By the time they got to the house where the Amriany had been taken after leaving the autobody shop, the sky was dark enough for the stars to shine brightly overhead. The sight was even more breathtaking thanks to the pale glow of a mostly full moon and no competition from the darkened town. Al pulled up to a two-car garage and Paige parked the green truck directly behind him. The garage door was already on its way up, so she hunched over and walked beneath the door. When she stood up straight again, Nadya was staring at her over the top of her FAMAS.
“How’s Milosh?” Paige asked.
“He won’t turn into a Vitsaruuv, but some of the others in these houses weren’t so lucky. I could hear their screams. The Breaking Moon must be allowing Full Bloods—”
“I know. Ready to do something about it?”
“Yes!”
But it wasn’t Nadya who answered her question. Hobbling down two wooden steps that connected the garage to the house with the remains of his left arm bound in bandages and towels, Milosh gritted his teeth and shuffled across the cracked, oil-stained garage floor.
“You’re barely conscious,” Nadya scolded. “What do you think you’ll do in this fight?”
“He made it this far,” Paige pointed out. “Can he fire a gun?”
“You’re damn right he can,” Milosh replied. “And if I fall over or bleed out, go on without me. I’d rather get picked off out in the thick of it instead of hiding and waiting for the fucking axe to fall.”
“Has Quinn been here?”
“She has been gone for a while, but another Kushtime remains in the basement to watch us.” Picking up steam with every step he took, Milosh continued his arduous journey to the driveway. “Get me to the plane. We’ve got some more weapons that might help us.”
“No time for that. Unless you’ve got another Blood Blade stashed in that wreck, we have to make do with what we’ve got.” Raising her eyebrows, Paige asked, “You don’t have another Blood Blade stashed in that wreck, do you?”
“We won’t have any more of those for at least another month, but there’s guns and some blades that were charmed to do some damage.”
“Forget it,” Paige sighed. “We need to stick together if we’re going to cover as much of this town as possible.”
Someone else walked up from the basement. Because of all the dirt caked into his fur, it was impossible to make out Burke’s features until the Mongrel shook some of the grit from his coat. “I can cover a lot more ground than you. What do you need?”
“Can you tell me about any Mongrels working with the Full Bloods?” Paige asked.
After a pause, Burke said, “There are some of us who have decided that joining the Full Bloods is the best way to end our troubles. Most of those have been tempted by the Full Bloods’ twisted promise that they can change us into their kind. Even the thought that some of the Full Blood longevity can be passed on has been enough to draw entire packs to their banner. What’s happened recently only sped the process along.”
“So why should we trust that you would want to fight on our side?” Paige asked.
“My pack and I are not under any Full Blood control because we haven’t allowed ourselves to be tainted by their bite. If you don’t believe that, then you can go to hell. Just know that we’ve been in contact with Kayla and Ben from Kansas City and they say you’re good for your word. You fight against the Full Bloods and so do we. If we survive this war, we think we can trust you to work out an amicable arrangement.”
“War?” Nadya asked. “Has it come to that?”
“Better here than in our country,” Milosh grunted.
“Yes it has come to that,” Burke said. He shifted his slitted eyes to Milosh. “And it has only started in this country because this is where the biggest source of Torva’ox is to be found. The Full Bloods will not stay put once they have gathered their power. They will either return to their territories or try to acquire new ones. Either way, no place is safe.”
“I’ve heard some news myself from New Mexico,” Paige said. “The Full Bloods are fighting among themselves.”
“If they whittle their numbers down far enough, the survivor will be the most powerful creature on the planet and will be able to shift all humans into Half Breeds or possibly something worse. Our legends are filled with these warnings, which is why we fight when we could just as easily hide to let the storm pass us by.”
“There’s more than legends and old grudges on the table,” Paige said. “Now that the military is involved, there’s little things like air strikes and nukes to worry about.”
“Nukes?” Milosh said. “It would come to that?”
