Extinction Agenda (9 page)

The air became cold.

The hairs on his arm stood on end.

He swore he heard a whisper directly behind him, but he wasn’t about to turn away. Cecile’s eyes were too captivating to let him go. They were deep, multifaceted treasures colored by the same brushstrokes that had painted the first primordial earthen tones. And then, as her entire body forced out the last bit of whatever immaterial substance had been stirred up by Lancroft’s collar, her eyes closed, to keep the last bit of their power from leaking out.

“That’s got it,” Jessup sighed. “Turn that thing off.” When he saw Cole wasn’t moving, he smacked the side of his fist against the bars and said, “Turn that thing off!”

One blink was all it took to break the spell that had overtaken Cole. Suddenly, the stark lighting from the overhead bulbs, the dank smells of the basement, even the rough touch of his own clothes against his skin, dragged him back. Cecile was separated from him once more, slumping against the bars no matter how loudly the runes scalded her skin. It had taken Rico’s, Jessup’s, and Paige’s combined strength to pull her back.

“I don’t think she’s gonna give us any more trouble,” Jessup said. “Not as long as that collar stays on her.”

Paige willed one of her weapons to shrink back down enough to be slid back into her boot holster, but she kept the other in her grip. “How does it work?”

“Don’t know,” Jessup admitted. “Either we don’t have the journals where Lancroft describes that part or he kept it a secret. I do know this is what he used to kill the Full Blood that was in Philly.”

“He used this on Henry?” Cole asked.

“Yep. Damned if I know how he got it on single-handed. Word’s been going around that it took a bunch of Skinners to tame that freak long enough for this beauty to be buckled in place, and that Lancroft was the only one to walk away.”

“Or,” Cole said as he cocked his head at a skewed angle, as if to honor Henry while also getting a better look at Cecile, “he handed it over and told Henry to put it on.”

“Well, I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy with this one,” Jessup said. Using the back of his hand to wipe some sweat from his brow, he added, “Thought it would be harder than this, though. That sonic transmitter seems to work pretty well.”

Paige laughed at that. “It’s supposed to incapacitate a Full Blood or possibly even kill them. From where I stood, all it did was drive her crazy enough to rip apart whoever is holding that thing. Don’t think that’ll do much good unless you just happen to have some special bars in front of you.”

“Which is just what we had,” Jessup said. “Well done.” With that, he motioned for the other Skinners to enter the room.

Even though Cecile was slumped on the floor, seated with her back propped against a wall and her head hanging to one side, the younger Skinners seemed just as afraid of her as when she’d been clawing at the floor and howling like a demon. They carried chains, shackles, and more leather straps, some of which had more engraved rings woven into them, while others were simply thick enough to tie down a Mack truck.

While watching a process vaguely familiar from his time locked up in Colorado, the guilty pangs Cole felt hit him even harder. Cecile’s body might have been drained and her eyes were momentarily vacant, but she wasn’t dead. That meant somewhere, possibly buried too deeply to see at the moment, there was a spark inside that would only grow the longer it was kept in the dark.

“Come on,” Paige said, tapping his arm. She’d stepped out of the cage and was already headed toward the stairs. “Let’s let them do their thing.”

Since Cecile was preoccupying almost everyone in the building, Cole and Paige had no trouble getting upstairs and outside to where their car was waiting. “So,” he said after slamming the door shut behind him, “what do you think?”

Paige had yet to take her eyes off the building on the corner of Spring and Payne. “I think there are at least two people watching us from the windows, and Lord only knows how many cameras taping us right now from a couple different angles.”

“You think they can hear us?”

“Just face me when you talk.”

That was no problem. In the last several weeks, they’d barely left each other’s side. Still, they rarely got much time together where they weren’t on the road, refining new combat techniques, or hip deep in a combat zone. Taking a second to stare into her deep brown eyes was a welcome change.

“None of that,” she said, reading his thoughts with ease. “They may have lip-readers in their surveillance room.”

“I meant what did you think about what we heard in there. Did you pick up the same signal that we’ve been getting over the last few Half Breed attacks?”

