Frank was last to arrive but made one hell of an entrance. He grabbed Waylon in one hand and the last guard in the other to slam both of them against the inside of the elevator. Both men kicked and struggled, prompting Frank to pull them closer while opening his mouth to expose even rows of identical teeth. Before he could chew anyone’s face off, the ratcheting sound of the shotgun’s pump action filled the cramped space.
Cole ejected a shell that had been ready to fire, but the sound captured everyone’s attention when he asked, “Why are we being kept here?”
“To serve your time for killing those cops.”
“Don’t. Fuck. With. Me.” Cole had never been so close to killing someone in such a calculated, up-close, and potentially messy way. Waylon must have read that in his eyes, because he quickly dropped his attitude.
“You’re here because Jonah Lancroft wanted to consolidate all of the Skinners he could trust as well as the ones he can’t.”
“Lancroft is dead.”
“But his Vigilant aren’t,” Waylon said. “He wanted us to prepare for the Breaking Moon. That’s when the shapeshifters have a chance to overrun our entire society. He wanted to make sure they weren’t allowed to converge on common ground, but that’s already been allowed to happen. Not only that, but they’ve been given even more power since Kawosa was allowed to escape.”
Sirens wailed inside the prison as whoever was monitoring the cameras on G7 took notice of what had happened there.
“Shit,” Lambert said. He pointed the weapon he’d confiscated at one guard’s head. “There’s gotta be a way to get out of here other than the front door. Take us to it.”
“We won’t need that,” Cole said.
“You got a better way? I don’t even know how many guards are in the shithole.”
Frank pulled in a deep breath, barely taking notice of the two men in his grasp. “Something’s coming.”
“Something?”
“That’s right, Lambert,” Cole said. “That first set of runes I deactivated wasn’t part of the door locking system. It was a cloak. Isn’t that right, Waylon?”
The man at the other end of Cole’s shotgun paled. “What have you done?”
“I broke the rune on my bars,” Cole replied. “Just one, but that’s enough to disrupt the entire system.”
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Waylon said.
Frank’s head bobbed as his tongue extended and flicked out to taste the air. “He’s right. It’s closer now.”
Shots were fired just beyond the prison walls, eliciting a round of excited shouts from several different spots within the building. Cole and Lambert remained calm until the gunfire was stopped by the crunch of metal against solid concrete walls.
“By breaking that cloak, you’ve opened us up for God only knows what’s out there,” Waylon said.
Cole nodded solemnly. “I realize that.”
“The authorities aren’t the only ones who want to see you Skinners hang. Even the Nymar aren’t your biggest threat.”
“Believe me, I know that too.”
The guards in the elevator had stopped squirming as the sounds of destruction grew closer. When the building itself was torn apart and then filled with a primal roar that rose into a fearsome howl, they looked to their leader for support.
Waylon’s shoulders slumped and he leaned back against the wall of the elevator as if that was the only thing that could hold him up. “Those runes were for your protection as well as the rest of us.”
“No. They were to keep anything from knowing this place was here. It was also to keep Skinners from being sniffed out by whatever may be hunting them. Well I’ve got some bad news for you, buddy. There are some big bad things hunting me, and I’m betting they’ll be just as happy to get you.”
Chapter Twelve
Frank knocked two of the guards out in a matter of seconds. The one that didn’t stay down was finished off by Lambert with a punch he seemed to have been saving since the day of his capture. Cole kept Waylon at the end of the shotgun he’d taken from one of the fallen guards, asked him nicely for a private route out of the prison, and was told to press the button marked P1.
“Why the hell are you trusting him?” Lambert asked.
“Because it’s too late for him to lie.”
“I can’t believe you would knowingly draw one of those creatures here,” Waylon said. “Even if you had nothing to do with the policemen that were killed by the Nymar, you’ll be the reason why all of these innocent men are killed here today.”
Frank stood with his arms crossed and his back pressed against the rumbling wall of the moving elevator. “You call your bloodthirsty guards innocent men?”
“They aren’t lambs to be slaughtered,” Waylon said, staring at the Squam as if Frank had been hacked up from the gullet of an even larger swamp resident. “They, like me, are just men doing their jobs.”
“You’re a Lancroft disciple, right?” Cole asked.
Lifting his chin slightly, Waylon said, “He was a great man.”
“He was the man who unleashed the Mud Flu to kill hundreds of people. The only reason he didn’t kill thousands was because my partners and I stopped him. Lancroft himself didn’t give two shits about sacrificing innocents that way.”
There was a lull in the noise within the prison walls. Everyone in the elevator held their breath to see if it would last.
It didn’t.
Bricks were torn loose to hit the shaft beneath them. Men shouted and something that Cole guessed was handgun fire was followed by the distinctive roar of a Full Blood.
“It’s already here,” Waylon said. “See what you’ve done?”
“It’ll be coming straight for us,” Cole told him. “I’ve seen more than a few Full Bloods in my time, and when they set their sights on something, they have a very narrow field of vision. That thing out there will probably tear after us and any other Skinner in here. Since you and most of your men fit that bill, you really should get us out of here as quickly as possible.”