“I’ve spoken with men who represent the military, even if it may be on a sketchy basis. They’re willing to work with Skinners, but only because they want to get rid of the things that are tearing apart our cities. If we don’t step up and do our job, they’ll fall back to the best way they know to kill big things as quickly as possible. I’m doing my best to keep them in line, but if things keep escalating like they have been, I wouldn’t be surprised if the fingers over those big red buttons start getting twitchy.”
The unearthly howls outside were becoming more musical and jubilant, as opposed to the wild, hungry sounds earlier. Ironically, that strangely beautiful sound sparked genuine fear inside all of those gathered in the garage.
“We can sit here talking doomsday scenarios all night long,” Paige said. “It doesn’t matter if I’m blowing things out of proportion or not. Things have already gotten way out of hand and we’re the only ones that can do anything about it. Kawosa’s taken the authorities out of the picture for now, but help is on the way. What we need to do is draw the Full Bloods to a spot where Cole, my partner, can meet us.”
“Where’s that?” Milosh asked.
“About five or six miles north of here at the Atoka Reservoir. Water acts as a natural booster for supernatural energies, and the Dryads who will transport him here need all the help they can get to do their part. Finally something the MEG guys got right.” She smirked at the memory of days when a call to the ghost hunters was all she needed for her and Cole to know what to do next. “Plus there’s fewer civilians out there. Drawing as many shapeshifters away from here gives the survivors here a bigger chance to see tomorrow.”
“We don’t owe them nothing,” Milosh snarled as he rubbed the stump of his left arm.
“Miro,” Nadya snapped in her native tongue, followed by a string of words. Since Milosh clamped his mouth shut reflexively, Paige assumed that’s pretty much what she’d just told him to do. Looking to Paige, she said, “Among our people, we are known as both cursed and chosen. Above either of those things, we are protectors and so are Skinners. No matter what the quarrel is between our peoples in the past, this is a problem that will affect us all. But there must be an understanding.”
“Be quick about it,” Paige said as the howls outside grew more ecstatic.
“Us helping you now means the start of a true joining of Amriany and Skinner. We fight on your soil tonight and you must fight on ours in the future.”
“This thing is gonna go on for longer than one night,” Paige warned.
“Your fight becomes our fight, just as ours becomes yours. However long it takes.”
Paige extended her hand and Nadya shook it. “Fair enough, but I can’t guarantee all of us will be crazy about setting the past aside. I’ll vouch for you, which will go a long way with some. Then we’ll talk sense into the rest.”
“As will I. It is decided then. Right, Milosh?”
The wounded Amriany muttered in his own tongue, but nodded.
Bill walked into the garage carrying a shotgun. “Are we doing this or not?”
And that was that.
When Paige walked away from the garage, the only thing in her world was the fight that lay ahead. Even though there was no target for her machete, she tightened her grip around its handle until the thorns punctured her palm. The wood creaked and the weapon shifted. A
fter climbing into the back of the red pickup, she noticed a more familiar sickle in her grasp.
Paige stared at the weapon as the truck’s engine roared to life and the vehicle rattled down the road. Unlike the sickle she’d forged throughout the course of her training, it was more like what that weapon would have aspired to become once it grew up. The handle was thicker and shorter, which allowed the blade to become wider and longer. Until now, the fact that she’d been unable to shift the weapon’s cutting edge had been attributed to the coat of metallic glaze added to the varnish. The edge was still there and its shape was mostly the same, but it was bent around the crescent edge of the sickle. Even as she marveled at the feat she’d been unable to perform ever since the injury to her arm, she could feel the potential for more. Looking up at the moon, feeling the wildness Kawosa had promised, she wanted to howl.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Every time she looked up from the back of the red pickup, Paige felt as if she was farther from civilization. Atoka was still there, but its buildings were husks. Some were on fire. Most were broken to one degree or another. Claw marks had been scratched onto just about every surface and the only things that moved were being pushed around by the wind.
