Howling Legion (Skinners, Book 2)

by Marcus Pelegrimas

  At first Mullet looked surprised. His slack-jawed expression quickly gave way to a snarl. When he curled his lips back, the big set of upper and lower fangs slid out from his gums. Cole knew there was a third set of fangs in there, but the Nymar wasn’t laying all his cards on the table just yet. “So you’re the new Skinner we’ve been hearing about?”

  The Nymar with the beard crouched down a bit while keeping his eyes fixed upon Cole. That one did extend his other set of upper fangs. The thinner, curved teeth dropped into place, where they were framed by the thicker set used for feeding.

  “Take it easy, Sid,” the girl said. “Even a Skinner might want a bit of lovin’.”

  “Oh yeah,” Cole chuckled. “You’re one of Steph’s all right.”

  Her smile didn’t fade in the least. She reached out to let her fingers wander along Cole’s chest. “All kinds of normal people pay us good money to feed on them, you know. I’ve got more regulars than I can handle, and we only just set up shop here a week ago.”

  “You shouldn’t have set up shop here at all. You’ve been warned to stay away from Cicero.”

  “Warned by who?” Mullet asked. “Gerald was the only real Skinner around here, and that old man’s dead. I hear his skinny little partner got killed too. That only leaves some short broad, which sure ain’t you.”

  That dredged up some bad memories, which Cole couldn’t keep from showing on his face. The instant he felt the warm flush run through his cheeks, the Nymar took note.

  “You knew Gerald?” Mullet asked.

  This time Cole didn’t have to dig down to put an edge into his voice, and he didn’t have to try to make his anger seem convincing. “I knew Gerald well enough, and if you’ve been feeding in the open, I’ll do Gerald proud by kicking your asses all the way back to the Levee.”

  “We conduct our business where we please, Skinner,” Sid growled. “That is, if you even are a Skinner.”

  The girl’s fingers encircled Cole’s wrist. Before he could pull away from her, she twisted his hand up to get a look at the scars on his palm. “He is a Skinner. Looks a little fresh, but—”

  “Show me the alley,” Cole snapped as he pulled against the girl’s thumb just as Paige had taught him. Even if the Nymar was stronger than him, she still had a weak point in her grip, just like anyone else who walked around using all the human bits and pieces.

  Clenching her hand into a little fist, she stepped back and allowed the other two to stalk forward. “You want to look down that alley?” she asked. “Be our guest.”

  Cole glanced up and down the sidewalk. There were a few people here and there, but none of them were anxious to have any part in what was going on near the alley. Suddenly, he thought of something that didn’t involve walking into a cramped spot with three Nymar bloodsuckers behind him. Surprisingly enough, his idea didn’t involve running away either.

  “It’s all right,” he shouted toward the alley. “You can come out now.”

  A dog barked somewhere. Farther up on Cermak, someone blasted their stereo loud enough for the bass to rattle Cole’s back teeth. Other than that…nothing.

  “Nobody’s going to hurt you,” Cole added. “No charges will be filed if you just come out right now.”

  Before the bass line up the street could shift into another song, another figure emerged from the alley. Unlike the ones that had caught Cole’s attention in the first place, this figure wasn’t sporting any black marks on its neck or wrists. It also wasn’t wearing any pants.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” the guy said. “I was just waiting for her to…” He was somewhere in his forties, with a full head of hair and a gut that would have hung over a belt if one had been around his waist. Grabbing at the rolls on his hips, he suddenly realized what was already painfully obvious to everyone else. “I…don’t have my pants. Can I just—”

  “Get out of here,” Cole snapped. “And whatever you were doing before, don’t do it again.”

  The guy looked around quickly and then scampered off in the direction with the fewest people to gawk at him.

  “Another happy customer,” the girl said with a grin.

  “Take your business where it belongs,” Cole warned. “Right now.”

  “Or what?” Mullet challenged.

