“I never said that.”
“Paige did.” Immediately sensing what was coming next, Prophet quickly added, “And if Paige was here, I’d be telling her the same thing. When wild animals start going nuts, you track them down and catch them. That’s what you guys have been doing, and it’s worked so far. When those animals get organized into groups and start making precision hits on places like that Lancroft house as soon as there’s an opening, that means they’re not wild at all. From where I stand, it seems they’ve got their shit together a whole lot more than you do. These guys in Denver have been an organized pain in the ass for a while. What’re the odds they might also know something about what’s been going on with the rest of the vampires in this country?”
Cole and Rico looked at each other but couldn’t put together an argument strong enough to take Prophet out of his stride.
“Denver’s a big city,” Prophet continued. “What if things go to hell there the way they did in Chicago and Philly? Lots of people could get hurt. Me and Stanley already know where these guys are, and we know some folks to call that’ll tell us when they’re in one place. Wouldn’t that help in surprising them when you kick their doors in? Once you do, you can catch one, make him talk, inject him with whatever, do what you do.”
“What does your boss want with a bunch of bloodsuckers anyway?” Rico asked.
“To you, they’re bloodsuckers,” Prophet replied. “To Liberty Bail Bonds and the Denver PD, they’re tattooed fugitives who don’t like showing up for court dates. They’ve been recruiting from the lowlifes out there, which also happen to be Stanley’s client base. The more of them disappear off the grid, the more money he loses. I’m a shareholder in the business, so I’m losing money too. More than that, they’ve been protecting their interests by attacking our bondsmen. That shit’s gotta stop.”
Reluctantly, Cole admitted, “We do owe this to Velasco for paying our bail when we were locked up.”
“He’s a bail bondsman,” Rico grunted. “That’s what he does for a living.”
“Then we should just pull the money together and pay him back. You got that much on you?”
Looking over to Prophet, Rico said, “Ask Walter over there. He’s the man with the lottery picks.”
“We’ll do it,” Cole said. “First we check up on the Lancroft house to see what’s left there. After that we’ll head on out to Denver. The nymphs will be able to send us out that way, right?”
“I don’t see why not,” Rico said. “But if you think I’m gonna let you take off after Paige on yer own, you got another think comin’. If something did happen to her, the last thing I’ll need is to be forced to track both of you down.”
“You’re right,” Cole admitted. “Paige can handle herself, and she also wanted me to read these journals. I’ll do my homework while keeping busy with this other stuff. If we don’t hear from her before too long, we’ll go after her. It’s just a simple quest list.”
“Quest list?” Prophet asked.
Rico rolled his eyes and stomped into the kitchen. “Aw, great. Here we go with this geek shit again.”
“In any game where you get a bunch of things to do, you can’t try to do all of them at once. You need to pick one and keep your eyes open for keys or whatever for the others along the way.”
“Ohhhh,” Prophet said. “That kind of geek stuff.”
Cole continued as if everyone was right there on the gaming journey with him. The simple fact was that it felt good to touch base with his roots, if only for a minute or two. “When time is of the essence, you pick the quick quests first and work your way down the list. If Lancroft’s temple was destroyed, the Dryads should know about it. They can feel that sort of thing when they try to open a bridge.”
“You’d better hope they can,” Rico warned.
“Tristan mentioned that when we went there last time, remember? If we’re able to go, we should be able to figure out whatever we’re able to figure out before too long. I’ll tell you right now that there’s no chance in hell of me sifting through all of that stuff to take a real inventory. If you’re willing to accept a quick once-over, I’ll do that much.”
“You won’t just fart around for a minute and call it quits?”
“No. I’ll fart around for several minutes before calling it quits.”
Rico accepted that with a shrug and headed to the kitchen.
Chapter Fourteen
Outside of Salem, New Jersey
Kawosa crouched with one knee and two hands pressed against a recently disturbed mound of earth. His long wiry hair hung straight down, unmoving in the wind that blew around him. The collection of clothes he wore had been picked up from several different contributors along their relatively short run from Philadelphia. His appetite had been mighty after being imprisoned for so long and he was quick to sate it by the meat wrapped up in those clothes. Even the other werewolves in his company were impressed with how quickly the gangly shapeshifter could strip flesh from unwilling bone.
“So this is truly the resting place of a Full Blood?” he asked.
Liam stood nearby, clad in the same rags he’d worn before finding Randolph in Wyoming. “We both have his scent well enough.”
Looking up at Liam with a wolf’s yellow eyes, Kawosa said, “What I need to find out is how this one was killed.” Without another word, he started digging. It didn’t take long for him to find Henry’s body. When the savaged remains were uncovered, all of the creatures reacted.
“Mongrels,” Kawosa snarled. “Go away.”
Purposely avoiding the sight of Henry’s body, Max separated from his feline companion and approached Kawosa in his human form. “Whatever you have to say, we can hear it too. We lost one of our own breaking you out of that Skinner dungeon.”
“And you’ll lose the rest of your number if you don’t do as I say.”
Randolph didn’t feel the need to step in, and Liam seemed content to watch what would happen next.
