Teeth of Beasts (Skinners)

by Marcus Pelegrimas

  But Paige didn’t need to guess where Lancroft was. She didn’t need to listen for his movement or try to get past him. The drops in her eyes allowed her to make out vague shapes in the dark as well as the dim, luminescent scent waves drifting off him. His scent was all over the bricks and bars and floor, lighting up the place for her enhanced eyes like a layer of glowing fungus. Scents from the other creatures floated through the air as well, only to be mixed up by the spinning staff as he cautiously inched down the hall. She knew better than to get overly confident. The old man’s guard would be up more now than ever, and if there was a switch to activate any backup lights, Lancroft would know where to find it.

  Paige shifted into a sideways stance before extending the cleaver so it cracked against Lancroft’s weapon. He responded with a flurry of blows that barely interrupted the circular motion of the staff. Both blades came at her, one after another, end over end. Even though she easily deflected most of the attacks and backed away from the rest, she was about to run out of hallway. Something snarled in one of the cages at the far end of the subbasement to let her know the spinning wooden blades wouldn’t be the only threat she would have to face. She couldn’t make out much within that cell even with her drops, but the bulky shape was unlike anything she’d ever seen.

  “Lancroft!” Cole shouted while racing down the stairs.

  In the smeared colors of scent that Paige could see, the old man’s head turned to glance back. The trickle of light coming from the examination room was too far away for Cole to get to Paige before she hit the end of her line. Just to be certain, Lancroft pressed forward and willed the blades to extend even farther. Sparks flew as one of them knocked Paige’s cleaver from her hand. The thorns in the grip shredded her palm and one even snapped off to become lodged in her flesh.

  Suddenly, another scent trail cut through the shadows as Cole rushed down the hall with a last burst of speed from his tattoo. His unnaturally fast footsteps were accompanied by the grating sound of a dentist’s drill. Before the old man could angle his weapon to cover his flank, Cole dug the tattoo machine into Lancroft’s shoulder. One end of the staff sparked against the ceiling, causing the other to crack against a wall. Now that the whirling barrier was down, Paige took a swing at Lancroft’s chest, but was stopped by a thickly callused palm.

  The old man grabbed her weapon in one fist. Before he could drive the other into her face, his arm was ensnared from behind and an electric needle was raked across it. As much as Cole would have liked to carve an obscene message into Lancroft’s skin, he settled for injecting him with the entire vial of the same defective ink Paige had used in Kansas City.

  After slamming Cole into a wall, Lancroft stooped to pick up his weapon. “By opposing Pestilence, you’re not just going after me,” he said as he grabbed Paige’s ankle and flipped her onto her rear. Cole tossed the empty tattoo machine and tried restraining Lancroft by gripping his spear in both hands and dropping his arms down around Lancroft’s torso. Before Paige could take a free shot at him, the old man snapped his head back in a clubbing blow to Cole’s face and then flipped him over his shoulder. “You’re opposing every other Skinner who’s helped me throughout the years. I’m doing them a favor by making sure you won’t be around to sully our names any longer!” He swung his weapon in an arc angled to separate both of his opponents from their heads. All of those sparring sessions paid off when Cole dropped at the same time as Paige so the halberd could pass over them.

  Unlike the previous swings, this one was too powerful to be controlled, and Lancroft wound up driving several inches of his blade into the brick wall. Since he’d easily received four times the amount of ink that had messed up Paige’s arm, he went through the change that much quicker. Even with his features crudely outlined in scent trails, Paige could see the confusion on Lancroft’s face when she dropped him to one knee with two snapping kicks to the nerve that ran down his leg.

  Cole jabbed at him using the forked end of his spear and managed to land several stabs before the old man could retaliate. Lancroft’s muscles had become an unknown factor, making each of his punches brutish and overextended. He could no longer get his fingers to close around his weapon, so he balled up both fists and let them fly. Even going by the hazy outline of the scent trails, Cole had no difficulty in allowing each incoming swing to sail past him and answering with a shot of his own.

