“Like one of those pit bulls on the news?” Cole asked.
Shaking his head, Stanze replied, “That’s in North Terrace Park and it’s not a pit bull. My cousin Terry has pit bulls and they’re not as big as the things these people are seeing.”
“You think this is connected to the people that were killed?”
Stanze pulled in a breath and chewed on it for a second. “Hard to say. People tend to get crazy during the summer and this is a hot one. We’ve been establishing a solid presence in the areas where those attacks happened, but haven’t turned up any more bodies than what was on TV.”
“Have you found any suspects?” Paige asked.
“It’s an ongoing investigation,” Stanze replied. “Every-thing I’ve told you has already been released and I can’t say anything more. I can show you where those animal attacks happened, though. You can finish your interview back at the station, where I’m keeping that body, and then we can catch some lunch. How’s that sound?”
Paige flipped her notebook shut and said, “That would be great. I’ll come with you while Cole has a look at this park.”
Glancing down at Cole as if he’d forgotten about him, Stanze grinned and said, “I wouldn’t suggest drinking from any wells you find with that stick.”
“Thanks,” Cole said uneasily. “Should I bother looking for this Alvin guy?”
“Sure. He’s not hard to find. Hangs out in the southeast corner of the park under a little bridge that crosses Penn Valley Drive. Long hair. Approximately a hundred and fifty pounds. Caucasian. Early fifties. Lots of black tattoos on his neck and arms.”
“Black tattoos?” Cole asked.
“That’s right. No real pattern. Just a bunch of lines that’re probably covering a whole lot of needle tracks. He’s not dangerous, though. Just some poor old junkie. You have any trouble, just give us a call.”
“I should be fine.”
“So you’re riding with me, Paige?”
“Sure thing.”
Officer Stanze gave them a curt nod and walked back to his car.
After the policeman moved away from the window, Paige said, “He seems nice. A lot younger than I thought he would be. I know I haven’t slept much, but I don’t look too bad, do I?”
“No,” Cole grunted. “What interview was he talking about?”
“I told him I was coming to interview him for the MEG newsletter,” Paige said as she fussed with a few stray pieces of hair sticking out from the mostly disheveled whole. “He’s a fan, so that worked out really well. I asked him to show us where those people were supposedly attacked by dogs so I can write up a story. It was when you were bitching about the traffic. Check out that park and see what you can find. If there are Half Breeds around, that’s the sort of place they’d make a den.”
“You seriously want me to look for Half Breeds in this park. Alone?”
“This park and the other one, North Terrace Park.” As Cole fumbled for something to say, she told him, “You’re gonna have to be on your own sometimes. Remember that run we made to Indiana?”
“Yeah, but that was just one little Chupacabra and it only ate dogs,” Cole said.
“But you found the den, so you know what to look for. You can handle some sleeping Half Breeds.”
“Oh, so they’ll be sleeping?”
Climbing out of the car, Paige said, “They don’t like the sun, remember? We need to find as many as we can before more people are killed or turned. You’re ready to head out on your own for a bit, so just wander the parks and use your radar to zero in on any hot spots.”
Stanze poked his head through the window of his cruiser and asked, “You want to do this some other time?”
“No,” Paige replied. “I’ll be right with ya.” She gripped the Cav’s door as if she was going to tear it off. “All right, Cole. Let’s see if I can spell it out for you. There’s a park over there where a bunch of animals who look like inside-out Dobermans have probably made a den. Where do you think you should look for them? Under a picnic table where a bunch of kids would have already found them? What about by a water fountain? Maybe they’re on the swings!”
“All right, all right. I get it.”
“You’ve seen Half Breed dens. Just look for a hole by some trees off the beaten path. It’ll be big enough for a man-sized thing to crawl into and is probably hidden by leaves or branches or something. Use what you already know and let the scars do the rest. It’s just something you’ve got to go out and do, Cole, so go out and do it.”
“What if I run into trouble?” he asked.
