The Night Keepers

By Nicholas Bruce

Korey Winter, a werewolf still coming to grips with the underworld, brings a freshly bitten colleague across the country to the rumoured Night Keep – a place that grants monsters asylum and performs true magic. They have until full moon to lift Imogen's curse.

But while the lunar clock ticks and Korey's unlikely pack navigates the back roads of America, an ancient darkness stirs, drawn by the prospect of losing a fallen soul.

 

As if the hunters, vampires and demons on the road didn't complicate life enough.

 

If Korey can deliver Imogen safely to the Night Keep, he might just find the seeds of purpose in his own life – and find out that salvation has canines, dark fur, and haunting eyes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nicholas Bruce
• Release date: Jan 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215660744

Nicholas Bruce

Nicholas Bruce is an avid reader of crime thriller, science fiction and fantasy, and started writing creatively for his friends from a young age. Born in Asuncion, Paraguay, he attended the University of Salamanca and Wits University, and once studied under Shifu Yanjun at the Maitreya temple in Yunnan, China. In 2018, Odd Magazine published his short story Memories Belie the Footprints in the Snow. More recently, Nicholas self-published  The Night Keepers — a dark fantasy inspired in part by his time working with timber wolves.

Book preview

Chapter 1  Fear Pheromones and Rising Adrenaline

The traces of dried blood and fine hairs sticking to his riding boots made me pause.

All kinds of folk stepped into Loxton's Saloon, and after almost ten months moonlighting as a doorman, I considered myself a pretty good read of people. Mostly, their outerwear and feel telegraphed their intentions. The jaded were only interested in downing a glass of whiskey or two, or taking out their pent up frustration in the odd brawl. Escaping their daytime lives. The optimistic were out to meet a Pine Creek local. Every now and then, a stranger blew through town attracting all kinds of attention. Always, just people being people, nothing out the ordinary.

This guy was out the ordinary. He was a big, lumbering fella with empty eyes, jeans and a Hell's  Angels style biker jacket. We got a lot of bikers pulling in for a drink, sure, but often there was still that social awareness compelling a pre-outing shower or shave. Even hunters would put on a last second spray of cologne over fresh clothes, just in case.

The blood and strong scent of animal on this guy reminded me of something that put me on edge. Not many people could do that. There had been the odd group shuffling in, eyeing customers who went off on their own, who seemed to trail their own murderous auras that I just couldn't explain. The type with sunken eyes and damned outlooks that plainly stated they didn't care what happened to them, and nothing could really scare them anymore. Some of them I figured were vets, others junkies, and some, vets turned junkies. It wasn't really my business to know, though. All I could do was keep a close eye on them until they actually did something to disturb the peace.

But mostly, they behaved.

The guy also had this underlying scent of damp fur. It wasn't like a just-bathed-my-dog kinda scent. It was fundamental to him. I shoved my hands in my pockets by the door, pretending to enjoy the warm atmosphere Loxton's generally created. The barkeep Imogen was serving the big guy now, her green eyes tight as she listened to his request. She was a high point to working at Loxton's. Introspective and kinda mysterious, she weighed everyone around her equally. She had slightly misaligned canines which somehow offered her smile greater perfection, and on the rare occasion when she did, the subtle dimpling in her cheek caused everything to slow down. She glanced over at me now as if checking I was still there before pouring the guy a Jack Daniels and coke.

To my surprise, he sat down beside the blonde, a regular with an eyebrow-piercing and cold blue eyes. She was the only patron at the saloon whose stare levelled me, as though she saw right through my guise. She often kept to herself in the corner of the bar, glowering at anyone who tried to talk to her.

She seemed perfectly OK with big fella sitting beside her, and they fell into a hushed conversation moments later as though they'd known each other forever, but had unsavoury business to handle.

It had been a fairly busy evening, and by 11pm there were pockets of lively conversations going on everywhere beneath the swell of indie-rock playing through the speakers.