She reached under the seat to fish out a small digital recorder. Holding it below the dashboard so it wouldn’t be seen by anyone who wasn’t inside the car, she tapped the Play button and turned up the volume. It was a scratchy recording, made by holding the little device up to her earpiece while a battle raged around her. Despite the static and background noise, the clear, keening howl could be heard drifting in and out like a hand-drawn line painted across a mess of digital wavelengths. Paige squinted, closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “It’s hard to say. There was so much going on down there.”

“I know, but even if you block that out, I still didn’t hear anything downstairs like what we’ve been hearing around the Half Breed packs.”

Reluctantly, Paige said, “Damn it. I thought getting that close to a Full Blood as well as a source of the Torva’ox would allow us to get a fix on that signal.”

“It’s not a signal, Paige. It’s a voice. It’s one of
their
voices calling out to the Half Breeds.”

“I know,” she said. “And we still don’t know if that’s how the Full Bloods are controlling them or if it’s how they’re turning humans from a distance.”

“I don’t think Cecile was giving signals to anyone,” Cole said. “She seemed pretty out of it. I don’t even think she knew what was going on. It’s almost like she was in a coma.”

“You’re just feeling guilty because it’s her,” she grunted while turning the digital recorder off, then throwing it to the floor. “But she isn’t just some poor little accident victim sleeping off an injury. She’s one of the things shredding through the human race. Just when it seems we found some way to get ahead, we wind up right back where we started. That sucks.”

“It sure does. But the trip wasn’t a complete waste. I found out something important down in that basement.”

“What?”

“Those are definitely the assholes who took me away from that first prison in Colorado.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Cole nodded. “Those bars are the same. Some of the writing was different, but the way it was etched into the metal, the way they were set into the floor and ceiling, everything but the little doggy door—and that’s only because they figured they’d have to go in and out of there themselves. Waylon mentioned the Vigilant when Randolph attacked that prison, but I had to be sure. Now, I’m sure.”

“So, what about getting that evidence I talked about?”

“I have an idea about that, but Rico would have to be willing to work with me.”

“Give you two to one on that,” Paige mused.

“For or against?”

Showing him nothing more than a cute grin, she said, “That collar was pretty cool. Not something I’d like to try again, but there’s got to be more little tricks that Lancroft saved for his favorite followers.” With a subtle shift of her head, she leaned in closer and looked at Cole in a way that assured him she was no longer concerned about who was watching them. “We’ve already learned some things about these guys. We know they’ve got Cecile and we know how they’re controlling her. You already broke out of a prison like that, so you know you can bust apart the one in their basement. We got a good look at how many are holed up in that place, what’s inside, how much security they’ve got, and who’s leading them. We know they’ve got a lot of Skinners who are still wet behind the ears and probably haven’t done much fighting. They’ve got the Jekhibar and we know where it’s kept. As far as I’m concerned, that’s more than enough to keep this trip from being a waste of time.”

Suddenly, Cole smiled. “Jonah Lancroft may have been a nut job, but he did have some very effective methods. The whole reason for breaking away from Adderson was to do a little mixing and matching, right?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “God help me, I thought about you and your games. When one weapon isn’t working out too well, you modify it. If you’re shooting a fireball at something and it isn’t doing enough damage, you switch to ice. Usually, for the biggest bosses, you’ve got to combine every weapon you’ve got into one big one.”

Cole’s smile warmed up as he asked, “What game have you been playing while I wasn’t looking?”

“Don’t have to play anything. After listening to you talk for as long as we’ve been together, I feel like I’ve already played them all.” Since that wasn’t enough, she grumbled, “
Cavern Crawler
on that little portable thing you stashed in the backseat for road trips. Happy?”

“More than you could know. You’re right, though. Or, I should say, I was right and you were right for listening to me.”

“Don’t push it.”

Chapter Seven

300 miles north of Montreal, Canada

I
t was a particularly harsh winter, even for a Full Blood.

Especially for a Full Blood.