Waylon’s eyes darted toward the panel of buttons on the wall. The next impact against the elevator shaft made the entire car shake. “It’s P Two. The floor you want is P Two.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, goddammit! P Two. Hit it now!”
Cole reached out to poke the button directly beneath the one that was already lit. The car stopped, sent a muted ding through a small speaker above them and groaned as the doors started to open.
“That’s P One!” Waylon shouted, losing every bit of composure that had been his normal exterior.
Cole speculated that his initial plan had been to get him, Lambert, and Frank to stumble into an ambush set up by more of the guards from G7. Waylon’s haste to abandon that idea had less to do with a change of heart than with the creature that stood just outside the doors holding a guard in each hand as if they were toys. Frank had accomplished the same basic feat not too long ago, but the Full Blood had room to spare in each fist.
The beast stood just over seven feet tall and was covered in dark brown fur. Slowly, it shifted its head to look at the elevator and open its mouth in a way that dragged its teeth even farther through the rips they’d cut into his cheeks. “There you are,” it growled.
Nodding slowly, Cole took in the sight with calm acceptance. “Burkis. Took you longer than I thought it would. Or are you going by Randolph now?”
The Full Blood cast aside the guards and swatted away several others as he hunched over to avoid scraping his head on the low ceiling while stalking toward the elevator. The parking level was wide open behind him. Beyond a few cars, there was a ramp that led down to the other levels and presumably the street. Between the ramp and the cars parked behind the werewolf, there were a few metal doors along the wall and what looked to be a small office.
“P Two!” Waylon shouted hysterically.
“What’s the matter?” Cole asked as he tapped the button. “Never seen a Full Blood b
efore? What kind of Skinner are you?”
The elevator doors slid shut as slowly as if cutting off just another would-be passenger with poor timing. The Full Blood lowered his head and reached out to grab the edges of the doors with both hands. No man alive would have been quick enough to reach the elevator before those doors closed. No animal would have been able to grab them and force them open. Randolph was neither of those things, so he got to the elevator and pulled both sliding doors completely off their tracks.
“Time and again you refuse to heed my warnings,” Randolph snarled. “If you are a part of what is being protected here, then I was foolish not to have killed you when we first met.”
“I just want out of here,” Cole said while swinging the shotgun away from Waylon to aim at the Full Blood. “Step aside and let us go and we won’t have a problem.”
The Full Blood stared down at the elevator, leaned in to sniff the passengers and then scowled at Waylon. “That one stinks of Lancroft’s chemicals,” he snarled through shrinking fangs. Nodding toward the guards, Randolph added, “As do they.”
“You probably didn’t know anything about this place before, right?”
Randolph said nothing to admit such a weakness, but the flaring of his nostrils told Cole he’d struck a nerve.
When he lowered his shotgun, one of the guards attempted to grab it from him. Randolph bared his fangs and reached into the elevator to grab the guard’s head and hold him in place. Cole kept the shotgun down and stooped down to take something from out of his canvas shoe and toss it at the Full Blood. Randolph caught the chip of metal, growled, and closed it in a shaggy fist.
“I cut that out to interfere with the runes cloaking this place from you,” Cole explained.
“You knew I was close enough to get here so quickly?” Randolph asked.
Shrugging, Cole admitted, “I didn’t have a clue who or what might be in the area. I just hoped that something big and mean would be able to sniff out this place and come running to get to a bunch of Skinners.”
“You would sacrifice your own kind for a slim chance of survival?”
“These assholes may or may not be Skinners, but they’re not my kind,” Cole said. “They’re fucking parasites who took advantage of me getting framed for the deaths of a bunch of innocent cops. They’re bloodthirsty assholes, and if I have to gamble with my own life to get the hell out of here and throw some real justice their way, then that’s how it’s got to be.”
“Justice,” Randolph snarled in a manner than made it unclear whether he spoke the word as a question, statement, or joke.
“If you want to level this place, go ahead and do it,” Cole said. “My friends and I will gladly leave you alone.”
“And what about them?” Randolph asked as he fixed his crystalline gray-blue eyes upon Waylon and his men.
“They could barely contain three prisoners,” Cole said grudgingly. “What could they do to you?”
Randolph seemed to consider that until his ears pricked up and he reached in to grab Waylon’s arm. Somehow, the man in the suit had gotten a cell phone in his hand and made a quick connection. “I need all firepower to converge on Parking Level One,” he shouted at the phone. “The prisoners are escaping and there is a Class One Shifter on site. Repeat, Class One Shifter.”
Randolph grabbed Waylon’s arm and squeezed until bones broke and the phone dropped from his grasp. “Where is the other Jekhibar?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Waylon squeaked.
“The Unity Stone,” Randolph snarled. “It’s here. I can smell it.”
“Then you can find it yourself.”
“You truly want me to tear this place apart?” After a few more sniffs, his eyes drifted toward the floor. “Below. The Jekhibar is below.” He pulled in another breath. This time, he didn’t like the taste. “There are more coming.”
“You’re damn right there are,” Waylon said defiantly. “More than enough to blast you into pieces. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll run before—”
Randolph pulled Waylon from the elevator with such force that his arm came away from his body and blood poured down the side of his suit. Waylon was too shocked to make a sound as he dropped. Even if he could have found enough breath to scream, it would have been washed away by the Full Blood’s bellowing voice.
