The Breaking

by Marcus Pelegrimas

  It took Cole a moment, but he recalled it and asked, “The Jekhibar?”

  “Poor girl was more than happy to get that thing out of her arm.”

  “And what happened to her then?”

  “She’ll find somewhere to hide, and stay there if she knows what’s good for her. You want to hear more, then come find me when you’ve learned some damned respect. I’ve got to go. There’s work to be done.”

  With that, the connection was cut. Cole jammed the phone into his pocket and stormed over to the entrance of the tent where Rico stood sipping from a steaming paper cup. Paige tried to follow but veered away in order to keep Adderson busy before he joined the party.

  Stepping up close enough to Rico to smell the vanilla almond cream in his coffee, he said, “I just talked to Jessup.”

  “Really?” Rico replied as he grinned widely. “How’s that old cowboy doin’?”

  “He says Ned was tight with Jonah Lancroft and that the prison I was in was one of Lancroft’s facilities. Since you’re the one who was close enough to Ned to inherit his house, I’d like to know what you think of that.”

  “I gotta be honest with you, Cole. The man may have been a cocksucker, but Lancroft made a lot of sense back before the cheese fell off his cracker.”

  “So he’s still alive?”

  “Not unless you believe in all that ghost shit or the philosophical ‘He’s with us right here’ garbage,” Rico chided while tapping his chest. “I’m talkin’ about his ideas. Lancroft knew this shit was brewin’. All you gotta do is read his journals.”

  “I have.”

  “Really? I know some Skinners who’d love to have a look at those things.”

  Cole nodded and glanced toward Paige. It was obvious he wouldn’t have much more time to himself, so he asked, “Have you been setting us up? Is that the real reason you tried to kill Paige?”

  “You think I’d cover my tracks by making me look like a punk bitch who got his brain twisted around by shapeshifter? I would’ve come up with somethin’ better than that.” He sipped his coffee and then tapped the rim of the cup against Cole as he said, “You need to get your priorities straight. All the tiptoeing bullshit is over. Lancroft used to track Half Breeds down, poison them, and set ’em loose. Did some innocent townsfolk get killed? Maybe, but the whole den was destroyed with a minimum amount of fuss. There ain’t many of us left, Cole, so we gotta do things like that. You wanna hear about effective tactics? In some of the earliest journals—and I’m talkin’ books that date back to the 1700s—Lancroft’s followers talk about how the old man used to take Nymar that stepped out of line and stake them to the ground outside of the spot where all their buddies hung out. He’d wait for dawn so everyone could see what had happened to the bloodsucking little shits who’d been talking so tough and then douse them in kerosene. Once he was sure all the other Nymar were watching, he set their asses on fire.”

  After pausing to sip his flavored coffee, Rico shrugged. “Some might see that as extreme. Maybe some wrong ideas were put into a few storytellers’ heads, but it sent a message that convinced the Nymar not to fuck with us. Those messages are gone, my friend. The bloodsuckers know no fear and the shapeshifters are out of control. Don’t you think now’s the time for some good old-fashioned barbarism?”

  “Who are you talking about?” Cole asked, thinking back to his conversation with Jessup. “The people who’d be interested in those Lancroft journals? The ones who run that prison in Colorado? The ones who you’ve obviously already signed on with? Who are they?”

  “Lancroft used to say the only difference between a Skinner and any other human being is vigilance. That’s who we are. And now that we’ve found what could be the source of the Full Bloods’ power, we may be able to unlock the one last juicy tidbit he didn’t get to pass along.” Leaning in closer, Rico dropped his voice to a snarl that rivaled a Half Breed’s. “There’s been one big question on everyone’s mind since the Mud Flu. It’s just been too far out of our reach to really ask it. If that truly was Jonah Lancroft—the Jonah fuckin’ Lancroft—then how the hell did he live that long? Maybe the Torva’ox that all them Full Bloods were yappin’ about had something to do with it.”