Max lowered his head and moved away from the Full Bloods. Lyssa sniffed the wind that had brushed Kawosa’s back, quickly lowered her head and followed in his footsteps.
When he spoke, Kawosa used a voice that could easily be mistaken for the whisper of wind through flailing branches. “I smell Amriany craftsmanship at work.”
Both Randolph and Liam rushed forward to get a better look. Rather than force their eyes to absorb the sight of what lay in the upturned dirt, they studied the notches in Henry’s bones and the stains upon what little there was of his tattered fur. Liam went so far as to lower himself to all fours and dip his lengthening snout into the grave.
“The Amriany have no presence here,” Randolph said. “They would rather hand this continent over to us than work with the Skinners.”
“The Blood Blades were forged by Amriany hands,” Kawosa said. “And it seems those have found their way to these shores.”
“This wasn’t done with a Blood Blade,” Liam said.
Randolph allowed himself to see the carnage for what it was, the sight clearly sickening him. “I am very familiar with the scent of a Blood Blade. I could have told you already if one had been used to bring Henry down.”
After sniffing the remains intently, Liam perched upon the edge of the hole. “Not a Blood Blade, but there is something else.” He looked at Randolph and added, “It’s something I haven’t smelled since I came to the New World. There was plenty of this in Britain, though. I can’t put my finger on what, exactly, but the scent brings me right back to the days of cobblestones and dark ale.”
At first it seemed as if Randolph was merely drawing a contemplative breath. But when the air was pulled through his nostrils, he rolled it around in his throat like a pungent vintage of wine. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“More likely,” Kawosa said with half a smirk, “some of their influence has been taken and changed by the Skinners. The colonial hunters always did have a knack for stealing whatever they needed.”
“What are you
keeping from me?” Randolph asked.
Once again Liam held his tongue so he could watch events unfold.
Kawosa stood up to his full height, which expanded with every shifting muscle beneath his skin. Even though he didn’t change into another form like those the Full Bloods traded like so many different shirts, each variance had a distinct personality. By the time he settled on one that allowed his dark blue eyes to gaze directly into Randolph’s, he was exuding power like steam that seeped almost imperceptibly through imperfections within an engine. “I was in that cage for years, boy. All that time, Jonah Lancroft tried to figure out what to do with me, how to kill me, what he might harvest from my bones. He trod lightly upon the floorboards above my head, knowing that I could hear every word that fell from his stinking human mouth. As time went on, he grew confident, speaking louder, unknowing or uncaring that I may have heard.
“In that cage, I could smell the chemicals he mixed, the blood he spilled, the weapons he forged. I saw him fill the other cells and then drag out the bodies after cutting them to pieces using devices gleaned through methods unknown to anyone on this side of the Atlantic. That is why the Skinners came running to that house after the pretty little bird with the wounded wing finally disposed of Lancroft. In that cage, I heard Henry scream until his voice became nothing more than an insane whisper in the dark. I know about the Amriany methods because I was there to witness them put to use, which I assume is why you went through the trouble of setting me free.”
“That’s not the only reason.”
“I didn’t think so.” Kawosa pivoted on the balls of his feet so he could start scraping dirt back onto Henry’s remains. “Will your Mongrel friends disturb this site? They won’t be able to smell it as well as us, but they’ll find it sooner or later.”
“They should know better than to do something as foolish as that,” Randolph assured him. “They are many things, but stupid isn’t among them.”
“I want to find the Amriany.”
“If those brigands are here, I want to find them too,” Liam said. “I owe them for soiling my home ground. There will be others coming, you know. Other Full Bloods.”
“He’s right,” Randolph said. “There aren’t many of us, but surely they know of what’s been happening here.”
Having filled the hole, Kawosa stood up, tossed his head back and allowed his hair to move with the next breeze. “Ahh, yes. The riots in Kansas City. Even in my pit I heard of that. The others will indeed be coming. Maybe not all of them, but I can think of one or two that might be interested in partaking in such widespread debauchery.”
Randolph’s eyes snapped in the direction the Mongrels had gone. In the distance two shapes scurried to find another spot to wait. “Things here are getting out of hand. Lancroft’s pestilence has had more far-reaching implications than I’d previously feared. The Half Breeds are replenishing their numbers.”
Shifting into his hulking two-legged form, Liam clenched his clawed hands into fists and growled, “There ain’t no Half Breeds after that pestilence had its way with this country.”
“The wretches were trimmed back in number, but not culled,” Randolph said. “The ones who’ve poked their noses out of their dens since Lancroft’s plague have either been killed by it or adapted to endure it. I found a pack of them in the Badlands. They were far from the miserable creatures that were stricken down by the Mud Flu. If not for their scent, I may have mistaken them for another breed entirely.”
