Skinners: Blood Blade

by Marcus Pelegrimas

  Stepping through the front doors, they found themselves in a small, narrow room. Three of the four walls were covered in pictures of previous “Featured Entertainers” in various poses and glistening with baby oil. Although Cole wouldn’t have admitted to it, he recognized a few of those ladies from features he’d downloaded on company time. A sliding window was built into the wall to the right of a blacked-out glass door, which led into the rest of the club. By the time Paige stepped up to the glass door and placed her hand on the panel with the words COME ON IN printed on it, a balding man with a light brown beard leaned over to look through the sliding window.

  “That’ll be twelve dollars for each of you,” he said. When he got a look at Paige, he gave her a friendly smile.

  She sighed and dug into her pocket for some money. Although the man in the window looked her over, it wasn’t more than could be expected from any man who admired the sight of a petite brunette in tight jeans. When she handed some money through the sliding window, Cole beamed with enough pride to light up the darkest of the club’s corners. The only thing cooler than hitting a strip bar with a woman like Paige was having that woman pay for his cover. But as much as he wanted to say something to commemorate the moment, he kept his mouth shut.

  After receiving two tickets from the bearded man, Paige handed one to Cole and said, “This is good for your first drink. You try to buy a lap dance and I’ll knock you out.”

  “Lap dance? Yuck,” he said with an exaggerated scowl.

  Not buying his act for a moment, Paige pushed the glass door open and walked into the club.

  Shimmy’s wasn’t a big place. There was a pool table and dart board to the immediate left of the entrance, situated next to a counter that sold T-shirts and porno DVDs. An average-size bar stretched along the left wall and was tended by a big guy in a white shirt. At the moment, the only people sitting at the bar were women in slinky outfits and way too much glitter makeup to be patrons. The women smiled and waved to Paige and Cole as they walked by, but didn’t move from their seats.

  There was a small stage to the right of the bar, but it was currently dark. All the action was taking place on the main stage, which was straight ahead and surrounded by small tables. As far as strip bar stages went, it wasn’t anything special. It had a pole in the middle, was lit by multicolored strobe lights, and was surrounded by a brass rail and chairs. Only a few of those chairs were occupied, but that was about to change. A busty, strawberry blonde, currently strutting toward the pole, was peeling off her bikini top and swinging it over her head to the beat of an old hip hop song.

  “I take it you don’t go to places like this very often?” Cole asked.

  Paige kept walking toward the tables at the right side of the stage and had to shout to be heard over the thumping bass. “What?”

  Now it was Cole’s turn to shout. “Have you ever been here before?”

  “Not this place, but the last time I met Prophet, it was in a shithole outside of Kansas City. This is actually a lot better.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “I would have been hassled three times by now in that dive. This place is nice.” As she said that, Paige returned the friendly nod she got from an approaching waitress.

  “Hi guys,” the waitress said. “Sit anywhere you like. Can I get you a drink?”

  Paige handed over her ticket. “Jack and Coke.”

  “What about you, sweetie?” the waitress asked Cole.

  “I’ll just have a Coke.”

  She took his ticket and walked toward the bar. Even though she obviously had a nice little body, she wasn’t dressed like she might be dancing that night. When Cole looked back to Paige, she leaned toward him and said something that was swallowed up by the bass of the music and the hoots of the men near the stage.

  “What did you say?” he shouted.

  “Your drink,” she clarified. “I called you a pussy.”

  Despite the fact that he should have been at least slightly offended, he couldn’t help but grin. There was just something about hearing Paige say that particular word in those particular surroundings that made him feel warm inside. Very juvenile, but very, very true.

  “So where’s this Prophet guy?” he asked.

  “Just look for the buffet.”

  He wasn’t sure where a strip club might set up its buffet, and he sure didn’t mind having a look around. Dancers in all shades of hotness strutted from one table to another, bending down to stroke the customers’ hands and ask for a private dance. The dancer on stage was down to a few bandannas wrapped around her waist and nothing else. Another woman stood at the edge of the stage waiting for the next song to start. And there, like a toad sitting in the middle of a flower bed, was the buffet.

