Half Breeds were strong and very tough, but not bulletproof. Some of those rounds made it through, which lit an angry fire in its eyes. When Cole moved in close enough to use the wooden blade again, the werewolf turned toward him and skidded on the tilted floor. Rather than succumb to gravity, it used the countless joints created by its broken and rehinged skeleton to strike from a new angle. Even though his pistol was out of bullets, it made a hell of a good thump when he smashed it against one of the bloody spots on the werewolf’s fur. The creature yelped but was still able to pull away when Cole tried to stab it with the sharpened end of the club.
“If you’ve got a gun, you’re welcome to join in here!” Cole shouted at the soldier. He wasn’t about to take his eyes away from the Half Breed, but the soldier wasn’t responding with any gunfire. Outside, flat bodies thumped against the fuselage and used talons to search for a way in.
Cole swung at the Half Breed and drew some blood, but not enough to prevent the werewolf from climbing to its feet and lunging at him. Backing up until his heel knocked against the shotgun, he dropped the pistol in favor of the bigger weapon. The Half Breed circled around to snarl at the soldier.
“Hey!” Cole shouted. “Right here!”
Although the Half Breed snorted in his direction, it was more interested in the wounded man who squirmed up the slant of the downed helicopter to get to a metal locker at the back of the wreck.
“Come here!” Cole said in loud, choppy syllables that would have perked any dog’s ears. Thinking along those lines, he followed it up with a quick, shrill whistle.
The Half Breed snapped its head over to him and growled as if defending its meal from a would-be scavenger. Tensing its muscles and lowering its chest to the floor, it scraped at the metal panels beneath its claws and reared back on its hind legs. The werewolf was about to attack. Cole could feel it all the way down to his bones as he reached for the door handle. Suddenly, the creature bared its fangs and leapt at the soldier instead.
The thundering roar of the shotgun filled the cabin as Cole fired it into the Half Breed’s side. When the werewolf thumped against the closest wall, Cole threw himself at the beast to drive the smoking barrel of the shotgun into its body. He pumped in another shell and fired it into the werewolf before the shotgun was knocked from his hands by one of the creature’s thrashing legs. By the time Cole drew the wooden blade again, the Half Breed was pulling itself to its feet. Cole stretched one arm out to grab a hunk of fur at the base of its tail, pulled it toward him and buried the blade into the biggest shotgun wound.
The Half Breed yelped in pain while folding its torso in half to snap at him. Cole was fully aware of the creature’s flexibility and had already pulled the weapon away so he could jump back and chamber another shell. He fired again, cracked the shotgun against the side of the werewolf’s head, then drove the sharpened end of the club into its neck. Since the creature lay on its side spilling its blood onto the floor, the sounds of scraping claws and a low, hungry snarl seemed particularly out of place. Cole turned toward the cockpit and spotted another Half Breed emerging from the front portion of the craft. The second werewolf kept its body low, planted its back paws against the floor and leapt forward.
Cole leaned toward the door, grabbed the handle and pulled it open. The Half Breed sailed past him, but still had the speed and flexibility to snap its jaws in his direction before it was outside the helicopter. It landed several feet away from the hatch, sank its claws in and came to a stop amid a shower of dirt. From there it turned to face Cole, a snarl rumbling deep within its throat.
Cole rolled onto his belly to look outside. The only thing he saw was some wreckage and a Half Breed preparing to tear at him again.
“Uhhh …shit.”
The Half Breed coiled like a spring and leapt at the helicopter. Less than a second later it was snatched in midair by a flap of skin that swooped down to wrap around its head. The creature still had momentum on its side, but was prevented from entering the helicopter by a set of talons that reached down from above and outside the hatch to snag in its fur. The gargoyle on top of the wreck wasn’t strong enough to pull the Half Breed outside, but it held onto the helicopter with a grip that kept it from being dislodged. Once the gargoyle’s body was stretched out like a flap of wet leather, the Half Breed jerked to a stop and fell straight to the floor less than an inch from Cole’s boots.
He came at the werewolf then like a horror movie slasher, the club gripped tightly in a hand cocked up near the side of his head. The strike intended for the Half Breed’s neck sliced through empty air when the gargoyle pushed a sound from its mouth that sounded like a snake being drowned in a vat of mud. The sight of those narrow black eyes staring at him was enough to back Cole up.
The Half Breed scraped its claws against the floor and let out a strained whine as its struggles dwindled to nothing. Soon it was barely moving.
The gargoyle kept its black eyes fixed on Cole and its body wrapped tightly around the werewolf until more of the fliers slapped into place around the creature and dragged it outside. When the first gargoyle loosened its grip so it could envelop more of the beast, the bitter scent of dusty vinegar poured into Cole’s nostrils. It was the same scent he’d smelled in the truck, and like the section of seat Jessup had used as a sample for his crudely fashioned icing bag, the part of the Half Breed that had been wrapped up was now stiff and gray.
High-pitched shrieks filled the air outside, but Cole heeded Jessup’s advice by acting without looking for the source of the sound. He kicked the werewolf out of the helicopter, and before it hit the ground four more gargoyles darted from above to latch onto the creature. Cole shut the door and left the things to their meal.
“I can’t stop it,” the remaining soldier gasped.
“Don’t worry. Those things won’t be going anywhere.”
Having pulled himself to the back section of the helicopter, the soldier sat up so he could breathe a little easier. “Not that. Whatever’s inside me. It hurts.”
Cole had to clamber over the body of a dead man to examine the soldier. “Did that thing bite you? Was there someone else up front? Did it bite them? How did it get in here?”
“Nothing boarded us. That Class Two just showed up and started attacking the pilot. Maybe the co-pilot.”
The front section of the helicopter had been battered on impact, but most of the metal that collapsed between the main cabin and cockpit had been torn away by the werewolves. “Wait a second,” he said while turning to face the soldier once more. “Did you call that thing a Class Two?”
His face was smeared with blood and what could have either been grease or black camouflage paint. “Yeah. It’s one of the older ones. No tusks.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’m with IRD. The In …human …”
“I know what it is. What are you guys doing here?”
After pulling in a breath and swallowing it, the soldier said, “Our scouts found two escaped prisoners who were headed here. Soon as they saw the Class Ones, our scouts called in for armed response. That’s us.”
“What escaped prisoners?”
The soldier started to talk but came up short. After another breath he grunted, “From Colorado.”
Knowing he was referring to Lambert and Frank, Cole asked, “What’s a Class One?”
“You …call them Full Bloods. Something’s wrong.”
Cole had moved away from the soldier to take a look through the window. The Half Breed was on its side and completely covered by living flaps of skin. “You’re damn right something’s wrong.”
“No,” the soldier grunted through a clenched jaw. “Something’s wrong with me. It feels like …like I broke some—” His words became a scream as his face twisted into a nightmarish version of its former self. His body flopped against the floor while his hands reached out to grab anything within reach.