  Paige came at him with another kick that was blocked by the arm that had taken the brunt of punishment from the electric needle. As soon as her shin thumped against the hardened mass of muscle beneath Lancroft’s skin, she knew exactly what Cole had done. She tossed a slower kick into Lancroft’s chest just to gauge his reaction time, and when the old man tried to block it, she followed up with a quick snapping roundhouse to his face.

  In one last burst of strength, Lancroft threw Cole to the floor so he could drop his fist onto him like a sledgehammer. Cole hit the concrete with a thump that knocked the wind from his lungs, and he was barely fast enough to roll away from the fist that sent a tremor through the hallway.

  Paige slid into a side kick that caught Lancroft squarely in the chest. The old man planted his feet, absorbed the kick, and dropped his arm to grab her leg. He was too slow, however, to prevent her from burying the curved blade of her sickle into the side of his neck.

  Lancroft stood and stared at her for a second, shocked by the blow and weakening from the blood that poured out of him. He reached up with a hand that seemed almost too heavy to lift, pulled the sickle from where it had been lodged and crushed it as if it had been whittled out of balsa wood. Blood sprayed from his severed artery, but was quickly stanched by the healing serum flowing through his body. “You’ll never be true Skinners,” he croaked as he tore his jacket open to fumble for a pendant that hung around his neck and under his shirt, “but perhaps you’ll be remembered as such when you’re found here with me.”

  The little box in Lancroft’s hand looked like a remote car door lock. Cole felt the bottom fall out of his stomach as he thought about the collapsed pile of rubble that had once been Lancroft Reformatory. Before this place might be buried in a similar manner, Cole drove his spear straight through the old man’s wrist and into his chest. Between the debilitating effects of the ink, the loss of blood, and two such grievous wounds, Lancroft crumpled. His hand was pinned and not functioning well enough to push either of the buttons on the black box. Cole leaned on the spear, twisted it, and pulled it out. With his last spark of life, Lancroft reached for the remote hanging around his neck.

  Paige bent down and calmly took it from him.

  “Uh…guys?” Daniels called from the top of the stairs. “Are you all right?”

  When she saw Cole looking at her with that same question written across his dirty face, she rushed to press her body and lips against his. He was surprised at first, but quickly wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet.

  “My friend,” she whispered, “you won’t be able to walk straight for a month after I get through with you.”

  “Yeah, Daniels!” Cole shouted. “We’re fine. Just give us a minute!”

  “You don’t have a minute,” the Nymar replied. “Cops are pulling up to the house, but there’s a bridge ready for us.”

  Paige tensed and bumped her forehead against Cole’s chest. “Shit.” After taking a moment, she marched down the hall, up the stairs, and straight through the examination room. “How’s Rico?”

  “Already through. He didn’t want to leave you, but I pushed him.”

  “Damn,” Cole chuckled. “I wish I could’ve seen that.”

  The beaded curtain was alive with crackling energy. “You guys go ahead,” Paige told them. “I’ll be right there.”

  Instead of heroically refusing the offer to leave her behind, Daniels scurried past them both and disappeared through the beads. Cole didn’t go anywhere.

  Paige jogged through the workshop and ran up to the first floor, and her partner followed. Even before they go
t to the upper door, he could hear sirens outside the house. “We’re not gonna make it,” he warned.

  “Doesn’t matter if we do or don’t.” Upon stepping through the doorway, Paige jabbed a finger at him and said, “Stay right here and don’t make a sound.” She then went to a cluster of runes on the wall near the stairway and moved her hand slowly over the blocky symbols.

  The street outside was illuminated by headlights and filled with dozens of dirty, confused people. From what he could see, the former Mud People were barely aware of where they were. “Might want to hurry it up,” he urged.