  As far as food services went, it wasn’t much. There looked to be less than five items in all, and none of them seemed to have been touched. Cole amended that last observation when he spotted a man at a table next to the short bed of hot plates, hunched down over at least three dishes piled high with food. He couldn’t quite make out the man’s face, but pointed him out to Paige anyway and asked, “Is that him?”

  She took her eyes from the stage and looked in the direction he was pointing. “Yep. That’s him.”

  “Were you watching the dancers?”

  “Come on,” she said quickly. “Time for business.”

  “There’s an ATM by the door, just in case you’d like—”

  Shaking her head, Paige swung one arm back and effortlessly snapped her hand against a spot in Cole’s midsection that robbed him of his next breath. By the time she made it to the table with the buffet’s only fan, she was smiling warmly. “Hello, Prophet,” she said. “Catch any food poisoning yet?”

  The guy at the table was about a hundred pounds lighter than Cole would have expected for someone with so much food piled in front of him. A black man with short, clipped hair, he was dressed in old jeans and a dark, hooded sweatshirt. One leg was stretched out from under the table to stick a work boot a little too far into the common walkway. Cole narrowed the man’s age to anywhere in the late thirties to early forties range, but the black light hanging nearby made that a difficult call to make. A narrow face and hooked nose all pointed down to a fairly well-trimmed beard.

  “I’ve got business here this time around, Paige,” the hungry man said. “I told you about the nymph I was tracking.”

  “Nympho?” Cole asked anxiously. “Point her out.”

  “No,” Paige shouted over the music. “Nymph. Prophet always comes up with some stupid excuse to meet me at places like these. This time he’s tracking woodland creatures.”

  “This one doesn’t live in the woods, obviously,” Prophet added. “Who’s this you brought with you?” Sharp eyes sized Cole up in the amount of time it took for him to lift a callused hand. As far as Cole could tell, there were no scars on the man’s palms.

  As Cole shook the man’s hand, Paige announced, “Cole Warnecki, this is Walter Nash.”

  Doing his best not to match the other man’s iron grip, Cole said, “I’ve heard you also go by Prophet.”

  “The MEG guys came up with the name, but I don’t know you well enough for you to call me that.”

  Cole raised his eyebrows and asked, “You’re a psychic?”

  “If you’re expecting a prediction after this handshake, you’re in for a real disappointment.”

  “Just tell me one thing.”

  “What?” Walter asked warily.

  Cole glanced down at the plates, which he could now see were covered with mashed potatoes and some sort of goulash. “That food any good?”

  Slowly, Walter’s beard widened as the mouth beneath it formed a vaguely demonic grin. “Yeah, it’s all right. All you can eat. Nobody ever tries the food in these places, but I figure it’s gotta just be catered from somewhere so it should be fine.”

  “And here I thought men were drooling over the dancers,” Paige grumbled as she sat down.

  “Dance
rs are over there. Food’s over here,” Walter said. “No reason I can’t have both.”

  Cole took a seat next to Walter and turned his chair so he could stay in the conversation while also watching the stage. Since one song was fading into another, the strawberry blonde was at the farthest end of the stage and reaching down to help the next dancer up. The new arrival was tall, dressed in an outfit made of purple silk scarves, and had long, coal-black hair.

  “What’ve you got for us, Prophet?” Paige asked.

  After setting down his fork, Walter reached into the large pocket sewn on the front of his sweatshirt to retrieve a small spiral notebook. He flipped the notebook open and studied the scribbles written there. “It’s a place due west of a town called Milton, which is near Clear Lake. One of the MEG guys called me, since neither of you could pull yourself away from Chicago.”

  “Did I tell you how much I appreciate you taking up some of the slack now that Gerald and Brad are gone?” Paige asked in a sweet voice that Cole wasn’t sure he’d heard before.

  Walter ate it up with a smile and said, “Not until right now, but it’s no problem. Anyway, the MEG guy’s name is…Jarvis. He took me out to some creepy old house that had a pit in the back of it.”

  “Did you say a pit?” Cole asked.

