“We get some of that crap too, you know,” Paige pointed out.
“But if it’s Memory Water, it’ll only help. Besides, we barely get a trickle compared to the shapeshifters.”
Paige couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so she looked over to Sophie. The Amriany nodded and said, “I have an idea.”
Minutes later they were back in the cabin. “Good,” Ira said as he held out a callused hand. “I need your weapons next.”
After he had Paige’s sickles and started hacking off the blades, Sophie explained the topic they’d been discussing.
“Sounds like you need a divining rod,” Ira said.
Paige said, “I need my weapons back before you— Hey!” she yelped as the curved blades of her sickles were snapped off and unceremoniously pitched aside.
“Building bridges, remember?” Cole said while grabbing her by the shoulders and holding her in place.
“Isn’t a divining rod used to find something?” Sophie asked.
“It is drawn to energy,” Ira said without paying attention to Paige’s seething glares. “Now that I have such a fine Jekhibar, which just so happens to be empty at the moment, I could build it into something that would draw Torva’ox in and maybe channel it.”
“Maybe?” Cole asked.
The smith ground his teeth together and flipped the handles to Paige’s weapons in the air. “You want to poison the Torva’ox just for Weshruuv, yes?”
“Yeah.”
“Then poison one who is already dipping into Torva’ox . . .”
“Wait,” Paige snapped. “Dipping in?”
“Using it,” Ira said. “In it. Whatever. I know what I want to say, but there is no translation.”
“We know what you mean,” Cole said. “Go on.”
“Poison a Weshruuv who is dipping into Torva’ox, then draw the Torva’ox through him and into Jekhibar. Then, plug Jekhibar back into the Torva’ox.” Snapping his eyes back to Paige, he added, “However you want to say. You know what I mean?”
“I think so,” Paige replied.
“I can craft something to hold the Jekhibar and channel it into the Torva’ox,” Ira continued. “Once the power you draw from the Weshruuv is mixed in with the source, it should trickle down to the other Weshruuv that drink from it. If the first beast is poisoned, the others should be poisoned too. And since the poison came through a Weshruuv, it should only effect Weshruuv.”
“Are you sure about all of that?”
Ira puffed out his chest in response to Cole’s question and said, “Of course I am! I am Chokesari! This is what I know!”
Sophie nodded and patted the burly man on the shoulder. “He is the only one in this country who can make that claim.”
“I can craft something to hold Jekhibar and channel the Torva’ox for you, and it should be easy,” Ira said. “The tricky part will be to draw out the Torva’ox from a Weshruuv instead of a pure source. You would have to do more than stab the Weshruuv. You would have to get the weapon to soak up his . . .”
“To bond with him?” Cole asked.
“Yes. Can you accomplish this?”
Cole stooped down to pick up a portion of his spear that had been chopped off. Most of it was coated in the metallic varnish, but an inch or so of the original wood could be seen. “We’re Skinners. That’s what we know.”
A few hours later Paige was standing outside Ira’s cabin with her arms folded and her eyes focused on the trees beyond the ridge. Light had pulsed from there ever since Tristan arrived. When the Dryad stepped through the arch and saw the temple, she dropped to her knees and wept.
Now, Cole asked, “What is she doing?”
Without turning to look at him, Paige replied, “There are other nymphs there now. They’re all performing some sort of ritual to connect that temple with the others.”
“Are they singing?”
She closed her eyes and felt herself drifting off into something between a waking dream and a light, much-needed nap. “Yeah.”
Cole’s arm settled around her shoulders and drew her close. “It’s incredible.”
They stood in the freezing night air to listen to the song of joyful nymphs dancing in the Slovakian forest. Of all the things he’d experienced since becoming a Skinner, this was one of the strangest and most sublime. And like most of life’s greatest moments, it was over much too soon.
“I am finished,” Ira said as he stormed around the cabin to approach them.
Straightening up and forcing the stupid grin off his face, Cole turned to ask, “Sure you couldn’t charm a few rounds of ammunition for us?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? There are no silver bullets! That is Hollywood movie bullshit. There is not enough room to write the proper engravings on a bullet, so stop asking. I do have these for you, though.”
Cole took the weapons the blacksmith offered and handed two of them over to Paige. Ira’s slap on the shoulder was almost hard enough to send him staggering to the ground. He laughed heartily and spoke to the Amriany who had come around the cabin with their weapons.
“Not looking to go back on our truce already, are you?” Paige asked.
“No,” Milosh said. “Me, George, and Nadya are coming with you.”
“We can use the help, but it’s gonna be rough,” Cole warned.
“I know that. It’s all over the news. We were with you in Atoka, so we will be there for this as well.” And before anyone might think the Amriany was getting overly sentimental, Milosh added, “If we leave it to you, the Weshruuv will spread to our country after cleaning out yours.”
“Fair enough.”
“But one of you must stay behind.”
Cole felt the hairs on his arms stand up when he heard that. “We never agreed to that.”
“No,” Sophie said, “but it is a necessity. I’ve brought up our arrangement to the rest of the Amriany leadership and they refuse for us to part with so much just so you can go back to America.”
