Having dealt with Kawosa, Paige knew that something needed to be done quickly. She’d been lucky to realize he was trying to influence her, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d gotten so close in the first place. He was a master deceiver and would only get better as he dealt with more Skinners. If something wasn’t done to help sniff him out, the skinny bastard would have free reign.
Paige checked the tube, held it up to the light and swirled it around again. It seemed that all of the chunks were absorbed, so she opened it.
It smelled gross, but no more so than usual.
She carefully tipped the tube until a few drops fell onto the wet cloth sitting next to her on the stack of boxes where she was seated. About three-quarters of the usual amount, just to be safe. Sliding her hand under the cloth, she folded it once, rubbed the varnish in, then drew her main weapon. She worked the varnish into the machete with the cloth in the usual ritualistic fashion. The stuff glistened on the wood grain for a few seconds before soaking in to give the weapon a slightly darker color. She then applied another coat, waited for it to dry, and set the cloth down. It didn’t take long for her weapon to drink in the varnish, and when it did, she picked it up and clenched her fist around its handle.
Paige barely twitched at the pain from the thorns, but she did feel a chill at the points where they pierced her flesh. She closed her eyes, waiting for something else. It had been a while after her arm was hurt before the thorns would even puncture that hand. If anything else went wrong, she might not be able to fight at all. But she knew that if things were allowed to slide much further without somehow being put into check, no amount of fighting would do much good anyway.
The chill subsided.
When she tried to shift her weapon into a deadlier shape, it responded sluggishly. Normal for that hand, so she removed the stake from her other boot. It still felt like a poor substitute for the sickle that had been destroyed, but she started working the varnish into its handle all the same.
Her phone rang. Even though she didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, she wasn’t about to take a chance on missing a call from Cole. “Hello?”
“Hey, Bloodhound. Long time no see.”
“Rico?”
“That’s right. Sorry about the mix-up in Canada. Where you been?”
Paige set down the cloth and fought back the impulse to reach for her Beretta. “You’re sorry?” she asked. “You tried to kill me.”
“That was some kind of brainwashing bullshit,” Rico told her. “You know that. He got both of us with that trick.”
“What about the rest of what you told me? About the Skinners branching off from the rest?”
The big man let out a tired breath that came across as harsh static through the phone. “Yeah. That part wasn’t bullshit. You wanna know who introduced me to these guys first? Ned. Turns out the old guy wasn’t just sitting in that house after all. Lancroft had a lot of knowledge to pass along, and them runes are only a part of it.”
“You’ve been learning about those runes for a while,” Paige said. “Does that mean you were working with these Lancroft assholes all that time?”
“Why do you think they’re assholes?”
“Because Lancroft’s Mud Flu got a bunch of innocent people killed! Lancroft created Henry! He was a murderer!”
“He was all about the greater good,” Rico explained. “You think things are bad now? How bad do you think they would have been years ago if Lancroft hadn’t done his best to hold back the tide? He’s always had Skinners following him, but he wasn’t stupid enough to work with just anyone. You met those pricks in Philly. What about those bastards who accepted Nymar in their ranks? Skinner ranks! Soon as we start handing our traditions over to the bloodsuckers, we’re slitting our own throats. Now the whole damn thing is crumbling.”
“So you’re probably going to say that Lancroft prophesized about what’s happening today?”
Rico chuckled. “There ain’t no prophecies, just like there ain’t no Chosen Ones. Lancroft’s predictions weren’t any more impressive than predicting the weather by using a Farmers’ Almanac. You look at past trends, present climates, and you can gauge the future. Lancroft’s just the only one lookin’ at our almanac.”
“And when did you come to these conclusions?” she asked.
“Yesterday. I’ve been checking on Ned’s death ever since it happened. I got people who can look into these sorts of things, friends I worked with since before I met you. I kept looking until I found out what drew Ned to Lancroft in the first place. Lancroft wasn’t just a Skinner. He was a pioneer. He believed in taking steps to keep things from getting out of our control. You think it’s a coincidence that the world went to shit after he died?”
