The Breaking

CHAPTER Twenty-Four


Cole couldn’t take another second of hearing Randolph speak like a human. The Full Blood stood on two legs and even had the nerve to watch him as if he was so much better than all the humans he’d ripped to pieces with his bare hands. When he felt the next stabbing pain through his innards, Cole swung his spear with every intention of driving it through Randolph’s face.

The Full Blood merely leaned back and stepped away as if he’d been told years in advance that the attack would come. “The wildness of the Torva’ox is in you Skinners as well. Harness it and you may survive the war that is just now showing its face.” While coiling like a spring, Randolph shifted back into his four-legged body. His legs bent under his weight and fangs stretched out to rip through his cheeks. The claws at the tips of his fingers scraped against the side of the truck as he leapt straight up and over the vehicle.

“Let the soldiers deal with that thing!” Jessup said while squaring off with the rear door of the truck. “Your friends are in here. You want ’em out? Help me get this goddamn door open!”

Cole hurried to the other Skinner’s side while Rico laid down a steady barrage of cover fire. Since Ben and a few other Mongrels had convinced Cecile to move away from the IRD, the dwindling number of soldiers shifted their fire to Esteban. In a matter of seconds the Full Blood shouted Randolph’s name and the two werewolves locked horns with even more force than when they’d met in Colorado.

“F*cking useless grunts!” Jessup snarled. “No wonder they’re getting hacked to pieces.”

“Take it easy! They’re doing their best.”

When Jessup swung, it was with full force. His fist thumped against Cole’s chest and sent a shock wave through the upper part of his body. Although it forced him back a step, the impact wasn’t nearly enough to put him down.

“Get to the driver!” Jessup said. There was a tremor in his voice that let Cole know he was struggling just as hard to keep the stabbing pains from overtaking him.

Cole ran to the front end of the truck and heard the all-too-familiar sound of flesh being torn from bone. Two Half Breeds feasted on the bodies of two dead soldiers, shredding their flesh as if it was made from wet cardboard. Cole fired his assault rifle until every last round had been spent. He didn’t know how much damage he’d done before swinging the rifle like a club to smash a Half Breed in the face. Letting the rifle slide through his fingers, he pulled his spear out from behind his back and drove the metallic end into another creature’s chest.

No matter how much his body hurt, he couldn’t stop fighting until both of the Half Breeds were down. He didn’t black out. Something simply took over to complete the task. Cole wasn’t just in the zone, he was happier than he’d been in a long time. The rush didn’t end until two howls filled the air. Randolph and Esteban tore at each other with a vengeance, giving the soldiers a chance to regroup at another one of the trucks.

Since his truck was on its side, Cole was able to reach in through a hole that had been ripped through the roof. The driver lay with her arms entangled in the steering wheel and her throat slashed open. After taking the keys from the ignition, he searched her pockets and found another set of keys in her jacket.

Racing around to the back of the truck, he handed the keys to Jessup. “Are these what you needed?”

The older man tried the ones on the ring that had been hanging from the steering column and quickly dismissed them in favor of the next set. The second one on that ring fit inside the lock of the door, and when he turned the handle, there was a satisfying clank and the doors swung apart. Jessup hopped back before the lower one knocked against his shins.

Inside, two narrow benches were bolted to the floor. Frank sat on what was supposed to be the side wall of the compartment. His wrists and legs were shackled and a chain ran through both sets of restraints, securing them to a metal ring embedded in the bench. Lambert was shackled in a similar manner, but because he was chained to the bench on the wall that was now a ceiling, he hung down like a tattooed and very pissed off chandelier. The scowl on his face instantly turned into a sloppy grin when he looked at who stood in the doorway.

“Cole! We been looking all over for you!”

Frank tried to stand up but was immediately brought down by his restraints. “Get me out of these f*cking chains and put a weapon in my hand,” he said.

Going to the Squam first, Cole said, “I know just how you feel. Jessup, toss me the keys for these shackles.”

“Here,” snapped the older Skinner. “Find ’em yourself.” After he tossed both rings at him, Cole ran toward the closest group of Half Breeds.

Narrowing his search down to keys small enough to fit the locks on the shackles, he quickly found the one he needed.

“What?” Lambert whined. “Lizard Boy gets out before me?”

“Just shut up and try to keep your head down,” Cole told him. “You’ll probably just want to stay in here anyway.”

“Keep him chained,” Frank said.