The snow felt like jagged little icicles between Randolph’s toes as he bounded across wide stretches of open terrain. Winds ranked vengeful claws over his back, sinking deeper than any human bullet could ever go. Sounds normally found in the modern world had ground to a halt, leaving only the churning baritone of breaths pumped by unstoppable lungs to throw a plume of steam into the air directly in front of him.

While mankind scrambled to climb back to its feet and reassert itself, the shapeshifters had become a roiling storm.

Half Breeds charged and fed.

Mongrels burrowed under the ground in erratic patterns, never staying in one place long enough to create a home for themselves.

Full Bloods roamed the New World territories freely. The Torva’ox spilled from North America like a vein of oil that had been tapped by metal fingers. After one Full Blood soaked up some of that power, another crept across a different border to slake its thirst. Every one of them became more powerful, but none were as powerful as those who’d been there during the Breaking Moon. Against them, even the noisiest humans with the biggest machines were toothless and incapable. Randolph narrowed his eyes until his field of vision became a small tunnel through which snowy fields and naked trees streaked past him in a blur. When the scent of the First Deceiver became strongest, he dug his claws into the earth and kicked up a spray of frozen dirt while skidding to a halt.

Kawosa sat on top of a small rise with his front paws casually crossed and his hind legs tucked beneath a lanky body. His form was that of a long, lean coyote, which also happened to be his namesake, thanks to the first humans to have been bent by his flickering tongue. His fur was thinned in parts, perhaps to display the freshest scars. By the time Randolph stopped in front of him, Kawosa had propped himself up and taken a form that eased away from a pure animal and into a vaguely human body with pronounced ribs and limbs that stretched to well beyond natural proportions. “Hello, Birkyus,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d stay away so long.”

“I would have stayed away longer,” Randolph replied without any acknowledgment to his true name. “There’s no point in seeking refuge when the fire is spreading so quickly to anyplace I might be able to go.”

Kawosa’s was a trickster’s smile; steady and shallow. “You never go anywhere you don’t want to be. I trust you completed whatever business you had across the ocean?”

“I did.”

“And since you’re back now, I trust there is business to be conducted here.”

“There is.” Randolph lifted his nose to draw a sample of air that seemed to be frozen around him. It smelled of distant fires, clean snow, and dying trees. He closed his eyes and reveled in the comforting familiarity. When he exhaled, the werewolf’s snout shrank down and his fangs retracted so as not to impede his speech. Compared to the voice he’d used a moment ago, his next words were spoken with a richer timbre and the hint of an outdated accent. “Liam and Esteban may have acted too quickly, but these events were meant to happen.”

“There is no good time for war.”

“Violence can be a healing tool if applied at the right time and with the proper amount of force. I’ve learned that from the humans.”

“Cut just deep enough to get the job done, eh?”

“Yes,” Randolph said. “Perhaps I had been too easy on the Skinners after all. They were the ones to force these events into motion.”

“You’d been taking it easy on the Skinners?” Kawosa scoffed. “From what I overheard while I was in Lancroft’s care, you were one of the only things the old man feared.”

“Don’t try to get on my good side. I barely have one anymore. Where is Esteban?”

“Ever since he acquired the first Shadow Spore, he’s been stretching his newfound legs. Has he truly achieved the final stage of our evolution?”

“There is a reason why the Shadow Spore was cast aside. We are not meant to tread in the mists. Did you warn him of the dangers that come from using that gift too much?”

Kawosa’s grin wriggled on his face like a worm settling into the fur beneath his nose. “He didn’t ask.”

“Of course not. And what of the young one? Is she still in the custody of the Skinners?”

“That,” Kawosa said with a tone that was as overtly deadly as a Full Blood’s snarl, “was a mistake—to send her to them. Why would you betray your own kind that way, Birkyus?”

“I tried to protect her. I warned her about the Skinners. If she had been allowed to run with the others, she would have surely been used as nothing more than a lightning rod to draw attention away from the likes of Liam and Esteban. Once the Breaking Moon had set, she would have been killed before coming to terms with the power she’d acquired.”