“That’s putting a lot onto one man’s shoulders.”
“Maybe,” Rico grunted. “But he kept some damn thorough records. You know what the Breaking Moon is?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“When someone is turned into a Half Breed, all their bones are broken and stitched together with muscle. You and I know this because we seen it happen. We’ve gutted the poor bastards and taken a closer look for ourselves.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Paige said.
“Full Bloods call that first change the Breaking. Mostly, it’s a random thing when people get attacked and turned. There’s a time when those Breakings spike. Lancroft coordinated with other Skinners, cross-checked some notes, and realized it happened when the Full Bloods returned to the middle of their territories and stayed there. Records were pieced together over seventy years documenting people who weren’t attacked changing into Half Breeds. They were just healthy, random folks who dropped to their knees and shattered inside. According to Lancroft’s journal, that time’s about to happen again and the Full Bloods ain’t sticking to their territories.”
“So what?”
“So, there’s somethin’ going on, Paige. We need to be united. If we all run around half-cocked, there’s fewer of us to make a stand when the time comes. The bloodsuckers already tipped the scales enough. We need to close ranks and start acting instead of reacting. I ain’t your enemy, Bloodhound. We both got tricked in Canada. If you let that split us apart, then that skinny fuck Kawosa got what he wanted. I’m giving you a chance to put your good work to use.”
She stood up and gripped the phone tighter. Somewhere along the line, she’d drawn her weapon with her other hand and held onto it with a tight enough grip to bury the thorns into her palm. “So that’s why you’re calling. You need the info I downloaded about Cobb38.”
“What are you gonna do with it?” he asked. “Hand it over to MEG? Too late for that. Let Daniels take a look at it? After all that’s happened with the bloodsuckers, I wouldn’t be surprised if all of their house-cleaning involved sweeping out the rats of their own kind. If he is still alive, he’s on borrowed time and probably bein’ watched even closer than ever right now. So what other choice does that leave you? How the hell are you gonna put that information to use?”
“I could give it to some allies I can trust.”
“Like who? Your helicopter buddies? The Gypsies?”
“At least the Amriany are up front about where their loyalties are.”
“We both fought to track down Cobb,” Rico growled. “We both stormed them houses, and both of us did what needed to be done even with Kawosa fucking with our heads! You, me, and Cole, we work well together. Now’s our chance to finally pull Skinners together into what they need to be instead of the splintered bunch of petty assholes that squabbled over the scraps left behind in Philly. Just think of what can be done if Lancroft stayed alive long enough to pass on how he managed to stay alive all them years.”
“How can you be sure the Lancroft we killed in Philly really is that same guy?” she asked. “Did you find his formula for living to be centuries old?”
“Not the whole thing, but we’re closing in on it.”
The Full Bloods were st
ill roaming outside. Paige could feel the burning in her palms intensify as one of them came closer to the autobody shop. A deep, lingering howl was answered by scratchier ones that seemed to come from all sides. Heavy footsteps rumbled down the street above, and the heat in her scars faded. She knew it wouldn’t be long, however, before the freshest batch of Half Breeds would roll through the area like a storm of fangs and claws.
“Sounds like you got yer hands full there, Bloodhound,” Rico mused.
“I do.”
“Where are you?” When she didn’t answer, he asked, “What the hell do you think I’d do to you, anyway? We both fought and bled in the same battles. I carried you and Cole out of some death traps, and you guys saved my ass plenty of times. All I wanna do is help, just like I always done.”
“You want to help? Then I’ve got someone who needs help. He’s the guy who flew me into Denver. His name’s Adderson. You call him and tell him you want to help. He’ll put you to work.”
“You mean those guys in that helicopter?” Rico growled. “If they’re cops or military, they’ll just toss my ass into a cell.”
“They’re not cops. You said you want to be more proactive. You said you want to do more than you’re doing now. Call Adderson and tell him you want to join the IRD.”
