Extinction Agenda

by Marcus Pelegrimas

  Full Bloods roamed the New World territories freely. The Torva’ox spilled from North America like a vein of oil that had been tapped by metal fingers. After one Full Blood soaked up some of that power, another crept across a different border to slake its thirst. Every one of them became more powerful, but none were as powerful as those who’d been there during the Breaking Moon. Against them, even the noisiest humans with the biggest machines were toothless and incapable. Randolph narrowed his eyes until his field of vision became a small tunnel through which snowy fields and naked trees streaked past him in a blur. When the scent of the First Deceiver became strongest, he dug his claws into the earth and kicked up a spray of frozen dirt while skidding to a halt.

  Kawosa sat on top of a small rise with his front paws casually crossed and his hind legs tucked beneath a lanky body. His form was that of a long, lean coyote, which also happened to be his namesake, thanks to the first humans to have been bent by his flickering tongue. His fur was thinned in parts, perhaps to display the freshest scars. By the time Randolph stopped in front of him, Kawosa had propped himself up and taken a form that eased away from a pure animal and into a vaguely human body with pronounced ribs and limbs that stretched to well beyond natural proportions. “Hello, Birkyus,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d stay away so long.”

  “I would have stayed away longer,” Randolph replied without any acknowledgment to his true name. “There’s no point in seeking refuge when the fire is spreading so quickly to anyplace I might be able to go.”

  Kawosa’s was a trickster’s smile; steady and shallow. “You never go anywhere you don’t want to be. I trust you completed whatever business you had across the ocean?”

  “I did.”

  “And since you’re back now, I trust there is business to be conducted here.”

  “There is.” Randolph lifted his nose to draw a sample of air that seemed to be frozen around him. It smelled of distant fires, clean snow, and dying trees. He closed his eyes and reveled in the comforting familiarity. When he exhaled, the werewolf’s snout shrank down and his fangs retracted so as not to impede his speech. Compared to the voice he’d used a moment ago, his next words were spoken with a richer timbre and the hint of an outdated accent. “Liam and Esteban may have acted too quickly, but these events were meant to happen.”

  “There is no good time for war.”

  “Violence can be a healing tool if applied at the right time and with the proper amount of force. I’ve learned that from the humans.”

  “Cut just deep enough to get the job done, eh?”

  “Yes,” Randolph said. “Perhaps I had been too easy on the Skinners after all. They were the ones to force these events into motion.”

  “You’d been taking it easy on the Skinners?” Kawosa scoffed. “From what I overheard while I was in Lancroft’s care, you were one of the only things the old man feared.”

  “Don’t try to get on my good side. I barely have one anymore. Where is Esteban?”

  “Ever since he acquired the first Shadow Spore, he’s been stretching his newfound legs. Has he truly achieved the final stage of our evolution?”

  “There is a reason why the Shadow Spore was cast aside. We are not meant to tread in the mists. Did you warn him of the dangers that come from using that gift too much?”

  Kawosa’s grin wriggled on his face like a worm settling into the fur beneath his nose. “He didn’t ask.”

  “Of course not. And what of the young one? Is she still in the custody of the Skinners?”

  “That,” Kawosa said with a tone that was as overtly deadly as a Full Blood’s snarl, “was a mistake—to send her to them. Why would you betray your own kind that way, Birkyus?”

  “I tried to protect her. I warned her about the Skinners. If she had been allowed to run with the others, she would have surely been used as nothing more than a lightning rod to draw attention away from the likes of Liam and Esteban. Once the Breaking Moon had set, she would have been killed before coming to terms with the power she’d acquired.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. If she can’t fend for herself using the gifts she’s already got,” Kawosa declared, “then perhaps she doesn’t deserve to live. Especially in times like these. Or perhaps she can hand back the Jekhibar as a way to get in our good graces.” Smirking mischievously, he added, “Oh, that’s right. She handed that over to the Skinners as a way to repay her gratitude to them. What a gracious child.”

