“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 interstate 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.
“Take this,” Paige whispered as she placed a syringe of the Nymar antidote in his hand. “I’ve got more if you need it, but try wearing them down before you inject them. Remember, aim for the biggest, fattest tendril you can find. The gun’s already loaded with the special rounds, so don’t be afraid to use it. If there are Nymar watching this place and they’re taking orders from Steph, I doubt they’ve been told to go easy on us.”
The apartment complex was pleasantly quiet. There were no dogs barking, no loud music, and, Cole noticed, no drunken idiots screaming at three in the morning—more advantages of this place over his old apartment. He could hear traffic from the nearby interstate, but it was more like the tide of a mechanized ocean. Following the sidewalk to the third building, he looked up to see nothing but windows and porches framed by thick wooden beams. A cool breeze rolled in from the north to brush past a set of chimes hung by a resident on the top floor.
Paige walked up to the main entrance of the building and tried opening the double doors. They rattled a bit in their frame but didn’t budge. Shifting her attention to the row of buttons beside the entrance, she pushed the one marked 303.
Almost immediately a squeaky voice came through the little speaker set into the wall above the buttons. “Yes?”
“It’s Paige.”
“Who else is with you?”
“My partner, Cole.”
“The delivery guy left a package down there. Bring it in.”
Paige found a parcel near her feet that was about the size and shape of a brick and wrapped in plain brown paper. Just as she picked it up, the door buzzed. She tried pulling it open but wasn’t quick enough to get there before the buzzing stopped. “For Christ’s sake,” she muttered. “Every damn time.” Keeping her hand on the door, she waited for the next quick buzz and finally got the door open.
Cole watched the parking lot for a few more seconds. He felt a slight reaction in his palms, so he checked to make sure his spear was in its harness as he followed Paige inside.
After climbing the first set of stairs, they turned the corner on the second floor landing to continue up. Suddenly, the door to apartment 203 opened. “Hey. Stop.”
Paige glanced toward the door the way she glanced at anyone who tried to bug her with stupid questions like, “Where are you going with those sticks?” or “Why are you chasing that big, wild dog?” But instead of a curious bystander, she spotted a familiar face peeking through the crack of a partially opened door.
“Daniels?” she said as she stopped with one foot perched on the next set of stairs. “I thought you were on the third floor.”
The door swung open, but the man inside stepped away from the opening. Peeking around the door like a cartoon mouse sticking its nose out for a big triangle of cheese, he waved frantically for them to come inside. Paige turned while smoothly drawing one of the batons from her boot holster and walked in. Cole followed her lead by taking the spear from where it was strapped across his back. No matter how many times he’d practiced to make that look good, he still got the forked end snagged before the snap on that loop popped open.
The apartment was sparsely furnished but stuffed to the rafters. Boxes of all sizes were piled into neat pyramids, and bookcases reached as close to the ceiling as the little owner of the place could reach. Daniels stood just under six feet tall, but his posture was so bad that it made him seem smaller in every way. Not only was his back stooped, but he held his head low and twitched at every sound Paige or Cole made as they tried to find a place to stand where they wouldn’t knock something over.
“When did you move in here?” Paige asked. “What happened to the old place?”
“I still live upstairs, but I rent this apartment too,” Daniels said. “And one of the apartments beneath this one.”
“Why?”
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Cole mused. “Fewer neighbors.”
Daniels had walked up to Cole and extended a hand to be shaken. His friendly grin and rounded face looked like they’d been taken from the kindly malt shop owner of any 1950s sitcom. Long arms sprouted from a lumpy body that came complete with a spare tire. He wore a pair of khaki pants that might have been tailor-made to fit a buoy, and a sweat-stained navy blue dress shirt with sleeves that were rolled up past his elbows. Daniels’s skin fit poorly on his skull, but not because of anything supernatural. His Nymar spore had probably just changed him from an ugly, lumpy human to an ugly, lumpy vampire.
Just when Cole thought he’d adjusted to the strange man in front of him, he noticed something even stranger. At first glance Daniels’s stringy, light brown hair seemed to be capped by a toupee that was several shades too dark. Now that he was closer, Cole could tell the narrow band around the back of his scalp was actually hair and the toupee was really a solid cluster of Nymar tendrils gathered at the top of his head and the base of his neck. He had seen other Nymar with tendrils clustered on their heads, but those seemed more like prison tattoos. Daniels’s tendrils, like almost everything else on him, just didn’t fit.