On quieter evenings, I would chance reading a book when my boss Claire Walters wasn't around, and sometimes even when she was, provided she was in the right mood. Everyone seemed settled enough, and the kitchen was still dishing up bar food, burgers and pies being brought to the handful of tables. I considered picking up the crime-thriller that had hooked me, but couldn't shake the feeling that the biker couple were worth keeping an eye on.

I started. They were watching me, too, their eyes roving over me as if scanning for strengths and weaknesses. It's never a clear thing, what to do when you catch people staring at you. If it's some dude-bro trying for an alpha intimidation game, usually they were the kind to lose, or else I just wouldn't play. But if it was more than one person, or a couple...

I held their stares. I couldn't sense any hostility coming from them and their heart rates sounded normal enough. But they kept on staring and whispering, and it started getting uncomfortable. Imogen picked up on it too, shooting me a quizzical frown over a beer refill.

Then the big guy picked himself up from his stool and lumbered over to me. That smell of blood on his boots was really starting to bother me.

He stopped right before me and glanced around to make sure we were out of earshot.

In a low voice, he said, I know what you are, Korey Winter.

It was not what I expected anyone to say to me. In his gravelly tones, the words sent a warning charge of red through my body.

Who are you? I asked.

He kept on regarding me, but as if from far away, as if he didn't really want to be here. Despite his size advantage, he seemed uncomfortable. I got the sense I was talking to a subordinate.

Was he acting under someone else's will?

Sure enough, when he next spoke, his words sounded hollow and scripted. My name is Doug. Follow me at midnight. Someone wants to talk to you.

Just then the blonde with the arctic eyes brushed past, the Saloon doors closing behind her. The big guy returned to the bar, a resigned slump to his shoulders.

It was the weirdest interaction I'd had in a while. I considered just going home to the rented spartan living space and catching up on sleep, but the couple's stare, empty-eyed and icy, kept replaying in my mind.

I know what you are, Korey Winter.

No one knew. It was a closely guarded secret, one I wasn't even a hundred percent sure was real, and the reason I'd left everything behind in NYC a year ago.

... Had I been careless last month? I thought I'd gotten far enough away from civilization that I'd be alone.

Gritting my teeth, I decided to follow the biker at midnight.

Closing time crept closer. Finally, the last patrons were trickling out into the night. Doug strode past me into the night. I shot an impatient glance back at the till. Imogen hadn't finished cashing up, and there was Claire's silhouette in the office...

Screw it.

I followed the white rabbit – or Doug with the empty eyes. Ahead of me, he turned in to the alley that led out behind Crescent Avenue, away from lights and civilization, deeper into the woods. I followed. The pine trees were shedding their needles with the Fall, and the moon shone silver over the creek. Everything was still, like it was holding its breath. Soon the thicket had grown heavy, but Doug kept on climbing boulders and ducking branches, his breath puffing out a few feet ahead. Despite the near pitch darkness, he never once stumbled.

That's far enough, I told him once we reached the foot of a rise. It was stupid enough as it was, following some random into the woods, even if I was hungry for answers and had lost all fear of humans. Assuming that's what he was.

As he turned to face me, I sensed movement in the peripheries. My instincts screamed at me to be on guard as the shadows melted out from behind the trees to stand beside him. A mixture of curiosity and aggression rolled off of them in waves. I counted four, including Doug.

What is this? I growled, feeling a surge of anger flaring in the pit of my stomach.

Shit, I thought. Keep it together.

Doug turned to the man beside him. This is him.

The guy Doug had spoken to looked smaller than him, but commanded authority unlike anything I had ever felt. It was different than the power that came from a badge or a uniform, nothing so superficial.

This was primal.

Fear widened its jaws around me. I clenched my fists and breathed four in, four out to compensate for the adrenaline shooting through my body.

Welcome, the leader said in a voice that was surprisingly soft. Conversely, his face was hard and ridged with scars. A silver choker and black leather coat completed his punk aesthetic, at odds with Doug's roadster vibe. Someone on his left stepped forward. The surly blonde Loxton's regular.

