Christ. Tim, dead. Tim, who they’d teased for being the baby of the office, who’d still carried his spare clothes into work in the battered old backpack that he’d worn to school. Tim, who bought stupid fancy coffee because he didn’t like tea—who’d ever heard of a copper who didn’t like tea?—and fixed the computers for the rest of the office when the updates clogged the system.
That goofy kid, who hadn’t even been born when she first joined the police force, dead and skinned to make some idiot a useless disguise. Pierce tried to rub her eyes with her arm, aware that Maitland’s men might come back in at any moment, but in the dark the tears leaked nonetheless.
The minutes ticked past. There was no way to tell how long it had been; she couldn’t move her arms round far enough to look at her watch, and the unchanging darkness gave her no clue. She was able to slide the cuffs far enough down the pillar to sit on the floor, but it was far from comfortable, and the cold concrete only made her more aware of all her aches and bruises.
Was anyone still outside, or had they left her here to rot? Only pride stifled the impulse to thump and shout and demand an answer. Maitland had to come back for her sooner or later. If he wanted her dead, he’d have had her killed directly, not left her to a slow death in a place where she could easily be found.
Of course, that assumed he and his men hadn’t all been killed by the skinbinder. Pierce counted seconds, making bargains with herself. She could wait a few more minutes before shouting for help. She could wait another couple after that...
An unknown eternity passed before she heard the sound of a car engine approaching. She pushed herself up from the floor, stiff muscles aching in protest. Her heart beat fast. Were they coming to let her out... or to dispose of her now she was no longer needed? In handcuffs, there was nothing she could do to fight back. She took a slow, deep breath, determined not to let her trepidation show.
The door creaked open, and a dazzling torch beam lit the space. She flinched despite herself, her eyes streaming in the sudden brightness. She squinted uselessly, unable to even raise an arm to shield them.
“Claire?” The low whisper of her first name made her jolt in surprise. Not many people used it—she was always ‘Guv’ to her team, ‘DCI Pierce’ to most others; only a few longstanding colleagues were on first name terms.
And she recognised that gruff voice even at a muted whisper. “Leo?” she said in disbelief, trying to blink her eyes clear.
“It’s me,” he said, stepping forward to play the torch beam over the pillar she was chained to. “Are those your handcuffs?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Do they look like silver to you?” she shot back, before paranoia reminded her he might have good reason to care. She tensed. “Prove that you’re really Leo Grey.”
“What?” The way that his brow crinkled almost seemed like confirmation; an impostor would know why she was so wary. But that was wishful thinking—she needed proof.
And that bastard Maitland had taken the silver cuffs she could have used to test him.
But maybe that wasn’t the only silver around. “Got your silver bullets with you?” she asked.
“I brought my Glock and the rest of the silver-points,” he said with a curt nod. “And I’d damn well better get your signature on the paperwork to say you authorised it, because I’m taking your word that the chain of command is compromised.”
“Could be far more compromised than I was guessing,” she said. God, if they’d got to Tim, who else? “Get one of the bullets out and show it to me.”
Leo shook his head, more in bemusement than refusal. “This isn’t the best way to convince me that you’re not losing it,” he warned, but he stepped back and turned away to draw his gun, releasing the magazine with a click. He pushed the topmost round out from the stack, holding it up between his thumb and finger. Even in the half-light, she could recognise the anti-shapeshifter rounds they used, customised hollow-points with cast silver tips. “Satisfied?” he said.
It was only a small amount of silver, but he held it with bare fingers, showing no sign of discomfort. And besides, he sounded a hell of a lot more like Leo than the shifter had been able to impersonate Tim. Pierce let out her breath in a rush and sagged against the pillar.
“All right. I’ll believe you’re you. Now please just tell me you’ve got a cuff key with you.”
He reholstered the gun and drew his key to let her out. Her arms felt numb and heavy now that they were finally released from the restraints.
“Okay. You want to tell me what that was about?” he asked as she stretched stiffly, massaging her wrists.
“Short version? Shapeshifters in human skins.”
Leo frowned. “Thought that was impossible?”
“That’s what we thought, but it looks like we’re behind the times. I saw it with my own eyes.” Despite her best efforts the repressed tears leaked into her voice. “They killed Tim.”
It took him a moment. “Your Tim? Cable?”
Pierce nodded, and drew a slow steadying breath. She could fall apart when she got home; right now there was work to do.
“They made a skin of him and used it like a puppet,” she said, her fury boiling up as she spoke the obscenity out loud. It gave her a fresh surge of strength and determination after the depression of the dark. “It was falling apart by the time I saw it, but maybe they were just rushed for time. We have to assume they can make skins that allow for a perfect impersonation.”
“That’s not good,” he said, and she barely smothered a painful snort of laughter at the understatement.
“No, it’s not. Maitland and his gang went to apprehend the skinbinder, but I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them. I don’t even know if they’ve managed to find him. They were supposed to be coming back for me, and that was—” She checked her watch and shook her head, uncertain. “A while back.” She focused on Leo, wondering for the first time how he’d even known to look for her here. “How did you find me?”