  Now it was Randolph’s turn to put on a grim, humorless smile. As the expression drifted onto his face, he shifted into a human body that stood in the cold field as if transplanted there from a battleground several centuries in the past. His naked skin was covered in scars, many as fresh and aggravated as the one that marred his face. Thick muscles resided beneath his flesh, honed to a burly stature without the need of any supernatural enhancement. Crouching down to shield himself from a wind that tore across the Canadian landscape, he said, “Times like these. You mean times where the oldest shapeshifter there is, the first shapeshifter there ever was, lends a helping hand to the wretches who’ve been a thorn in our side since the first human was broken? Or consorted with the leeches who’ve made it their life’s work to nip at us when our backs are turned, or spread lies big enough to keep us away from their precious cities?”

  “That’s Liam talking.”

  “He hated the Nymar, as we all do. Perhaps his actions crossed a line, but at least he never went so far as to help them.”

  “What are you accusing me of?” Kawosa asked in an offended tone.

  “I’m accusing you of organizing the Nymar by pointing some of their leaders in the right direction to gain an advantage over the humans.”

  All of the insulted, self-righteous rage that had flickered across Kawosa’s face melted away until only his familiar trickster’s grin remained. “Oh. You know about that, do you?”

  “Of course I do. It’s not as if Esteban was ever very good at covering his tracks. Even in the days before photographs, he was happy to terrorize enough humans to be drawn perfectly in chalk or oils. Now, his scent permeates most of this continent. The only parts that don’t reek of him are the cities controlled by Nymar, and those cities reek of you.” Randolph dug his fingers into the snow and earth as his body shifted into a thicker frame with an extra layer of muscle and fur.

  As Randolph’s form swelled, Kawosa’s dwindled down into a thin silhouette, like a candle being melted in the sun. His head hung low and his snout tapered to a point “Don’t raise your voice to me, boy,” he warned. “Just because you got me out of Lancroft’s pit doesn’t mean I’ll live the rest of my days indebted to you.”

  “I don’t need your debt and I don’t expect your gratitude,” Randolph replied as if he was spitting out every foul-tasting word. “What you owe me is some respect! If not for me, you would still be rotting in Lancroft’s basement. Just another one of his amusements to be eventually passed around to the Skinners like a whore.”

  Kawosa stood on two withered legs that barely seemed able to support him. His words were barely distinguishable beneath a throaty growl as he said, “I am your better, Full Blood. When you speak to me—”

  “Shove your platitudes up your bony ass, Ktseena!” Randolph barked. “Your only strength is in your lies, and I never believed a word you said to begin with!”

  “Not even when you asked me for the one favor you knew only I could provide?”

  “You never had any intention of granting favors unless it benefited you. The reason you were removed from that prison was to upset the balance, draw the Skinners out of hiding and set this war into motion.”

  “Which I have done.”

  Leaning down to scowl directly into Kawosa’s face, Randolph said, “Look into my eyes and tell me you haven’t been guiding the leeches into strengthening their position.”

  Kawosa shrugged and settled back down onto his haunches. “They intrigue me.”

  “I know your fondness for the wretches. Th
ey grow stronger with every generation.”

  “And considering how many humans are succumbing to the Breaking, one generation flows into another very quickly. With the Torva’ox flowing, it is easier than ever to shape them. Soon they will be almost as hard to kill as . . .”

  “And there we have it,” Randolph said with a nod. “I’m actually surprised you even started to say it. And wipe that surprised look off your face. You say nothing that hasn’t been plotted, planned, and rearranged.”

  “Actually, I’m surprised it took you this long to get so upset about the wretches becoming stronger. What kept you so busy? Still plotting your own little attempts to gain more power than your brethren? You kept young Cecile under your wing,” Kawosa pointed out. “You wanted to use her to hide the Jekhibar from me.”

  “From you and all of the others.”

  “Well you got your wish. At least,” Kawosa added, “for the moment.”