Right then she shot me a look, offering a near-imperceptible shake of the head. You came. You shouldn't have.

The leader's eyes glinted obsidian in the semi-darkness, and he flashed a smile that was not warm. I'm Al. Short for Alpha. We've been watching you.

Alpha, huh, I thought. Whoever introduced himself like that must be desperate. Still, he had my full attention.

The underlying scent cloying at Doug was evident on the others in the clearing too.

"Any reason why you've been watching me?" I pressed, deep down already knowing the answer.

We've been having some... territorial disputes, Al said, with the others looking to settle here. No class, more like packs of wild dogs than anything. Also, there's been a rise in hunters lately. We could use you.

Course you could, I thought.

We need the numbers, Doug put in from beside his leader. Marra here has seen you handle some of those patrons at the saloon pretty confidently.

The blonde with the cold eyes regarded me evenly. Yeah, he threw out a vampire like it was nothing. How's your bite healing up, dude?

So that was a vampire.

It explained a lot. A blood red aura had seeped off of him, but at the time I didn't understand what I was seeing. The vampire was tall and skeletal beneath the loose grey cardigan, peering out of dark, sunken eyes. Something about him had been kinda methy, as though he was uncomfortable in his own skin. He'd quivered like he had an itch he couldn't scratch, and his eyes kept darting to the patrons around him, lingering on the ones leaving alone. Long story short, he followed our barkeep Imogen out the backdoor as she was taking out the trash, at which point I'd had more than enough creepiness for one night. He’d croaked as I wrapped an arm around his throat and dragged him out of there. I shoved him out onto the street and in the blink of an eye he'd spun, grabbed my forearm and bit down hard. I was so surprised that I barely registered the dark, squirming veins beneath his eyes, nor the look of disgust he wore at the taste of my blood before he ran off. Imogen and the other bar staff had joked about me turning into a vampire before pouring me a shot of bourbon and bandaging my arm...

I won't lie, for a second there, I was worried. The last time something bit me I’d turned into what I am now, but by the time I'd gotten back to my flat and washed off the dried blood from my arm, the wound had already sealed closed.

That was three weeks ago.

It healed up fine, I muttered.

That vampire toxin don't stand a chance against what's in our blood, Al said with a wink. Otherwise, you'da been sired, or dead. Next time, trust your instincts. You're the door guy, right? Don't let the vampire into the saloon.

I got the weirdest vibe from this pack. The alpha was menacing enough and knew how to command respect, but there was also a fickleness to him that I distrusted. Doug, his big beta, just seemed hollow, as though his life had been forfeited to someone or something other than himself. Whether he was at peace with that was another question.

Marra, the blonde with the icy stare, wore a blank enough mask now, but like Doug, I got the strong sense she wished she could be far away from here. I knew inner conflict when I saw it.

The fourth one, a wiry-built guy in a military jacket, remained watchful and uncompromising, so I paid extra attention to him. Of all of them, he had the obvious, intense eyes of the wolf.

They were glowing.

He looked about a step away from phasing, ready to attack if his leader commanded.

Thanks for the tip about the vampires, I said, and meant it. This little outing into the woods had brought the world into sharper focus. My instincts, the non-human entities I'd encountered... all of it was real. I could stop doubting myself. I could stop thinking I was insane.

They'll be back for you, Al said, smile fading. Alone, you won't stand a chance against Sven's coven. They're keeping their heads down for now because we spread a rumour about hunters in the area. But sooner or later, they'll be back on the streets for blood. Also, they'll be getting hungry by now.

Right then he was telling the truth, but I didn't like that he was trying to scare me into joining his pack. Sure enough, the next thing he said was, You'd be better off as one of us. Join the ranks.

Not a suggestion.

No, I responded. Thanks. There were some things in this world you had to hold onto with everything you were, even if you were a monster, and freedom was one of them.

I turned my back on them and started down towards the creek, stopping abruptly when a hand gripped my shoulder vice-like.