“Deal with it.”
He gritted his teeth and was about to snap back at her when he realized he was just looking for someone to hold his hand. As soon as he thought of it that way, the little drill instructor voice in his head called him a few degrading names and then everything was fine. “All right,” he said. “I’ll look around, but I’ll save the good stuff for when you decide to stop flirting with the cop. What about Alvin?”
“He should be easier to find,” Paige said as she moved away from the window. “Just listen for the high-pitched singing.” By the time she’d walked to the cruiser, Officer Stanze was holding the door open.
Chapter 13
Werewolves came in a variety of flavors. In his short time with Paige, Cole had found out this little fact firsthand. Full Bloods were the worst of the lot. Mr. Burkis was one of those, and if reports from other Skinners were to be believed, there weren’t many more like him. Half Breeds were another story: part shapeshifter and part unnaturally occurring plague.
As Cole picked his way through the more heavily wooded sections of Penn Valley Park, he ran over what he knew about the creatures he was hunting. As far as the moon cycles were concerned, Hollywood had gotten it partially right. Half Breeds liked their moons full, but that didn’t mean they were limited by them. And they did like to sleep. That was most likely due to the pain.
When Half Breeds changed from human to werewolf, there was no changing back. That was another thing the movies had gussied up. Full Bloods could shift back and forth just fine, but Half Breeds were pulled apart and forced into their animal form. Changing a human skeleton to that of a four-legged monster required every bone to be broken, reshaped, and then held together by knots of muscle. Not only did this make Half Breeds flexible, but it tended to put them into a perpetual state of being pissed off. The only transformation they went through after that was into a resting state where most of their fur was sucked back under their skin and their muscles relaxed. Paige called that the “peeled grape stage,” and it was a fitting name. The first Half Breeds Cole had ever seen were in that stage, which made it very easy to understand why they kept out of the sunlight during that time.
Half Breeds tended to be only slightly smaller than when they’d been human and burrowed into the ground to make their dens. This meant he had to look someplace where a hole could be dug and the creatures could come and go without being seen. If they’d picked a spot near the portable bathrooms or next to the road, they would have been found already.
Strolling away from the main path in the park, all Cole found was several dozen yards of open, grassy park broken up by the occasional tree. Some teens in baggy shorts and freshly faded T-shirts were gathered at one of two picnic tables. As soon as they caught him studying them, the group flicked away whatever they’d been smoking and meandered to their second favorite spot.
In the end it was the application of common sense to uncommon circumstances that brought Cole to a patch of uneven ground at the west side of the park. The presence of shapeshifters caused the scars in his hands to burn. That pain was almost constant within the city, but had grown even worse with every step he took toward a wall of trees separating one spot from the rest of the park. At the base of two of the bigger trees, almost covered by an overhang of loose turf, he spotted a hole that was slightly bigger in diameter than his head. Approaching it, he was reminded of another fun fact regarding Half Breeds
: they stank.
Wanting to make sure he hadn’t simply found a rabbit’s final resting place or garbage that had been collected by raccoons, Cole got onto his hands and knees for a closer look. He almost reached out to pull up the turf awning but was stopped by another bout of common sense. It was a big enough relapse for him to reach for his weapon, but not big enough to do the truly smart thing and drive to some other city.
“All right,” he muttered as he slipped the forked end of the weapon under the earthen flap and lifted it. “Let’s see what we got here.”
The hole’s covering was thick with moisture and heavier than it looked. Keeping the flap propped up, he pressed his head against the ground, peered inside, and was almost knocked out by the stench that drifted up from below.
The odors of wet earth, animal urine, and rotten meat all washed through his nose to drip down the back of his throat. He lifted his head, took a few breaths of cleaner air, and then gazed down into the hole again. The second time wasn’t quite as bad, but half of putrid was still pretty damn awful. All he could see were a few shapes that could very well have been wet rocks. One problem with that theory: wet rocks wouldn’t be panting.
