Marcus Pelegrimas - Extinction Agenda

Nine days later

Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains

Montana

The wind was colder than it should have been. Randolph sat near the peak of the mountain range in his shaggy, two-legged form, feeling the fierce gusts tear through his fur. To the north was the Canadian expanse of his self-imposed exile when he’d wanted only to run free without a thought about human civilization or the schemes of his own kind. Now, most of the world was a cold, quiet place. If the insanity inflicted by his brethren had a perk, that was it. Unfortunately, there was a lot more that had gone wrong.

Esteban had been the downfall of the entire Full Blood siege. Where Liam was wild and unpredictable, the Spaniard had always been proud and stubborn. Now all of the survivors had to pay for those flaws. Perhaps the one to take Liam’s place would be more reasonable.

The wretches ran wild now. That had always been the case. As Randolph sniffed the air, he could tell they had scattered to cover this continent just as they’d covered all the others. Their numbers would grow, but there was no longer the singular howl to unite them. And even more devastating for the Full Bloods, the link to the Torva’ox had been severed. He didn’t know how the humans had managed to do that, but he’d felt a cool pulse flow from the earth that wiped away everything forged during the last Breaking Moon.

The humans would not be overrun and they would not rest. Doing so would be the end of them. Since the wretches were now left to their own devices, the remaining Full Bloods would need to reconfigure their territories. Esteban had been the most prominent enemy to the humans, but the others had done their part in spreading the wretches to every corner of the world. It was only a matter of time before they would meet again to fight for dominance in a bloodbath that would have made the mighty Gorren smile. Now, even that simple strategy would have to be reconsidered. There was still a newly arisen Full Blood to be found, and the war sat perched upon the brink of becoming a true nightmare just as he sat crouched upon the edge of his craggy mountain slope. Instead of being washed away in a timely manner, the humans had chosen to subject themselves to a lengthier conflict with an enemy they only just met.

Fortunately, his brethren would not be without guidance. The pearls he’d stolen from Icanchu were not from the stream of Torva’ox that nourished every other living thing. They were pure and untainted by whatever had knocked the other Full Bloods from their perch. As he allowed some of that power to trickle into his flesh, Randolph could taste a difference between it and the Torva’ox the Skinners had so recently polluted. It was as distinct as lapping up water melted from a hidden glacier instead of drinking from a rusty spout.

The wretches would eventually fall back into step with the Full Bloods. That was the natural order of things.

Now that they had a foothold once again, the humans would struggle to climb back up from the brink of extinction. That too was the way it had always been.

The next big change, as always, would come from the Full Bloods. One would have to rise above all the others when the human retaliation came, and that one would have to be strong enough to stand against the Mist Born when they inevitably tried to reclaim the power that had been taken from them. Old ones like Icanchu had been content to lie in their native lands even as others like Kawosa and his sister roamed among the humans and shapeshifters. And NOW that he had seized his prize, the Mist Born would no longer be so willing to sit idly by and let the mortals conduct their business.

The early days of this war had been ugly, but the humans had survived. Randolph hadn’t expected them to be so resilient. Bloodier days were coming. The humans would need to fight a lot harder to see more than a few of them.

Onekama, Michigan

The sky had a deep purple hue as the sun breached the eastern horizon. The only sounds came from a restless breeze that shook a few branches in the trees lining Northwood Highway, a few struggling trucks attempting to brave the elements near the homes on the other side of a small inlet of Lake Michigan, and the methodical scraping of a blade against near-petrified wood. There were two cars parked along the shoulder of the highway, one of which was still ticking after having just pulled to a stop behind the other.

George left his vehicle, pulled his coat tighter around him and walked past the trees on that side of the road. Once he stepped beyond them, he could see a wide expanse of partially frozen water leading out to the Great Lake itself. The sun’s rays against the clouds smeared overhead gave them a bright glow, and were reflected off the icy waters to either mesmerize or blind anyone looking at them. He used his iron weapon as a walking stick, keeping the clawed end down so it could dig into the ground whether it was covered in snow, ice, or concrete. It wasn’t long before his steps were muffled by dirt. He stopped, allowed the echo of his arrival to drift away and drew a long breath of frosty morning air. “I didn’t guess you were a morning person,” he said.

Cole sat on a bench with a back that had been partially snapped off by the same creatures that scratched the hell out of the nearby street. He didn’t acknowledge the Amriany’s presence with anything more than half a shrug and continued sharpening the forked end of his spear.

“Mind if I sit down?”

Cole shook his head.

After leaning his weapon against the bench, George reached down to clear off a space. Paige’s sickles sat next to the Skinner and an empty urn rested by his feet, so George moved around to the other side where he only had to move a few bags of fast food away. “These feel warm,” George mused. “You found a place that serves breakfast?”

“Life goes on.”

“Mind if I have some? It’s been a week since I’ve had anything other than bagels or powdered eggs before noon.”

“Must still be riding with the IRD,” Cole said.

“They needed help regrouping. Those Vitsaruuv that left Shreveport tried to take a run at another city. I don’t know its name.”

“They all run together after a while.” Looking up, Cole admitted, “I’m not even sure what this place is called.”

“I guess that’s why it took three days to find you.” Now George picked up the fast food bag, sat down and dug out a sausage egg and cheese muffin. “Looks like the Vitsaruuv were here not too long ago.”

“There was a Half Breed den by the lake. I cleaned it out.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

Cole stopped what he was doing, glanced down at the sickles and continued his sharpening.

“If you don’t know what town this is, why did you come here?” George asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I asked you first.”

After a sigh, Cole said, “I heard it was quiet here. When I got here, there were Half Breeds just like every other goddamn place on earth, so I cleared them out. Now it’s quiet.”

“Who told you it was quiet?”

“The nymphs that run the strip bar outside of town.”

“Ahh,” George said through a mouthful of breakfast. “So that is how you got here and why you didn’t even know where ‘here’ is.”

After a few seconds Cole said, “One time, Paige told me she wanted to be cremated because the whole burial and funeral thing was creepy. When I asked where she would want her ashes scattered, all she wanted was someplace quiet.”

“So, have you mourned her enough?”