“You don’t think we’ll return?” Cole asked.
“I do,” Sophie replied. “They don’t. They ask for a representative to stay behind.”
“You mean a hostage,” Paige snapped. “Screw that.”
“No,” Waggoner said as he approached the group. He’d been so silent until now that Cole had almost forgotten about him. The expression on Waggoner’s face was surprisingly calm when he said, “It makes sense. I’ll stay behind.”
“I don’t know when we’ll be back,” Paige warned.
Waggoner shook his head. “I know you’ll come back. Besides, I don’t think these folks will hurt me. I wanna fight, but whatever you’re headed into right now . . . I know it ain’t a place for someone who’s still learnin’ the ropes.”
Nodding, Sophie said, “This will be acceptable. We can even show him how things are done here as a way to start forging our alliance.”
“Just keep him safe for now,” Paige said. “You sure you’re all right with this, John?”
“Yeah. I still feel bad for signing up with Jessup for the short time I did. This’ll go a ways in proving I intend on being more than an overblown hunter.”
When Paige looked over to him, Cole said, “Seems like the way it’s gotta be. I sure as hell won’t be staying behind.”
The group walked to the clearing, checking their gear, weapons, and ammunition along the way. Before they could see the Dryad temple, melodious voices drifted through the night air. When they caught sight of the delicate structures, and a soft, green glow, the winter chill evaporated. Cole didn’t feel warm or cold when he stepped into the clearing. There was only comfort and peace within the circle of tall, wispy grass that had sprouted since the temple was reclaimed. In that short time the grass had grown tall enough to brush against his waist.
Marissa and Lexi stood swaying on either side of the arch as Tristan knelt before it with both arms raised. They were all naked and their hair flowed around them without a breeze to push it. When Tristan s
tood and turned to face them, it looked as if she’d just arisen from a lake of the purest water earth had ever known. Her skin shimmered and her nipples stood erect. When she spoke, her voice was carried by the air to slip enticingly into each human’s ear. “I can see where you wish to go.” Her eyes, without pupils, were a solid, jade green. “I can send you there, but not all at once. This temple is fragile and not fully entwined with the others. I can use the Hub as a Skipping Temple to send you straight into Shreveport, but I can’t guarantee both groups would land in the same spot.”
“We’ll just have to take our chances,” Paige said.
The symbols on the arch began to shine, and when they grew bright enough to cast shadows in every direction, a rippling, translucent wave toppled from the apex and came down like a ghostly version of the beads that hung from the entrance of the Dryad bridges Cole had seen before. He steeled himself before stepping through, but knew there was no way to prepare for what awaited him on the other side.
Chapter Thirty
Shreveport, Louisiana
Adderson and his men were dug in at a small park in a residential section of town. Although he started the day on a routine patrol in search of survivors or buildings used as dens by Class Twos, he was no longer concerned with street names or addresses. Once the Class One had climbed to the top of a firehouse and howled loud enough to turn a quarter of a platoon, the IRD was reduced to hit and run tactics just to keep their heads above water.
It was colder than normal, and cloudy enough to reduce the sun to a distant stranger that didn’t bother looking in on the city no matter how hard the wind blew. Even though it was slightly above freezing, Adderson felt a chill rip all the way down to his bones. When he lifted the radio to his mouth, he did his best to keep his hand from trembling. “Raven One, this is Hunter One. Over.”
The silence that followed was more than enough to send his gut into his boots. Before he got too lost in the possibility of losing another chopper, Hendricks responded amid the thumping of helicopter blades. “Go ahead, Hunter One.”
“What’s your position? Over.”
“About ten klicks south of you, circling over a parking lot. There was supposed to be a pickup, but the unit was compromised. They’re gone, so I’m heading back. Over.”
“Has there been any word from the Air Force? Over.”
“Bombing runs have started in West Texas and northern California. Don’t know any specifics. I’ve been kind of busy. Over.”
Adderson tried to narrow it down using what he knew about shifter movements over the last several days. He swore under his breath when he realized things were bad enough in so many places that he couldn’t make any guesses as to where those bombs were being dropped. All he could do was hope the cities had been properly evacuated. Forcing his mind back to the present situation, he asked, “How many men are you carrying?”
Asking one question without framing it in proper radio procedure gave Hendricks the go-ahead to speak normally as well. “Just the door gunners, sir.”
“Have you spotted the Class One yet?”
“Saw him hopping around to the north. He might have been headed your way. Want me to swing by there?”
Holding the radio away from his mouth, Adderson looked to the closest Marine he could find. “Warren, what’s the status on Raven Four?”
She was lying on her stomach on top of a squat cement building containing a set of bathrooms. Under normal circumstances it might have been a disgusting place to set up. Since there hadn’t been anyone in that park since the first werewolves had torn up a kids’ soccer game there, the only smells coming from that building were rusty water and mildew.
“Visual contact on the messenger, but not with the rest of them,” Warren replied.