Keeping his ear pressed against the ground forced Cole to acclimate to the stench. Clawed feet scraped against the dirt as the shapes inside the hole huffed and wheezed. Before too long he could see a little better in the dark. “Ahhh,” he whispered under his breath. “There you are.”
The den was smaller than a decent-sized television set, and two Half Breeds were curled up in it. They squirmed every so often or twitched when one’s paw touched the other in a tender spot. Considering that both of the creatures were slick masses of exposed muscle and protruding nubs of bone, every spot had to have been pretty tender.
Cole eased the turf back down. Gritting his teeth and holding his breath, he prayed his stomach wouldn’t growl loud enough to catch the attention of the Half Breeds. Just when he allowed himself to exhale, the phone in his pocket started wailing the hard rock song he’d forgotten he’d downloaded for one of his caller-specific ring tones.
Scooting away and scrambling to his feet, he ripped the phone from his pocket and stabbed the answer button just to shut it up. “What?” he asked in a snarling whisper.
“Damn,” Stu replied. “Let me guess…you’re in Kansas City getting hassled by some cop named Stanze.”
Cole looked around, but didn’t know what he was expecting to find. Other than the teens who had resumed their smoking farther down the path, there were only a few other people sitting with their backs against trees or wandering across the grass. None of them seemed to be spying on him. “How’d you know that?”
“Officer Stanze called the main MEG number and asked about you.”
“Why?”
“Just checking to make sure someone was supposed to be with Paige. Jarvis told him she liked to travel with some doughy reject carrying a stick.”
“Nice,” Cole grunted. He’d put some distance between himself and the den, so he felt more comfortable talking. “Is that it?”
“Just thought you should know he’s got his eye on you. By the way, should I bother downloading that Hammer Strike pack?”
“What? No. Actually, wait until it gets updated. Before then, it’s just—”
“Just another coat of paint. Gotchya.”
Now that his heart had settled back into its normal spot, Cole sighed, “So who’s that new girl?”
“Which new girl?”
“The one who answered the phone over there the last time I called.”
“Oh, Abby? She’s not new. Normally, she’s in the field, but she broke her ankle on an investigation and has been downgraded to answering phones and sifting through videos and EVPs for a while.”
“Is she cute?”
Stu chuckled and then said, “I guess. See for yourself.” After that he heard some movement on the other end of the line followed by a high-pitched tirade that ended with something heavy cracking against the phone in Stu’s hand. “There’s a file on the way, but don’t ask me to take the picture again.”
Recognizing the voice that had been yelling at Stu, Cole snarled, “Jesus, she’s right there?”
“Uh-huh. Right little spitfire too.” Something rustled as the phone was covered up. The voice that had been screaming before now spoke in an excited chatter.
“What the hell’s going on over there?” Cole grumbled. “Are you guys really that bored?”
“Do you know what EVP tapes are?” Stu asked. “They’re hours upon hours upon hours of air and our own voices played from three different angles with only the occasional groan or raspy voice to break up the monotony. Sometimes, I’d rather kill myself than listen one more time to Jarvis asking the same freaking thing. ‘Is there someone in this room with us?’ ‘Are you angry?’ ‘Does my tech crew stomping around in their big boots in your quiet house disturb you?’ ‘Can you please flick my ear again?’”
Cole felt a laugh brewing, but held it back because he knew that would only add fuel to the fire. An e-mail arrived to send a quick tone through his earpiece, and when he opened the file, he was treated to a picture cropped at the bottom by something that had to be Stu’s thumb. The rest of the frame was filled with a long table covered with tape recorders and computer monitors. Sitting behind that was a woman who looked to be in her early thirties. It was hard to nail down a more exact age due to the way her light brown hair and glasses covered her face. Her eyes and mouth were wide-open in an expression of shock and anger. One hand was balled into a fist and the other was in the process of throwing a stapler.
She was cute.
“You get that pic yet?” Stu asked.
“Yeah, just now. Looks like you’re catching hell.”