Reconsider, the alpha said, his teeth bared. The scent of his cologne was underscored by fear pheromones and rising adrenaline in his sweat. Up close, his eyes were nearly solid black. He was not used to anyone telling him 'no', and the fact that he'd been refused in front of his pack made him look weak. I could also tell by the way he used force and fear tactics to get his way that he probably was.

Over his shoulder, Marra's eyes had widened, and Doug looked impassive as ever. Only the fourth one looked angered on his alpha's behalf.

Dude's hand was still tight on my shoulder. I considered breaking it, a short step backwards while I grabbed the hand, pronated the wrist and wrenched up.

Instead, I looked him in the eyes once more and said, No.

Alpha blinked, a vein bulging in his forehead. I took the window to break his grip on my shoulder before continuing down the slope. As I reached the tarmac, a slow, deep howl issued from the woods, raising the hair on the back of my neck.

Ass! Claire Walters hissed at me when I reported for duty at the Saloon two nights afterwards.

I lied unconvincingly about why I'd left early, and then apologised profusely. She was angry enough to want to fire me, but to my surprise, didn’t. As she took a long drag of her cigarette, her glare momentarily cracked, revealing something else beneath.

What's wrong? I asked.

She took a grudging second, then said, You haven't heard? Smiley was taken to hospital shortly after we locked up last night. Smiley was the other doorman who slotted in for shifts when I wasn't working. He was a burly guy in his forties, ex-Coast Guard or something. Knew how to take care of himself. 

A sense of dread began to weigh on me. What happened? I asked.

That's what the police want to know, she said, her cigarette coming back up to her mouth. Suddenly, she looked lifeless. Korey, he's dead. They're gonna be in later on. To talk to you.

It took me a second to process what she was telling me. Smiley was dead. Just like that. He'd thrown me an indifferent nod when I took over his shift the other night, lighting a cigarette as he stepped out into the cold, off to do whatever Smiley did when he went home.

Was I a suspect?

No, I was good. Full moon was still three nights away, but even so, I didn't have any gaps in my memory. Also, I had an alibi. The security feed at my favourite diner on Route 6 would show me having a late-night bite-

My eyes widened. Claire. Was Smiley... bitten, at all?

She threw me an unreadable look. Then, glancing around to be sure no one could overhear, she leaned in conspiratorially and murmured, Almost all his blood was drained. The doctors said they haven't seen anything like it. He was found in the gutter beside his car, keys still in the door.

I nodded slowly as chills ran down my spine. Lemme guess, nothing was taken?

The fear in Claire's eyes told me everything I needed to know.

Crap.

His wallet was still in his Levis pocket, folded hundred-dollar bills from his wages untouched. She took a step back and looked me up and down with wary blue eyes. But how in the hell did you know that?

The scene played in my mind like I was right there. Smiley leaving the bar after closing, heading down Crescent Avenue to his beat-up Volkswagen. The vampire, this time with friends, stepping out from that shadowy alleyway leading out from Eleventh. The streetlights on Crescent Avenue had been unreliable lately since that electrical surge, so there would have been plenty of cover. The whole thing would have gone down in seconds...

He and I were roughly the same size, above and below the six-foot mark, and Smiley liked his hoodies. Could they have mistaken him for me? Or, maybe they didn't care who their victim was... Al's obsidian eyes flashed in my mind again. He'd been right about the vampire coven sweeping through the area. Wait. If the werewolf packs were expanding, the covens probably were too.

Was I wrong to have rejected Al's offer to join them?

Just then a customer threw up all over the counter and Claire lost interest in me. Shaking her head, she threw an apologetic look at Imogen, who looked on miserably at the carnage before heading to the back for cleaning supplies.

If you leave early again tonight, Korey, so help me god... Claire warned as she pushed past and out the door.

I crossed the room to the bar and helped the customer to his feet. He looked student-aged, and in his right mind enough to look like he wanted to sink through the floor. Gripping his arm, I guided him gently, but firmly, out the saloon.

