“We’re paying Daniels a visit.”
“You think we should go there right after we heard about someone looking for him? What if one of Steph’s people follows us?”
“First of all, nobody’s following us,” Paige said confidently. “Second, Steph already knows who Daniels is because she mentioned him by name. The Nymar may not have this city as wired as they say they do, but they can probably track someone down if they want. If she knows where he is, she’ll make a play for him right away. If she doesn’t, then we’ve got nothing to lose by driving there now.”
“Do you think they know Daniels has been helping Skinners come up with new weapons?”
“If they did, he would have been dead a long time ago. What concerns me is that Ace and Stephanie might just call this Burkis guy to let him know we were there so he can give us some grief. That’s why we need to get out to Schaumburg as soon as possible, which would be even easier if someone learned to use a turn signal!”
Paige had stuck her head out the window to aim those last few words at an old man in a new Honda four-door. After leaving him in her dust, she calmly said, “Maybe you should call MEG while I let Daniels know we’re coming. Could be that someone else has mentioned someone named Burkis.”
Cole dug into his pocket and removed his new phone. It still had the clear plastic film over the touch screen, which would stay in place until it either fell off on its own or got too smudged to see through. He cradled the phone in one hand and began swiping through his screens with gentle, loving motions of his finger. “I’ve got all the MEG branches on speed dial,” he said proudly.
“Take them off.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you only need to know a few phone numbers, and you should have them memorized. Anyone who gets ahold of your phone could find out all of your business. Right now your business is my business, so delete those numbers.”
“Fine. As soon as I hook into my computer and update the software so I can make changes to the system, I’ll do it.”
“Real convenient phone you got there. Is that the one you borrowed all that money for?”
Rather than answer that question, Cole dialed the number. He even used the speed dial to really show her who was boss.
After a few rings a woman picked up and said, “Midwestern Ectological Group Branch 40. How can I help you?”
“Hi, who’s this?”
“Midwestern Ectological Group Branch 40.”
“I know that. Where’s Stu?”
Although there was a touch of tired aggravation in her tone, the woman at the other end of the line was far from flustered. Being an organization that searched for ghosts by following creaks in people’s attics and flashing digital cameras at cold spots in the middle of dark, empty rooms, MEG got more than its share of strange calls. “If you have an instance to report or a sighting to document, you can log onto our website. If you need to reach someone in particular, I can pass along a message.”
Cole knew all too well that the woman wasn’t even close to writing anything down yet, so he spoke quickly before she hung up. “His name’s Stu. He usually always answers the phones. Just tell him it’s—”
Swatting him on the arm, Paige whispered, “Use your number.”
The first time he’d called the paranormal investigation society, Cole needed to pass along an identification number belonging to a Skinner named Gerald Keeley. A lot had changed since then. Gerald was dead and Cole had his own identification number, but he was on such good terms with the guy who usually haunted MEG’s main phone line that he never needed it.
Pressing his phone against his shoulder, Cole used his free hand to pat his pockets. “I can’t find my card,” he whispered to Paige.
Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, she grunted, “You don’t keep that number on you, but you program in all the phone numbers that are plastered all over those MEG websites and that stupid cable show they keep rerunning?”
“Sir? Are you still there?” the woman on the phone asked.
“Yeah,” Cole said. “Hang on. I’ve got a number for you.”
“All right.”
The frantic expedition into his pockets turned up nothing but forty-two cents and a faded coupon. His socks contained his feet and a little over two hundred bucks, which only left one more place for him to look. Lifting his butt an inch or so from the seat, he slid his hand along the space where the backrest met the bottom cushion. That’s when he struck pay dirt.
“All right,” he said triumphantly as he plucked the card from where it had been wedged. “Here we go.” He read a string of numbers from his card as Paige busied herself with her own phone. When he reached the final digit, he heard a definite shift in the voice at the other end of the long-distance connection.
“Cole Warnecki?”
“That’s me.”
“I didn’t realize you were one of those…I mean…I’ve never talked to anyone who—”
“I know. I get that all the time,” Cole said, even though he rarely had anyone seem remotely impressed with his name. This was actually one of the few times a newcomer had even pronounced it correctly.
“You still want to speak to Stu? I’m sure I could help.”
As much as he wanted to draw out a conversation with a voice as sweet and promising as hers, he was hesitant to comply. There was more to think about than just getting on the good side of an interesting woman. Surely, the end of days was nigh.
“I’d kind of like to talk to Stu if that’s all right,” he said.
Quickly, the woman replied, “Sure. That’s fine. Let me get him for you.” She didn’t sound annoyed or upset, just a little disappointed to be passed over. Now he really felt like an ass.
There were a few clicks, some static, and then a few more clicks before a familiar voice drifted through Cole’s new phone. “If you want me to retract what I said about those painted hammers on the Digital Dreamers forums, I won’t do it.”
“Hey Stu, it’s not about that. Wait…couldn’t you possibly consider—”
“No! What do you want?”
“I need to know if you guys have heard anything about someone named Burkis.”