  The Nymar with the eighties hairstyle might have been posturing, but his buddy meant business. Sid crouched down and bared all three sets of fangs in the supernatural equivalent of taking a gun from its holster and thumbing back the hammer.

  One of those Nymar was going to pounce at any second. After that, the others would follow. Since turning his back on them wasn’t a smart idea, Cole knew he only had one alternative. He filled his lungs with warm night air, catching a whiff of the hamburgers waiting for him on his front seat, then grabbed the closest Nymar by the front of his shirt. Mullet seemed surprised to be targeted, but twisted to get away while also attempting to swipe at him with his right fist.

  One of the first lessons Paige had taught Cole about fighting was to use movement and momentum to his advantage. She’d tested him relentlessly, landing punch after punch until he had learned to anticipate and adjust to every swing. Now that it really mattered, he did exactly what he was supposed to do.

  When Mullet pivoted to swing his right fist, Cole tightened his grip on the Nymar’s shirt and turned in that same direction. That way, it took a minimum of effort for Cole to spin his opponent around and slam him against the car. Mullet hit the Cavalier hard enough to dent the door, which wasn’t nearly enough damage to stand out from all the other ugly spots on the vehicle. While Mullet tried to figure out what had just happened, Cole hit him in the face. Other than being very satisfying, the punch only resulted in Cole ripping open his own fist against the Nymar’s upper fangs. Fortunately for him, they weren’t the slender, snakelike fangs. The venom from those would have knocked him out faster than a kick to the head. Thanks to Paige’s sparring sessions, he was all too familiar with being kicked in the head.

  Sid let out a snarling hiss as he jumped toward Cole’s back. Having expected that from the start, Cole hopped aside to catch only a glancing blow as the bearded Nymar slammed against the dented Cavalier.

  Cole staggered back a few steps, slow to make another move simply because he was surprised to be doing so well in the fight. He wanted to get to his spear, but there were two Nymar pressed up against the door. As much as he would have loved to run around to the driver’s side, he didn’t want to give the others a chance to catch their breath. Putting every bit of muscle behind his left arm, he twisted his body around and drove that elbow into Mullet’s face.

  The Nymar’s head snapped back and his knees started to give. Sid had wound up closer to the hood of the car after inadvertently body-slamming his partner, so he wasn’t close enough to get to Cole just yet. Before that situation changed, Cole fumbled for the pistol wedged under his belt. It was a sloppy draw and, if the .44 was anything but a clunky revolver, could very well have turned him into a eunuch. The gods were smiling on him and his goods because he managed to take out the .44 and drive the barrel straight into Mullet’s chest.

  “You guys may not be afraid of guns, but we all know how much damage a shot at this range can do to the little buddy stuck to your heart,” Cole said.

  “You’d better be real sure about that!” Mullet replied.

  Cole thumbed back the pistol’s hammer. “What do you think my odds are? Fifty-fifty?”

  Inching his way around the front of the car, Sid hissed, “Do it and we tear you apart!”

  “Shut up, asshole!” Mullet barked.

  Although Sid was still baring his fangs, his beard covered all but the pointed tips.

  Nodding slowly, Cole looked around to find several small groups of people scattered farther down the street. He looked over to the Nymar in pigtails and said, “You stayed put through all of this, so you must not want things to get worse. Wanna tell your boys to back off, or would you rather wait for the cops to get here?”<
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  The girl had her arms crossed and her lips parted just enough to show the top two sets of fangs extending from her gums. The thicker canine teeth slid against the thinner venomous ones in a way that somehow managed to look sexy. The calm expression on her face and the commanding tone in her voice made it clear she was well past the age she projected.

  “You two,” she said. “Heel.”

  Mullet and Sid weren’t happy about it, but they obeyed.

  Uncrossing her arms to hold them out as if she was expecting a hug, she asked, “Is that good enough for you?”

  “All of you know better than to be in this part of town unless you’re looking for us,” Cole pointed out. As an afterthought, he asked, “Were you looking for us?”

  “We sure as hell found you, didn’t we?” the girl mused. “But we’ll find somewhere else to play. How’s that?”