“What do you think of our little Abby?”
Cole smiled and tapped the icon on the phone to save the picture instead of erase it. “I think you should let her answer the phones more often.”
“You wanna talk to her?”
“I want you to let me get back to work. Also, send me any more pics you guys have from the animal sightings in KC.”
“One step ahead of me,” Stu said. “I was just about to ask if you wanted those.”
“Send them to my regular e-mail instead of the phone. Can you get them to me by tonight?”
“I’ll get them to you in an hour.”
“Perfect. Also, try not to post any more of them to the MEG site.”
Stu pulled in a labored breath that sounded unintentionally pornographic over the phone. “Ohhhh…ahhhhh…I don’t know about that. We kind of have an obligation to report whatever we can.”
“Handle this right,” Cole added, “and I’ll see if I can get you an exclusive once we’re through with this Kansas City business.”
“Really? I can’t censor the site, but I can delay posting to it. That good enough?”
“That’ll do.”
“Oh and one more thing. Abby says she loves you.”
That was immediately followed by another shouting match and the impact of something heavier than a stapler cracking against Stu’s head. As fun as it would have been to continue his little tour through grade school with those two, Cole hung up. He was still grinning when he spotted the tall, lanky figure dressed in dirty khaki pants and a suit jacket staring him down from the tables where the stoner kids had been sitting. As casually as he could manage, Cole lifted the flap of earth to get another look down the hole. The Half Breeds had shifted a bit but hadn’t moved.
Considering what he knew about the creatures, he wasn’t surprised they were such sound sleepers. Then he considered finishing off the werewolves without waiting for Paige. Sooner or later he would need to do the dirty work himself. Picking up his weapon, he shifted his hands onto the grip so his palms scraped against the bloodstained thorns. With a quick squeeze, he could sink the thorns in and stab those Half Breeds before they woke up. Whoever those creatures had been before, they would surely thank whoever
put them down.
But there was always the chance he might miss.
Even if he killed one, the other would surely wake up. Those things might have looked like a mess, but they could move when they needed to and could take a lot of punishment. Cole was pretty sure he needed to hit them at the base of the neck for a one-hit kill. Or was it the spine? Could he even see the bases of their necks?
“Damn it.”
At that moment, he couldn’t decide if he felt more like a trainee or some helpless little kid who needed to wait for Mommy to show up. He swallowed all of those bitter morsels and lowered the earthen cover back onto the hole. He had to be real sure and real quick if he was going to kill them. Otherwise, some innocent people in that park would be real dead. It was no time to take wild stabs.
Sometimes, Mommy did know best.
“I, uhhhhh, wouldn’t go there if I were you.”
Cole swung around toward that voice and reflexively brought his weapon up to point at whoever had just spoken. Not only had the man in the khaki pants and rumpled suit jacket gotten to within a few feet of him, but he’d done so without making a sound. If he wasn’t already feeling the burn from being so close to the Half Breeds, Cole might have noticed the subtle itch caused by the presence of a single Nymar.
The man was tall, somewhere in his fifties, and had plenty of marks along his neck and arms. If Officer Stanze’s description had been a little dry, it was sure accurate. Cole lowered his spear, even though the Nymar didn’t seem too threatened by it. “Alvin?” he asked.
The Nymar nodded, which seemed to rattle his eyeballs within their sockets. Even after he’d stopped moving his head, he continued to shift his nervous gaze between Cole, the Half Breed den, the sky, the ground, and every point in between. It looked as if the secondhand suit was the only clothing he owned because his sunken chest was exposed under the jacket and bare feet stuck out from the tattered cuffs of his slacks. “Are you a cop?”
“No,” Cole replied cautiously.
When he held his hand out to show Alvin the scars on his palms, the Nymar glanced down and grumbled, “You probably shouldn’t shake hands with me. There ain’t no more soap in the Porta-John.”
Howling Legion (Skinners, Book 2) Page 15