“No human tells me to run!” Randolph bellowed. “You have survived this long only because we have allowed it. I thought to hinder this madness by collecting the artifacts that would lead your kind to the brink, but perhaps Liam was right. Perhaps things should be allowed to take their course even if it leads to this world being engulfed in fire and humans are all forced to endure the Breaking.”
Cole picked up Waylon’s cell phone and listened to the voice coming through its speaker. “Shit,” he said while disconnecting the call, then tucking the phone under the front of his jumpsuit. “There’s more coming this way.”
“What?” Lambert asked. “Who?”
“I don’t know. Sounded like soldiers.”
“Guns and machines,” Randolph said. “You can go if you commit yourself to one task. Protect the young one.”
Lambert tried easing past the werewolf but was stopped by an open hand covered in Waylon’s blood. “He’s with me,” Cole assured him. “And so is he,” he added, indicating Frank. Randolph let both of them move past him and into the parking garage. “What young one?” Cole asked.
“One of my kind. She is still wild, but must be hidden from the others.”
“Other Full Bloods?” Cole asked as confusion threatened to suffocate him like a rising pool.
“They’ve come for the Breaking Moon and are seeking any way possible to get more than their share of it. Find the young one, take her far from this continent and keep her hidden.” As he shifted into a hulking body that was bigger than most of the compact cars behind him, Randolph snarled, “If Skinners truly care about your species, you must prepare for war. It is too late to avoid now. Organize and find a way to keep my brethren from becoming too powerful to be contained.”
“How the hell do I find a Full Blood?” Cole asked. “You guys always find me!”
“True Skinners find a way. That is why the warrior spirit remains alive in you and not in the rest of humanity. The only way for me to act without answering to Kawosa is for me to remain as ignorant as you in some matters. Now if you wish to survive, you must leave this place.” Shifting his gaze to Waylon, he added, “If you will help me in my search, this can go much smoother.”
Waylon was on the floor, bleeding out through the ragged stump of his right arm. Several guards had shoved open a door somewhere in the parking garage beyond the elevator and fired a few shots at the fleeing prisoners before catching sight of the Full Blood. Cole watched as Randolph absorbed a wave of shotgun blasts that thumped against his side and chest. The blast rippled through the Full Blood’s fur like a hot wind, shredding some of the flesh directly beneath it. The charred flesh quickly solidified into a rough patch of skin that was quickly obscured by his coat. Randolph straightened up and turned to face the guards. “So be it.” Looking over his shoulder, he snarled, “You have a job to do, Cole,” and then charged at the guards.
Cole hurried behind the werewolf and dove behind the cover of some parked cars. Gunshots blasted around him, but none of them came anywhere close to hitting him since they’d been fired by men who were knocked aside or tossed into a wall while their fingers were clamped around their triggers. When a fully armored guard landed heavily on the car Cole was using for cover, a piercing alarm started to wail. He could see the stairwell the guards had used to enter the garage. More armed men and women rushed through the door to fire at Randolph while shouting orders to one another.
Despite what those guards had done to him, Cole couldn’t help but shout, “Just get out of here! You won’t be able to kill him!”
Not only weren’t the guards listening, but a few of them rushed over to Randolph wearing f
ull riot gear and carrying crudely fashioned Skinner weapons. Two were caught in a wild flurry of claws that sent limbs and blood flying. Another was about to be decapitated when he was saved by a large figure in an inmate’s jumpsuit. It was Frank. Leaping in with speed that rivaled a Mongrel, he dodged a blow from the Full Blood and grabbed one guard by the shoulders to toss her back into the stairwell. When Randolph roared at him, the reptile man spat something into the werewolf’s eyes that caused him to recoil and wipe at his face. Frank leapt over the creature’s wildly thrashing claws to land on top of a car. By the time that alarm started to wail, the Squam had jumped away. He landed, then ran alongside Cole, who was headed toward the back of the garage.
“She was just a medical tech,” Frank explained. “Waylon forces everyone to fight whether they want to or not.”
“Whatever,” Cole grunted. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
The Full Blood roared and launched a series of powerful swings that chopped some of the guards to pieces while others maneuvered around him to stab their sharpened wooden weapons into his back and ribs. When Randolph twisted around to sink his claws into one of those men and bite down on another, they made no attempt to block or parry an attack. The guards barely knew what they were doing. They might have wielded Skinner weapons, but were too stupid to do anything but charge ahead, and too frightened to press an advantage.
The guards with the wooden weapons were first to go. Randolph bit all the way down to the spine of one man and then spit him at the others in the stairwell as if he was something caught between the werewolf’s teeth. The Full Blood backed away from the stairwell, but not in retreat. He merely repositioned himself his remaining opponents were in front of him. More gunshots rained down from a gaping hole in the ceiling to thump into his fur. The hole must have been Randolph’s point of entry into the garage, and guards stood at the edge, firing at the werewolf from what should have been a superior position. All they managed to do was further anger the beast.
The Breaking Page 17