  Paige, Adderson, and a group of soldiers were approaching, but Cole wasn’t going to stop short just because of them. “You think Lancroft was immortal because of what we found in Atoka?”

  “Not immortal, since you did kill the old guy, but yeah. If that power’s in us, then we could live long enough to do what needs ta be done. That is, if we know how to use it.” Rico snapped his head forward so he was close enough to speak to Cole using words that could barely be heard over his rasping breath. “Nymar, shapeshifters, you name it. We can’t fuck around with these things no more. We need to take them out before the human race is either wiped out or runnin’ around on four legs.”

  “And now that you’ve got the Jekhibar, you think you can just put everything back to the way it was?” Cole asked. “You think you’ll make us all live for hundreds of years like some twisted old man who may be just another freak like the ones we hunt down and kill?”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Rico replied. “It’s something better than the bullshit we’ve been doin’ lately.”

  “We did some good work. One Full Blood’s still contained, another one’s dead, and the rest are scattered. The last thing we need is to make them worse by tearing each other apart. Our system works. It just—”

  “Our system is in pieces! Open yer fuckin’ eyes and take a look. The goddamn Army is here tryin’ to shoot Full Bloods! How do you think that’s gonna end?” With that, Rico turned on his heels and stomped away without spilling his coffee.

  “Everything all right here?” Adderson asked.

  “Sure,” Cole replied.

  Some of the soldiers had moved in to flank Rico, but were dispersed by a quick shake of Adderson’s head. When Cole fell into step with her, Paige steered them back to the Full Blood statue. “We need to find out what the hell happened with Esteban,” she said. “I know the Breaking Moon made them stronger, but Full Bloods can’t just start walking through rock. What if Minh pulls the same crap?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “What?”

  “That Lancroft cult or whoever they are,” Cole said. “I think they got her already. If Esteban found something that Lancroft was hiding away, I don’t know how much help a bunch of helicopters will be in tracking him down.”

  “Esteban isn’t the only other Full Blood out there. Finding the gargoyles worked out this time, but if we don’t find some more tricks pretty soon, this little war will go on for a long time.”

  “So this is a war now?” he asked.

  “What else would you call it?” She moved in closer beside him, but only to give them some more privacy as she said, “We’re the only ones that couldn’t be forced into the Breaking. When these guys figure that out, we may both be headed straight back to a prison.”

  “Don’t forget the Amriany. They didn’t change either. Are they around here too?”

  “I couldn’t say much of a goodbye to Nadya and Milosh before I was zapped to Finland, but they said they’d mention us to their clan leaders when they got back. We’ve got an in with the Amriany now, and they could prove to be even more valuable than the IRD.”

  He pulled in a breath but couldn’t bear to hold it for more than a fraction of a second. “What in the hell are we supposed to do now, Paige?”

  “We take advantage of the breathing room we’ve earned and gear up for the next round.”

  Rico shoved past some more soldiers on his way to a beat-up Toyota parked at the end of the road.

  Military personnel snapped pictures and took measurements of Esteban’s statue without getting too close to fangs that were still caked in flaking blood.

  Helicopters roared over Raton, New Mexico.

  Paige’s hand closed around Cole’s.

  He smiled at her.

  Things could have been wo
rse.

  Epilogue

  North Yorkshire Moors, UK

  Later

  The old territory felt cool and familiar beneath Randolph’s paws. Perhaps it had been selfish for him to return when there were so many wheels in motion back in his old territory. Or perhaps it was foolish of him to think he could leave those things behind to indulge in comforting surroundings while his wounds healed into yet another set of scars on his ancient body. If he stretched his senses out far enough, sniffed the breezes that blew across the oceans or simply bothered listening to enough human chatter, he could piece together what was left after the debacle that Liam had started.

  None of that mattered now.

  Liam was gone. The Full Blood pacts had broken down and the humans dragged into immortal affairs. Those things were unavoidable. Randolph knew as much because he’d spent too many years trying to avoid them. The only task remaining was to try and steer things so they fell in the most beneficial direction.

