“And what if I need more than this gun?”
“There’s more weapons in the trunk,” she replied.
The rancid smell was thicker now that they’d taken a few more steps toward the diner. Every time Cole pulled in a breath, he swore he was coating the back of his throat with blood.
“There’s a lot of them,” Paige said. “It looks like this wasn’t a very friendly meeting.”
“Is it the Nymar?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know for sure. Could be Nymar. Could be shapeshifters. Could be both.”
Paige stepped up to the front door and pulled it open. They could now hear crashes and pounding from inside the place, but the main dining room was deathly still. Propping open the door with one foot, she bent at the knees and reached for one of her moderately fashionable, black leather cowboy boots. They came equipped with sensible heels and a club concealed in a sleeve that ran along the inside of each calf. She removed a club from her left boot while pushing the front door all the way open. The blunt weapon, made out of polished wood, was just a bit shorter than her forearm. She winced as she tightened her grip on the handle and took another step forward.
There was another scream from within the diner, followed by the crashing of plaster and wooden beams as a body exploded through the narrow window where orders were placed and picked up. Chunks were knocked from the wall around the opening, leaving only the metal shelf beneath the window intact.
Cole was so distracted by the sight that he didn’t notice the rest of the bodies strewn on the floor until the airborne figure landed on a few of them. He followed in Paige’s footsteps as she moved away from the door and took up a position next to a booth made for four. It currently held two diners who were facedown and bleeding on a mess of spilled nachos.
Now that Cole was inside, he was nearly overpowered by the stench of raw death filling the diner. There were close to a dozen corpses laying at the tables or on the floor. Blood collected in pools thick enough to ripple when another body flew through the opening in the wall and landed on the counter next to a clunky cash register. Unlike the first body, the second one didn’t flop to the floor like a broken doll. He was coated in drywall dust and paint chips, but Cole still recognized him as the man with the shaved head who’d tapped on his window while Paige and Racquel had tried to deal with Henry.
“Don’t move!” Cole said as he raised his gun and took a hurried step toward the counter. He was stopped by Paige’s hand, which slapped against his chest like an iron paddle. She pointed at the gaping hole in the wall behind the counter.
Another face peeked out from the kitchen. Long, stringy hair hung from Henry’s scalp like a mane, and his drooping head wobbled as if only connected to his neck by a vein or two. Henry gripped the edge of the hole in the wall with thick fingers capped by long cracked nails. As he looked at them, he pulled himself toward the hole so he could launch himself through the wall at Paige. All she could do to defend herself was raise her single wooden club.
Cole let his instincts take over and leapt toward Paige. Somehow getting to her before Henry, he wrapped an arm around her waist so he could knock her to the floor. Henry flew over their heads and crashed into a booth, breaking the table and crushing the dead people sitting there under his feet.
“Get off of me!” Paige snarled as she shoved her way out from under Cole and turned toward Henry.
Then Cole felt a steely hand grab his shoulder and haul him up to his feet. Twisting around to see who’d grabbed him, he found himself staring into Misonyk’s clouded green eyes. He didn’t waste a second before jamming the barrel of his gun into the Nymar’s chest and pulling the trigger.
Misonyk staggered back, but only a few steps. He wore a casual gray suit and a starched white shirt that were now coated in everything from blood and drywall dust to the oily black substance that coursed through Nymar veins. His head hung forward, showing Cole the thick black lines that writhed slowly, as if caressing the top of his skull beneath his scalp.
“I’m glad you came,” Misonyk said in a voice that was steady and calm despite the escalating war going on behind him. “Now you can see what happens to those who defy me. You can hear the symphony of their cries. Are you ready to sing for me?”
Cole pointed his gun at the Nymar’s chest and pulled his trigger again.
Each shot made a wet impact and sent a spray of oily black through the air. Before Cole could fire another shot, Misonyk snapped his hand out to grab hold of his wrist. The Nymar tightened his grip and twisted until Cole was gritting his teeth and hoping his arm would just hurry up and break so some of the pain could ease up. Meanwhile, he got a good look at the freshly made bullet holes in Misonyk’s chest, which opened to reveal strips of waxy muscle stretched over a solid plate of bone.
“Better than you have tried to kill me,” Misonyk said in a rasping voice. “Since I know you Skinners enjoy your experiments, I’ll try one of my own.”
Cole struggled to free his arm, but it might as well have been caught in a steel trap. He tried to point the gun at Misonyk, but his hand was quickly twisted painfully back in the other direction. When he tried to kick the Nymar, his feet slammed against solid, unforgiving muscle. As Cole tried to think of something else he could do, Misonyk peeled back his lips and opened his mouth to show a second set of fangs that slid from his gums and curled down beside the straighter fangs. From the bottom jaw, a third pair of shorter, thicker teeth sprung up like a set of stalagmites. Those worried Cole the most, since he knew there was no way in hell he’d be able to shake free if they sank into him. As Misonyk leaned his head back, a substance resembling spoiled milk dripped from the snakelike set of upper fangs.
Cole pushed against Misonyk to put as much distance as possible between them. He thought about pulling his trigger, but knew that would only waste a bullet. And then, just as he started to brace for the inevitable, his hand slipped free. Staggering back against an upended table, he brought his gun around and looked for a target. Unfortunately, that meant both of his eyes were wide-open to catch the spray of venom Misonyk spat into his face.
Pain burned through his head. It was so intense that he crouched down and pressed both hands against his face. Even though the pistol grip was knocking against his head, he kept pushing, as if shoving his eyeballs all the way in to the back of his skull was the only option left open to him. “Son of a bitch!” he screamed.
As the pain soaked into him, it lessened enough for Cole to open his eyes. The good news was that he could still see. The bad news was that Misonyk had already walked past Henry and was entering the kitchen through a swinging door.
Cole tried to rush after Misonyk, but his feet skidded on the slick surface of the floor. He felt the tendons in his knees and groin beg for mercy, but managed to shift his weight and keep his legs beneath him. Just when he thought he’d be able to stand up straight, he felt the impact of Henry’s fists against the floor. The thump was enough to loosen one of Cole’s heels and knock that leg out from under him. His ass hit the bloody tiles and he reflexively reached back to brace himself. As his left hand slapped against the floor, he raised his right and fired a round at Misonyk. The shot punched a hole through the door, which didn’t prevent Misonyk from disappearing into the kitchen.
By now Paige had climbed onto Henry’s back and wrapped one arm around his neck. She raised her other arm to lift something that most definitely wasn’t the club she’d drawn from her boot. This weapon might have been made from the same material, but it was almost twice as long and had a handle that wrapped around her wrists like petrified vines. The end was sharpened to a point, and Paige drove it straight down into the back of Henry’s neck.
Henry let out a howl as he reared back and threw both arms straight out. When he ran out of breath, he stretched his ropy limbs to reach around and grab hold of Paige. Any other set of arms wouldn’t have been able to do much more than scratch or swat at her, but Henry’s joints popped and cracked in every direction. When he angrily punched the floor again, Henry made a big enough impact to keep Cole off balance. Rather than continue to struggle after Misonyk, Cole turned his attention to the fight going on in front of him.