Teeth of Beasts s-3

by Marcus Pelegrimas

  Drops of sweat began trickling down Cole’s face, so Paige walked over to him and ran her hand along his forehead. When she said, “Look at me,” he was more than happy to comply. Her face was directly in front of him, framed by strands of hair that had come loose from the band she’d used to tie it back. She looked into his eyes and then set them on fire.

  “All done,” Daniels said.

  Cole pulled his arm away from the Nymar and went to rub his burning eyes. Grabbing his wrists before he could, Paige said, “Those are the drops that Ned made. Remember me telling you about them?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t remember you telling me you were gonna squirt them into my eyes!”

  “Just relax. It’s hot at first, but cools down. After that you’ll be able to see scents given off by Nymar and other things.”

  Since his eyes had indeed cooled off, Cole stopped trying to rub them. He thought he was blinded at first, but quickly realized the room was filled with a neon fog of light green mist. The rest of the room slowly came into focus, but the green remained. Soon it became apparent the fog was emanating from the symbols etched into the walls and floor. When he looked at Paige again, she was surrounded by the mist and following it with her eyes.

  “Cool, isn’t it?”

  Eventually, Cole admitted, “Yeah. It is.”

  “Here,” she said as she tossed the bottle to Rico, “you know what to do.”

  “Looks like there’s something coming off of you, Paige,” Cole said.

  “That’s Skinner scent,” she explained. “Probably a mix of the Nymar and shapeshifter blood in our serum and weapon varnish. Lancroft is a Skinner too, so if Tristan can get us close to him, we should be able to track him down.”

  “See why we call her Bloodhound?” Rico declared proudly while applying the drops.

  The thick green fog and hints of crimson had put Cole into a holiday frame of mind, but Daniels shot it to hell with a splash of alcohol on his arm to ignite a solid jolt of pain that started at his fresh tattoo and lanced all the way into his shoulder.

  “So,” Daniels said anxiously. “What do you think?”

  Beneath the wet layer of alcohol and the redness of Cole’s skin was a black design about the size of a silver dollar and in the distinctive pie-with-a-wedge-missing shape of Pac-Man.

  “You’re a video game guy,” the Nymar explained. “I thought you’d like that.”

  Laughter rolled from Rico like bass from the speakers inside the club. “Oh, man. I needed that.”

  “That should give you a little extra strength or speed,” Daniels said as he packed the tattoo machine into its case. “Think of it like running to your limit and then pushing yourself just a little more. Same thing with strength. Just push a little harder and you’ll have a little more to give. Use it sparingly, though. The ink will burn off fairly quickly.”

  Apart from the pain of the process itself, Cole only felt a slight twitching where the Pac-Man had been placed. A few flexes of his arm seemed to pump whatever was in that ink throughout his body, because more random muscles began twitching every couple of seconds. Stepping away from Daniels, he asked, “Isn’t anyone else getting done?” Since the other two Skinners looked away, Cole figured he was the only test subject this time around. “Fine. So what happens when we get to wherever we’re going?”

  “Lancroft’s been using Tristan and Shae to zap him back and forth a few times,” Rico explained. “They don’t know exactly where he is, but they can feel where the other girls are, so they’ll get us close. I figure Lancroft will have something rigged to let him know that we’re there, and he’ll definitely know once we get to them Dryads he kidnapped.”

  Paige twirled her batons to loosen her muscles before zero hour. “He won’t need alarms or surveillance with Henry as his watchdog. He’s been using other people’s bodies all the times we’ve seen him, but odds are good the real thing is close to Lancroft’s place. Just don’t forget he’s a Full Blood. Cole and I had our weapons treated with the new Blood Blade varnish so we’ll take him.”

  Clamping his teeth on a cigarette, Rico opened his jacket to reveal the double rig shoulder holster. The Sig Sauer rested under his left arm, and an older model .45 hung under the right. “Oh, I got something for Henry.” He ejected the clip from the Sig Sauer and flicked the top round loose. “I been workin’ on these babies for a long time. They’re called Snapper rounds.”