  Beneficial to the humans? That was no longer a concern. Liam might have been right in thinking they had to be put back in line before the Skinners got even better at their craft.

  Beneficial for the Full Bloods? He thought he’d known what was best for his brethren for all of these years, but perhaps he was wrong about that, like he’d been wrong about so many other things.

  Beneficial for himself? That brought a smile to Randolph’s long snout and a sparkle to his multifaceted eyes. He might have fooled himself into thinking he was sitting out while the rest of the world turned and everyone played their games without him, but that was absurd. It was inevitable that Cecile’s Jekhibar would be taken from her. But since that had been such a battle in itself, perhaps the second Unity Stone would be forgotten for a while. Randolph clasped his prize in a fist that could feel the Torva’ox seeping from the perfect little trinket hidden away by Lancroft for centuries. All of the machinations, all of the fighting, even help from the First Deceiver himself had been necessary to shake things up enough for not one but both of the Jekhibar to rattle loose. As his reward, Randolph played the part of expatriate for a few glorious days.

  Or had it been weeks?

  Even if it had been for an hour, a few precious seconds, his time in the familiar moors was worth the trouble of getting there. Some Full Bloods spoke ill of short spans of time, as if seconds didn’t matter simply because they had so many of them. After over a thousand years of life, however, time hadn’t lost its meaning for Randolph Standing Bear. He knew only too well how different one moment was from the next and how valuable each minute could be. The others wouldn’t see that. There was no way to speak sense to closed ears and no way to show truth to eye sockets filled with nothing but scar tissue. Sooner or later this terrible moment would have come, and he felt no shame in wanting to be far away when it finally arrived.

  The Breaking had come and gone. Randolph was sure of it. He’d sensed its passing just as he could feel the fog drift through his fur and smell the humid day turn into a damp night. Moving in slow, deliberate steps that allowed his claws to sink into the same soil that had once squished through sandals wrapped around the feet of a young Celtic boy, Randolph headed back toward civilization. His pace quickened until the moors were behind him and a new tumultuous world lay ahead.

  There was no more time to be bought.

  No way to hold the Skinners back.

  No way to rein in the other Full Bloods.

  Too late to stall the fight between us and the humans, Liam’s memory whispered into his ear, but not too late to win it.

  A special preview of the final book in the Skinners saga:

  EXTINCTION AGENDA

  Available Fall 2011

  This wasn’t the first time Kansas City had fallen beneath the cruel whims of a monster. Unlike the days when Liam had climbed its towers to claim the city, there was no denying what was happening and nobody trying to paint a prettier face upon a siege. As in the rest of the country, the first packs had claimed their victims within two days after the incident in Atoka, Oklahoma. Those wretches were born hungry and they fed to create more. Unlike many cities in America, this one had its protectors.

  I-29 was covered with snow. Although it had been plowed well enough to reveal the surface of the concrete, there were drifts on the side of the road that had empty cars and pickups embedded in them like peanuts wedged into a candy bar. Most of the wrecks were tagged and all of them were empty. A few still blinked their hazard lights onto the pristine surface of the white layers that had collected on the vehicles. In the morning, patrols would come along to check the freshest of the accidents to see if someone either needed to be brought to shelter or shot before they turned. Those unlucky enough to have wiped out between patrols would have to stay inside their cars for the night, lock their doors and pray the only thing to gnaw at their faces was the cold.

  As if responding to the panicked thoughts of those stranded motorists, three Half Breeds trotted along the side of the Interstate, sniffing wildly at each car. Their gnarled faces twitched with every flake of snow that came to rest upon their snouts or ears. Half Breeds didn’t need a reason to flinch because they were always in pain. Having been born to the sounds of the breaking of their bones before their muscles could stretch out to hold them together, the werewolves were in a constant state of wincing, whining or snarling. The cold, it seemed, only made them worse.

