time, getting beaten by Florida State felt final. More than the end of a season, our loss to them felt like the end of one chapter of my life and the beginning of another. It concerned me because I still had my senior season awaiting me. I should’ve been the most excited I’d ever been about softball, yet somehow I felt the opposite, like I’d be okay with it ending. I’d never felt that way before. Ever.
I hadn’t told Heather about it yet. Perhaps it was better not to. I don’t think she shared the sentiment. “Yeah. I’m glad I met the Nyte Patrol, too.”
Heather paused with her spoon in the bowl. She raised an eyebrow, her voice cautious. “So… you sure you’re going to be okay living with them?”
Ah. Now I understood why she’d brought them up. Normally, Heather was happy to pretend my supernaturally-inclined friends were a crazy fantasy. “Heather, trust me. I’ll be fine. They’re good people even if they’re quirky.”
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t think any of them are going to take advantage of you. It’s more that… Well, shouldn’t you be more focused on something else? Like, your school work?”
“You’re one to talk. You’re not doing summer session, either.”
Heather smiled. “In my defense, I have a tan that’s in serious need of evening out.”
A buzz in my back pocket accompanied the rhythmic ringing of my phone. I pulled it out and checked the number. “One sec, Heather. I’ve got to take this.” I answered the call and headed into the hall for more privacy. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
“Hola, mi amor. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” My parents had travelled to see me at Regionals. Based on their reactions, they were more bent out of shape by our loss to Florida State than I was. “You and Dad make it home last night?”
“It was a long drive, but your papa pushed through. We’ll be spending most of the day on the couch, I think. How about you? You’re moving out today, right?”
“Just finished packing the last of my things. Heather helped—a little.”
In the background, I heard Heather’s voice, muffled by Mini-Wheats. “I heard that.”
“Is she helping you move, too?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Que maravilla. I love that girl. You make sure to thank Heather for everything, understand?”
I wandered into the kitchen, trailing my fingers across the stone countertop. “You think I haven’t?”
“I’m just saying. Speaking of Heather, has she met the people you’re moving in with? Does she approve of them? Because if she doesn’t…”
“Mom, I told you. They’re nice folks. Everyone at the new house is going to be interning alongside me.”
“I know, but it seems like you haven’t known them very long, certainly not as long as you’ve known Heather. I mean, if you only met them at that career fair—”
“Mom. Please.”
“Oye! Mira, I’m just happy for you. Your first internship. It’s exciting, isn’t it?”
“Yes, very exciting. Look, I’ve got to get going. Lots of stuff to move.”
“Of course. If you need any help, give us a call. I know your papa is tired, but we can make the drive up I-35 if we need to.”
No, mom, I’ve got it under control.”
“Okay. Take care. Te quiero.”
“Love you too, Mom. Bye.”
I hung up and turned to find Heather entering the kitchen. She put her bowl in the sink and turned on the faucet to rinse it out. She gave me an off-kilter look.
“What?” I said.
Heather hesitated. “Look, I’m not normally the snooping type—”
“Liar.”
“—but did I overhear you tell your mom you were interning?”
My heart rose toward my throat. “With the Nyte Patrol, yeah. It’s a job.”
“I thought you said you were more or less leading them now.”
“Technically, I’m still a junior partner, but yeah. It’s sort of like an internship.”
Heather turned the water off and cocked her head at me, lifting her eyebrows at the same time. “Lexie, you did tell your parents what you’re doing this summer, didn’t you?”
I sighed and threw up my hands. “Ok, fine! I may have lied a little and told them I’d accepted an internship with Westlake Design and Engineering.”
Heather knew how to strike a reproachful pose. She planted a hand on her hip and made her eyebrows stretch higher. “Lexie Rodriguez, there are things I fully support lying to your parents about, namely whether or not you’re sexually active, how much you drink, and if you’ve ever smoked pot, but your summer job is definitely not one of them.”
“In general, I agree, but what was I supposed to tell them? That I’d decided to move in with a wizard, a blade master, a werebear, and a severed zombie head to help them solve mysteries and fight against the forces of evil? I mean, do you remember how batshit crazy you thought I was when I told you about the Nyte Patrol?”
“I’ve met most of them, and I still think you’re halfway off your rocker.”
“Which is exactly my point. You’re my best friend, the only girl on the team I’ve told, and even now you only sort of believe me. Be honest, somewhere inside that head of yours you still think I’m moving into that house to join a cult or become a crack whore or that I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”
Heather moved around the edge of the countertop. “I never said any of that.”