“First or last name?” Stu sighed.
“Probably last,” Cole told him. “He’s supposed to be from New York. At least, that’s what my sources told me.”
“How reliable is the source?”
“Just look it up.”
The MEG guys were known as a lot of things. A small group of rabid fans called them brilliant scientists, but closed-minded folks used some more colorful and less favorable terms. Everyone else along the middle of the spectrum either didn’t know about them at all or found them mildly interesting. Their videos of grainy footage taken from inside supposedly haunted locations sold well enough to keep them stocked in batteries for their meters and cameras, but their real funding came from several private investors who didn’t bother hassling the Midwestern Ectological Group about unproven techniques or making up words to fit an anagram. Most of those patrons were Skinners.
Skinners were generally a very low-tech crowd. People who lived and died hunting monsters also tended to be a little paranoid. To that end, they weren’t quite on board with the notion of taking their communications online with the rest of the planet. That’s where MEG came in. The branches of paranormal investigation teams had their communication network well in place before they’d ever crossed paths with a Skinner. Cole often wondered how funny it was when that first ghost chaser tried to get a hardened warrior to pose for a picture in front of a freshly killed werewolf.
Stu’s fingers rattled over his keyboard and he muttered incoherently into his headset. Then again, Stu did seem the type who might also wear one of those obnoxious little wireless earpieces. “There’s a couple Burkises mentioned, but those were in Ontario,” he finally said. “Oh, that was one of our cases.”
“You guys are doing investigations in Canada now? Congratulations.”
&nb
sp; “Yeah. After all the commotion when Gerald and Brad’s bodies were found, it’s been a real hotbed up there. Uh, no offense.”
“None taken. What happened with those bodies?”
“They were buried in a private ceremony. Apparently someone claimed them and arranged for it all. No pictures, but it was probably real nice.”
“Yeah,” Cole said as he looked over to a certain brunette who used to work with Gerald before the old man was killed. “I’m sure it was.”
“You got your own number issued, huh? Congratulations right back at ya. Let’s see…Burkis in New York. There are a few listed in phone directories and stuff, but nothing connected to any notes from you guys. I’ll keep checking. Honestly, I thought you called about whatever killed those people in Kansas City.”
“What people?”
“Don’t you watch the news?”
“Between sparring and sleeping, when the hell am I supposed to read or watch anything?” Cole snapped.
“Bring it in a notch, killer. I thought you might have seen it online. Four people were killed in Kansas City and plenty more have gone missing.”
“Wouldn’t that be the cops’ problem?”
“They were torn apart. The news started off by saying there was a pack of pit bulls running lose, but that was before the pictures started coming in.”
“What pictures?”
“You really have been out of touch,” Stu grumbled. “We’ve been putting them up on our site. Lately, the news and police statements have latched onto the idea of some sort of rottweiler-bullmastiff mix, but we’ve got eyewitness accounts and some cell phone pics that point to a bunch of those skinny werewolves you guys like so much.”
“Half Breeds,” Cole muttered, as if afraid of saying the words too loudly.
“Right. There’s also a few blurry shots of the other kind. One of those big ones.”
That didn’t set well. “Can you send those pics to me?”
“Not on that fossil of a phone you’re using.”
“That one’s history,” Cole beamed. “I’ve got one of the new touch screen models.”
“The new ones from four months ago or the new ones from last month?”
“The new new one.”
“Man, you’re lucky,” Stu gasped. “I waited in line for hours and still didn’t land one. Tell me how these pics look.”
Within seconds an icon started flashing on Cole’s phone. He tapped it and brought up a set of three pictures sent by Stu. The quality was okay, but the lighting was terrible. Even so, he could make out the hulking form of a full-blooded werewolf with black fur stalking through a park. The other two pictures were of leaner creatures racing along nearly deserted streets. They’d been moving so fast when the pictures were taken that they weren’t much more than blurs. Even so, he would have bet they were Half Breeds.
“How do those look?” Stu asked.
“Not good,” Cole sighed. “Not good at all.”
“Well, they were probably taken on one of those—”
“Keep looking into that Burkis guy,” Cole interrupted. “And e-mail me whatever you’ve got on what’s going on in Kansas City.”
“Yeah. Okay. Is everything all right over there?”
“As good as it ever is.”
“Oh,” Stu said gravely. “I’ll let you get back to it, then.”
Cole ended the call and tapped his phone to enlarge the picture Stu had sent him. A few seconds later Paige snapped her phone shut and said, “Daniels is home, but he’s hiding. He says some Nymar are waiting for him outside his place.”
“We need to get to KC,” Cole told her.
“I’m not about to run away just because Ace and Stephanie got their prissy little noses out of joint.”
“Not that.” Showing her the picture on his phone, Cole said, “Because of this.”
Paige studied the blurred picture for about a second before nodding and shifting her attention to the interstate. “Looks like a Full Blood. Could be the one that found us in Wisconsin, but I’m not certain.”
Cole turned his phone around and studied it so closely that he nearly pressed his face against the smooth touch screen. “What if it’s Henry?”