“You told me I should ask your team,” he reminded her. “I called Sympathetic Magic, had them put a trace on you.” He cocked his head in response to her look. “That not what you meant?”
“Smarter than what I meant. We might still have a chance to catch up to Maitland, if he hasn’t just decided to leave me here for dead. Did you pass a place called Solomon Solutions on your way here?”
A quick search on Leo’s phone revealed a suspicious lack of internet presence for any local company by that name. But she’d seen the logo on the van, which was at least proof that some kind of front existed.
The van was gone from outside the unit when they left; most likely it had belonged to the shapeshifter, and Maitland had taken it as a cover.
“Find that van, and we’ll find the place we’re looking for,” she said to Leo. “The shapeshifter said it was close, and I doubt he cared enough to bother lying. We’ll just have to scout around until we see it.” She eyed the lurid markings of the Armed Response Vehicle that Leo had arrived in and sighed, mourning her confiscated car keys. “On foot,” she added wearily. Best not to go flying full police colours until they knew just what they would be facing.
Leo went over to exchange a few words with the officer in the driver’s seat of the ARV. Without something immediate to focus on, Pierce felt weariness slump over her like a heavy coat. The day had been far too long, especially coming on the heels of a late night raid.
And it wasn’t over yet. As Leo returned from the car, Pierce straightened up, trying to will herself back to alertness. Right now she would have welcomed the North Yorkshire Police’s awful coffee—she’d have welcomed dishwater, if it had added caffeine.
“Baker’s going to wait here with the car until we call for him,” Leo said, though he didn’t look all that happy about it. He shook his head. “If Henderson was here, he wouldn’t be letting me do this. Nobody in Firearms should be running around playing cowboy without authorisation—and don’t tell me I’ve got yours; it’s n
ot worth the paper it’s printed on right now.”
But Pierce wasn’t the only one who’d lost a colleague to this skinbinder and his allies. “If Henderson was here, you wouldn’t need to,” she said, holding his gaze. “These people are killers, and they will kill again. And I don’t trust that Maitland cares nearly enough about stopping them from doing it, just as long as he gets what he wants.”
He grunted. “That’s why I’m coming with you. But I’m not going in shooting without a damn good reason, and if this goes bad, I’m calling for backup.”
“Agreed,” she said without hesitation.
They started away from the cars and out onto the main street. Pierce stretched her arms, still sore from where she’d been pinned in place around the pillar. She’d kept the cuffs as a replacement for her own: not silver, but still strong enough to restrain a normal human being. Maitland would be a favourite.
“You eaten?” Leo asked her as they walked.
“In one of my past lives, maybe.” Her stomach growled.
“Figured. I stole Baker’s midnight snacks for you.” He offered her a chocolate bar from one of the pockets of his vest.
“Marry me,” she said, diving in before she’d even fully opened up the wrapper.
“I think my wife would object,” he said, without cracking a smile.
“Well, that’s just picky.”
The brief boost to her mood from welcome sugar and good humour gave her the energy to keep on walking. The road was deserted, the widely spaced streetlights casting diffuse pools of light that were just enough to give shape to the darkness. A slice of moon showed through the heavy clouds cloaking the sky.
Just past full moon; still a powerful time of the month for lunar rituals. The skinbinder’s backers wouldn’t want him to miss out on a night’s work, and she wasn’t sure that Maitland would make too much effort to stop it either. He’d kept a hands-off approach back at the farm, apparently content to watch and learn. Who knew how many murders he might have turned a blind eye to before Pierce had thrown a spanner in the works?
If she had her way, she would throw some more before the night was over.
The businesses they passed were all in darkness, and she had to squint to make out the names on the signs; her penlight was gone with the confiscated car keys, and they didn’t want to court too much attention with the bright beam of Leo’s police torch. There were fewer vehicles remaining in the private car parks, and she saw no sign of the Solomon van. For all they knew, their quarry was long gone.
“Which way?” Leo asked softly as they reached the end of the road.
Buildings were clustered to their left; more promising than the trees she could see off to the right. She nodded that way. As they rounded the corner, the sound of a car approaching from behind made her tense up. No place to hide; she could only try to move to block the driver’s view of Leo in his police gear.
Bright headlights swept over them... and moved on without pausing. Just an innocent passer-by driving down the road. Pierce breathed out.
They followed the rusty fence along. On the opposite side, an access road disappeared around the back of an old yellow brick building. She looked at Leo. “Let’s check it out.”
The access road lacked street lamps, and the glow of the light behind them diminished as they walked along. Partway down the road metal gates should have barred the way, but despite the late hour they stood open. A security light flashed on as they approached, and Pierce froze in the glare. An angled CCTV camera peered down like a curious robot, but closer inspection showed that it was only the casing, the camera removed from the inside.
Tension coiled in her stomach. This had to be the place.
“Camera thief in this area, apparently,” she said. She cocked her head at Leo. “We should probably pop in and check that nobody’s in danger, don’t you think?”
He grunted in response, his posture shifting subtly into something more alert, more dangerous. He was too much of a pro to draw his gun without good reason, but she sensed the mental switch from a policeman on patrol to a Firearms Officer ready to go in.