“Take a look around,” Burke said while running alongside the pickup. “This is what every city will look like if the Full Bloods have their way.”
“Why would they want things to be like this?” Milosh asked.
Paige flipped her sickle in her hand. Although her fingers weren’t as nimble as they’d been before her injury, they compensated by closing around the handle with an even stronger grip than before. “If we live until tomorrow, we can ask them.”
“If there’s any of those Full Blood assholes left to ask,” the Amriany snarled.
“That’s the spirit.”
They drove to the paint store to pick up the bait mixture that had been mixed up earlier. It was stored in all the containers they could scrounge from nearby houses and garbage cans, ranging from plastic water bottles to canteens and an insulated iced tea jug. Anything that could hold the viscous mixture without spilling it or allowing its scent to sully the air before it was needed was put to use. As they piled back into both trucks, those containers were divvied out to Skinner and Amriany alike.
“Come here, mole man!” Bill shouted.
Sighing reluctantly, Burke approached the passenger side of the red truck. The closer the Mongrel got, the more the bristly hairs along his back stood up. When he was within a few feet of the window, he was splashed with a slimy load of the pungent bait mixture. He bared his teeth, which only allowed some of the rancid gel to trickle into his mouth. “That shit’s gonna make me puke!”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Bill said. “Run around town and find as many Half Breeds as you can. Shouldn’t be hard with that stuff. Get them to follow you, and bring them to us. When it looks like we can’t handle any more, take them to the reservoir. Got it?”
The Mongrel grunted. “Could have warned me before splashing that shit on me.”
“Would that have made it smell any better? Just don’t do any tunneling or you’ll wipe it off.”
Paige unscrewed a plastic container she’d taken from Ginger’s kitchen that had been used to hold the pretzel sticks she and the other Skinners had devoured. “And tell Quinn to send any of the others over to us so they can do the same.” When she saw the resistant look on the Mongrel’s face, she added, “You said you guys wanted to help. This is what needs to be done.” Some of the howling in the vicinity stopped and was replaced by excited, panting breaths. “I’d be quick about it too. Sounds like someone’s already picked up our scent.” With that, Paige turned the container over and dumped its contents onto the side of the truck.
“You’re not getting that shit on my baby, are you?” Al said from the driver’s seat.
“Not at all,” Paige told him. “Get moving.”
The truck lurched forward, forcing her to sit down and brace herself with her feet against the interior of the bed. As they picked up speed, she let the large empty container roll around near the tailgate so she could pick up the water bottles. She tossed one to Milosh, who was in the back with her, and handed another to Bill through the little sliding window that opened into the cab. He took it and jammed it into the cup holder so he could tend to his hunting rifle. It was a large caliber model that Paige didn’t recognize, although she was certain Cole would have known it just by the scope. The sickle was trapped beneath her foot like a long-lost friend.
On the edge of the parking lot, Quinn threw a fit as Jesse doused her in more of the bait mixture. Nadya waved to Paige and climbed into the green pickup. By the time Al rounded the next corner, Jesse was gunning the other truck’s engine and heading for the opposite end of town.
Gail ran up to the red truck on Paige’s side, moving on all fours with every bit of the feline grace that her form suggested. When she looked up, she snarled in a voice that was barely understandable through her needlelike fangs. “Bait,” was all she said.
Paige obliged her by squirting some of the stuff onto the Mongrel. Farther down East Court Street, larger paws scraped against the cement. She drew her Beretta and braced herself against a pipe that had been welded into the bed to be used as a handle. “All of you, go!”
Gail scampered past the truck to rush headlong into the approaching Half Breeds. The werewolves barked at her and bared their fangs, allowing strings of drool to trail from their mouths as they lowered their heads and quickened their pace. Even with her unnatural speed, Gail was barely able to veer away from the creatures before being clipped by greedy, snapping jaws. Three of the five Half Breeds veered off to chase her, while the others charged at the truck. Once they got a healthier whiff of the bait Paige had applied to the pickup, they became so anxious to chase it that their paws slid against the gritty street in their haste to circle around it.