“Go on and shake his hand, Cole,” Paige urged. “He won’t bite.”
As Cole finally completed the awkward greeting, Daniels’s feeding fangs drooped halfway from his gums. It was difficult to tell if that was a warning or the Nymar equivalent of leaving his fly down. The fumbled attempt at a smile didn’t help much.
“Howdy,” Daniels said.
/> At least that cleared things up. Not even cowboys said that when they were trying to scare someone off. Cole nodded and shook the other man’s hand just to get it over with. “Hi.”
“So what’s the deal with all the apartments?” Paige asked as she strolled through the cluttered living room and into what was supposed to be a dining area.
Daniels’s head snapped around and he rushed ahead of her to protect one of the stacks of boxes. “Watch your step. There’s a lot of delicate equipment around here.”
“This is where you do your work? How come I’ve never been here? Is that a hole burnt into the ceiling?”
Craning his neck to look up into the closet that Paige had found, Daniels replied, “Yes. I used a torch to burn through the ceiling just as I did to put a hole in the floor of the bedroom. That way I can climb freely between all three apartments.”
“Kiss that deposit goodbye,” Cole chuckled.
“For your information, when I leave this place there will be no need to settle any contracts. I have made arrangements to clear my path and have set aside any funds needed to compensate the management for damages.”
“He’s just flapping his lips again, Daniels,” Paige said as she moved around to get in front of the Nymar inventor. “Tell me, though. Why haven’t I ever been down here? You’ve obviously had this set up for a while.”
“It wouldn’t be secret if I told everyone.”
“Why bother with it at all?”
“Do you know how many times my previous residence was broken into after I started working for you?”
“That was back in the St. Louis days,” Paige said.
But Daniels barely skipped a beat. “Lots. So when this apartment came up for rent, I took it and used it as a storage space. Burning through the ceiling was easier than you might think. It’s a crude access point, but very functional. Whenever someone comes around that I don’t want to speak to, it’s just a simple matter of climbing through the floor of one apartment and pulling a rug over that hole. If someone happens to come in here, I just shut the closet door.”
Cole peeked into the large closet, which was probably meant to hold a washer-dryer unit. Now, it held a ladder and a charred hole in the ceiling. “You could just pretend you’re not home.”
“Pretend?” Daniels sputtered. “What kind of solution is that?”
“And there’s another hole in the bedroom?” Paige asked.
Daniels nodded and ran his hand over the top of his head. His fringe of hair shifted a bit, but not as much as the black tendrils beneath the rest of his scalp. “I got that one for a steal, seeing as how I was already renting these two.”
Paige stopped her pacing at a large freezer that looked more like a plus-size coffin. “You mean the rental office knows you’ve got all three apartments?”
Daniels nodded.
“So if someone wanted to kill you and they asked around your rental office, they’d find out you rented three apartments?”
“Do you really think someone would go to all that trouble?”
The patience in Paige’s tone was no longer there when she asked, “If you thought your would-be attackers were so stupid, why burn through your floors?”
That stopped Daniels cold.
Rather than wait for a response, she waved her arms and stomped toward the door. “Is your lab still upstairs?”
“Yes, but someone’s watching that apartment. Why do you think I pulled you into this one?”
Paige turned and tossed the package from the front porch at the Nymar. Placing her hands together at chin level, she said, “Daniels, I’m begging you. Please tell me you’re not going to make us hide here until some car leaves the parking lot. I’m tired and you knew I was coming. Is the new stuff here?”
“No,” he replied while still trying to recover from clumsily catching the package. “It’s upstairs. I just didn’t want you being watched.”
She looked to the closet and stomped across the floor. “Fine. But before I climb this thing, tell me whether the stuff’s ready or not.”
“It’s…sort of ready.”
“Good enough.” With that, she climbed to the next apartment with a series of sharp, clattering steps on the molded aluminum.
Daniels watched her ascend through the crooked, blackened hole. Tilting his head to keep her in sight as long as possible before she disappeared into the upstairs apartment, he whispered, “Why is she dressed like that?”
Even though Cole was right beside the closet, he wasn’t watching Paige. One of the banker’s boxes was open and something inside had captured every ounce of his attention. Without looking up, he said, “We went to see Stephanie before coming here.”
“Is Paige working for Ste—”
“For the love of God,” Cole said quickly, “don’t finish that question.” Shifting to look up to the top of the ladder, he didn’t speak again until he knew the coast was clear. “Is this what I think it is?”