  Once she picked out the symbols Rico had toiled over upon their arrival, Paige traced some of them with her fingertips. Cole could see through the little house to the front window, which was enough to spot a pair of police officers approaching the front door. The cops looked through the window and knocked as if they meant to shake the entire house. Paige stepped through the doorway where Cole waited at the top of the stairs. When he tried to shut the door, she whispered, “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”

  The cops entered the house with their hands on the holsters at their hips and swept flashlight beams back and forth along the walls. “Hello?” one of them said. “Anyone here?”

  Even as the cops looked directly at the door, Cole could tell they weren’t really seeing it. Their eyes continued to wander along the walls, not even following the lines of symbols etched there.

  Slowly, he and Paige went down the stairs as the cops stomped around, and they eventually found their way outside again.

  “Next time Rico says I never pay attention to his precious teachings, he can stuff it,” Paige said proudly after reaching the temple.

  “What just happened?”

  “I restored the runes intended to hide that doorway and everything else in the house. All those cops or anyone else will see is what we saw when we first got here, which is a fat load of nothin’.”

  After the night he’d had, that was all the explanation Cole needed. Before taking the last step that would carry him through the beads, he stopped and nodded toward the lab. “What about this place?” he asked. “The stuff in there? The things down in that hallway?”

  Paige took the remote that had been hanging from Lancroft’s neck and let her thumb glide over the cover. “I still don’t know if I believe he was hundreds of years old, but he came up with some stuff I’ve never seen before.” The remote disappeared in her fist and then into her pocket. “He wanted it destroyed, so I want to keep it around for a while. Hopefully he knows we’re sifting through all of his crap. If he’s anything like Daniels, that’d be his own personal hell.”

  “I’m definitely coming back,” Cole vowed as he looked toward the stark light cast from the examination room. “I’ve still got some things to do here.”

  The front door was pushed open, but the footsteps only stomped around for a minute or two before going back outside, which meant Lancroft’s defenses had held up against another set of unknowing eyes. They could hold out a little longer.

  Cole stepped through the curtain and emerged in a smaller temple, where he was greeted by an excessively attractive, scantly clad woman with curly pink hair. After a sharp crack of her gum the pink-haired Dryad said, “Hiya. I’m Annie. There’s food in the main room.”

  Paige emerged next and kept walking as if crossing hundreds of miles in a flicker of light had already become second nature. She and Cole followed Annie into a cavernous room filled with five large stages. Reading the confusion on Paige’s face, he told her, “This isn’t The Emerald. It’s Steve’s.”

  “Do you know all of these places by heart?”

  “No,” he replied as he pointed behind the largest stage to where STEVE’S was written in glowing neon.

  Turning to Annie, Paige sighed, “Okay. Where’s Steve’s?”

  “Dallas. Tristan didn’t have the juice to bring anyone else into St. Louis. We’re running two-for-the-price-of-one lap dances and have enough juice to power the state, so,” she added while holding her arms up and out as if posing for the first step in the YMCA dance, “here you are!”

  “Are Rico and Daniels here?” Paige asked.

  Annie shook her head in a way that made her pink curls wiggle. “They made it to St. Lou.”

  “Both alive?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Perfect. Point me to the buffet.”

  Epilogue

  St. Louis

  Two days later

  The cute news anchor with the short brown hair and pretty round face smiled comfortingly at the camera and announced, “Medical teams across the country have reported success in their most recent efforts to combat the Mud Flu. All symptoms ranging from cough and disorientation to the viscous discharge that gave the sickness its name are being cleared up thanks to a treatment developed by Dr. Angela Oehler. One of our correspondents is with Dr. Oehler now at the Pathology Department of Barnes-Jewish Hospital.”

  A blond woman dressed in a white coat shifted nervously in front of all the cameras and said, “After recently isolating the cause of the flu, we’ve formulated a treatment that clears up every symptom in all but the most extreme cases. If anyone else is currently affected by the Mud Flu, please contact your physician or anyone here at Barnes to schedule an appointment.”

