Chapter Eleven
Louisville, Kentucky
Cole hung up and was immediately slapped on the shoulder from the seat behind him.
“What did he say?” Paige asked. “What happened? Where are they? Is Adderson still alive?”
They were driving in the car they’d taken from the Lariat Club. Cole was behind the wheel, Waggoner beside him, and Paige in the back. It was an uncharacteristic move for her to opt out of the driver’s seat, but that way she could keep an eye on Waggoner while checking over their weaponry. “Adderson and the IRD were deployed to Shreveport, Louisiana,” he told her. “It got pretty rough. Esteban showed up and turned most of the soldiers.”
“Didn’t they get a shot off?” Waggoner asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Cole replied. “He’s powerful enough to turn a human without having to bite them. With Full Bloods being so fast, it’s hard to say if Esteban is the only one who can pull off that trick. From what we’ve seen, he can do it from anywhere within fifty to sixty yards. Usually goes for the heavy equipment first. Helicopters, large caliber mounted guns. Tanks.”
“They can take down tanks?” Waggoner asked.
“They turn the drivers. Adderson mentioned something about using remote controlled drones on loan from the Air Force, but they can’t come anywhere close to a Full Blood’s speed. It’s a joke.”
“So what happened in Louisiana?”
Cole gave them the short version as the scenery rolled past his window. Louisville, like any other city, was quiet during the day and quieter at night. There were still cars going about their business, but they moved swiftly and drivers gripped the steering wheel as if something would jump out at them at any moment. A few months ago that would have been excessively paranoid. Now it seemed about right.
“So you got some other shapeshifters to work with you?” Waggoner asked.
“Mongrels were against the Full Bloods way before any of this crap happened,” Paige said. “Frank signed on after Cole helped break him out of a prison, and he’s trying to get the rest of the Squams to join the cause.” Before Waggoner asked, she added, “Squamatosapiens are lizard people.”
“And the whole prison thing?”
“Long story. Right now, you just need to worry about getting back to your buddies before you’re gone for too long.”
Waggoner looked out the window, even though they’d driven several miles from the Vigilant base. “Some of the men I knew back in Oklahoma swore by these fellas, but now I’m not so sure about them.”
“Then leave.”
“And go where? I can handle myself and I’ve been practicing with the whole stick thing, but I can’t exactly run like a lot of these younger men. Sticking with a group seemed to be a good move for me. The men I really trusted back home were killed when Atoka was overrun, and now I find out the Vigilant may be backstabbing pricks.”
“Maybe not all of them,” Cole offered.
“Oh, that makes me feel a whole lot better.” Waggoner shifted in his seat. The closer the car got to Spring and Payne, the more nervous he became. “The only ones that haven’t given me reason to distrust them are you two. Mind if I tag along for a while?”
Paige watched him carefully from the backseat, as she had for most of the drive. Much to Cole’s surprise, she said, “We could get you out of town if you like, but I’m not talking about deputizing you.”
“Why not?”
“Yeah,” Cole said. “Why not? I mean, he’s already gotten this far. What’s the worst that could happen if he tries to screw us over or doesn’t work out? The world ends? Too late for that.”
“Nice,” she said. Looking at Waggoner, she finally slumped back into her seat, resigned. “Fine. He comes along for now, but I’m too tired to train anyone for a while. If he can’t take care of himself, we leave him wherever he drops.”
“He likes that idea just fine,” Waggoner said. “From what I heard, it ain’t too healthy to stay with you two for long anyhow.”
“You got that right,” Paige said while leaning forward to nudge Cole’s shoulder. “We also need to talk to someone who knows a lot more about the Torva’ox than we do. Someone who’s already used to working with it or at least storing it.”
“Someone who might have created the Jekhibar?”
“Yep. Someone other than the military or a bunch of radical Lancroft fanatics, who might be able to lend us a hand in fighting the Full Bloods. Someone, I might add, who owes us a few big favors.”
“You want to make the call or should I?”
Chapter Twelve
Sixty miles west of Great Falls, Montana
The two powerful beasts had been running in ever-widening circles. Randolph did his best to keep Kawosa’s scent fresh in his nose, but had lost it on a few occasions. Whenever that happened, the trickster snuck up on him to attack from another angle. Claws slashed through flesh and fangs ripped meat from the bone of both creatures as they circled and launched themselves into the next onslaught. Kawosa was always the one to break off when things got too rough. He needed to find some way to lose Randolph or defeat him. There was no third alternative.
When the Full Blood slowed his pace again and the snowy terrain became more than a white and gray blur, the peaks of the Rocky Mountains loomed before him. Blood surged through Randolph’s body, feeding his senses with an elemental fire that allowed him to see in total darkness or stare straight up into the sun. At the moment, he simply took his bearings by looking at the sky and allowed the wind to spill across his panting tongue.
“You . . . can’t . . . find me.”
Despite the power entwined within those words, which would have made them believable to almost any living thing, Randolph continued his search. But the force of that suggestion had a weight that made his head droop and his next breath seep like tar all the way back down to his lungs. Yet still he searched.