“But you’ve thought it, right? And why wouldn’t you? Everything about the Nyte Patrol is crazy. It’s unbelievable in every way. So imagine how my parents would take it if I tried to explain it to them. They’re hardcore Catholics, and they’re not even particularly hip. They don’t watch The Walking Dead or Game of Thrones or anything. If I tell them I’m moving in with a wizard and a zombie they’re either going to try to have me institutionalized or exorcised. Maybe both.”
Heather reached out and took me by the shoulders. “Lexie, I wasn’t trying to guilt trip you. You’re capable of making your own choices, and for the record, I believe you. I’ve always believed you, and I’ll keep believing you until the day you tell me you can out-pitch me.”
I swallowed Heather in a hug. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Heather let the hug linger for a moment before pulling back. “So. You need help moving stuff to your truck?”
I smiled. “What was that about not snooping?”
Heather laughed. “I’ll grab my flip-flops.”
2
I pulled my ’94 Chevy Suburban into the driveway at the house on West 21st and killed the engine. Even now, after having frequented the place for two and a half months, I was still embarrassed by its shabbiness. There were four different colors of paint on the front of the house alone, the lawn consisted of the occasional tuft of grass amid a field of dandelions and clover, and plywood boards covered the front door and adjacent window. At least someone had pressure washed the spray-painted political graffiti and phalluses from the boards, but it was still a far cry from the brightly painted, gated community Heather lived in. Good thing my parents weren’t tech savvy enough to look the place up on Google Maps—though they would drop by sooner or later. San Antonio was only an hour or three drive away, depending on traffic. Maybe I could get Tank to help me spruce the place up. Oddly enough, he was the most domestic of the bunch.
I hopped out of my truck, moved around back, and popped open the hatch. While I generally hated driving around downtown Austin in my Suburban, it did have the benefit of being able to fit a metric buttload of cargo. Thanks to it, I’d hauled everything I had at Heather’s in a single trip. It was also one of the reasons Larry’s spell had initially picked me to join the Nyte Patrol. Strange to think that if I drove a Corolla I’d probably be blissfully unaware of the existence of magic, vampires, and werewolves and still be as miffed about losing to Florida State as Heather and my parents were.
As I rummaged in the back of the ’burban, trying to figure out where to make the first dent, I heard a metallic rap. I looked up to find Tank standing next to the truck. He smiled and gave me a nod. “Morning, short stuff.”
“Right back at you, big guy. Hear the truck coming?”
“Hard not to.”
At six foot six, Tank loomed over me. I’d never seen him step on a scale, but I guessed he weighed in the range of two-sixty to two-eighty, assuming his tightly-knit were-flesh weighed the same as the normal human kind. He always wore muscle shirts that showed off his bulging biceps and massive chest. Today’s version was a white compression shirt, and thanks to his dark complexion, everything was visible underneath, including a ridiculous set of washboard abs. They were mesmerizing. Like Lego Batman, I think he had an extra ab or two smushed in among the rest.
Tank smirked at my wandering gaze. “You doing okay?”
“You’re distracting sometimes. What the hell is that anyway? Gauze?”
Tank laughed. “Something-prene. I forget. I bought it online. I think it’s meant for someone four sizes smaller than me. Put it on just for you.” He winked at me.
When we’d first met, Tank had barely talked to me, much less cracked a smile or laughed, but we’d come a long way. Like an onion, he had a lot of layers and took a long time to peel. I think he got a kick out of teasing me about his body because he knew there was no spark between us. That said, I didn’t mind looking. I’d even been lucky enough to see him naked once, though his head had been in grizzly bear form at the time. If ever I needed cold water thrown on me, I pictured that and it did the trick.
“Instead of flexing for shits and giggles, you want to help me move stuff in?”
“Why do you think I came down, Lex? Move aside and let me grab a few boxes.”
I tugged out my largest suitcase and pulled up the handle while Tank reached in and collected the heaviest boxes he could find, stacking them one atop the other and lifting them as easily as if they contained packing peanuts. He headed around the side of the house toward the back door. I followed him, my roller bag’s wheels clacking over the cracked pavement.
“So I’m going to propose something and you tell me what you think, okay, Tank?”
He glanced back over the pile of boxes in his arms. “This sounds ominous.”
“It’s not, I promise. I just think we should remodel a little. Get someone to come out. Fix the glass and front door. Repaint. Heck, we could do it ourselves.”
“Well, we’d have to clear it with Larry…”
We approached the back door, which wasn’t boarded up, though the intercom at the side was still burnt to a crisp, made nonoperational by Larry’s inability to use electronics. “Be honest. You can’t like living in a dump like this. I know Larry claims his obfuscation spells work best when the house is in disarray, that people will look away and scuttle off faster as a result, but I think that’s bull. He could just as easily set up spells to keep people away if this house looked the same as every other. He’s simply too lazy to change them.”