  The bullet in his hand didn’t look remarkable, but the extra magazines in his inner pockets gave off black wisps, as if he’d snatched the bullets from the air after they’d been fired. “What are those in your pocket?” Cole asked.

  “Nymar rounds,” Rico said while patting them. “Hey, I can see the antidote scent.”

  Steering Rico back on track, Paige asked, “You used Snappers at the club, right? They did a pretty good job against those Mongrels.”

  “And they should do a damn good job against any shapeshifter.” Rico held the bullet between two fingers and turned it so they could see it from all angles. “Regular rounds just get snagged in their fur. Teflon ammunition can cut through Kevlar body armor and does a good job against some fur, but doesn’t pack the punch needed to damage a Mongrel or Half Breed. They’ll pass straight through like a laser, and a shapeshifter won’t even know they were hit before the wound’s healed. Hollow points can mess up a shapeshifter’s day real good, but only if they get through the fur. Coating hollow point rounds with Teflon keeps them from flattening properly, but I put together a nice little hybrid that gives the best of both worlds.”

  Catching the bullet Rico tossed her, Paige studied it carefully.

  “Inside,” he continued, “there’s a little plastic pin that keeps the hollow point from flattening right away. That’s what really messed me up, you know. Getting the pin to fit in the round was hard enough. A metal one kept it from flattening at all, but some plastics didn’t hold up long enough. I even kicked around the idea of using wood to—”

  “We’ve got a lot to do, professor,” Paige scolded.

  Unaffected by her prodding, Rico popped another round from the Sig’s magazine and cracked it against the floor. As he lifted it up, the front end of the bullet collapsed partly into itself with a sharp clack. Judging by the proud grin on Rico’s face, he’d just turned lead into gold.

  “So what?” Cole asked.

  “So, the Teflon coating lets the bullet get through a shapeshifter’s fur. The pin inside the bullet is weakened on impact and delays the collapse of the hollow point until it’s in good and deep.” Beaming proudly, Rico said, “At normal speed, the bullet flattens just past the fur and shreds our shapeshifting friends like a set of claws from the inside out. If we’re real lucky,” he added with a feral grin, “they don’t come out at all.”

  “And they really do work?” Paige asked.

  Rico nodded and loaded the bullet back into its magazine. “You ever seen a Mongrel drop the way they did back at Bunn’s?”

  “But will they work on a Full Blood?” Cole asked.

  “Hard to say. I ain’t had a Full Blood to test ’em on yet. Hopefully that’ll change tonight.”

  Flipping her right baton to grip its handle, Paige willed it to form a slightly cleaner version of the machete. “And if those don’t have enough snap,” she said while the handle narrowed even farther, to reveal the tooth she’d attached while in Kansas City, “we can do things the old-fashioned way.”

  Cole checked his weapon and saw that the melted chips of the Blood Blade had added a metallic glint to the largest spearhead. Even after hearing Rico’s explanation for his Snapper rounds, he would have felt more comfortable if the whole silver bullet thing had worked.

  Tristan announced her arrival with a few knocks on the door. She, Shae, Kate, and a few bars of “Baby Got Back” drifted in from the main room before the door was closed again. “Better make this quick,” Tristan said. “The regular girls can keep the crowd busy, but not for long. We’ve stirred them up pretty good.”<
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  Shae and Kate took positions on either side of the room and started humming softly. Although it wasn’t nearly as ornate as the proper temple, the room didn’t look anything close to a revamped storage space once the Dryads got warmed up. The wavy, erratic markings glowed as if they’d been collecting daylight for centuries just to send it into the hanging strings of beads at that moment. Entwining lines of energy curled through the air as they made their way toward the curtain. When the two Dryads began singing in earnest, brilliant green bolts created patterns that were pulled from the same language as the etchings on the walls.

  Tristan moved over to Paige and placed something in her hands. “I want you to take this.”

  Holding the sickle under her arm to free up her good hand, she accepted the offering. It was a small flask engraved with more of the undulating script. “What’s this?”