  “Yes I did, and I checked it myself. It could’ve been a basement or cellar at one time, but it’s a pit now. He says he saw some messed-up-looking animals in there, but they weren’t there when I was.”

  “You went to have a look inside?” Paige asked.

  Nodding, Walter flipped the page of his notebook and angled his head as if he was squinting through a pair of bifocals. “It’s a Half Breed den.”

  The smile that had been on Paige’s face disappeared. “You’re sure?”

  “I may not hunt the damn things, but I’ve tracked down plenty for you guys over the years. There were Half Breeds living there. I could smell ’em. The pit looked big enough for three to five of them, but I wasn’t about to crawl around to count the droppings for myself.”

  Paige nodded.

  “Since Half Breeds like to run out in the open, I took a drive around that area,” Walter continued. “There’s a spot about five miles from the den that’s got ‘werewolf hunting ground’ written all over it. It’s some lake called Osh Kong…Koshconnong…what the hell is that?”

  Paige leaned over and squinted at his notebook. “Lake Koshkonong. Is that right?”

  He nodded and said, “It’s a pretty good-sized lake and there’s plenty of room for the things to run, which is what they like to do as the moon gets fuller. In any case, you should be able to bait one from there no problem. If they aren’t at that lake, they’ll be close enough to catch the scent.”

  “Okay,” Paige said. “What else?”

  “I’ve had a few dreams about werewolves, but some weren’t werewolves. One looked like a black and gray cat, another looked like a panther, and one might’ve been a freakin’ beaver or something, but they’re all ugly and they’re all pissed.”

  Paige laughed and glanced at Cole. “Sounds like Cole’s girl. What else?”

  “I’m serious,” Walter said. “Something’s going on with these things that’s drivin’ them crazy. I don’t know when, but it’s coming.”

  “What’s coming?”

  “Blood. Lots of it. Goddamned Armageddon, from what I saw. Now, it may not be as bad as all that or it may be worse, but there’s a big fight on the way. I’ve dreamt it too many times for it to be bullshit.”

  Paige’s eyes drifted toward Cole, but he was too busy studying the brunette on stage. She danced toward the pole as if she floating through water, and when she got there, she twirled around it fast enough to send the scarves wrapped around her fluttering through the air until they practically dissolved.

  “Wow,” he said.

  Looking up at the stage, Walter smirked. “Yeah. That’s Tristan. She’s somethin’ else.”

  “You were saying?” Paige reminded him. “Something about Armageddon?”

  Walter pushed away his dinner and leaned back into his chair. “I’ve dreamt it plenty of times. There’s a lot of fighting and plenty of dying. It’s like the beasts just decide to come in from the hills and take over. They were even ripping through the pale kids like tissue paper.”

  “Pale kids?” Cole asked.

  “You know…” Rather than finish his sentence, Walter pointed to the spot in his mouth where a Nymar’s fangs would be.

  “Do you have anything more specific?” Paige asked. “So far, you could be describing some sort of hunting raid. Those have happened plenty of times.”

  “This most recent vision was pretty specific. I saw it like I was watching a story on the news. Top of the hour stuff. Lots of gruesome pictures. Supposed to be some sort of massacre.”

  “Could it have been symbolic or something?”

  Although Tristan peeled away a few scarves so the lights bathed every curve of her naked breasts in a soft, purple glow, Walter managed to take his eyes off her. It helped that she was shifting her focus to Cole. “Would I bother you with some symbolic crap?” Walter asked. “I didn’t get an exact date, but there were scores for a Buccaneers game that isn’t supposed to be played for over a week.”

  “You still watch the Bucs?” Paige asked as she shook her head. “Why the hell should I even listen to a man who does something like that? Anything else?”

  Walter nodded. “The massacre was supposed to be in Janesville. It’s a little town about ten miles away from that house with the Half Breed pit out back. That tying anything together for ya?”

  Meeting Walter’s eyes, Paige looked as if she’d finally let her guard down. “Were the bodies charred or—”

  “Or vampires or werewolves or some other strange shit?”