  “As long as it’s away from here, suits me just fine.”

  “Good. Are you Cole?”

  Upon hearing his name, Cole felt a twitch in the corner of one eye. Fortunately, he was twitching in too many other places at the moment for that one to stand out. “Just get the hell off of my street.”

  He had been waiting a good portion of his life to say something like that. Rather than soak up the moment while imagining tough background music, he tried to keep his glare from cracking and prayed the other three would just go away.

  They did.

  Once the trio of Nymar disappeared down the alley, Cole kept his head down and walked around to the driver’s side of Paige’s car. The seat was still warm from when he’d last sat in it, but it felt like a week and a half had gone by since he was driving along fantasizing about eating his little hamburgers. Although technically trivial when compared to possibly getting his throat shredded, those burgers brought a smile back to his face.

  The taste of victory in a little cardboard box.

  Chapter 3

  Cole hadn’t felt comfortable anywhere since he’d seen his first werewolf, but the gutted old restaurant off of South Laramie Avenue was a spot where he could sometimes let his guard down. At one point the restaurant had customers, employees, and a real name. Now, all that remained of the place’s former glory was a sign painted onto the front wall that had been partially worn away by the elements and who knows what else. The letters that could still be seen were: RAZA HILL. He parked along the side of the place, collected his bags of food, and hurried in.

  “You’ll never guess what happened,” he sputtered the moment he caught sight of Paige sitting on a stool in the kitchen.

  She glanced over to him and asked, “Where are my cheese fries?”

  “Remember those Nymar I called about? There were three of them, and I chased them away without any help. Hey, wait a second. You seriously weren’t planning on coming to help me?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re planted on that stool like nothing happened! What if I got hurt?”

  Shrugging, Paige replied, “If you can’t chase off three Nymar, then you’ll never be any help to me. Where’s your weapon?”

  “Oh, I left it in the car.”

  “But you brought in the food? At least you’ve got your priorities straight.”

  “Don’t you want to hear about the Nymar?” Cole asked.

  Paige swiveled around on her stool, placed her hands on her knees, and gave him one crisp nod. “Yes, Cole. I want to hear all about the Nymar. After that do I get my cheese fries?”

  He dumped the fast food bags onto the counter. “Here you go. The fries and everything else is in there. I’ll go get the rest of my stuff and we can eat.”

  “Do you know how cute you are when you pout?”

  “Save it.”

  After taking his weapon from the front seat, Cole stomped back into the restaurant. He slapped the spear down, grabbed a double cheeseburger from the pile, and tore into the steamed little miracle.

  “There,” Paige said. “Feel better now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Me too. Now I’m ready to hear about the Nymar.”

  Cole looked over to find her holding a handful of gooey cheese fries that had all been bitten off in the middle. That same cheese was smeared over a good portion of her mouth, and a few drops had fallen onto the front of her nightshirt. With her hair pulled back into a messy tail, she was anything but glamorous. Somehow, she still managed to get that twitch she’d been after.

  Launching into his story while stuffing his face, Cole went through the whole account. By the time he was finished, most of the cardboard burger boxes were empty. Most of the food that hadn’t been eaten was soaked into the front of Paige’s clothes.

  “So they weren’t feeding in public?” she asked.

  “The guy in the alley was paying for it, but he was out of sight.”

  “That’s not a killing offense, but the Nymar are supposed to stay around the Levee or near the Loop. There must be more of them coming back into town after that business with Misonyk was cleared up.”

  It had been a while since that name was mentioned. The Nymar were worried about dredging up old demons, and the Skinners were simply glad to be rid of the lunatic who’d used an infected werewolf to try and make a name for himself in Chicago and the adjacent states.

  “Things have been quieter than usual since Misonyk was killed,” Paige continued, “but it’s stupid to think that would last too long. Most of the Nymar that left town will be coming back to pick up where they left off.” She picked up one of the onion rings from the two remaining boxes on the counter and then dipped it into some partially hardened cheese from the second container. “Others might come here thinking we’re still soft from what happened before,” she said amidst a pungent, greasy spray. “You said that girl had her hair in pigtails. Were they tied back with bands that had little cats on them?”