“Perhaps you’re right. If she can’t fend for herself using the gifts she’s already got,” Kawosa declared, “then perhaps she doesn’t deserve to live. Especially in times like these. Or perhaps she can hand back the Jekhibar as a way to get in our good graces.” Smirking mischievously, he added, “Oh, that’s right. She handed that over to the Skinners as a way to repay her gratitude to them. What a gracious child.”

Now it was Randolph’s turn to put on a grim, humorless smile. As the expression drifted onto his face, he shifted into a human body that stood in the cold field as if transplanted there from a battleground several centuries in the past. His naked skin was covered in scars, many as fresh and aggravated as the one that marred his face. Thick muscles resided beneath his flesh, honed to a burly stature without the need of any supernatural enhancement. Crouching down to shield himself from a wind that tore across the Canadian landscape, he said, “Times like these. You mean times where the oldest shapeshifter there is, the first shapeshifter there ever was, lends a helping hand to the wretches who’ve been a thorn in our side since the first human was broken? Or consorted with the leeches who’ve made it their life’s work to nip at us when our backs are turned, or spread lies big enough to keep us away from their precious cities?”

“That’s Liam talking.”

“He hated the Nymar, as we all do. Perhaps his actions crossed a line, but at least he never went so far as to help them.”

“What are you accusing me of?” Kawosa asked in an offended tone.

“I’m accusing you of organizing the Nymar by pointing some of their leaders in the right direction to gain an advantage over the humans.”

All of the insulted, self-righteous rage that had flickered across Kawosa’s face melted away until only his familiar trickster’s grin remained. “Oh. You know about that, do you?”

“Of course I do. It’s not as if Esteban was ever very good at covering his tracks. Even in the days before photographs, he was happy to terrorize enough humans to be drawn perfectly in chalk or oils. Now, his scent permeates most of this continent. The only parts that don’t reek of him are the cities controlled by Nymar, and those cities reek of you.” Randolph dug his fingers into the snow and earth as his body shifted into a thicker frame with an extra layer of muscle and fur.

As Randolph’s form swelled, Kawosa’s dwindled down into a thin silhouette, like a candle being melted in the sun. His head hung low and his snout tapered to a point “Don’t raise your voice to me, boy,” he warned. “Just because you got me out of Lancroft’s pit doesn’t mean I’ll live the rest of my days indebted to you.”

“I don’t need your debt and I don’t expect your gratitude,” Randolph replied as if he was spitting out every foul-tasting word. “What you owe me is some respect! If not for me, you would still be rotting in Lancroft’s basement. Just another one of his amusements to be eventually passed around to the Skinners like a whore.”

Kawosa stood on two withered legs that barely seemed able to support him. His words were barely distinguishable beneath a throaty growl as he said, “I am your better, Full Blood. When you speak to me—”

“Shove your platitudes up your bony ass, Ktseena!” Randolph barked. “Your only strength is in your lies, and I never believed a word you said to begin with!”

“Not even when you asked me for the one favor you knew only I could provide?”

“You never had any intention of granting favors unless it benefited you. The reason you were removed from that prison was to upset the balance, draw the Skinners out of hiding and set this war into motion.”

“Which I have done.”

Leaning down to scowl directly into Kawosa’s face, Randolph said, “Look into my eyes and tell me you haven’t been guiding the leeches into strengthening their position.”

Kawosa shrugged and settled back down onto his haunches. “They intrigue me.”

“I know your fondness for the wretches. They grow stronger with every generation.”

“And considering how many humans are succumbing to the Breaking, one generation flows into another very quickly. With the Torva’ox flowing, it is easier than ever to shape them. Soon they will be almost as hard to kill as . . .”

“And there we have it,” Randolph said with a nod. “I’m actually surprised you even started to say it. And wipe that surprised look off your face. You say nothing that hasn’t been plotted, planned, and rearranged.”

“Actually, I’m surprised it took you this long to get so upset about the wretches becoming stronger. What kept you so busy? Still plotting your own little attempts to gain more power than your brethren? You kept young Cecile under your wing,” Kawosa pointed out. “You wanted to use her to hide the Jekhibar from me.”