  “That doesn’t excuse your involvement with the leeches,” Randolph continued. “Perhaps the lies that kept Full Bloods in the forests for so long weren’t of their own design.”

  “Humans do so love the romantic notion of vampire royalty. I think they know how fragile they are as a species and so they want to worship something they see as erotic and desirable. Kind of like a prisoner who convinces themselves that their master is truly worth serving.”

  “Is that what happened to you where Jonah Lancroft was concerned?” Crouching down a bit lower so he could dig his hind paws into the earth, Randolph asked, “Did you decide that it was better to lick his boots since you couldn’t find a way out of that dungeon on your own? The great First Deceiver became nothing more than a lying old fool who got caught by someone who was just a little bit craftier.”

  “I know what you’re doing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You want to earn my admiration so that I will take you into my favor.”

  Those words rolled out of Kawosa’s mouth like a breeze that was just a bit colder and heavier than the ones already freezing the outermost layers of Randolph’s fur to a glistening, icy sheen. They swirled within the Full Blood’s head, causing his ears to twitch and his head to twist around as if in reaction to a beetle scurrying toward the interior of his skull. After a few seconds he snapped his head to the side, straightened it out and glared at Kawosa. “Your tricks don’t work on us.”

  “Hmmm. Seems like that one got close. I have set things into motion. It’s what I do. Isn’t that why you freed me?”

  “There’s enough in motion now,” Randolph said. “You know why I’ve sought you out this day.”

  “Ahh yes. There’s still the matter of that favor you requested as a condition of my release. You want to find the other Mist Born. You want to seek out my brethren.” Kawosa’s eyes narrowed and his lips peeled back in a mildly disgusted grimace. “Somehow, you don’t seem worthy of such a gift. Casting your eyes upon me should be enough for now. Perhaps after you learn some respect for your elders . . .”

  As Randolph shook his head, it became shaggier and thicker. Fangs slid in to fill his mouth, slicing through the sides of his face with the ease of a sharp stick piercing a cobweb. “You never intended to grant any favors. Anyone who knows your legend would have figured out as much.”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Liam never lost sight of the truest nature of things, no matter how terrible it was.”

  Randolph shook his head as if trying to jog something loose. His blue-gray eyes remained sharp even as his body shifted into its two-legged form. Still crouching, he was able to look down at the coyote creature with ease. When he stood on his hind legs, he might as well have been gazing down from a thousand feet above. “Liam partook in too much of the chaos he created. That’s why he’s dead.”

  “He just wanted a change of scenery. What do you want, Randolph?”

  After pulling in a deep breath, holding onto it and finally letting it go, the Full Blood told him, “Quiet. All I want is . . . quiet.” He started pacing then, circling Kawosa while the trickster only moved the muscles necessary to keep a constant distance between them.

  “Even in the deepest woods before any of this started,” Randolph said, “I couldn’t get any quiet because Liam, the Mongrels, Esteban, the Skinners, the humans, the Nymar, even Minh, wouldn’t stop howling with madness and bloodlust. Once the Blood Blades were out of the picture, the Skinners were supposed to go back to their old ways. If nothing else, they were good at maintaining the Balance. After Liam’s farce of a siege against that first human city, larger steps needed to be taken.”

  “Larger steps,” Kawosa snarled. “Like freeing me?”

  “You are something that every Skinner but one still thought was a legend. When I caught your scent, I hardly believed it. But if Lancroft was keeping you squirreled away from his favorite Skinners, that made you a perfect wild card.”

  “Ahhh, there’s Liam’s voice speaking through you once again.”

  “Stop saying his name,” Randolph warned. “I knew him for several lifetimes, which means I’ve earned the right to speak about him after he’s gone. I was the only one among us who had the courage to say those things to his face. Even in the short time you ran at our sides, all you ever did was watch and listen.”

  “It’s all I ever do,” Kawosa said in a voice only a bit louder than a whimper.

  Randolph shook his head. “No. Even if I did believe any of your lies, I would never believe that one. You stir the pot. Going back to legends spoken in forgotten tongues, that’s all you’ve ever done.”

