Cole and Paige put their backs to a wall as the first two Mongrels regrouped. While the alley cat scraped at the concrete and twitched its eyes between the two Skinners, the leopard shifted back into the woman Cole had spotted from the street when they’d first arrived. Her body was lean, muscular, and on display, since all but a pair of skimpy boxer briefs had been shredded during her initial transformation.
Standing tall and unmindful of her partial nudity, the Mongrel said, “The old man hasn’t killed enough of us on his own, so he called in more of you?”
Cole checked the street to find a few people trying to get a look at the small gathering. They were either being held back somehow or had already lost interest since the fighting had abated.
“What are you talking about?” Paige demanded as she twirled her left-handed weapon. “You’re the ones who jumped us!”
“We don’t need more Skinners here! And we won’t allow more of our kind to be poisoned. Tell the old man we know what he’s doing and that his tricks will only get more humans killed.”
“What tricks? Who the hell are you anyway?”
Squinting in a way that made her eyes seem like clear, flawless glass orbs, the Mongrel replied, “You have not met the old man yet. His stench is near, but it’s not on you.”
The alley cat looked up at the female Mongrel and shifted back into a mostly human form. His tattered shorts were now wrapped around a sinewy frame, and he didn’t even bother lifting himself up from all fours as he said, “They’re Skinners! We kill them and any others that come onto our—”
“Don’t you say it,” Paige snarled.
The sound of her voice was enough to make every Mongrel on the ledges bare their teeth and claws.
“This isn’t your city,” Paige continued. “This isn’t your territory. This isn’t even your street! Mongrels don’t get to roll into this place and stake a claim.”
“Tell that to the pack in Kansas City,” the leopard woman said.
Raising her machete as if it was a rifle and she was sighting along the top of its barrel, Paige said, “The only reason Kayla got to bring her pack into KC is because we allowed it.”
Hearing the leader of another Mongrel pack mentioned by name sent a ripple of half voices and growls through the shapeshifters. Cole tightened his grip on his spear and prepared for the worst. He took a quick look over his shoulder, but didn’t see anything trying to creep up on them from behind. In fact, there were now no people at all watching from the street.
“Kayla’s pack bled for what they got,” Paige continued. “They stood toe-to-toe with a Full Blood and earned their place. What the hell have you done?”
“We know all about the Full Blood in Kayla’s possession.” The leopard woman’s clear eyes widened as she added, “But it seems you are surprised to hear about this. Did you think they disposed of Liam when he may be the link between us and immortality?”
Cole groaned under his breath as he thought back to the last moments in the Kansas City siege. The Full Blood who led that charge had claimed that Mongrels could be changed into his kind in a manner similar to how humans were changed into Half Breeds. A few moments after that, the burrowers among the Mongrels had dragged the wounded Full Blood underground, where they claimed they would imprison him if, as was the popular belief, the werewolf couldn’t be killed by tooth or claw.
“There’s no Full Blood in Kansas City,” Paige said. “I checked.”
Even as she shifted into something that was more leopard than human, the Mongrel woman didn’t lose her condescending tone as she said, “Of course. I’m probably just mistaken.”
“You can tell all the tales you want,” Paige snapped as she brought both weapons up. “I helped clean this city out and I won’t let a bunch of Mongrel squatters come in and mess it up again. If you want to live here, you’ll need to stay quiet and out of sight. If you want to talk shit, you’d damn well be ready to back it up.”
The male hopped onto a Dumpster and changed into his alley cat form so quickly that his claws sparked against the metal. He gripped the edge in preparation to fling himself at Cole, but was stopped by a sharp snarl from the leader. As she turned, the female dropped to all fours and allowed her leopard fur to explode from her pores. The snarl turned into a lingering growl as she craned her neck to sweep a warning glare at all the other Mongrels. By the time she’d fixed her gaze back onto the alley cat, her sleek body had gained enough muscle to make her the largest creature in that alley.
Several of the Mongrels on the ledge above gripped the dirty bricks with their front paws and tensed the muscles in their legs. Before they could jump down, a bottle flew up to smash against the side of the building.
“Hey pussies! You gonna hide up there or come down to rub against my leg? I may even have a rubber mouse for you to chase.”
The man who shouted up at the ledge was the one who’d thrown the bottle. Walking in a confident gait that caused his heavy black boots to knock loudly against the pavement, he stepped into the light cast from a bulb connected to one of the single-car garages. He was a few inches taller than Cole, had wide shoulders and a thick torso wrapped inside a jacket that looked as if it had been stitched together from mismatched pieces of material. Despite the size of his body, his head looked just a little too big for it. Gray stubble sprang from his face and scalp, as though he’d used the same shears to trim his chin and dome. A wide smile displayed a set of blocky, uneven teeth as he reached under his jacket to produce a handgun that Cole recognized as a Sig Sauer P220. Slowly raising the .45 caliber handgun, the big ugly man said, “Find somewhere else to be or I start making some real noise.”
A low growl rolled through the shadows, coming from the combined throats of all the Mongrels gathered there. Cole could see several sets of glittering eyes surveying their surroundings. After another snarl that sounded like an exhalation from the earth itself, the Mongrels on the ledge scaled the wall, hopped onto the roof and disappeared. Only one remained for a few extra seconds. Its head drooped down and loosely swung from its neck as it gazed upon the alley from its perch upon the ledge. Panting in what sounded like a rambling mutter, it leapt out of sight.
Keeping low against the ground, the were–alley cat backed nervously toward the garage nearest to the street. The leader was in full leopard form, and she paced in a tight line, back and forth, clawing at the pavement. Finally, she stopped and let out a noise that didn’t sound like a growl, snarl, or anything else a mundane animal would make. Once that signal was given, both of the remaining Mongrels scaled the closest wall and were gone.
Extending his arms as if he’d forgotten about the shapeshifters as well as the gun in his hand, the man in the leather jacket said, “That’s my Bloodhound! Barely off the road and already stirring up the shit.”
Paige not only smiled at the big guy, but she did so in a way that made her look like someone who was completely incapable of knocking a werewolf down and gutting it. “Hello, Rico.”
Draping an arm around the back of Paige’s shoulders, Rico replied, “So that’d make you Cole?”
“That’s me. I’ve heard some good stories about you, Rico. Or should I say, Rrrrrico.”
Gripping Cole’s hand, Rico shook it as if about to yank it loose and hang it from his rearview mirror. “Don’t ever say my name like that again.”
If Cole could have pulled his hand away from the other man’s grip, he would have. Instead, he did his best to maintain his dignity and sputtered, “Paige…uh…said you’d think that was funny.”
Rico tightened his grip just enough to scrape Cole’s bones together. “Real nice partner you got here,” he said to Paige. “First sign of trouble and he throws you under the bus.”
“No, I did put him up to it,” she said. “I like to see him squirm. As for you,” she added while slapping Rico’s stomach, “there’s a little more puddin’ in the bowl, but I wouldn’t call you a bus just yet.”