The cops arrived around eight-thirty and didn't stay long. They did a sweep of the bar, talking to all staff casually as though they weren't investigating a murder. They also kept shooting glances in my direction as if to make sure I hadn't bolted. When they finally got to me, it was obvious I hadn't won any points for sticking around.

You're the door guy here at Loxton's Saloon?

Correct.

Where were you last night around midnight, sir? asked Detective Dunn, getting straight down to business. His mouth was one hard line, and his eyes told me he'd seen things that had left scars.

Route 6, at that diner on the way out of town, I answered.

Coyote's?

Yes sir.

Can anyone confirm that? asked his fresh-eyed partner, a Detective Stevens.

Yes, mam. Krissie, the waitress there. Or Henry, the owner.

What's your name?

Korey Winter.

Dunn nodded at her and she wrote my name down. Don't go leaving town or anything, Dunn warned. CID's opened up an investigation.

I looked from Dunn to Stevens.

One 'Miles Emery' was taken to the emergency room in the early hours of this morning, eventually died of blood loss before any transfusion could take place, she disclosed. Not the first.

Dunn glared at her, then walked out. Detective Stevens took one last glance around the bar before muttering, My partner doesn't like letting civs in on the details of a case. Thinks it undermines us somehow.

Her doe eyes made her look naïve, especially compared to her hard-boiled partner. What do you think?

Sorry? I asked.

Do you think the police talking transparently with civilians is a bad idea?

Uh, you're asking me?

Yeah.

I wondered if she was freshly recruited.

Um, yeah, I guess disclosing information to just anyone could be compromising.

"Only if anyone has something to hide."

I tried for a neutral smile. True.

She smiled companionably, nodding her head and positioning herself so that we faced the same direction.

You're involved in something, she inserted casually.

The transition was so smoothe, her little lamb, good cop act so well played that I very nearly fell for the trap.

Shaking my head and fixing my eyes on no patrons in particular, I said, No, mam.

Detective Stevens looked disappointed in me. Take my card, she said. In case you think of anything else. She handed me her business card, then followed her partner out into the night.

The rest of the evening passed by without much incident. Couples sat at the booths in the corners, enjoying the relative privacy. A group of friends argued animatedly about cryptocurrency, and cheers-ed to the unofficial end of the week. Some patrons sat at the bar counter, deep in their own thoughts, occasionally emerging from their cloister to knock their drinks back. Tonight, A Perfect Circle played through the speakers.

Behind the bar counter, Imogen looked ready to go home, surreptitiously checking the time on her phone. She stowed it back in her pocket and noticed me watching. She smiled. When I next looked, she was serving that customer with the dreads another craft beer.

Last round, she called, cutting the music.

A typical Thursday evening. I hoped it would stay uneventful for the rest of it. My watch read 23:44. I didn't like to admit it, but I was nervous. I kept expecting a coven of vampires to bust the Saloon's door down at any moment and start ripping into people, thirsty for blood. I could handle one. What about a coven? I glanced at the pool tables, wondering briefly how a pool cue would fare as an improv stake.

Then there was Alpha and his pack. Would he try to convince me to join them again, or would they try to kill me off? It wasn't like I was threatening his territory, or authority for that matter. 

I nodded at the last of the patrons as they walked out. Get home safe, we exchanged.

Hey, Korey, Imogen called from over at the bar counter. Walk me to my car?

She was strong and independent, but she wasn't stupid. What had happened to Smiley had scared her.

Sure, I said.

She flashed me a grateful smile before wiping the counter down. Ten minutes later, I flicked the lights off and we locked up the bar.

Claire'll be glad to know you stayed all night, Imogen said.

I shrugged and glanced into the alleyway I suspected the vampires had been lying in wait. My hands had curled into fists in my pockets.

Man of few words, like always, Imogen muttered, mistaking my vigilance for disinterest.

Sorry, I responded quietly. Imogen's pace had picked up. In her bright red parka, I couldn't help but think she looked like a walking blood bank.

We reached the end of Crescent Avenue in silence, where a rusty Ford F-150 was parked beneath a strobing streetlight. Nice ride, I said in earnest.

Maybe she