  “It’s called Memory Water. My sisters and I are the only ones who can make it. Drink this, and it will make your body as it was before your arm was hurt.”

  “This can fix that much damage?”

  “It doesn’t fix damage,” Tristan said. “It restores you to a point when there was no damage. This should be just enough to heal your arm.”

  Paige furrowed her brow and asked, “Why would you give me this?”

  “Haven’t you ever gotten an unexpected gift?”

  Although her glance in Cole’s direction wasn’t obvious, it wasn’t slick enough to get past Tristan. “Not really,” Paige said.

  “Then think of it as a way of helping my sisters. With your arm restored, you’ll be able to fight better. I would have given it to you earlier, but since the raids led by Ponce de Leon, it’s been in very short supply. I had to be sure about you.” When Paige tucked the flask into her pocket, Tristan stepped back and lent her voice to the song.

  Chapter 25

  For something as remarkable as teleportation, Cole found his journey to be a little disappointing. He didn’t feel his body get disassembled and put back together again. The earth didn’t rumble. There wasn’t even a glowing tunnel for him to fly through at a thousand miles an hour. The beads clung to him like strings of magnets to a suit of chain mail. A breeze hit him in the face, accompanied by the vague scent of mountain air and freshly cut timber. When his foot touched the floor on the other side of the beads, he, Paige, and Rico were somewhere else. There was a taste in his mouth that felt like it had been rinsed by purified water, and since the others smacked their lips as well, they could have tasted it too. Not exactly a high ranking on the yowza meter.

  They were still in a dark room with strange symbols on the walls. A bass line was thumping through the building, but came from a much smaller set of speakers. When he tried to bat at the beads he still felt touching his arms and legs, he only swatted air.

  “Don’t worry,” Paige said nearby. “I still feel them too.”

  It looked as if they were in a house that had been stripped of everything but shades on the large windows next to the front door and a lamp against one wall. The more Cole looked around, the less he saw. One barren hallway led to a pair of empty rooms. There was no furniture to be seen and the small kitchen at the back of the house was completely gutted. In fact, the entire place barely seemed large enough for more than one person to live there. He stepped up to a picture window framed by the light seeping in from the street. Pulling aside the blind gave him a view of a curb lined by parked cars of all colors and states of repair. Only one of them was running, and it was the source of the thumping music he’d heard since his arrival. Someone emerged from a house across the street, got into the car, and was driven away.

  “There’s nothing here,” Cole said. “We must be in the wrong place.”

  Paige sighed and took the same tour as he had, which she completed in a matter of seconds. “Where the hell are we?”

  After fitting his spear into its harness, Cole took the GPS unit from his pocket and turned it on. While it acquired the satellites needed to pull up a map, Paige looked out the front window. Rico paced the room and quickly worked his way over to the lamp sitting by itself on the floor. He turned it on, but the bulb was only powerful enough to cast a dim glow in one corner. Fortunately, Cole didn’t need a light to read the GPS screen. When the map came up, he announced, “We’re in Philadelphia. Looks like a neighborhood called Germantown.”

  Now fascinated by the wall at the back of the room, Rico stood with his face less than two inches from the water-stained plaster. “Tell me you see these symbols.”

  Cole didn’t want to bother with dirty walls when he could get so much more from Romana, so he ignored the request.

  “What symbols?” Paige asked.

  “The symbols right here. Or they were right here,” Rico muttered as he dug into one of the inner pockets of his jacket. When Cole finally looked over at him, Rico was grumbling, his face pressed against the wall, before saying, “Ha! Found ’em! That’s the trick. Just gotta keep your eye on the ball.”

  Before Cole could question his sanity, the symbols appeared all around him. Actually, they reappeared. “Wait a minute! I saw those when we got here, but I just…”

  “Put ’em out of yer mind?” Rico asked. “That’s what you’re supposed to do. That’s what these babies make you do. Runes like these give you a splash of discombobulation mixed with a dash of déjà vu. Right, Paige?”