She let him take the lead as they continued up the hill. They were hemmed in by a steep bank on the left, a line of metal fencing on the right. It made her think of animals being herded towards slaughter pens. Loose gravel on the rough road surface crunched under their feet.
The light clicked off behind them, plunging them into darkness. She didn’t argue as Leo pulled out his torch and switched it on. The element of surprise might have been helpful, but only if it wasn’t turned on them. They didn’t know who or what might be waiting in ambush.
They crept along the road. No signs of life so far, a fact that only made her nervous. If this was the place, then there should be the chaos of a raid in progress, or else they should have found the scene sealed off against intruders. This dark, stifling silence wasn’t right.
The road curved round a corner towards a large brick warehouse. There were vehicles parked up on the verge to the right. Two black vans, and in front of them another with the Solomon logo. Maitland’s team?
There were no engines running and no lights on. Had they abandoned the vehicles? She motioned to Leo, and he shone his torch into the window of the nearest.
Empty. They moved on to the next one. Also empty. An odd move to leave their transport unattended. Had the team been overstretched, called the drivers in for back up when they ran into resistance?
Leo went to check the Solomon Solutions van, then paused, shining his torch beam on the back end of the vehicle. “Door’s not shut,” he said. The windowless white rear doors were a fraction out of flush, the left allowed to fall back into place instead of slammed shut.
Pierce glanced at him. He gave her a nod and drew his pistol, taking up a position to the right of the doors. She stood to the left, out of the line of fire, and rapped on the door. “Police! Identify yourself and come out of the vehicle with your hands up.”
No response.
“I am armed and prepared to fire if you make a hostile move,” Leo said loudly. “If you cannot speak for some reason, then make a noise to let us know you’re in there.”
Still nothing. Could be empty—could be trouble. Her chest was tight as she took hold of the door handle. She waited for Leo’s acknowledging look, then mouthed a countdown to him. Three. Two. One... She yanked the door open and leapt out of the way.
Something dark flopped down from inside of the van. She flinched, anticipating the sharp bark of the Glock, but Leo didn’t share her trigger-happy instincts. He let out a slow breath and reholstered the gun as she registered just what had fallen out.
A dangling arm, attached to the body that lay slumped on the floor of the van.
Emphasis on the word ‘body.’ Judging by the bloody wounds that had made rags of the man’s clothes, checking for a pulse would be a waste of time.
Pierce climbed inside the van to do it anyway. The only heartbeat to be found was hers, thumping hard enough in her chest she’d swear it echoed in the closed space. She turned to look at Leo, shaking her head. “Dead.” Probably one of Maitland’s men. He was dressed all in black, outfitted for a stealth infiltration.
Clearly hadn’t been stealthy enough.
Leo reached for the radio on his vest. “Okay, this is the point where we stop doing things off the record,” he said. “I’m going to call Baker to bring the car up, and—” He broke off, aware that she’d stopped listening. “Claire?”
Her eyes were on the shadowy shape of the black van behind them; a shape that had suddenly grown deformed as something huge and grotesquely misshapen rose from the roof.
“Leo, look out!” she shouted as it sprang.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LEO BARELY HAD time to turn before the monstrous beast slammed into him. The impact knocked him backwards into the van, and he sprawled across the corpse. Pierce grabbed his ballistic vest to drag him along with her as she retreated towards the van’s front seats. The torch
clipped to his vest bounced all around, light flickering across the nightmare creature crouched outside.
The pieces the light revealed looked like nothing that should be part of a whole. A bulky, bear-like body, feline paws, vicious curved horns... no creature that had ever walked the Earth had looked like this. Pierce would have sworn out loud if she’d had any breath to do it.
A chimaera pelt. They were the stuff of legend; the one supposed real-life example that she’d seen was a threadbare museum piece most people thought was a hoax. There might be stories of skinbinders with the skill to stitch multiple animal skins into single working pelt, but no reputable source could claim they’d ever seen it done.
Well, if she got out of this alive and with a sliver of her reputation intact, that had changed.
Leo gave a sharp grunt of pain as the thing’s claws raked his leg, and she cursed as she hauled him frantically backwards. He wasn’t a big man—she doubted he outweighed her—but that didn’t make him easier to move. There was no space in the van with the corpse slumped on the floor and the beast swiping at them through the doors like a cat with a cornered mouse.
Her elbow hit the headrest of the passenger seat. “Shit!” She turned to squeeze between the seats. “Leo, come on!” she said. They were sitting ducks inside the van. “We’ve got to get out of here!” He struggled to rise, and she grabbed his arm to pull him after her.
The whole vehicle lurched, tipping backwards as the chimaera set a paw on the bumper to try and crawl in after them. Its snorting, wheezing breaths filled the inside. Pierce clambered between the seats and dropped into the driver’s seat, bashing her knee on the steering wheel as she hauled her legs up after. She cursed as she felt around in the dark for the door release.
Leo’s hand groped her shoulder as he fought to keep from falling backwards. There was no chance for him to go for his gun, and firing it inside the metal cage of the vehicle would only put them in more danger. They had to get out of the van.
Under the Skin Page 8