  “Dr. Oehler claims similar results have been reported at many other hospitals across the country,” the brunette reporter said once she was back on screen. “According to the Centers for Disease Control, the Mud Flu stemmed from an exotic malaria strain brought to the U.S. from a remote region in Ecuador. Hopefully, this marks the end of an epidemic that has claimed a total of sixty-eight lives since the first reported case less than a month ago.”

  “You hear that, Rico?” Cole asked as he flipped through the channels of Ned’s TV using a remote that was heavier than most people’s DVD players. “The CDC figured out the Mud Flu!”

  “Great,” Rico grunted from the broken couch nearby. All that remained of the wound Lancroft had given him was a deep cut that had required just under a dozen stitches to close. “We do the legwork, our friend at the hospital puts it to use, and the feds take the credit. How much you wanna bet the insurance companies and doctors found a way to charge for immunizations of a plague that’s been wiped out already?”

  “Speaking of medications, how was that Memory Water stuff?”

  “Made me remember what it’s like to not have a hole punched through my chest. I only took half of what she gave me, though. Gave the rest to Paige so she could try and fix up her arm. Don’t know if she took it, though.”

  “Why don’t you take some of those pain pills we found in Ned’s collection?”

  “I can handle the pain just fine.”

  “Actually,” Cole said, “I was hoping they’d put you to sleep for a while.”

  “If I’m sleeping, I can’t work on your little present.”

  The big man lay with one leg dangling off the slope-backed couch, and a pile of throw pillows under his back and neck. Rico’s grin was wide enough to display a full set of blocky teeth, and it made Cole more uncomfortable than all three sets of a Nymar’s fangs. “What present?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Don’t you remember that case you threw at Daniels while we were leaving Philly?” Rico asked. When Cole furrowed his brow and started to shake his head, Rico propped himself up. Stress lines formed at the corners of his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to ease back down. “If you don’t remember, then I might as well keep it for myself!”

  “I remember, I remember,” Cole said as a way to get Rico to stop straining the bandages wrapped around his torso. “Wait. I really do remember now.”

  “You know what was inside?”

  “No.”

  Shifting within the groove he’d worn into the couch, Rico grunted, “Henry’s inside, that’s what. Pieces of him anyway.”

  “Oh, hell. I don’t even know why I grabbed it, I just did.”

  “Then I want you pullin�
� numbers at the next bingo night, because you grabbed enough leather to make one hell of a nice piece of armor. And not just leather,” Rico added. “Full Blood hide. Do you have any idea how hard that is to come by?”

  “Yeah,” Cole said while thinking back to those long strips that had been removed from Henry’s back. “I think I do.”

  “Lancroft must’ve been tanning it for himself because there ain’t no way a Skinner in his right mind would part with something like that.”

  Crossing the living room to the small desk where Ned’s computer was set up, Cole said, “So much for my present, huh?”

  “You forgot,” the big man said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “I ain’t anywhere near my right mind. Plus, you earned it more’n I did. Give me a few weeks, maybe a month, and I’ll stitch that leather into something that’ll protect your worthless ass better than anything I ever made for anyone.”

  Ned’s Internet connection was passable, so Cole was online and running various key words and phrases through his favorite search engines in no time. “Looks like Lancroft wasn’t lying about Pestilence killing off Half Breeds. The only report of any sighting in this part of the country is from some Bigfoot blog in Colorado, and the description isn’t anything like a shapeshifter I’ve ever heard about.”

  “I was on earlier and saw a few pictures of a big rat thing a few miles away from the KC International Airport.”

  “Was it digging?” Cole asked.

  “Yeah! Only had three legs too. Weird.”

  “That’s Ben. He’s supposed to be there. What about dead Nymar? I’d think those would be easy to spot.”

  Rico propped his foot onto the coffee table and scratched at his bandages. “Nope. They may get hungry, but they’re not stupid. One of the bloodsuckers down in New Mexico found a way to sniff out that Pestilence shit and word’s spreading. You ask me, they’ll be our biggest helpers in making sure us humans gets nice an’ healthy in time for supper.”