Lambert waggled his head back and forth so much that his body swung from the iron ring. “See? That’s the thanks I get for swinging by to pick him up at that lake and then getting him past those cops at the state line! You crocodile-looking, pus-colored motherf*cker!”

“The scent of Half Breed is coming from him,” Frank whispered.

“Was he bitten?” Cole asked.

“No, but he’s still turning.”

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. “F*ck!”

“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.

“I think my bones are broken,” the inmate grunted.

“Which ones?”

“All of them. Is that possible?”

“Yeah, it is.” Unable to think of a quick way to humanely check Lambert’s claim, Cole used the forked end of his weapon to prod his ribs. When he didn’t get a reaction, he repeated the procedure on an arm and leg.

“Knock it off!” Lambert screeched.

“Just checking to see if your bones are broken.”

“What the hell is poking me with a stick gonna do?”

“If your bones were broken, you’d be screaming a lot louder than that.”

“Maybe I have a high pain threshold,” Lambert said. “What about that, huh?”

Cole prodded him once more, this time with the sharp end delivered to a tender spot beneath one of the inmate’s arms. When Lambert twisted away and yelped like a scalded dog, Cole said, “So much for the high threshold theory.”

“Fine, so the pain from before stopped while you were out there. What about getting me down from here?”

Cole used his key to unlock the shackles around Lambert’s ankles. When those around his wrists were removed, the inmate dropped like the proverbial sack of rocks. His legs held him up for a second, and when they buckled, Cole was there to prop him up.

“Are you all right to walk?”

Although he wheezed with every inhale, Lambert replied, “If it means getting the hell away from here, I’m ready to sprint the goddamn hundred and fifty yard dash. Are there any other trucks in good enough condition to drive? From in here, it sounded like most of them got taken apart.”

“They did,” Rico said as he stepped up to the rear of the truck. “The Half Breeds are either dead or turned to stone. Wanna know what I like best about this job? I get to say crazy shit like that.”

“Where’s the other Full Blood?”

“The Mongrels dragged her down before she got away. Guess she didn’t get the memo about what happened to Liam in KC.”

When Cole tried to use the sparkly phone he’d stolen, all he got was dead air. Actually, it had taken Brianne longer than expected to deactivate it. “You got a phone, Rico?”

“Yeah.”

“Hand it over.”

The big man did and asked, “Who are you calling?”

“Information. Just give me a second.” Cole lifted the phone to his ear before pressing the button to make his call. The clearing in front of him was a mess of broken vehicles, smoking metal, dead werewolves, and mangled soldiers. The ground glistened like mud after a long rain, due to moonlight reflecting off so many shredded gargoyles. He’d barely noticed them during the fight because their fragile bones and paper-thin bodies had been trampled into paste.

Although Lambert was happy to be out of his chains so he could rub the raw spots on his ankles and wrists, Cole didn’t have more than a few seconds of quiet time before Jessup walked around the overturned truck and asked, “What are you dicking around with this time?”

“Making a call. Have the Mongrels showed up yet?”

“One’s right here. Says he needs to talk to you.”

Cole spotted Ben’s head and shoulders emerging from the dirt. It was in a clearing well away from where Rico now tended to a few of the fallen soldiers. Injuries there ranged from serious bite wounds to a woman in bloodied fatigues with a leg that was half encrusted by stone. He left the other Skinner to his task and approached the Mongrel to ask, “Is Cecile down there with you?”

“We pulled her under just long enough to get her to stop attacking soldiers, but then she got away. Sorry.”

“Got away? That’s it?”

Ben crawled out from the dirt to show his hands were empty. “If we could get rid of Full Bloods that easily, we wouldn’t have to worry so much when they got too close to our homes. In Kansas City, you and Paige wore Liam down after how much fighting and running all over the place?”

“Where did she go?”

Since Ben’s face was dominated by a large, hooked beak, and the lids of his black eyes were vertical instead of horizontal, it was tough to read his expression. The movement of his bony shoulders, however, was most definitely a shrug.

“Thanks for getting her away from here,” Cole said. “Do you think you can find out where she went?”

“We do our best to track the Full Bloods. We’ll let you know what we find.”

“Bring her back here,” he ordered. “Just find a way.”

Ben disappeared beneath the dirt like a Whack-A-Mole barely escaping a giant padded mallet. Cole allowed himself a few tired laughs while tapping the touch screen of his phone. Since he wasn’t getting a good enough connection to log on to the Internet via Rico’s device, he did things the old-fashioned way. “Madison, Wisconsin,” he said to the operator after dialing 411. “Shimmy’s.”