  A man and woman sat huddled inside a blue Dodge with its two right tires buried hopelessly in the slush. Their faces were pressed together and their eyes widened when frightened breaths drifted from their lips to smear against the glass. That hint of movement was enough to catch one Half Breed’s eye a second before its companions caught the humans’ scent. The trio of werewolves lowered their chests to the snowy ground and stalked toward the car.

  Both of the people inside wore glasses. Their lenses were fogged, but not thickly enough to keep them from seeing what was coming. As the unexplainable terrors spread across the country, people had no choice but to either hide or carry on as best they could. Judging by the tears streaming down both sets of reddened cheeks, these two were reconsidering their choice.

  As the Half Breeds approached the car, they bared their teeth along with two sets of tusks curving down from one row of teeth and up from another. The tusks were thicker than the rest of their teeth, but thin enough to scrape against each other like scissor blades as the werewolves opened and closed their mouths to sample the frigid, late night air. Once they’d spread out to form a semi-circle around the vehicle, the creatures planted their feet and fixed their eyes upon the trembling humans. After hunkering down for a moment, the Half Breed in the middle of the group lunged forward to ram its head against the car’s door. It made a dent, but could tell it wasn’t going to get inside like that so it reared up and began scraping at the window.

  From within the car, muffled voices wrapped around each other in much the same way the people’s bodies clung together for warmth. When something moved beneath the car and scraped directly below the passenger compartment, the couple began to scream.

  By now, all three of the Half Breeds were doing their best to find a way inside the car. Thick paws slapped against the frame. Twisted faces pushed against the doors and windows before the weight of a heavy body caused the entire vehicle to groan. The thing that scraped against the bottom of the car quickened its pace toward the side being attacked by the Half Breeds. As soon as it reached the driver’s door, the scraping against the window stopped. Soon, the other two Half Breeds were pulled away from the car as well.

  When the man wiped the frost away off the window to get a look outside, he found several shaggy bodies wrestling in the snow. Blood sprayed through the air in a fine mist, cast from fangs and claws. It was impossible to tell which creatures were winning or even where one ended and another began, so the man eased away from the window before he was noticed.

  “I think we should make a run for it,” he told the trembling woman.

&n
bsp; “Where are we going to go?”

  “I don’t know. Just away from here!”

  And, as suddenly as the creatures had appeared, the fight was over.

  The wind scraped against the car’s exterior, its slow rustle the loudest thing in the world at that given moment. Glass creaked and bits of ice rapped against the side of the car as if the winter itself had sprouted claws.

  “Should . . . we still run?” the woman asked.

  Two sets of claws wedged into the driver’s side door; one at the base of the window and another near the handle. With a minimum amount of effort, the door was separated from its frame and tossed aside. Outside, a tall creature stood wearing a thick coat of light blond fur peppered with streaks of darker brown and encrusted with chunks of snow. Blood was already frozen where it had been spilled. Kayla had presided over Kansas City since her pack had taken part in ending Liam’s siege. Although the Mongrels under her command had been thinned out due to treachery within her ranks or combat with the encroaching werewolves, she wasn’t about to step aside so any invader could have their way with her territory.

  “Yes,” she snarled through a snout that seemed just a bit too long for her feline facial structure. “You should run.”

  The couple within the car pressed themselves against the opposite window and nearly jumped from their sweat-stained coats when another Mongrel appeared outside the passenger window. Ben’s appearance was even more disturbing than Kayla’s. Being a digger who could practically swim underground, he was accustomed to remaining out of sight. Gill flaps along his neck stretched out and immediately snapped shut after drawing in too much freezing air instead of the soil they were meant to process. Blood and ice stuck to the beak that dominated his face and his black eyes remained calm beneath their vertical lids as they studied the people within the vehicle. His fingers slipped beneath the door’s handle and were strong enough to force it open despite the ice that had sealed it shut. “There is another car further up the road,” he said. “White four-door just past a minivan facing the wrong way.”