Stretching out his hands like a monk preparing to grasp an idol that had been sanctified by his favorite higher power, Daniels replied, “It’s very valuable and very delicate. Please…just put it back.”
Cole started to lower the object back into the box from whence it came, but couldn’t bring himself to let it go. Reverently, he raised it up again and gazed upon its divine wonder. “This looks like a pristine, twelve-inch, fully posable Boba Fett figure. Is that—” He snapped his head forward so the toy in his hand wouldn’t have to be moved too abruptly. “Is that a Wookie scalp hanging from his belt?”
Having been fully prepared to use any means necessary, Nymar or human, to get that figure away from Cole, Daniels snarled. “Yes. It is. I don’t have the original packaging, but those are all the original accessories.”
“I used to have one of these,” Cole said. “And not one of the newer ones they made for the re-release of the trilogy. I’m talking about one just like this.” Slowly rotating the plastic bounty hunter, he lovingly soaked up every detail. “I was about ten years old and I had all the Star Wars toys, but only one figure this size. I couldn’t play with it along with all the other smaller figures, so I traded it to my friend for one of those plastic light sabers with the flashlight in the handle.”
“The red one or blue one?”
“Red.”
Daniels nodded. “Nice choice.”
“That’s what I thought. I got it home, ready to start kicking some butt, and my dad takes it away from me. He says I’ll knock stuff over, so he took it to his workshop, sawed the tube in half, and covered the end with masking tape.”
Daniels’s eyes widened as if he’d just witnessed a puppy being tortured.
Cole sadly shook his head. “The light still worked and the stumpy tube lit up, but it just wasn’t the same. I’d traded my Boba Fett with the real Wookie scalp for a light saber neutered by a piece of masking tape. I love my dad and all, but I’ll never forgive him for that.”
There was compassion in Daniels’s eyes, but he still reached out to take his figure back. “I feel your pain. This one’s mine, though.”
“What else do you keep down here?”
“Besides the work stuff, there’s every issue of the X-Men dating back to 1963. I’ve also got some model kits from the original Star Trek and stamps that come from—”
“Is anyone else coming up here or do I have to pull you both up through the floor?” Paige shouted from upstairs.
Daniels reflexively stepped toward the closet, but stopped and bowed his head. “After you, Cole.” When Cole started climbing the ladder, Daniels placed the action figure into the box in much the same way he might tuck a newborn into its crib. Just to be safe, he stuck that particular box under a different pile than the one where Cole originally found it. Then he scampered up the ladder.
Having just crawled up through a hole that had been burned through the floor, Cole was surprised to find himself in a very comfortable, very normal apartment. The living room contained a television, couch, easy chair,
and coffee table. The kitchen was sectioned off by a counter and a few stools. All the appliances looked to be the ones that had come with the place, and the floor was covered in clean beige carpeting. A short hallway presumably led to a bedroom and bathroom, but his attention had been caught by the wire racks of video games next to the flat screen television. “So,” he said after Daniels had emerged from the floor, “what do you think of Hammer Strike?”
Daniels nodded approvingly. “I guess it’s all right.”
“Just all right? What about the Cerberus level?”
Paige walked down the hallway, pulling a Chicago Bears jersey over her head. If she’d been wearing regulation shoulder pads, it would have still been a little loose. She walked straight to the kitchen and began sifting through the cabinets. “You’d better answer him or he’ll just keep bugging you. He designed the game.”
“Really?”
Cole nodded proudly. “And you really seem to know your way around this guy’s closet.”
Glancing down at the jersey she’d thrown on, Paige let out a single snorting laugh. “I left this here before I had a place of my own.”
“You did?” Daniels asked.
“Under the bathroom sink. Remember, back when the Mackey brothers were trying to chase me and Gerald out of Chicago? That was before you started burning through the floor like some sort of mole.”
Growing increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation, Daniels shifted his eyes toward Cole and said, “Maybe you could tell me how to unlock the Rotary Saw Bracer.”
Paige ripped open the chips she’d found and perched upon a stool near the counter. “No time for all of that.”
“Oh,” Daniels sighed. “Then let me just amend my previous statement by saying I like Hammer Strike a lot.”
“Good,” she grunted through a mouthful of half-chewed snack food. “Introductions made. We’re all friends. You two got beat up a lot in high school. Now that all that’s established, let’s get to the reason we’re here. How’s our project coming?”
Howling Legion (Skinners, Book 2) Page 10