“IRD?”
“Inhuman Response Division,” she explained, waiting for the inevitable backlash.
“Jesus Lord Almighty,” Rico lashed. “Are you kiddin’ me? If you think more men in helicopters are what’s needed, then just call an air strike to burn all those werewolves that are howling around you right now.”
“I’m not sure how far I can trust them,” Paige admitted. “Cole was almost killed when he was in their custody, but I’m not sure if that was the IRD’s fault.”
“You mean that place in Colorado that was leveled on the news?”
“That’s the one. Cole made it out, but—”
“Where is he?” Rico asked. “If he’s on the run, I can help him! I know all about keeping out of the cops’ sights!”
“No. Call Adderson. Check out the IRD. Things are taking a turn, Rico. You’re right about that. We do need to evolve, but Skinners aren’t enough to set things right again. I know Kawosa screwed with us. He’s here, Rico. If you stay away, he can’t screw with us again. Check out the IRD. If you think we can work with them, we may be able to put together some heavy artillery that can be enough to drop a Full Blood.”
“We were never supposed to drag the real world into this,” he warned. “Remember all the times that happened before? Panic. Confusion. Mass hysteria. Any of this ringing a bell?”
“Things have gotten beyond that already,” she said as she dropped back down onto the boxes where she’d been sitting. “There isn’t a precedent for dealing with something like this because it’s never happened. The Full Bloods are gathering, but there’s only two of them here. That’s all it took to tear apart this whole town.”
“What town?”
“Atoka, Oklahoma.” Even though she knew Rico had been tricked to cross her in Canada, it still felt like she was leaving herself open for attack when she said those words now.
“I haven’t heard anything about that place in the news or anywhere else,” he said. “You sure the problem’s that big?”
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s looking like nobody outside of here knows what’s going on, and I need to figure out why that is. In the meantime, we need the big guns. Bigger than the ones we’ve got.”
“Guns don’t do shit against Full Bloods.”
“I know. They can take down Half Breeds, though. Just think what could happen if Skinners worked with a big group of soldiers who not only believed us about what’s out there, but had plenty of guns big enough to do that job at their disposal?”
After a pause and a long, beleaguered sigh, Rico grunted, “Inhuman Response Division, huh?”
“Yep.” After rattling off a phone number, she told him, “Ask for Adderson. Tell him I sent you. Find out what you can.”
“Are you sure you’re not setting me up for this because you’re pissed about Toronto?”
“No. You’re just the only one I know who’s got a chance of getting out of there if the IRD turns out to be the bastards responsible for nearly killing Cole. You know all about that kind of thing, remember?”
“Gotchya.” With that, the connection died.
Outside, the howling was getting closer. Whenever there was a lull in the chorus of shredded throats, she could hear the wild barks of Half Breeds using their heightened senses to close the gap between them and their next meal.
“How’s Rico?” Nadya asked.
Paige put the phone back into her pocket and started packing away her kit. “I’ll find out in a while. What about Milosh?”
The Amriany woman had rarely left the side of his cot since administering treatment to him. “Our healing serums seem to be working,” Nadya said, “but he still may be in too much shock to survive on a dirty cot in this basement.”
Quinn walked down the stairs, shifting into a more human form by the time she reached the basement. Placing her hands flat against a wall that was an uneven surface of packed dirt, she said, “We may not be able to stay here much longer.”
“Any sign from Burke?” Paige asked.
Sinking her fingertips into the wall as if that could help her feel any tremors created by an approaching digger, Quinn shook her head. “Nothing yet. He and some of the others gathered farther in town. Maybe we can make it look like we’ve moved our shelter there.”
“So the whole town is overrun?” Paige asked.
“As far as we know. We can’t stay out long enough to get a good look around. Those Full Bloods sniff us out right away and get the Half Breeds to chase after us.”