By the time they made it to South Kentucky Avenue, Al had quite the following. Half Breeds relentlessly pursued the pickup, sideswiping telephone poles and streetlights in their haste to try and keep up with his erratic driving. More werewolves joined them as the main group fanned out and put some real steam into their strides in an effort to catch up.
“I think maybe you didn’t think this through,” Milosh said.
Paige held her Beretta in one hand and one of Bill’s .45s in the other. “Then why did you follow me?”
“At this point,” he said while waving his stump at her, “there’s not much else to lose.”
She waved her scarred and nearly petrified right arm at him and said, “I know how you feel. Since you seem to be doing just fine, stop your bitching and start shooting some of these things.” Leading by example, she turned to point both pistols over the side of the truck and pulled the triggers.
Milosh’s left stump had been cleaned and redressed by one of the Mongrels. There was always a medic in their packs, along with other vital members of a traveling community, including trackers and diggers. The only reason he was up and conscious was because of the Amriany healing serums that had been pumped into him. Paige knew he was going to crash and crash hard when the initial buzz wore off. If they were alive for that moment, she would be more than happy to crash along with him. For now, Milosh gripped one of Al’s hunting rifles and used his stump to steady the barrel. The Covid Accura .50 caliber fit snugly against his shoulder and made a satisfying crack as it went off. Even more satisfying was the sight of a Half Breed stumbling and rolling into the werewolf beside it as the round caught it low in its chest.
“Feeling better now?” Paige asked while pressing her side against the truck bed in order to fire three quick shots from the Beretta.
The Amriany nodded and showed her a wide, toothy grin. “This is the perfect cure. A little hair of the dog that bit me, no?”
“And then some. Watch your right.”
Milosh shifted his aim in that direction to find another group of Half Breeds charging dow
n Sixth Street and skidding around the corner to fall into step with some of the others. His rifle sent a few carefully placed .50 caliber rounds into the front of the group. Between thundering shots he shouted, “I like this gun!”
Paige chuckled at his enthusiasm and took a few shots of her own. When the Beretta ran dry, she placed it under her foot and switched the .45 into her right hand. Half Breeds were closing in, despite the gunfire being thrown at them. They were only prevented from overtaking the truck by the sharp turns Al took and their own tendency to get in each other’s way in their haste to follow the malodorous bait. Once the Half Breeds had the scent in their nostrils, they would keep coming at them even if they lost a limb or two.
When her .45 ran dry, Paige reloaded both guns using spare magazines she’d prepared and tucked into her pockets back at the paint store. On many occasions, she and Cole had argued about gripping a pistol in each hand and firing away. He called it dual-wielding. She called it a great way to waste a lot of ammo without hitting much of anything. His defense boiled down to how cool it looked. Paige had to admit, when she fired both pistols at the werewolves that were now close enough to scrape their tusks against the side of the truck, she did feel pretty cool.
The guns bucked against her burning palms, spitting point-blank fire at the werewolves. When one Half Breed took a round in the face, it fell behind so another could charge forward and take its place. The motion of the truck and the constantly changing field of targets made it difficult to hit her mark every time, but even the misses did some damage as they ricocheted off the street and into another warm body. But somehow, no matter how many hits she scored, the werewolves were even closer by the time her pistols ran dry again.
“Milosh!” she shouted while ejecting the empty magazines one at a time.
The Amriany glanced over at her, spotted the pair of Half Breeds that had climbed onto the side of the truck and swung his rifle in that direction. Paige lay down and was forced to look up at the werewolves that in turn were looking down at her after scaling the side of the truck. Drool spattered against her face, dripping from their anxious jaws. When one of them hiked a third paw over the side of the truck, a .50 caliber round exploded from Milosh’s rifle and hit it like a sledgehammer. That werewolf collided with the other one, sending both of them to the street, to be swallowed by a growing wave of creatures.
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