“Even if Henry is recovered from all the crap he was put through, he was too crazy to hit and run like that. When he resurfaces, there won’t be any doubt it’s him. And look at the color of the fur. Full Bloods change shape, but they can’t change their fur. If anything, that’s the one that came to take Henry away from us. Yep,” she added after another quick glance at the picture. “See the white patch on the nose?”
“You can’t possibly see all that from this picture!”
Nodding as if she was accepting an award, Paige said, “It’s a gift. Once you see a few more of these bad boys, you’ll pick up on the details too.”
“So what if these other things are Half Breeds?”
“Oh, those are Half Breeds,” Paige replied.
“How could this get by us?”
“I’ve seen some stuff on the news about dog attacks in KC, but that was a few days ago. Since then all the attention was shifted over to the people who went missing.”
Already sifting through different screens on his phone, Cole shook his head and said, “I’m looking at news reports online right now. This isn’t good at all. Two cars were found alongside a highway last week. One of the drivers was busted up beyond recognition and the other was never found. More people have turned up dead or gone missing. Some college girl was dragged away by…well, this says it was a rottweiler, but come on! Aren’t we supposed to be on top of this crap?”
“We’ll look into it.”
“It’s all right here, Paige! I did a search for Kansas City dog attacks and ten pages came up.”
“Those are Internet search pages,” she reminded him. “How much of that is porn?”
Since the answer to that wouldn’t have helped his cause, Cole settled for a stern glare in her direction.
“There are real dog attacks and plenty of missing people,” she said. “We can’t investigate every last one on the off chance of a Half Breed turning up. Now that we know there’s a problem in KC, we’ll go there. If a Full Blood is still there, we’ll need what Daniels is working on anyway. Read off some more of those search results.”
“I can’t,” Cole snarled. “My battery just died.”
“How long did you wait in line for that new phone?” Paige chided.
“Shut it.”
Chapter 9
It was a long drive to Schaumburg, but thanks to an overpriced car charger for his phone, Cole had plenty to keep him busy along the way. As Paige drove to the Chicago suburb with her arm propped on the window and the night breeze shaking her hair back into its normal shape, he sifted through dozens of online news sources. The reports ranged all the way from syndicated articles about the supposed rottweiler-bullmastiff mixed breeds roaming Kansas City to conspiracy blogs that compared the attacks to the incident in Wisconsin commonly known as the Janesville Massacre. Cole and Paige had been in Janesville to see the massacre firsthand, and there were more Nymar there than werewolves, but the blogged reports were a little too close for comfort.
Then Cole spotted something to perk him up. “Hey! I think I found someone in KC who might help us.”
“Don’t trust anything you might hear about Skinners or their locations. I plant all sorts of lies on the Internet to cover us. If another Skinner was nearby, I’d already know.”
“This isn’t a Skinner. It’s a cop. The story is only two days old and says he hit one of those mixed breed dogs with his car. Apparently he still has the body and is trying to sell it on—”
“We’re here,” Paige announced as she nodded toward a cluster of buildings on the right side of the road. “The rest will have to wait for later. If there are Nymar watching this place, I don’t want to miss them.”
Cole tucked away his phone and took the revolver from the glove compartment. They’d left the inters
tate and were cruising through a quiet apartment complex that looked as if it had fallen out of an expensive mold. The buildings weren’t quite fancy enough to have an electric gate around them, but were clean, well lit, and inhabited by people who had impressive taste in cars.
“This is where a Nymar lives?” Cole grumbled.
“Sure beats your freezer, huh?”
“It beats the place I used to live back when I was pulling in a real salary.”
Paige drove along a road that led into the middle of the apartment complex where a clubhouse glowed with blue, wavy light reflected from the nearby pool. Pointing to the third of five identical buildings, she said, “Daniels lives in that one.”
“Why is it so important that we see this guy right now?”
“Because he does a lot of good work for us, and you should be introduced before Ace and Stephanie hand him over to some asshole from New York.” Slapping the Cav into Park and cutting the engine, Paige added, “Plus he’s got the Blood Blade. If we’re going to KC, we’re gonna need that. He’s been using it to put together a nice little surprise that should also come in handy.”
“What surprise?”
“You remember that project I had him working on after we chased Henry out of Wisconsin?”
Cole furrowed his brow and rolled his eyes toward the roof of the car. If he’d stashed any notes around, that wasn’t the spot. Finally, he said, “No. I don’t remember.”
She sighed and pushed open the car door. “You’ll just have to wait, then. Look out for any Nymar lurking in the parking lot.”
“Will we be able to spot them?”
Rather than say anything else as she walked to the narrow sidewalk cutting across a well-tended lawn, Paige simply tapped the palm of her hand. The cuts from his weapon’s thorns had long since healed. He’d sat and watched the gashes close up once, but found it more disturbing than interesting. Since he didn’t feel the prickly itch caused by the reaction of the venom in the weapon’s varnish with the Nymar that produced it, Cole knew there weren’t any of them nearby.
Howling Legion s-2 Page 9