“You’re just feeling guilty because it’s her,” she grunted while turning the digital recorder off, then throwing it to the floor. “But she isn’t just some poor little accident victim sleeping off an injury. She’s one of the things shredding through the human race. Just when it seems we found some way to get ahead, we wind up right back where we started. That sucks.”
“It sure does. But the trip wasn’t a complete waste. I found out something important down in that basement.”
“What?”
“Those are definitely the assholes who took me away from that first prison in Colorado.”
“You’re sure about that?”
Cole nodded. “Those bars are the same. Some of the writing was different, but the way it was etched into the metal, the way they were set into the floor and ceiling, everything but the little doggy door—and that’s only because they figured they’d have to go in and out of there themselves. Waylon mentioned the Vigilant when Randolph attacked that prison, but I had to be sure. Now, I’m sure.”
“So, what about getting that evidence I talked about?”
“I have an idea about that, but Rico would have to be willing to work with me.”
“Give you two to one on that,” Paige mused.
“For or against?”
Showing him nothing more than a cute grin, she said, “That collar was pretty cool. Not something I’d like to try again, but there’s got to be more little tricks that Lancroft saved for his favorite followers.” With a subtle shift of her head, she leaned in closer and looked at Cole in a way that assured him she was no longer concerned about who was watching them. “We’ve already learned some things about these guys. We know they’ve got Cecile and we know how they’re controlling her. You already broke out of a prison like that, so you know you can bust apart the one in their basement. We got a good look at how many are holed up in that place, what’s inside, how much security they’ve got, and who’s leading them. We know they’ve got a lot of Skinners who are still wet behind the ears and probably haven’t done much fighting. They’ve got the Jekhibar and we know where it’s kept. As far as I’m concerned, that’s more than enough to keep this trip from being a waste of time.”
Suddenly, Cole smiled. “Jonah Lancroft may have been a nut job, but he did have some very effective methods. The whole reason for breaking away from Adderson was to do a little mixing and matching, right?”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “God help me, I thought about you and your games. When one weapon isn’t working out too well, you modify it. If you’re shooting a fireball at something and it isn’t doing enough damage, you switch to ice. Usually, for the biggest bosses, you’ve got to combine every weapon you’ve got into one big one.”
Cole’s smile warmed up as he asked, “What game have you been playing while I wasn’t looking?”
“Don’t have to play anything. After listening to you talk for as long as we’ve been together, I feel like I’ve already played them all.” Since that wasn’t enough, she grumbled, “Cavern Crawler on that little portable thing you stashed in the backseat for road trips. Happy?”
“More than you could know. You’re right, though. Or, I should say, I was right and you were right for listening to me.”
“Don’t push it.”
Chapter Seven
300 miles north of Montreal, Canada
It was a particularly harsh winter, even for a Full Blood.
Especially for a Full Blood.
The snow felt like jagged little icicles between Randolph’s toes as he bounded across wide stretches of open terrain. Winds ranked vengeful claws over his back, sinking deeper than any human bullet could ever go. Sounds normally found in the modern world had ground to a halt, leaving only the churning baritone of breaths pumped by unstoppable lungs to throw a plume of steam into the air directly in front of him.
While mankind scrambled to climb back to its feet and reassert itself, the shapeshifters had become a roiling storm.
Half Breeds charged and fed.
Mongrels burrowed under the ground in erratic patterns, never staying in one place long enough to create a home for themselves.
Full Bloods roamed the New World territories freely. The Torva’ox spilled from North America like a vein of oil that had been tapped by metal fingers. After one Full Blood soaked up some of that power, another crept across a different border to slake its thirst. Every one of them became more powerful, but none were as powerful as those who’d been there during the Breaking Moon. Against them, even the noisiest humans with the biggest machines were toothless and incapable. Randolph narrowed his eyes until his field of vision became a small tunnel through which snowy fields and naked trees streaked past him in a blur. When the scent of the First Deceiver became strongest, he dug his claws into the earth and kicked up a spray of frozen dirt while skidding to a halt.
Kawosa sat on top of a small rise with his front paws casually crossed and his hind legs tucked beneath a lanky body. His form was that of a long, lean coyote, which also happened to be his namesake, thanks to the first humans to have been bent by his flickering tongue. His fur was thinned in parts, perhaps to display the freshest scars. By the time Randolph stopped in front of him, Kawosa had propped himself up and taken a form that eased away from a pure animal and into a vaguely human body with pronounced ribs and limbs that stretched to well beyond natural proportions. “Hello, Birkyus,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d stay away so long.”
“I would have stayed away longer,” Randolph replied without any acknowledgment to his true name. “There’s no point in seeking refuge when the fire is spreading so quickly to anyplace I might be able to go.”
Kawosa’s was a trickster’s smile; steady and shallow. “You never go anywhere you don’t want to be. I trust you completed whatever business you had across the ocean?”
“I did.”
“And since you’re back now, I trust there is business to be conducted here.”
“There is.” Randolph lifted his nose to draw a sample of air that seemed to be frozen around him. It smelled of distant fires, clean snow, and dying trees. He closed his eyes and reveled in the comforting familiarity. When he exhaled, the werewolf’s snout shrank down and his fangs retracted so as not to impede his speech. Compared to the voice he’d used a moment ago, his next words were spoken with a richer timbre and the hint of an outdated accent. “Liam and Esteban may have acted too quickly, but these events were meant to happen.”
“There is no good time for war.”
“Violence can be a healing tool if applied at the right time and with the proper amount of force. I’ve learned that from the humans.”
“Cut just deep enough to get the job done, eh?”
“Yes,” Randolph said. “Perhaps I had been too easy on the Skinners after all. They were the ones to force these events into motion.”
“You’d been taking it easy on the Skinners?” Kawosa scoffed. “From what I overheard while I was in Lancroft’s care, you were one of the only things the old man feared.”
“Don’t try to get on my good side. I barely have one anymore. Where is Esteban?”
“Ever since he acquired the first Shadow Spore, he’s been stretching his newfound legs. Has he truly achieved the final stage of our evolution?”
“There is a reason why the Shadow Spore was cast aside. We are not meant to tread in the mists. Did you warn him of the dangers that come from using that gift too much?”
Kawosa’s grin wriggled on his face like a worm settling into the fur beneath his nose. “He didn’t ask.”
“Of course not. And what of the young one? Is she still in the custody of the Skinners?”
“That,” Kawosa said with a tone that was as overtly deadly as a Full Blood’s snarl, “was a mistake—to send her to them. Why would you betray your own kind that way, Birkyus?”