Marcus Pelegrimas - The Breaking

Paige pulled in a breath, blinked heavily a few times and nodded once.

“Good,” Rico said. “That’s our exit.” Waiting until she was committed to making the turn, he added, “That means you’ve got some time to explain yourself where Denver is concerned. Before you flip me any more of that shit about only explaining to Cole, you gotta remember that you left me, Prophet, and all them Amriany out there to fend for ourselves too. Me and the Gypsies don’t exactly see eye-to-eye, but they held their own that night.”

“Remember Officer Stanze?”

“The cop from Kansas City? Yeah.”

“Before Liam tried to tear that city down, he found a Half Breed carcass and started asking around about it. He even tried to sell it online. I was the one who bought it, but there were other people who took notice of the auction. Once werewolves of all shapes and sizes started charging down metropolitan streets, those people put some very important pieces together. One of them was in that helicopter.”

“Another cop?”

“Not quite.”

Although that eased Rico’s nerves a bit, it didn’t help much. “What, then? A fed?”

“No. I’m going to Kenilworth Avenue, right?”

“That’s right. Tell me who those guys are.”

“They’re the ones that have been keeping all of this from boiling over into something a hell of a lot worse than it is.”

“All of what?” Rico asked. “You mean the crap that the Nymar pulled? Coming from someone whose home was burnt down by those vampire motherfuckers, it’s hard to believe you’re saying this shit hasn’t already boiled way the hell over.”

“Skinners have been going through hell,” Paige told him, “but we signed up for it.” She drove down a section of Queen Street that was lined on both sides with two-story storefronts ranging from small restaurants and bars to specialty shops and a few little apartment buildings. Traffic was getting worse, but she held her own thanks to a Chicago driving attitude that shifted between persistent and crazy. “It’s not just the casualties we need to worry about anymore,” she continued. “Everything from Misonyk and Henry’s first rampage in Chicago to the vampires running amok a few months ago is out there for the whole damn world to see.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that. The news and God only knows how many websites have been packed full of bullshit about dog attacks and vampires. Most of it’s either dried up on its own or been pushed aside for bigger news.”

“Like the Mud Flu,” Paige said. “And that was one of ours too. Somehow, we were still able to set up shop in Lancroft’s place and try to deal with the Nymar.”

“Great job we did of that.”

“Could have been worse if we had more pressure from the real world. It took the Nymar to bring all of that down on us. Stanze was on to something other than the Half Breed he found. His department and the cops in a few other cities started coming to him for advice on their own wild dog attacks. Pretty soon he was approached by someone else looking for answers. I went to him for help while you, Cole, and Prophet were in Denver. That’s when Stanze introduced me to the guys who found him.”

“All right, then,” Rico grunted. “How’d you wind up in that helicopter?”

“Tell ya what. Why don’t I pull over, order some coffee and doughnuts, and we can talk about it some more?” Kenilworth Avenue was the next intersection she found, so Paige turned left and pulled over. “I know why not. We came here to find out who’s been pushing the goddamn Nymar to wipe us out.” She killed the engine and her headlights, pulled the keys from the ignition, and drew a pistol from the holster clipped to her hip. The Beretta PX4 Storm Compact strayed from Rico’s mandate that all Skinners carry .45s, but the handgun fit nicely in her grip and the 9mm rounds packed a solid punch. When she needed more than one punch, all she had to do was draw the second PX4 from the holster strapped around her shoulder. She pulled out the magazine, checking not only that it was full, but that it contained rounds treated with the antidote used to poison Nymar spore.

“You gotta make this right,” Rico told her. “Not just with me, but with the others too. There’s a hell of a lot brewin’ ever since Skinners were all hung out to dry as cop killers. We gotta pull together and turn this thing around before it buries us all. Them Mongrels that attacked the Lancroft place ain’t been seen for a while. Neither has the Full Blood that was leading them or the one that became your buddy so recently.”

“Mr. Burkis is a long way from a buddy. As for Liam, he could be anywhere. If there was more hours in the day, I could take time to hunt them down.”

“You won’t need to hunt them,” Steve reminded her. “They can find us whenever the hell they want.”

“Good,” she said as she slapped the magazine into the Beretta, then chambered the first round. “I’ve still got some of that ammo dipped in the Blood Blade fragments that should put a real crimp in their day.”

“Hopefully it’ll work better than the Nymar rounds do against Shadow Spore,” Steve said from the backseat. “Did Daniels come up with anything that works on them?”

“Not yet.”

“Then we could be walking into a whole lot of trouble by waving guns around loaded with bullets that won’t even do the job.”

“They’ll do the job,” she assured him. “Just keep firing until their hearts are turned into paste.”

“Any way I can talk you out of this? I know some guys that might be up for this job. They’re workin’ on some angles of their own right now, organizing the Skinners that can make a difference in this fight, but they still might be able to pitch in here.”

“I’m not interested in working with more strangers,” Paige snapped as she turned toward Steve. “You said I needed to put this right and that’s what I want to do. I found you. Prophet is already back chasing fugitives. Those Amriany disappeared on their own. That leaves Cole, and he’s the only one that I owe a goddamn thing to anymore. We didn’t cause these problems. We didn’t create these monsters and we sure as hell didn’t set them loose. We’re doing our best, but if people can’t defend themselves every now and then, something’s bound to pick them off.”

Rico’s features were like folds in an elephant’s hide. When they shifted, it was just to another version of ugly. Paige had known him long enough to recognize the hint of a grin hidden under all of those unattractive layers, but she wasn’t about to answer back with one of her own. Reaching around to grab the Mossberg Model 535 Tactical 12-gauge shotgun he’d stowed on the floor of the seat behind him, he said, “You might get along with these friends of mine better than you think.”

Every other house on Kenilworth Avenue seemed to be a duplex. For each little single family home on the clean, tree-lined street, there was another that looked as if it had been built with one wall butting against a mirror. Paige’s destination was one of the duplexes just north of the intersection at Kenilworth and Norway Avenue. It was a tan run-down structure with two sets of screen doors that had taken equal amounts of abuse from owners and elements alike. By the time she, Steve, and Rico had made their way up the street to get a look at the place, the sky had dimmed to a mix of dark purples and blues. Cars rolled through the residential neighborhood, but the drivers were more concerned with getting home than taking notice of anyone ambling along the sidewalk.

Paige had her hands stuffed into the pockets of a dark green jacket made of heavy canvas. It was baggy enough to allow her to move freely without getting snagged on the underlying layers consisting of a tactical vest over a dark gray T-shirt. The storerooms beneath Jonah Lancroft’s home in Philadelphia had provided her with plenty of Half Breed skins to use as lining for the vest that took a lot of punishment from almost anything, even if it wasn’t treated using Rico’s tanning techniques. The harness zipped around the skins, providing her with more protection than any conventional body armor.