  Kawosa’s eyelids drooped shut and he lifted his snout. “You were here in those days,” he said. “You heard their songs. Heard the rattle of their beads when they danced. So many of those songs were for me.”

  “Not just for you. They were for all of the Mist Born elders. I come to you now because I only need to find one of them.”

  Randolph’s statement hung in the air for a minute.

  And then another minute.

  The wind blew. Branches shook. Finally, the silence became too much for one of them to bear.

  “Which one?” Kawosa asked.

  “Icanchu.”

  “You only care to find one of the twins? Chuna will be disappointed.”

  “Where are they?”

  Some of Kawosa’s fur settled back down to cover his back, and a hint of the sly grin eased onto his face. “I could have told you as much without all this fanfare. You’ll need to ask Jaden. She hasn’t left the jungles even with the flap of the Breaking Moon, but you shouldn’t have any trouble sniffing her out.”

  “I’ll need you to arrange the meeting,” Randolph said. “The Mist Born have remained hidden so well that we don’t even know the true name of their species. The only reason you were found was because of your propensity for toying with humans to earn a starring role in their myths.”

  “They are here. They have never left.”

  “I didn’t come all this way just to swap riddles with you, trickster. I sought you out because I need to know exactly where to find Icanchu. I also need to know how to defeat him.”

  “Defeat Icanchu?” Kawosa chuckled. “I think the high and mighty Full Bloods truly have become full of themselves.”

  Randolph lunged forward with brutal efficiency. “I know you were toying with me, telling me whatever needed to be said so you could pounce on the chance of freedom I offered. But you’ve gone too far in spreading Esteban’s voice across the world.”

  None of the menace in Randolph’s voice was lost on the other shapeshifter. Kawosa moved like the top layer of snow that was just barely brushed aside from the white-capped field around him. With a minimal amount of effort he kept himself facing the Full Blood while also staying outside of the range of claws or fangs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t mistake me for one of the idiots who swallow your lies. The Breaking Moon may have given Full Bloods the power to unleash the Breaking at will, but
not to the extent that has been ravaging the humans in the recent months. When he howls, humans drop for miles in all directions. They become another generation of wretches, and the only one who benefits from so many generations of wretches is you. You, who crafts them into something you can control. Perhaps you seek to replace the Full Bloods with your Half Breed abominations because you never could quite dominate us the way you do them.”

  “This isn’t the best way to gain my favor,” Kawosa warned.

  “You mean the favor you would have dangled in front of me until I turned my back long enough for you to sink your claws into it? Keep it.”

  “If you wish to challenge the likes of Icanchu, then I’m the least of your worries.”

  “You were a necessary evil,” Randolph said. “As long as you were free to roam, my brethren would be watching you, and the humans would be preoccupied with whatever chaos you helped unleash. I thought your manipulation of the wretches’ bloodline would take a lot longer, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Now is the moment I’ve known was coming from the instant I freed you from Jonah Lancroft’s dungeon. Now is when you pay for your freedom by giving me what I need to steal Icanchu’s prize.”

  “And what happens if I don’t do as you ask?”

  “Then I’ll be forced to assert myself.”

  “That isn’t quite a threat,” Kawosa reminded him. “There’s a little room before you commit yourself that far. Back away now and I’ll assume you’re overly enthusiastic. Quite understandable in these volatile times.”

  “All right. How’s this? Give me what I want, make good on repaying a debt that allowed you to smell this fine winter air instead of the dusty rock beneath Lancroft’s basement, or I’ll tear your head from your shoulders and take it to Icanchu to show that jungle demon I truly mean business. Considering your reputation among the older Mist Born, both of the twins will thank me for silencing you.”

  “Killing me won’t get you anywhere,” Kawosa snarled. “That is, if you can even accomplish such a feat.”

  “You’re not a fighter, Ktseena,” Randolph warned. “Perhaps you should make good and be done with this. I’ve gone too far to turn back now.”