“From you and all of the others.”

“Well you got your wish. At least,” Kawosa added, “for the moment.”

“That doesn’t excuse your involvement with the leeches,” Randolph continued. “Perhaps the lies that kept Full Bloods in the forests for so long weren’t of their own design.”

“Humans do so love the romantic notion of vampire royalty. I think they know how fragile they are as a species and so they want to worship something they see as erotic and desirable. Kind of like a prisoner who convinces themselves that their master is truly worth serving.”

“Is that what happened to you where Jonah Lancroft was concerned?” Crouching down a bit lower so he could dig his hind paws into the earth, Randolph asked, “Did you decide that it was better to lick his boots since you couldn’t find a way out of that dungeon on your own? The great First Deceiver became nothing more than a lying old fool who got caught by someone who was just a little bit craftier.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What’s that?”

“You want to earn my admiration so that I will take you into my favor.”

Those words rolled out of Kawosa’s mouth like a breeze that was just a bit colder and heavier than the ones already freezing the outermost layers of Randolph’s fur to a glistening, icy sheen. They swirled within the Full Blood’s head, causing his ears to twitch and his head to twist around as if in reaction to a beetle scurrying toward the interior of his skull. After a few seconds he snapped his head to the side, straightened it out and glared at Kawosa. “Your tricks don’t work on us.”

“Hmmm. Seems like that one got close. I have set things into motion. It’s what I do. Isn’t that why you freed me?”

“There’s enough in motion now,” Randolph said. “You know why I’ve sought you out this day.”

“Ahh yes. There’s still the matter of that favor you requested as a condition of my release. You want to find the other Mist Born. You want to seek out
my
brethren.” Kawosa’s eyes narrowed and his lips peeled back in a mildly disgusted grimace. “Somehow, you don’t seem worthy of such a gift. Casting your eyes upon me should be enough for now. Perhaps after you learn some respect for your elders . . .”

As Randolph shook his head, it became shaggier and thicker. Fangs slid in to fill his mouth, slicing through the sides of his face with the ease of a sharp stick piercing a cobweb. “You never intended to grant any favors. Anyone who knows your legend would have figured out as much.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Liam never lost sight of the truest nature of things, no matter how terrible it was.”

Randolph shook his head as if trying to jog something loose. His blue-gray eyes remained sharp even as his body shifted into its two-legged form. Still crouching, he was able to look down at the coyote creature with ease. When he stood on his hind legs, he might as well have been gazing down from a thousand feet above. “Liam partook in too much of the chaos he created. That’s why he’s dead.”

“He just wanted a change of scenery. What do you want, Randolph?”

After pulling in a deep breath, holding onto it and finally letting it go, the Full Blood told him, “Quiet. All I want is . . . quiet.” He started pacing then, circling Kawosa while the trickster only moved the muscles necessary to keep a constant distance between them.

“Even in the deepest woods before any of this started,” Randolph said, “I couldn’t get any quiet because Liam, the Mongrels, Esteban, the Skinners, the humans, the Nymar, even Minh, wouldn’t stop howling with madness and bloodlust. Once the Blood Blades were out of the picture, the Skinners were supposed to go back to their old ways. If nothing else, they were good at maintaining the Balance. After Liam’s farce of a siege against that first human city, larger steps needed to be taken.”

“Larger steps,” Kawosa snarled. “Like freeing me?”

“You are something that every Skinner but one still thought was a legend. When I caught your scent, I hardly believed it. But if Lancroft was keeping you squirreled away from his favorite Skinners, that made you a perfect wild card.”

“Ahhh, there’s Liam’s voice speaking through you once again.”

“Stop saying his name,” Randolph warned. “I knew him for several lifetimes, which means I’ve earned the right to speak about him after he’s gone. I was the only one among us who had the courage to say those things to his face. Even in the short time you ran at our sides, all you ever did was watch and listen.”

“It’s all I ever do,” Kawosa said in a voice only a bit louder than a whimper.