“What did you say?” Jessup asked as he walked over to him.

Cole twisted his wrist so the phone receiver wasn’t directly in front of his mouth. “I’m calling information. Shimmy’s is a strip bar in Wisconsin.”

“People are dead here and dying somewhere else and you’re calling tittie bars?”

“Not just a tittie bar. It’s one of the Dryad temples. You used the damn portals to get to the Lancroft house in Philly, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“We need to separate those Full Bloods from whatever it is they found in Oklahoma,” Cole said. “From what Cecile was telling us about the pilot light and that energy those things are after, the worst thing going right now is that so many Full Bloods are in one place.”

“You think the nymphs can zap them back to their territories if we could lure them to one of them bars?” After thinking it over, Jessup cringed. “Even if we could get them there, I doubt the girls would go for that. They don’t want much to do with Skinners, with all the police looking for us.” He stared at the statue of Esteban and scratched his cheek. “I just wish I knew what the hell he found beneath that prison of yours.”

“What about the gargoyles? Are they still here?”

“Circling,” the older Skinner replied. “With this much blood bein’ spilled and plenty of their own kind gettin’ shredded by werewolves, they won’t be goin’ anywhere anytime soon.”

“Tell me if you can— Yeah, connect me . . . Yes, I’ll pay the extra fee . . . Sorry, that was Information again. If you can get those gargoyles to— Yeah, is Tristan there?”

Wiping his hands on the front of his jeans, Rico approached the other two Skinners. “Need something better than dirty rags to patch these guys up.”

Jessup shoved past the big man and grumbled, “Headin’ back to the truck. Gotta get my medical kit to treat these wounded soldiers proper.”

“Somehow,” Cole said to Rico, “the Breaking Moon is allowing Full Bloods to turn people into Half Breeds without biting them.”

“Kinda found that out the hard way, didn’t we?” the big man scoffed.

“Yes, but if that gets any worse, it could be what Paige heard Liam talking about in Oklahoma. He said something about taking our guns and machines out of the picture. It they’re able to turn anyone just by— Yes I’m a friend of Tristan’s! Just tell her Cole Warnecki is calling. She’ll know who I am!”

“Get back into the truck, guy,” Rico said to the skinny fellow who tried to sneak past him.

Lambert stared intently at the Skinners, bouncing his eyes back and forth between them fast enough to make it look like a facial tic. “He’s right about what the Full Bloods can do,” he said to Rico while jabbing a finger at Cole. “I heard its thoughts. I’m psychic.”

“So you’ve been saying ever since we picked you up.”

“Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”

“Because,” Rico snapped, “you talk like a nut job and you’re givin’ me a headache. You got something to say, just say it and stop with the crazy eyes.”

“Crazy eyes?”

“Yeah. Was that something you did in prison or did you freak out yer mama with them things too?”

When Lambert tried to screw his expression into something he felt was more normal, he only succeeded in creeping Rico out even more. Finally, he let his squint and twitch return as he told the Skinner, “I was kept in that place to spy on people’s thoughts, and the ones who used me for that were like you. Skinners. They believed me and they were pricks. You and Cole aren’t pricks, so why the hell can’t you just listen to me?”

“I’m listening,” Cole said.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Lambert said, “I heard the Full Blood’s thoughts. It was something I ain’t never heard before. It wasn’t even words. It was just some kind of wild . . . static. It’s the same thing I heard in all of those Half Breeds tonight, but it wasn’t inside the ones back in Colorado.”

“These Half Breeds are different,” Rico said. “Normally, they got to ferment before they’re ready to run. These just popped and were good to go.”

“It’s the Breaking Moon,” Lambert insisted. “It’s all the Full Bloods have been thinking about since we left G7. The gray one, the brown one, even the girl. Tonight, everything for them is sped up. They’re getting stronger every second. Even that one.”

Cole followed Lambert’s trembling finger and was directed to the statue of Esteban. “He’s still alive in there?” he asked.

Lambert nodded. “And he’s pissed.”

Cole was about to shove the phone back into his pocket when a voice came through that was almost sweet enough to make him forget about everything else. “Cole?” she said. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, Tristan. It’s me.”

“I was so worried.” She sighed in a way that Cole savored like a guilty pleasure. “You were all over the news when you were brought in for those murders and now there’s nothing anywhere. No pictures, no reports. Just nothing. Where are you?”

“New Mexico. Is there any way for you to get out here?”