Every IRD soldier had a radio and at least two other means of communicating with their teammates. Because the wolves were just too damn fast, the most reliable way to keep tabs on another team was for them to leave stragglers behind. Those were called messengers. If the rest of the team was attacked, the wolves wouldn’t stop before coming back for the straggler. If that happened, the soldier watching that team would know. Otherwise, they got a thumbs-up from the messenger. It wasn’t a very friendly way to go about things, but Adderson had never known the military to be cordial.
“Any sign of the Class One?” he asked.
After taking a sweeping look at the horizon through her binocs, Warren said, “Not yet.”
He keyed the radio. “Hendricks, see if you can bring the Class One to my position.”
“I’ve herded that thing into one ambush after another, sir. None of them do jack shit. All I’ve been doing is wasting a lot of ammo and getting scratches on my bird.”
“The attacks have been launched on a diminishing schedule,” Adderson said. “That thing is slowing down.”
“Slowing down a little, but not enough. We’ll have to—”
“Whatever it is, we’ll have to do it, Lieutenant. Do you understand me?”
The familiar tone in Adderson’s voice had been instantaneously replaced with authority, and Hendricks responded in kind. “Roger that. It’s my professional opinion that the ordnance I’m carrying won’t be enough to do the job. Over.”
“Then we’ll have to throw all of it plus what I’ve got at that thing. We back off now and it’ll just get a chance to lick its wounds so it can come at us fresh in the next city. No matter what happens in that fight, it means this city will be completely compromised. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir.”
“How many other Ravens are in the air?”
“Last time I checked, three.”
“Good,” Adderson replied, even though he knew that meant two choppers had either been brought down or crashed when their pilots were turned. “You and another Raven take turns firing at that Class One to lead it to my position.”
“That thing can fade in and out, sir. When it ghosts like that, nothing even ruffles its fur.”
“Then act wounded and make it chase you. I don’t care how, just bring it to me so we can all hit it in one concerted effort.”
“All due respect, Major, but we haven’t been collecting in a big group like that for a reason,” Hendricks said. “What happens when we start to drop?”
It had become habit for soldiers in the IRD to assume any one of them would be turned at any given moment. Not only was it a harsh dose of reality, but it brought out the best in any fighting spirit. Adderson cringed when he heard it even though he’d been pivotal in starting the trend. It was nothing but a cold statement of fact when he replied, “We may drop now or later, but the longer this fight goes, the more of us will wind up turned into one of those things. And the more of us that go, the fewer volunteers we’ll have to join this outfit and do what needs to be done.”
“That’s a load of shit, sir,” Hendricks said without hesitation. “And with all due respect, I’d punch you in the mouth for saying it if I was there.”
“Good, then prove me wrong.”
“Yes, sir.”
The connection was cut, and Adderson had no doubt it was so Hendricks could issue orders to the other helicopter pilots circling the city. Times might change and wars might come and go, but certain things remained constant. Sometimes a soldier just needed a good old-fashioned boot to the ass.
He lifted the radio to his mouth but paused before touching the button. Sensing a tremor working its way through his body, Adderson decided to let it pass before it put something into his voice that he didn’t want broadcast to the rest of the IRD. When it turned out to be a simple shiver sent by the cold instead of a wave of broken bones sent by a deranged creature, he let out the breath he’d been holding and prepared to speak.
“Hunter One, this is Hunter Three!”
Grateful for another moment to prep himself, Adderson said, “Go ahead, Hunter Three.”
“We found at least five packs of Class Twos in an apartment complex and they’re being engaged by a team of
specialists.”
“Say again, Hunter Three?”
“Have found a large group of Class Threes, but there are specialists on site. Repeat, we have specialists on site.”
All Adderson had to do was look up to see some very relieved expressions on his soldiers’ faces. To Warren, he said, “Get down to the others and rally everyone to join Hunter Three.”
“Will we be getting a lift from any of the Ravens, sir?”
“I’ll try to arrange it, but we may be humping it across town. Either way, we’re going in hot.”
“Yes, sir!”
Before she could climb down from her post, another voice crackled through the radio. “Hunter Three, this is Raven Two. Looks like the Class One sniffed out those specialists of yours. It’s headed your way. Over.”
“This is Hunter One. Are there any Ravens in the area to take me and some of my troops in to meet up with Hunter Three?”
All of the chopper pilots chimed in with their positions. Raven Two was closest, so Adderson ordered them to make a quick pickup and sent the others to gather as many troops as they could before heading into the hot zone. The pilots gave their affirmatives and broke contact.
Less than fifteen minutes later Adderson was sitting on the edge of one of the fold-down seats inside Raven Two’s cabin area. The rotors churned over his head as the helicopter navigated the Shreveport streets in a gut-wrenching series of hard turns that culminated with a drop into what could have been hell itself. Even through the noise of the engine, wind, and radio chatter from the cockpit, he could hear the wild howling and hungry snarls scattered amidst the choppy barrage of automatic gunfire. When an unwavering howl rose above everything else, the pilot followed safety procedures by immediately dropping to a safer altitude. Adderson broke some safety protocols himself by unbuckling his harness and grabbing onto one of the rails above his head so he could get a look out one of the windows.
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