“And you can’t escape me!” he bellowed. “If there was a way, you would have taken it already. Step out and face me!”
“To what end? So you can test your might against a god?”
“You are no god, trickster. You are old and powerful, but so am I.”
The reaction came swiftly and without mercy. Kawosa exploded into Randolph’s field of vision as if he’d been taking refuge behind a veil of falling snowflakes two feet away. He charged to get in close and clamp his jaws around the Full Blood’s neck.
Randolph turned his head to one side and then snapped it along with his entire body in the opposite direction. Since Kawosa had latched onto him, the trickster was cracked like a whip. He lost his grip on Randolph’s neck with a pained yelp and raced toward the mountains. When Randolph tore after him, Kawosa stopped and pivoted in a way that spat gleefully at the laws of physics and inertia. Shifting into a creature with skin of glistening oil and wings of tattered canvas, he left the ground and sank curved talons into Randolph’s back. The more Randolph struggled against the grip that lifted him off the ground, the deeper those talons sank into him. With every powerful flap of Kawosa’s wings, he was lifted higher.
“You compare yourself to me?” Kawosa snarled through a wide, twisted beak. “You are a lesser creature! The only reason I’ve helped you at all was because of your passion to deal with other lesser creatures.”
“And this lesser creature,” Randolph said while straining to shift into his two-legged form without scraping too many of his muscles against Kawosa’s talons, “has forced the First Deceiver to show his true form. How long has it been since you’ve worn a body that isn’t a lie?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Full Blood. I’ve done more than enough to repay you for breaking me from Lancroft’s cage. I helped combine the new Half Breeds with your bloodline to track down the newest pup among your kind, and then paved the way for you to escape with her while all of your brethren cried out for your death.”
Randolph was being carried toward the mountains, and after a few more flaps of Kawosa’s wings,
they were there. Jagged slopes and frozen peaks sped beneath them as Randolph finally settled into a form that hung more naturally from the trickster’s painful grasp. Without the bulk of his four-legged body, and thanks to his newly elongated limbs, he was able to reach for Kawosa while pulling his lower half up.
“Even Liam wanted you killed,” Kawosa continued. “And I steered him away so you could pursue your own course.”
“Liam wanted you killed as well,” Randolph grunted. “He wanted to see everyone dead at one time or another. It was one of his many flaws.”
“And now this nonsense with Icanchu,” Kawosa said, as if merely talking to himself. “Now that I see you may actually be persistent enough to find another Mist Born, I must bring an end to this little game you’ve started.”
“Game? Look below you!”
Kawosa shifted his half-blue, half-orange eyes toward the earth, where a battle raged on the other side of the mountains. A small town was in flames, gunshots crackled through the air, and Half Breeds bayed at the skies. The other voice that lent itself to the wild collection of noises belonged to a Full Blood. It was the pure howl of one of Randolph’s brethren, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to put a name to the cry. Louder explosions rocked the town and were quickly silenced as the humans pulling those triggers were subjected to the agonies of the Breaking.
“It is because of me that the Full Bloods gained so much power during the Breaking Moon,” Kawosa shrieked. “Your kind still have to be close to a source of the Torva’ox for the effects to be felt, but the more of my children that exist, the wider the howls spread. When one as powerful as Esteban sends out the call, a few unlucky humans on the other side of the world drop to their knees in agony. Did you foresee that, Birkyus?”
“You couldn’t have wanted the world to turn into this!” Randolph roared as the wind beat against his face. “Of all the Mist Born, you have always been closest with the humans. Some say you even taught them to speak. The slate needs to be wiped clean. Purged of everything that has sullied it. It’s too late for anything else. There must be a drastic change!”
“This is not drastic enough for you?”
“Your wretches are nothing but wild hunger, much like the Nymar. Both of those bloodlines need to be severed. I know of a way to continue the work that has begun and steer it toward something better for those who truly deserve it.”
The wet grinding sound in Kawosa’s neck made it seem as if his throat had been cut when he turned to look into Randolph’s eyes. “I’ve heard talk similar to that,” he said. “When I was locked in Lancroft’s dungeon.”
“He spoke of murderous humans. I speak of the species that first graced this earth with the touch of their feet.”
“That was not your species either, young one. And don’t play word games with me. I invented them. All you want to do is paint a horrific picture and then convince someone that you’re the only one who knows how to clean it up again. Very crude.” Flapping his wings without gaining any altitude, Kawosa eventually dropped toward the stark landscape. “If you want to take a stand against my kind, then your best outcome is to die now before you are ripped asunder by what you find in the jungles to the south. You may be able to give me a brisk run, but Icanchu is more ruthless than you can conceive. The only reason I’ve shown you my true form is to let you know there are still things in this world that even the mighty Full Bloods haven’t seen. Learn your lesson and try to be thankful for what is left of your world.”
Randolph hung from Kawosa’s talons like a worm curling in upon itself at the end of a line. He craned his neck to get an upside-down view of the mountains they’d left behind. He drank in the sight of all that comforting open ground for what could very well have been the final time, then dug his claws into Kawosa’s side. “Thankful?” he roared. “What is there to be thankful about?”
“You live.”
