Even though Frank’s eyes were yellow and lidless, the sincerity in them was easy to read. Cole looked over to Lambert and approached him with spear in hand. When Lambert tried to explain himself or spit insults at either of them, Cole didn’t listen. When the skinny inmate winced at the sound of a crunching bone inside him, Cole knew that Frank had been right.
Tearing at Lambert’s clothes and turning him like a slab of beef on a hook, Cole said, “I don’t see any wounds big enough to infect him as a Half Breed. There’s barely any scratches on him! I just don’t see how they’re doing this!”
“We weren’t attacked by Half Breeds until we got here,” Frank insisted. “They swarmed us and tipped the truck, but none got in here. I’ve never seen someone turn without being wounded. Usually, they’re hurt so badly they can’t even move.”
Every inch of Lambert’s body trembled, and he clenched his teeth with so much force that bubbles of spit were forced out between his lips. “The Full Blood’s doing it! I can hear him sending that shit to me!”
“What shit?”
“Whatever is doing this! Just distract him! He needs to concentrate. Hurry !”
Outside, the howling of the Half Breeds grew to a wailing crescendo. Something about it was different than the sounds that filled the air before. Their voices had more substance than any sound that had ripped across that battlefield so far. Automatic fire erupted from several different sources, but not even an artillery strike could have prevented Cole from stepping out of the overturned truck to get a look at what was happening.
Although there were considerably fewer soldiers on their feet, every one of them had weapons to their shoulders and was unleashing a steady stream of gunfire at the remaining Half Breeds in their sights. Those creatures had become the easiest targets since they’d set their paws firmly against the ground and craned their necks to point their heads at the sky. As the clouds continued to sail to the east, moonlight filtered through to rain down upon the furry backs of all the shapeshifters singing up to them. Away from the soldiers, Cecile was in her four-legged form, rearing up like a frightened horse and churning her front paws in the air while Ben and another Mongrel attempted to herd her away from the others.
Randolph gripped the dark gray Full Blood by the neck and roared directly into his face. Suddenly, his head snapped upward, but not to gaze at the moon. As Esteban stood, he brought Randolph with him, lifting the other Full Blood by the claws that he’d sunk into his belly. Randolph squirmed but was quickly stilled when Esteban clamped a hand around his throat. Pulling him closer, Esteban growled, “Picked the wrong side, Burkis.” Maintaining a firm grasp beneath Randolph’s chin, he pulled his other hand out to open the Full Blood’s stomach. He dropped Randolph like so much garbage, raised his face to the moon and howled.
Lambert’s screaming became louder. Without wasting another moment, Cole slung his assault rifle over his shoulder and charged.
“Focus on the smaller ones!” Jessup shouted to the remaining soldiers. “We’ve got the big ones!”
Without anyone else to give them orders, the handful of soldiers kept their guns pointed at the Half Breeds.
Hearing the quick slap of wide feet against the ground beside him, Cole looked over to the Squam and said, “We’ve got to distract that Full Blood from whatever it’s doing.”
“Draw its attention and I’ll get behind him.” Without another word, Frank dropped to all fours and sprang forward in a loping charge that allowed him to cross from one end of the park to the other in a few powerful strides.
Standing up to his full height, Esteban was the biggest werewolf Cole had ever seen. His gray fur seemed to absorb the moonlight and the muscles of his body swelled with every breath. “You’re needed elsewhere, Skinner,” he snarled.
Cole screamed as if it was the last sound he would ever make. Gripping his spear in two bloody hands, he charged across what felt like a dozen miles of open ground, and when he reached the towering Full Blood, he was swatted aside like a bug.
“Here’s one for you, Randolph!” Esteban said. Before his solid white eyes found his brethren, Frank was on him. The Squam threw himself at the Full Blood as if he was somehow impervious to the creature’s deadly claws or fangs. Judging by the blood that sprayed from him when the two creatures met, he wasn’t.
When Cole hit the ground on his side, he lost the wind from his lungs in a single pained gasp. He put his hand on his ribs, ignored the agony of aching bones and cinching tendrils, and crawled toward the two creatures. Frank was putting up a fight, clinging to Esteban’s fur but unable to do much damage. Even so, the Squam bit and clawed while avoiding the werewolf’s slashing claws. It wasn’t long, however, before one of those swings connected and Frank was sent flying through the air.
Between Jessup, Rico, and the soldiers, all but one or two of the Half Breeds had been dispatched. Cole ignored those few desperate barking voices as he dragged himself up to one knee and stuck a hand into his pocket.
Leering down at him, Esteban growled, “There’s nothing left for you to do, Skinner. It’s over for you and every other human. But don’t worry,” he added with a Spanish accent that became silkier with every word. “The war that begins tonight will be mercifully short.” He closed his eyes, exhaled, and shifted part of his body in a way that somehow caused Frank to drop off him as though his nails simply had nothing left to grab.
“It’s all right,” Rico said as he strode forward with the Sig Sauer in hand. “I got this. Remember those rounds Daniels made with the Blood Blade chips bonded to them?”
“Yeah!”
Rico sighted along the pistol and fired two rounds at Esteban. The Full Blood twitched as the bullets thumped against his chest, but didn’t go down. When he placed his hand against the spot that had been hit, he snarled and brushed several gleaming fragments from his fur.
Rico fired until every round was spent, but each bullet only put a metallic glaze on the werewolf’s coat. “Fuck!”
“I thought you made those special rounds to—”
“So did I!” the big man growled. “Guess they didn’t work.”
“Well that was anticlimactic.”
Although the Blood Blade fragments caused Esteban to pause for a moment, the novelty had already worn off and the Full Blood howled louder than ever.
“Let’s go back to Plan A,” Cole said, and with one sharp squeeze punctured the sides of the rubbery membrane Jessup had removed from the gargoyle, which released the clear, bitter fluid inside. Like the rising wail of crickets on a summer evening, the shriek of gargoyles filled the sky. Cole threw the long sack at Esteban and jumped away. After hitting the ground face first, he could only listen as the shrieks swooped in behind him and leathery bodies flapped against his back. Rico dashed away before he was consumed, swearing venomously.
Esteban roared and slashed several of the fliers, but that only caused more of them to swarm to him. Without any other prey to distract them, the gargoyles hit the Full Blood as a unified force. They surrounded him in a tornado of bony limbs and curved talons to envelop the werewolf completely. Cole made a cautious retreat, and with such a big meal to tackle, none of the gargoyles seemed interested in giving up their share to come after him.
“Could have …warned me about that,” Frank said from nearby.
Unable to look away from the mass of gargoyles grabbing onto the Full Blood, Cole asked, “You all right?”
Frank cradled his right arm against his chest and allowed Cole to take his left hand and help him up. “Yes. I don’t hear Lambert’s voice. We should check on him.”
They went back to the truck to find the skinny inmate hanging quietly from his chains. Cole approached, carefully extended a hand toward his chin and raised Lambert’s head so he could get a look at his face.