“Do the vam—I mean Nymar, get to live forever?”
“I don’t think so. There are legends, but those could just be about one man living in the same castle, passing his disease down to his servants or cousins or something. The legends about the Mongrels and other shapeshifters have been proven, though. You open up a mythology book from just about anywhere in the world and you’ll find werewolves, wereleopards, weretigers, you name it. We’ve documented enough actual sightings to verify them and a lot more.”
“Yeah,” Cole said. “So have I.”
“There you go. Start keeping a journal. That’s not a request either. We can’t afford to open a school, so we need to make sure to pass it along before we…” The casual, easygoing smile on Paige’s face dimmed for the first time in a while. Focusing on the road and hanging one arm out the window, she said, “When we die. Everything we’ve picked up builds on what everyone else has learned. Hopefully, someday we’ll know enough to take back our spot at the top of the food chain. Until then, we’re just another bunch of sheep hoping the wolves don’t get hungry.”
“I like the learning idea better,” Cole said.
“So do I.”
After a deep breath, he asked, “Are all Mongrels invisible?”
Paige settled right back into her comfort zone. “They all have their own abilities. Some breeds don’t do much, but others can surprise you. There’s always something behind it that explains how they do their tricks. Once we figure out some of those tricks, we can use them for ourselves.”
“That’s why you collected that grease from the hotel?” he asked.
“Yep. With all the Skinners in the world, there’s bound to be someone who can figure out a good way to use the weird stuff we find.”
“You don’t know how great it is to hear you say that,” he said.
“Say what?”
“That something’s weird.”
Paige laughed at him and said, “You haven’t seen the worst of it yet, my friend. You’ve been real lucky to make it this far. Just stay close to me and do what I say. When we reach that diner, let me do the talking. When we meet Prophet, you listen and watch.”
“Prophet,” Cole repeated. “Is he psychic?”
“More or less. He claims to have dreams about the future that are accurate enough for him to be in the right place at the right time to catch certain people or track certain things. He mostly works as a bounty hunter, but does some tracking for us when he can. Charges an arm and a leg, but it’s usually worth it.”
“Must be awfully nice to have a psychic on your side.”
She groaned and slowly shook her head. “He’s a great tracker, but a lot of that’s pure talent. The dreams he has are…I don’t know. At least he’s a great tracker.”
Cole nodded and resisted the urge to chuckle. “How’d you find this guy?”
“Actually, he found one of us. A Skinner named Rico was doing work in St. Louis when he ran into this guy who claimed to have a psychic vision or something that told him where to find a nest of monsters. The psychic stuff sounded iffy, but he led us to a den of Half Breeds, so we put him on the payroll.”
“And his name’s Prophet?” Cole snorted. “Maybe his mother was psychic too. Can’t wait to meet him.”
“His name’s Walter, and I’m sure you two will get along just fine.”
“Sure! All of us Skinners got to stick together, right?”
“He’s not a Skinner,” Paige said with a laugh. “Although we’ve tried to recruit him more than once.”
“Aw, come on. All you’d need to do is go in there and bat those pretty eyelashes at him and I bet he’d cave.”
“Not every man’s as easy to work as you,” she said.
Cole pulled in a sharp breath and hissed, “That one stung.”
Chapter 14
There was time to kill before the meeting at the diner Ace and Steph had mentioned. Paige wanted to get there early, which still left them with an hour or two to hit the outlet mall. Cole picked up some new clothes and they were out the door before he could try on his half-priced jeans.
The diner was supposed to be west of Milwaukee off of I–94. Somewhere along the way, Cole dozed off until he was awakened by a smack on his arm. The second smack wasn’t so subtle and nearly cracked his head against the window. “What the hell?” he grunted as he sat up and immediately felt every kink in his neck and shoulders.
“Get up,” Paige snapped. “There’s a revolver in the glove compartment. Take it.”
“Is it time for the meeting already?” he asked as he fumbled for the gun.
“No, but there’s plenty of Nymar there already.”
“How can you tell?”
Paige flexed her hand and steered the car off the next exit. “You might want to stay in the car,” she told him. “If things get ugly—”
“If things get ugly, I doubt a locked car door will do me any good,” he interrupted.
She brought the Cavalier to a stop and left her keys in the ignition. “Then get ready to drive away,” she said. “If you have to, just drive away and call MEG.” With that, she pushed open her door and jumped out of the car, with Cole not too far behind.
They were parked in front of a diner that could have easily passed for an empty shell off the side of the road. The next lot over was filled with rows of broken gas pumps and a smaller building that was completely hollowed out. Judging by the layers of filth on the pumps and the boards in the windows of the neighboring building, the gas station hadn’t been open for a long while.
Seeing no movement through the diner’s window, Cole tucked the revolver under his waistband and pulled his shirt over it. “What’s wrong?” he asked while running to catch up to Paige.
She kept flexing her hands and shaking them every now and then, as if working out a bad cramp in her wrists and fingers. Her eyes were fixed upon the diner and only darted to him for a second. “Where’s that gun?”
“I’ve got it. We shouldn’t just—”
“Keep it ready,” she cut in. “You might need it.”
He drew the gun and checked it over. He wasn’t an expert marksman, but he’d been to the firing range enough times to know how to flick a safety off. Reflexively lowering his voice, he asked, “What’s the matter?”
“Something’s here,” she replied.
That was enough to make Cole nervous. The parking lot had a few other cars in it, but even they had an eerie emptiness to them. Since Paige was approaching the front door, he stayed beside her. The closer they got, the more suspicious he became. The air felt heavier, and as they got closer to the diner, he could see some kind of dark liquid staining a few of the windows.
After a few more steps, a putrid mix of rusty copper and rotten meat hit Cole’s nostrils.
“Jesus,” he groaned as he pressed a hand to his nose and mouth.
Paige shot an intent glare over her shoulder and shushed him, then held up her open hand in the universal gesture used by crossing guards around the world.
Apart from telling Cole to stop, she also gave him a good look at the scars on her palm, which now looked like a fresh case of poison ivy. Before he could get a closer look, he heard something crash inside the diner. That was followed by a familiar half groan and half scream.
“If you have to shoot,” she warned, “aim for the head or heart. Follow my lead and make sure you have a good target before wasting a shot.”