Now that Randolph had a firm grip, he used all of his might to tear himself free of Kawosa’s talons. The curved nails had sunk in even deeper than he’d thought, but once he started ripping, there was nothing to do but continue along that hellish road until he was free. “I live. In the filthy pit my world has become?” he asked once one shoulder came away amid a spray of blood and fur. “If living in this was my plan, then yes I’d be thankful.”
“You can still see tomorrow. Be thankful I have not yet taken that away from you.”
“Keep your thanks,” Randolph snarled as he dug his claws higher up on Kawosa’s back. When the second set of talons ripped away, the pain almost sent Randolph toppling into unconsciousness. It was a glorious, unfamiliar sensation he hadn’t felt since his youthful body was first reshaped into the beast. For one who’d felt countless bullets thump against his hide and endured agony that would have shattered any other creature, reaching a previously unknown level of suffering was as much a gift as being taken to higher realms of pleasure.
“You are still a Full Blood,” Kawosa said in a wheezing voice that was somehow unaffected by the buffeting winds. “Savor your power and take what is given to you. When this war is over, you can start anew.”
Icy fingers of air raked all the way down Randolph’s throat, shaking him back into full awareness. “Don’t think you can coddle me by dangling the future in front of my nose! You can’t distract me with vague notions of brighter horizons! I’ve been plummeting for a long time, and now,” he added while closing a hand around the base of Kawosa’s wing, “so are you.” With that, he focused every bit of his strength into that arm and pulled.
“You can’t do this!” Kawosa cried.
Once Randolph broke through the trickster’s outer shell, the tendons, muscle, and sinew connecting wing to torso unraveled. “Another lie,” he growled.
Kawosa’s appendage tore like wet burlap. The sound of it could barely be heard beneath the overture of his screams and the mounting currents of air marking their swift descent. “We’ll both die!”
“Then that’s how it shall be,” Randolph said. “Perhaps you should be thankful for the view while you still have it.”
Chapter Thirteen
Louisville, Kentucky
The phone rang a few times, and just when Cole thought it was headed for voice mail, he heard a strained yet familiar voice.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Daniels. It’s Cole.”
“Oh. What a surprise,” the Nymar chemist replied in a way that registered more nervousness than surprise. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. Staying out of prison? Heh.”
“Yeah. Good one. I’m in Louisville.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. Have you found anything more on the Torva’ox?”
“I’ve been on it for months,” Daniels replied, obviously put out by the very notion that he might have been doing otherwise. “All I’ve been able to find in books or just about anywhere else are a bunch of obscure legends about energies flowing through the earth, which made me think of ley lines, which made me think of the earth’s natural electromagnetic field, which made me think of a person’s supposed soul . . .” When he said that last word, he dragged it out and stressed it as if framing it in air quotes. “All of which can be measured by several different means.”
“What sort of means?” Cole asked.
“I’ve got my theories, but none of it’s been proven yet. Every living thing gives off some sort of charge, but that’s fairly common knowledge. The brain works by sending electrical impulses to cross synapses and relay basic commands along with higher functions. That’s an extremely simplified version, but—”
“How about an even more simplified version?” Cole said sharply.
Daniels sighed and very likely gave the head shake/eye roll combo platter to the phone in his hand. “The Breaking Moon allowed the Full Bloods to draw on massive amounts of that power, whatever you want to call it. Even from where I was, I could measure a dip in the electromagnetic field as it was pulled toward those big hairy magnets.”
“
With all your research into the Torva’ox,” Cole said, “how easy would it be to manipulate it?”
“Easy? We’re talking electromagnetic fields,” Daniels replied. “And theoretical ones at that. Remember, my information may be pretty conclusive in some aspects, but that doesn’t mean I know exactly what field it is. I’m just basing my hypotheses on blanks or extremely low numbers across all the measurements I took. In order to manipulate something, I’d have to know exactly what it is.”
Cole was sitting in the car parked in front of a gas station. Outside, Paige and Waggoner emerged from the building carrying hot coffee and a lunch that was still steaming from its time spent in a microwave. She was already tearing into a burrito, dropped it and immediately launched into a tirade while stooping to pick it up. Already knowing his place in the pecking order, Waggoner wasted no time in lending her a hand.
“What would you need to figure that out?” Cole asked.
Daniels sighed and let out a breath that became the sound of exasperated lips flapping against one another in a bad imitation of a speedboat motor. “First of all, I’d need some purer samples. Something that we know for certain is the real Torva’ox and not something I may think is close.”
“Got it. What else?”
“Seriously?” Daniels squeaked.
“Yes. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been asking about all of this. What else do you need?”
“I’d need a budget for some new equipment once I narrow down what I’m actually trying to measure, but all of this would still only bring me to the start of a real process.”
“How long before you get results?” Cole asked.
“There’s no way for me to—”
“We need them quickly. Waste too much time and we might as well hand over the world to the Full Bloods. The military is getting thinned out every day, and the only way for them to survive is for them to hit harder and find some way to know where the Full Bloods may be going before they get there. Unless we can help them with that, the Half Breeds will keep thinning out the human race.”
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