  “Huh?”

  For once Cole didn’t feel like the stupid one.

  “These runes!” Rico said. “They’re the ones I been trying to get you to learn for years, but you were too stubborn to pay attention.”

  Now that they’d been seen, the symbols gave off faint trails of black smoke, similar to the scent that had shown up in other Skinner creations, like the ammunition crafted to kill Nymar. Paige followed a line of smoldering symbols etched along the top of the front window, then stepped back and said, “I’ve seen these before.”

  “I know,” Rico snapped. “I showed ’em to you before.”

  “No, not from you.”

  Now that he had a chance to look at them more than a moment, Cole experienced the same kind of frustrated familiarity that was written on Paige’s face. The symbols were indecipherable, but in a familiar way. Then it came to him. “These are like the marks on the inside of Henry’s cell back at Lancroft Reformatory, but there’s something…off about them. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  Rico squatted down to some of the lower symbols and stretched a hand out behind him. “Paige, got a mirror?”

  “Sure, Rico. It’s in the bottom of my purse next to the gum and mascara.”

  “Okay, then. Cole! Gimme that GPS thing.”

  Reluctantly, he handed Romana over.

  Rather than marvel at the improved touch technology or any of the optional extras in the programming package, Rico switched it off and held the device up to the wall so the symbols were reflected on the black screen.

  “Hey! Those are exactly like the symbols at the reformatory!”

  “The ones in Henry’s cell would have been to keep something in,” Rico explained. “These are to keep something out. One’s written forward and the other one’s backward. Nice and easy. If I knew exactly what each of these markings here meant, I could even tell you who this was written for.”

  “So those runes you taught Paige really work?” Cole asked.

  Rico ground his teeth together as if every fiber of his being wanted to say something but he just couldn’t get the words out.

  “No,” Paige said. “They don’t.”

  “She’s right,” Rico sighed. “The runes I know work okay sometimes, but not like these. It’s a lost art. There used to be something else, some other element that really put the zip in these things. It may be something from back in the day when Skinners were friendlier with the Gypsy clans, or it could just be something that got lost in translation over the years. I learned a good chunk of the runic language from books and old journals, but not how to give them that old pep. I
’m sure the MEG guys have read every book on ghosts and demons front to back, but that don’t mean they can summon or even communicate with ’em.”

  “Maybe we can call someone who does know,” Cole offered. “Like someone from back in the old days?”

  “Don’t think so,” Rico chuckled. “The old days I’m talkin’ about are somewhere back in the seventeenth or eighteenth century. But one thing’s for sure,” he added as he dug a little spiral notepad from his jacket, “these were put here by a Skinner who knows his shit. They’re keeping this place sealed off from certain things comin’ in, and since we got here without too much trouble, I’d say we ain’t the target. Those symbols along that other wall over there are what’s screwin’ with our perception.” Rico removed a pen from the spiral rings of the notebook and tapped it against his chin. “All this stuff is protecting and hiding something, though. Give me a few minutes and I should be able to get us in.”

  “In where?” Cole asked.

  “I don’t know, but I bet it’s good.”

  Cole and Paige patrolled the house with their weapons drawn, waiting for someone or something to find them. After searching the cramped, empty house for thirty long minutes, they longed for the distraction of finding someone, even Henry kicking down the front door. But they were still taken by surprise when they found a lumpy figure sitting with his back pressed against the back wall of a closet in the house’s only bedroom.

  Extending her sickle in one hand while keeping the machete closer to her body, Paige whispered, “Is that you, Daniels?”

  “Y-Yes.”

  When he heard the muffled voice, Cole rushed into the room behind Paige, with his spear at the ready. Sure enough, Daniels sat in the closet with all of his equipment piled around him. “I searched this room when we got here,” he said. “I looked in that closet. Where the hell were you?”

  “I…was hesitant to step through the curtain when you three disappeared,” the Nymar told him. “I needed a minute to…collect myself.”

  “Didn’t you hear us in the other room?”