“There are clubs in New Mexico, but that depends on where you are.”

“What I really need to know is—”

“Are you in Raton?” she asked.

Cole did a mental checklist of all the powers he knew the nymphs possessed. They could appeal to senses most humans didn’t even know they had. Dryads were powerful enough to channel the energies given off by human lust and desire into temples scattered throughout the country, but as far as he knew, there was no mind reading involved. Finally, he asked, “How’d you know that?”

“Because I’ve always got at least one of our TVs turned to the news and it says the National Guard was attacked by creatures or something there.” Beneath the thrumming bass and pounding rhythms of Joan Jett’s “Heartbreaker,” Cole could hear the voice of a newscaster anxiously relaying some information he couldn’t quite make out. “It looks like there are more soldiers flying in.”

“You need to get here and it’s got to be now,” he said. “Is there any possible way you can reach me using only one temple?”

After a short, unusually quiet pause on her end of the call, Tristan replied, “Yes. We’ve done it before. It just requires more energy and a Skipping Temple, but we still can’t get involved with known criminals.”

“It’s too late to worry about that. This is about survival.”

“You want to talk survival?” she asked in a voice that was severe and still sultry. “The Nymar have more connections than ever with the police. They also view Dryad blood as the most valuable substance in existence. We can’t afford to draw police attention by becoming Skinner accomplices.”

“The Breaking Moon is rising. Do you know what that is?”

“I’ve heard some things, but just a few vague legends.”

“The Full Bloods are gathering and they no longer give a rat’s ass about being seen or anything else,” Cole said in a voice that became fiercer with every syllable. “They’re tearing through entire towns and are drawing on some kind of power that allows them to change humans into Half Breeds without biting them. Now here’s the big question. Can you make a bridge between two spots where neither end has a temple?”

“Why do you want to do that?”

Resisting the urge to snap at her, he said, “Just tell me if it’s possible.”

“I may be able to act as a Skipping Temple, but it depends on how far you’re going.”

“There’s going to be more than one that needs to be moved,” he explained. “Some can just go a few hundred miles, but others will have to go across the world.”

She laughed without a speck of humor in her tone before saying, “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

At the beginning of the call, her side of the connection had been filled with the usual mixture of loud music, catcalls, and DJ ramblings one might expect from a strip club. Now, she’d moved to a place where her voice was clearer and everything else had been relegated to the background. “What is it you want me to do, Cole?” Tristan asked in an intensely sober tone.

“First of all, I need you to get me to Atoka, Oklahoma. After that, I’ll signal you, and that’s when I need you to open another bridge.” From there, he proceeded to tell her what he needed, with as many of the details as he’d been able to put together.

After he finished, Tristan let out a deep breath and said, “That’s a tall order.”

“Is it possible?”

“It’s been done before, but that was a long time ago when we had a lot more power at our disposal. I’m talking about daily visits to our temples by true worshippers.”

“I’ve seen the way those guys look at you when you’re in that hot little outfit with the veils,” Cole said. “You’re being truly worshipped.”

“Lust and desire are different and much shallower than reverence,” she pointed out. “If we’re going to do this, we need to tap into a deeper well.”

“Tristan, we need to make this happen. The Breaking Moon has just come up, and every Full Blood may be getting the power to turn humans into Half Breeds just by looking at them. I’ve seen it and it’s only getting worse. These soldiers have already been killed or turned. Paige says it’s worse in Oklahoma, and when more troops are sent here, they’ll be turned too. The people in this town still may be changed by this Breaking Moon or could get torn apart by any Half Breeds that got away from us and turned the old-fashioned way. We need to make sure this doesn’t spread to other towns, other cities, and possibly other countries.”

“Oh my Lord,” Tristan sighed.

“Yeah, so what’ve you got for me on this Skipping Temple thing?”

“Are you sure this is the only way to get this job done?”

“If you’ve got a better idea, I’m open for it. Just be quick because Paige is in the worst of it right now.”

Tristan drew a deep breath and let it out in a measured voice. “Our temples and bridges use emotion as fuel. Pleasure, desire, and reverence are the purest sources, but what you need is a quick burn, and the only way to get that is to tap into a darker source. Channeling these emotions can taint even the best of us and possibly destroy the Dryad who attempts to put them to use.”

“What do you need from me?”

“Fear.”

Cole chuckled and closed his eyes as a chorus of Half Breed snarls rose in the distance. “I should be able to accommodate you on that one.”