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AS I SAT on the stage beside Ryan Gosling and David Letterman I wondered how it could have been that I’d be in such a position and yet be so uninterested in the feeling of awe and sheer star-worship that any normal person would have been under.
I was trapped on stage during a live taping of a national television program and couldn’t leap from the stage up to the catwalk and rip Knell’s hands off of the woman I loved before ripping his head off.
I couldn’t do that.
I wouldn’t be able to get there before he killed her.
No. First I had to figure out a way to get my ass off of the stage and up into the catwalk.
“ . . . what do you think, Michael?” Letterman’s voice suddenly came to me, and I realized that I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts, in focusing on Knell and Gail, that I had absolutely no idea where the conversation had gone.
My mind did a few backflips to where I recall the conversation had been.
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah. I agree. Definitely. One hundred percent.”
I had no idea what I had just agreed to, but whatever I had said seemed to have put a playful smirk onto Dave’s face. Ryan’s too. The audience was tittering.
Knell spoke again, in that voice he knew only I could hear. “I grow bored of this. So I’m throwing down a new challenge. Again, no telling, or she dies immediately. But I’m lonely now that she’s unconscious, so I’d like you to join me up here. I’m going to count down from ten, Michael. And when I reach the end, if you’re not up here, Gail reaches her end. Are you ready? Ten.”
David smiled at me and said. “It’s good when a man can whole-heartedly admit his attraction to another man. Ryan is just the sort of beautifully handsome to inspire that too. But would you really consider dropping Gail for him?”
“Nine.” Knell said.
“Uh,” I paused and looked at Ryan. His face was just as red as my face felt. “Yeah. He is certainly a beautiful man. But, sorry, Ryan, you’re just no Gail.”
“Eight.” Knell said.
This brought more laughter from the studio audience.
“Listen,” I said, trying to cut through the crowd’s laughter. Letterman raised his eyebrows, understanding I was about to quickly change the subject in the middle of a crowd-pleasing moment.
“Seven.” Knell said.
“I’m sorry to do this, but I really do have to go.” I held my hand over my belly. “I’m going to have to ask you to excuse me once more.”
“Six.” Knell said.
“Again?” David said, throwing the pencil he held in his right hand into the air behind him. A glass smashing sound-effect rang through the air, bringing another burst of applause and laughter from the audience.
“Five.” Knell said. “I’m going to punch through her chest and rip her heart right out.”
“Well, thanks for coming back, Michael,” Dave said as I got to my feet. He gestured at me. “Please, a round of applause for my fleet of foot guest, Michael Andrews; author, purveyor of the world’s weakest bladder.”
The audience laughed as I ran offstage.
“Four.” Knell said. “You’ll watch her die right in front of you with her heart in my hands.” Then he cackled madly.
One of the assistant stage managers greeted me as I exited stage right and whispered something about the nearest facilities.
“I’m fine,” I muttered as I pushed quickly past her, my eyes darting around to see where I might be able to get to the catwalk.
“Three.” Knell said. “And then, I’ll rip your heart out.”
There! I leapt with superhuman speed toward the metal stairs that I was certain led up to the catwalk, knowing that Knell could hear the metal clanging as I raced toward them.
“Two.” Knell said. “And perhaps, later tonight, I’ll feast on both of your hearts!”
I reached the top of the stairs, turned left and found Knell sneering over Gail about mid-way down the catwalk. They were a good fifty feet away from me and I raced towards them, conscious of every precious inch. How could I grab Knell’s free left hand before he ripped out Gail’s heart with it? Should I go for his throat with my other hand, or for his other hand where he gripped Gail just below her left shoulder?
I was less than halfway toward them when Knell said “One.” and I realized with a cold lump in the pit of my stomach that I wasn’t going to make it to them in time.
I pushed myself to move more quickly, and was still a dozen feet away when heard the change in Knell’s heart-beat and breathing that told me he was about to strike.
“Zero.” Knell said, and raised his left hand back in an open clawed gesture, readying for the strike.
Gail’s breathing changed, telling me she was now awake, and her heart leapt in a similar fashion to Knell’s, which I interpreted as her preparing for the killing blow.
Only I was wrong.
Just as Knell’s arm began its descent toward her, Gail twisted toward Knell and drove her fist directly between his legs. It was a solid punch, a direct hit and I could actually hear one of his testicles pop. Knell let out an anguished groan, his left hand bouncing feebly off her right shoulder, and his right hand released her left arm.
Knell’s right-hand struck Gail in the side of the head, sending her sprawling onto her back.
A split second later, I drove into Knell, gripping him by the shoulders and driving onto his back on the catwalk.
I then delivered three solid punches to his face with my left hand, relishing the fact that I didn’t need to pull my punches on him, that the blows wouldn’t kill him the way they would a normal man.
Knell grinned up at me and the blood from his smashed lip dripped between his teeth.
“She punches harder than you do,” Knell said, laughing. Pushing his right elbow into my throat, his left hand grabbed my belt and his knees drove up, flipping me over him. I managed to twist in the air so that I didn’t land on my back, but by then, Knell was up and racing down the catwalk in the direction I had come from.
I looked at Gail who was now sitting, the side of her head red and swollen where his knuckles had connected with her face, a trickle of blood dripping from her left nostril.