  “Huh?”

  Waving her hand impatiently, Paige said, “Never mind. She was one of Steph’s girls, all right. They all have the same attitude and like to push their luck.”

  “What did you mean about those cat bands?” Cole asked.

  Paige hopped down from her stool and tapped his forehead. “Know your enemy, young one. Steph and Ace’s working girls all wear their hair in pigtails tied back with bands that have cats on them. Haven’t you ever noticed that?”

  “They’re scantily dressed vampire hookers that flash their goods every chance they get and you think I’m looking at the bands in their hair?”

  “Did you at least notice the pigtails?” she asked hopefully.

  Cole perked up as he replied, “Oh yeah. I noticed the pigtails.”

  “We need to pay Steph and Ace a visit. They know better than to cross the border we laid down, so that means they’re either testing us or they’ve got reinforcements to back them up. We’ll go to that new Blood Parlor tonight after the crowds die down.”

  Cole watched Paige hop off her stool and walk out of the kitchen. He’d been around her enough to know just how long he could study her from behind before getting caught. When the timer in his head went off, he pretended to look at something else. Paige shot a quick glance over her shoulder but had no reason to break her stride.

  “Too slow, dragon lady,” he whispered in his own kung-fu impression. “Time for young one to polish his stick.”

  Cole’s spear leaned in the corner of his walk-in refrigerator, gleaming with a fresh coat of the varnish that was mixed using an old Skinner recipe. Although Skinners tended to hand down their teachings through word of mouth, Cole desperately wished Paige would just give him a damn list of ingredients. Instead, she’d forced him to mix up dozens of batches until he finally got it right. Since he actually had some time for himself, he abandoned the Skinner stuff in favor of something from his own century.

  The laptop was his own little tricked-out piece of home, which had recently been upgraded so it could handle Sniper Ranger multiplayer without locking up every ten minutes. Running a connection into the sealed m
etal box hadn’t been easy, but it was worth it. That and the signal booster he’d rigged for his cell phone turned the freezer into a work space that was slightly better than the first cubicle he’d ever been assigned in the real world. As soon as he logged in to play a few rounds of Sniper Deathmatch, an instant message popped onto his screen: CALL JASON.

  Jason Sorrenson was a friend, which meant his messages were usually a bit more colorful. Rising to the upper echelons of a prosperous game designing company hadn’t turned Jason into a corporate jerk, so whenever he even slightly sounded like one of those jerks, something was wrong. Cole flipped open his cell phone, pushed the button to dial his old work number, and sifted through his mental list of all the reasons Jason could be pissed at him this time.

  “Digital Dreamers.”

  “Why the formalities?” Cole chuckled.

  “Who is this?”

  “Aw Christ, I haven’t been gone that long. Besides, dumb shit, you just IM’d me to call you.”

  “Pardon me?”

  For Jason to be this serious, something was definitely wrong.

  “This is Cole.”

  “I’ll patch you through to Mr. Sorrenson.”

  Then again, another good explanation was that the person who’d answered the phone wasn’t the head of Digital Dreamers. As if to make Cole feel even more out of place, the person on the other end of the phone asked, “Cole who?”

  “Cole Warnecki. I work there. Jason’s expecting me, so just patch me through!”

  Having tapped into his mean streak already that night, Cole was able to repeat the trick well enough to get the lines of communication unclogged. There were a few clicks, followed by a ring tone and then another voice that sounded a whole lot like the previous one.

  “Jason?” Cole asked cautiously.

  “Yeah, Cole. I’m surprised you responded to the message so quickly. I’ve had a hard time getting in touch with you.”

  “Maybe your new assistant has been handling all your business. Nobody’d know the difference.”

  “I know. I’ve been trying to talk differently to avoid confusion.”