  “Yeah,” she replied. “That sort of thing.”

  He shook his head. “All I saw was that they were all dead. Every last one of them. Like I said, it was some sort of news report. There were just bodies laying next to some dirty cement building, and cleaning crews were—” Walter stopped himself when he saw the waitress standing close enough to overhear. All the color had drained from her face.

  “Can I…get you anything else?” she asked.

  “No,” Walter said with a grin. Once the waitress hurried away, he looked at Paige and grumbled, “Great. Now I’m gonna start getting treated like a freak around here. These girls all swap stories about the customers, you know. Especially the weird ones.”

  Paige shrugged and told him, “I think you earned that reputation just by being the only man stupid enough to eat from the buffet. And since you’ll be on the weird list here, you might as well come along with us for a while.”

  Walter shook his head and chuckled to himself. He kept on chuckling as he picked up his drink and watched Tristan climb the pole all the way to the ceiling and then slowly turn herself upside down. “Every freakin’ time. How many times do I gotta say no to this offer?”

  “You’ve seen for yourself that things will only get worse. With Gerald and Brad gone—”

  “That’s enough of that,” Walter snapped. “I burned out my conscience way too long ago for guilt to work on me. I don’t mind our arrangement and I don’t mind lending a hand after what happened to the old man, but you gotta be brain dead and stupid to pick a fight with these things on a regular basis. No offense, Cole.”

  “None taken,” Cole replied as he tossed a quick wave toward the table and kept his eyes locked upon Tristan.

  Paige looked in that direction as well and saw Tristan scaling the pole once more. This time the dancer made her climb with even less effort than it took most people to climb out of bed. Once she got to the top, she repeated her trick of turning upside down and then eased her way back toward the floor. Now that she was only wearing a fine layer of glitter, the trick was drawing a lot more applause. When she reached the bottom, Tristan let go and floated toward the stage so she could come to rest upon one hand. Af
ter that, she twirled effortlessly around the pole and above the floor as if she’d somehow switched off the laws of gravity.

  “What the hell?” Paige muttered.

  Cole shook his head as a wide smile crossed his face. When Tristan came to a stop, she was looking straight at him. Dollar bills were lined up on all sides of the stage, but she crawled past them and perched on the edge of the dance floor closest to him. She hopped up and snapped her head forward, whipping her hair with enough power to send a wave through the air and a torrent of applause through the crowd. Dropping backward, Tristan caught herself with one arm, arched her back and placed one finger on her inner thigh.

  Just then, Cole swore he could feel her touching him in that exact spot. Tristan closed her eyes and let out a moan that somehow drifted through the pulsing techno music in a way that no human voice should have been able to do. Arching her back more and more, she let her hair brush against the stage. Her finger continued its upward journey between her legs and lingered in a spot that stopped the flow of singles onto the stage and started a flow of fives and tens. If she’d waited a bit longer before rubbing her fingertip along the little piercing in her navel, she could very well have gotten hundreds along with the pink slips to a few cars.

  Cole’s eyes widened as the ghostly touch worked its way through his body. Not only could he feel her fingers on him, but he swore his senses had been filled with a mix of perfume and the dancer’s natural feminine scent.

  “Jesus,” Paige said as she propped her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. “I take it that’s the nymph?”

  “Oh yeah,” Walter said with a wry grin. “Looks like you could use a smoke.”

  “So that means she’s not only inhuman, but she’s working some sort of spell on this whole place to steal money.”

  “Hey!” Walter snapped as he stuck a finger in Paige’s face. “You keep yourselves busy with the werewolves and dangerous shit. If you so much as cause that lady to quit her shift early, I will personally end your life.”

  “Yeah,” Cole gasped once he had enough breath to do so. “Me too.”

  Sitting upright, Paige picked up her glass and promptly emptied it. After pulling open the top button of her shirt so she could fan herself, she said, “If all she does is that trick, I might be able to look the other way.” The flustered look that had been on her face before was replaced by a sly grin as she looked up and added, “But I couldn’t guarantee the next Skinner that finds her will be so friendly. Some of our guys are downright nasty.”