I reached for her, pleased she was alive, but worried about the damage she’d received. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Go! Catch him!”
Knell was at the far end of the catwalk and heading up a series of stairs that led to a door at the top of a flight with an emergency EXIT sign on it. He pushed through it.
I was just a few seconds behind him through the exit and found myself in a short hallway that led to another door with an EXIT sign; that door was just closing. I raced to it and out onto a fire escape on the back side of the building.
Above me, I could smell Knell and hear the sound of him ascending the metal stairs toward the roof, his pained breathing giving away the fact that the blow Gail had dealt his testicles had taken quite a bit out of him. But he was still more than three floors ahead of me
I rushed up the stairs, following him. His heartbeat changed indicated he had noticed me as he turned one of the flights. He was still a couple of floors ahead of me, slowed, but still moving steadily. My leg still throbbed where I’d been shot the night before, and my right hand, which Knell had crushed when we were shaking hands, throbbed almost to the same beat.
Slowly gaining on him during the ascent, I was only a floor behind when he reached the roof, some thirteen floors.
“Run, Knell!” I yelled as I watched him clear the edge of the roof and approached the final flight to the top. “Like the coward that you are!”
I couldn’t scent him easily, the wind wrapping over the top of the building contorting the air flow in a dozen directions, but I could hear the effect of my words on his heart. He was angry and was shifting from flight back to fight.
I knew he’d attack once I cleared the edge of the roof, but his diving tackle still carried me off my feet.
We rolled along the roof up against the foot-high ledge and Knell grabbed my right hand with his left as we tumbled, squeezing it. A burst of white-hot pain flared through my head.
We stopped rolling, Knell atop me, his left hand continuing to squeeze my crushed fingers beneath his and his right knee pinning my left shoulder and arm down. His dark heart was filled with an intense and overwhelming sense of pleasure at the pain he was causing. He brought a knee up and pressed it against my chest, continuing to squeeze my injured hand.
“I smell fresh blood,” Knell whispered, and I realized that the wound on my leg had reopened. “How’s your bullet wound?” he cackled and, locating the source, thrust his index finger into the bullet hole.
A fresh blast of pain hit me.
Both of his hands occupied, Knell head-butted me. Flashes of bright white filled my head while I struggled beneath him, unable to break free from his grasp, unable to avoid the repeated bashing of his forehead against mine.
The overwhelming sense of pleasure he was feeling in my pain grew to a new intensity. Then his heart skipped a beat. A second later I detected what was causing his surprise.
“She’s following us up here,” Knell said through gritted teeth. “So I can easily finish you both off.”
I concentrated past the flashes of white-hot pain coming from my hand and my leg and could hear Gail’s heartbeat as she raced up the fire escape.
“No!” I managed to say.
“Michael!” Gail called from somewhere on the fire escape, her feet clanging.
Knell was distracted. His desire to see me tortured, to have me watch him kill the woman I loved affected his judgment. Just enough.
I managed to twist suddenly, yanking Knell’s hand with the finger still inside my bullet wound, sideways. I ground down, trapping his hand between my hip and the rooftop. With my other leg I kicked out, flipping Knell off of me in the same manner he had flipped me on the catwalk. His lower back cracked against the roof ledge, and I scrambled away from him.
We both got to our feet and faced once another. I was the first to move, punching my right fist into his head.
His head snapped back, but the brilliant new flash of pain that came from punching with my severely injured hand told me the punch hurt me far worse than it hurt him. I twisted and threw my elbow against the side of his head, striking a solid blow to his temple.
This stunned him quite effectively, and he stumbled, the back of his right foot pinned against the roof ledge.
I tried to catch my breath through the waves of pain. Knell blacked out and crumpled backwards off the roof.
Diving forward, I managed to grab him by the shirt collar with my injured hand. My crushed fingers sent waves of pain up my arm and screaming into my brain as Knell’s unconscious body collided against the wall of the building.
I gripped the building ledge with my good left hand and wedged both knees there as well, keeping me from tumbling over with Knell. I moaned from the pain shooting up from the right hand that held fast to his shirt.
He was an enemy, he was a killer. But I wasn’t about to let him fall to his death. It was something I learned from Spider-Man after all.
Knell was a killer.
But I wasn’t.
I just needed to pull him up, figure out a way to secure him, then worry about how the hell I was going to anonymously convince the police that he was somehow a deranged lunatic and killer.
Shit, I hadn’t thought any of this through. How the hell was I supposed to pin the wolf murders on Knell without revealing his lycanthropy?
I suppose I couldn’t blame myself for not thinking it through given it had all gone down in just the past half hour. I had been a bit busy, after all, trying to look normal on one of the world’s most popular late-night shows while a serial-killer rock star threatened to kill the woman I loved in front of me.
Time for that later, I thought, and tried pulling Knell up. The pain throbbed even deeper and I felt dangerously close to blacking out.
Knell’s eyes opened and he twisted in my grip.
“You fool!” he said, looking up at me. “You never show an enemy mercy.” He then reached up with both hands and squeezed my hand. “And I’d rather die than be saved by a weak fool like you.”
I screamed in pain as his crushing grip forced me to let go.
Knell glared at me as he fell, eyes never leaving mine, and the twisted grin of his bloodied mouth sent new waves of cold shivers down my spine as I watched him plunge to his death.