When the light of the moon touched Kawosa’s features, deep wrinkles showed upon his cheeks and beneath his eyes. His sunken chest swelled beneath the clothes that had been stolen several miles ago, and his teeth became chipped pieces of ivory wedged into his jaw. “You know, when the Half Breeds first appeared in the desert to the west, they weren’t much more than wolves with eyes that belonged in the face of a man. They reverted to their human form every few weeks, cursing their lot in life. Some say the Breaking as we know it now is a blessing. The human dies as the bones are snapped, relieving them of their torment.” Kawosa’s tone during those last few words was biting and resentful, an effect that was heightened even more by the mocking sneer on his face. “They shifted into their quivering, infantile bodies to slink into holes they’d dug within earshot of human villages. Pathetic. As the Breaking became more intense, they became stronger. Like blades forged in hotter fires, they grew longer legs, stronger jaws, sharper claws, until they became the terrors that plague us now. And today, they have been reborn again.”
“Why didn’t you mention this, Randolph?” Liam asked.
“After what you did in Kansas City? You’d be more likely to take these wretches as pets.”
“And what’s stopping me from doing so now?”
“I am,” Kawosa replied.
Liam’s first impulse was to shift into something with more fur so he could stand it up on end. One subtle change in the other being’s eyes was enough to show him the error in that line of thought.
After a sniffing breath, Liam grunted, “Fine. What’s next, then?”
“We find the new Half Breeds,” Kawosa said. “And we see what good they can do us.”
Now it was Randolph’s turn to be taken aback. “What?”
Kawosa smiled as if the muscles needed to perform the action were too far out of practice to do it properly. Despite its awkwardness, it was the most genuine gesture he’d made so far. “Those Amriany nomads have a recipe for everything. They have enough tricks to make the Skinners jealous and now they have a presence here. The Skinners are broadening their horizons, thanks to scum like Lancroft, but they’ve never seen the likes of this new breed, correct?”
Amused once again, Liam watched Randolph carefully until the answer came.
“Probably not.”
“Then,” Kawosa growled as he shifted into a lean, vaguely canine form, “let us introduce them.”
Chapter Fifteen
Philadelphia
“I’m really getting sick of this place,” Cole griped. As much as he’d been hoping to hear differently from the girls at Pinups, the Skipping Temple that Lancroft had built was still intact enough for the Dryads to send them there. Despite a layer of dust thick enough to completely obscure the symbols on the temple walls, the basement was in relatively good condition. The workshop wasn’t completely collapsed, but several of the tables had been knocked over, and there wasn’t one stack of the supplies Cole had left. The small windows looking up into the yard were blocked by sections of the wall that had fallen in the controlled explosion. It wouldn’t pass any builder’s safety code, but the house was still standing.
Standing next to one of the cracked cement walls in the workshop, Rico dragged his hand across a section marred by a road map of cracks. “This house was either built really well or Lancroft didn’t want it scrapped all the way.”
Prophet walked into the workshop from the landing of the stairs that went up to the kitchen. “He sure as hell didn’t want to come back that way,” he said while patting the dust off his dark gray jacket. “All I can see back there is about one and a half stairs before the rubble starts. If anyone’s under there, they’re toast. You think that’s funny, Cole?”
“No.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Because with that dust you just kicked up, you remind me of a black Pigpen.”
Scowling and coughing within his gritty cloud of cement powder, Prophet waved his arms and strode into a clearer section of air. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Suddenly, Rico couldn’t stop laughing. “He means that dirty kid from the Charlie Brown cartoons. Oh man, you do look like—”
“With all the shit happening around here, you’re still thinking about goddamn cartoons?” Prophet griped.
Once Cole regained control of himself, he said, “It’s either that or drive myself crazy thinking about everything. Small doses of what passes for reality plus a few cartoons thrown in makes it all easier to manage.”
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Even though Prophet obviously wanted to argue, he let it go. “Did you find whatever it was you were looking for?”
“No,” Cole said. “I found a big mess, just like I thought I would. You ready to go now, Rico?”
“Grab some of those jars and we’ll take them back with us.”
“What about those jars I brought back the first time? I almost forgot about those.”
“I had a look at a few of ‘em. Nymar blood. It’s not quite the stuff we see too often, but it’s Nymar, all right. We’ll need someone to take a closer look to know more than that. Forget that now. We still need to check out the other downstairs.”
“I was already there,” Cole said. “I told you about that body I found.”
“We’re here to look again.” Rico grunted. “So that’s what we’ll do. We got a little while before the nymphs can do their thing to get us out of here.”
“Doesn’t there have to be girls on both ends of the bridge to let us go through?” Prophet asked.
Cole sounded like an old pro when he said, “The Skipping Temple was made to be activated remotely. At least, it’s the nymph version of remote activation. Just don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah,” Rico said as he headed through the temple and into the dissection room. “If something goes wrong to fry us while we’re in Never Never Land or whatever else you wanna call the space in between strip clubs, we probably won’t feel a thing.”
“What if the beads won’t even light up and we’re stuck here?”
“Then we find another way out. Just stop asking so many goddamn questions so we can do what we came to do.”
Every other time he’d been in the dissection room, Cole had needed a moment to let his eyes adjust to the stark lighting and immaculately cleaned, reflective metallic surfaces. Now, the only light in the room came from one very stubborn fluorescent tube, the flashlights the Skinners had brought with them and the dim glow emanating from behind the hidden doorway that led to the dank brick hallway below. The lights down there ran on a power source of their own, which probably wasn’t anything more exotic than a spare generator or separate line spliced from the neighbors.
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