“That’d be Liam pulling those strings,” Paige said. “He could steer the Half Breeds in Kansas City, so he’s probably doing it here.” Walking over to a collection of rifles and shotguns propped in one corner she asked, “Are these all functional?”
Quinn’s fur was slick with gore that could have come from any number of sources over the last several hours. It bristled as she said, “Haven’t checked them all. We stole them from around town when we first arrived and have been storing them here for an emergency.”
Paige grabbed a shotgun and checked to see how many shells were inside. “In case nobody’s called it yet, this is an emergency. Ammo?”
“There’s some in those boxes.”
Two bankers’ boxes sat next to each other at the foot of Milosh’s cot. When Paige checked them, she found only a few small cases of shells and rifle rounds stored with supplies ranging from flashlights to shoelaces. She helped herself to a dozen shotgun shells. “Can he be moved?” she asked while looking down at Milosh.
Nadya found a hunting rifle and strapped it across her back. “He probably shouldn’t, but I don’t know for sure. Drina was our medic, but she’s dead.”
Even for Paige that seemed harsh. Still, there were only two things that could be done where fallen comrades were concerned. Nadya could mourn them or, if she didn’t take action, she could join them.
“We’re taking him out of here,” Paige said.
Another Mongrel had found her way into the basement without making a sound to announce her presence. She simply appeared as the oil in her fur was shed. “No. I’ll do it,” she said. “You two don’t know where you’re going. As far as we know, there are more Half Breeds than people in this town. We’ve got alternate shelters, but we can’t get there on the surface.”
“She’s right,” Quinn added. “We can tie him to her so he’ll be dragged along for the ride.”
“You’re not one of the tunnel makers,” Nadya said.
“No, but we can all use the passages that are already made or squirm through the loose dirt as long as we know where to go.”
Looking at Quinn, Paige asked, “Why can’t you take him?”
“Because I lead this pack and our home
is under siege. I don’t have the time to crawl underground at a snail’s pace just to drag one human to safety. We’ve been wearing ourselves to the bone to keep as much of this town alive as possible. We risked our necks to save you three because we need help to make sure everyone in this place isn’t destroyed. If you’d rather take a few months to learn all the ins and outs of tunneling so you can take your friend yourself, you’re welcome to it.”
Nadya didn’t need lessons in wriggling through Mongrel tunnels. Paige knew that much after listening to Cole’s stories about the Amriany using spiked wrist braces to pull themselves through the confined spaces. That didn’t mean Nadya knew how to navigate a dirt maze with her eyes closed.
Staring directly into the feline’s eyes, the Amriany asked, “What is your name?”
“Gail.”
“Tell me if you can keep him safe, Gail.”
Sensing the importance of her words, Gail nodded once and said, “I can’t promise anything for him or me, but I’m the best shot your friend has.”
Nadya sized up the Mongrel in a matter of seconds. “I’ll help you get him ready, but I want to know where he winds up.”
Already sifting through the clutter beneath a dusty workbench, Quinn said, “She’ll send word to me when she gets there and we’ll tell you about it as soon as we can. Here,” she added once she’d found a coil of rope. “Get him secured and then we’ll get out. Those Half Breeds are closing in fast.”
As Nadya helped Milosh to his feet and held him steady, Gail stood with her back pressed against his chest while Quinn tied him to her. Within a minute or two rope was looped under Gail’s arms and around her waist to form a makeshift harness. The Mongrel shifted into her four-legged form, which added enough bulk to tighten the harness as well as support Milosh’s weight when she crawled to the wall Quinn had been monitoring. The feline’s claws extended farther out from her hands and sank into the vertical surface. Although her scraping dislodged plenty of dirt, most of it merely shifted within the wall and allowed Gail to squirm inside. There was something else keeping that wall from collapsing. When the Mongrel’s head got to within an inch of the wall, the dirt compacted as if being pushed by something and even moved aside before it made contact with her fur. But Paige wasn’t inclined to try and figure it out. Sometimes it was best to let the experts do their thing.
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