Teeth of Beasts (Skinners) (14 page)

“Shut up in there!” the cop yelled. Cole couldn’t see anyone past his bars, but he could recognize the sound of someone frantically trying to tear apart electronics when he heard it. Since the cell doors worked on an electronic system, that was probably the cop’s first priority.

Now there are more of me than you. The Skinners are everywhere and they dragged me down and cut me up but now there will ALWAYS be more of me than you! MOREofMEthanYOU! MoreofmeTHANYOU!

Henry’s lips were moving but were out of sync with the words that tore through Cole’s brain. “Pestilence will cleanse us,” he said with a trembling mouth and tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m a foul, sinning creature and need to be cleansed. I don’t deserve to run free. Idon’tdeservetorunfree! I’ve tried looking into the eye of the Lord, but He doesn’t see foul sinners like me. Not unless we repent.”

“What the fuck is he saying?” Star shrieked.

Cole positioned himself between Henry and the rest of the cell. “Keep everyone back, Rico. I think I can talk to Henry. We know each other. Isn’t that right, Henry?”

When Henry took half a step forward, the remaining lights in the cell began to flicker.

One of the other two who’d been slouched against the wall jumped up and ran to the toilet in a flurry of skinny legs and flailing arms. His hand slapped against the face of the man upon that throne and knocked the back of his head against the wall. Rico tried to help the guy on the crapper, but the first attack had been too fast to prevent. When Rico took a swing at him, the attacker hissed and crouched over the in-continent prisoner as if he was guarding a prize. The hissing man glistened in what little light made it through the bars from the hallway. The moisture on his face could have been sweat mixing with dirt, but now it looked a lot like mud. Despite being in one of the most uncompromising positions known to man, the guy on the toilet did a fair job of fighting back. He kicked with both legs tangled in his pants and swung with one hand while using the other to hike them up.

“What the hell’s wrong with this guy?” Rico snarled as he tried to get a grip on the mud-faced prisoner.

Cole went to help him but was quickly wrapped up in Henry’s bony arms. “The Lord brought you to me and there’s nothing you can do. Nothingyoucando!”

“All right, that’s enough!” the cop from down the hall shouted. Judging by the rumble of stomping feet, he wasn’t approaching the cell alone.

Barbara and Star had their hands full with the third man, who’d been slouched against the wall. That one opened his mouth to let out a wail that came from the depths of his throat and sent a spray of muddy bile along with it.

Grabbing onto Henry’s wrist, Cole twisted down and around in a forward throw that he’d learned through countless sparring sessions with Paige. Henry was lifted up off his feet, swung over Cole’s shoulder, and dropped onto the floor. His hands became tangled in Cole’s shirt and his fingers crackled as a few of them popped out of joint, but he still hung on.

“You can’t kill me, Skinner!” Henry declared. “I destroyed your Blood Blade!” A shaky smile flickered across Henry’s face, and his eyes widened into orbs that looked as if they were filled with water from the bottom of a septic tank.

Caught between Rico and the guy on the toilet, the first muddy figure was quickly brought down. He didn’t give up the fight, however. Instead, he clawed at whatever he could reach and even sunk his teeth into Rico’s ankle.

“Son of a bitch!” Rico growled as he knocked his other foot into the mud man’s jaw.

The cell door came open amid a series of creaks and metallic rattles, allowing a small group of cops to wade into the brawl. A few more stood outside the cell, which meant they could only watch as Henry sprang up from the floor to charge at the first officer he saw.

“You won’t cover me with the bag again!” Henry cried. The moment he got a hold of the officer’s neck, he sank his jagged fingernails in and pounded his head against the cop’s face. “I did what you told me!”

The cop on the receiving end of the assault struggled to pull him off while his partners slammed their nightsticks against Henry’s ribs without making a dent. Bones cracked and blood flew, but Henry didn’t seem to feel any of it. Cole managed to snake an arm around Henry’s throat from behind and pull him away, but the cop in front of him saw something that shook him right down to the core.

Henry’s mouth opened wide and his eyes bulged from their sockets. What came out of him wasn’t so much a scream as it was a hungry, bleating howl. Filthy hands clawed at the cop while several other officers fired their Tasers into the wild man’s chest. Electricity pulsed through Henry’s body, forcing Cole to let go and trip backward over one of the benches.

The sickening thump of skull against steel rattled through the cell as Rico slammed the first muddy man’s forehead into the toilet.

Star and Barbara weren’t doing too well against their opponent, but a pair of cops tipped that balance. Nightsticks pounded against another mud man’s torso, tearing flesh away to reveal a surface that glistened wetly in the dim light. More electrodes were fired into the exposed areas, causing the man’s back to arch and his arms to stretch out to either side.

Several uniforms filed into the hallway, aiming guns into the cell and screaming for everyone to hold up their hands
and lay on the floor. Cole barely heard those commands through the raging tirade streaming through his mind. The officers in the cell did their best to force Henry down, but only received more punishment as their reward.

“I didn’t plan on hurting them!” Henry shouted as clubs, fists, and boots pummeled his body. “Those children tried to hide from me! I just want to sit in my corner!”

The Lord has no forgiveness for those who don’t know their place. TheLordhasnoforgiveness but now they will do what I say and allwillbeforgiven.

“Go to your corner, Henry,” Cole said as he inched toward the man who refused to sit still no matter how much of a beating he was given. When he heard those words, Henry dropped the officer whose face he’d been chewing and knelt amid some other cops that were hurt too badly to get up. Even as he was warned to stay back, Cole approached Henry and said, “Misonyk is dead. Remember?”

Henry looked at Cole and then back to the cops. His head swung at the end of his neck like a pendulum and his eyes struggled to compensate for the peculiar motion. With his shoulders slumped forward and his hands pressed flat against the floor, he reminded Cole of the Henry that had been a twisted beast at the end of Misonyk’s leash, writing nightmares into the heads of other monsters.

“You were quiet before,” Cole said. “Just go back to your corner and be quiet again. Nobody has to hurt anyone.”

Henry turned his head, which seemed impossible considering his circumstances. Catching sight of the encroaching cops, he reared up and bowed his chest out as the muscle tissue began to swell inside of him.

Cole knew all too well what kind of damage a Full Blood could do. They were the most dangerous werewolves in existence, but only if they were allowed to transform all the way out of their human skin. Praying his hypothesis was correct, he threw himself at Henry, wrapped both arms around him and grounded the wailing creature before it could launch itself at the police officers.

Everyone else in the cell responded instinctively to the escalation of the fight. Cops swarmed in to fill the cage, swinging
their nightsticks, firing their Tasers and aiming their guns at anything that moved. One of them grabbed Cole by the wrist and dragged him down so his arms could be cuffed behind his back, and the prisoners swung at anyone they could reach, whether the other man was in a police uniform or not.

“I can help you!” Cole said. “You don’t know what he is!”

Henry’s skin stretched to its limit as his scream was cut short by a clubbing blow delivered straight to his temple. His head snapped to the side as the broken ends of his backbone scraped against each other, but at least he dropped. After that, the police officers were able to sort out the mess.

Cole and Rico’s hands were stuck through different sections of the front wall of the cell and cuffed in place. Barbara and Star were similarly restrained, and all of them were placed so none of the prisoners could get to one another. Cole watched as wounded prisoners were escorted away and others were scraped up off the floor.

All of the mud men were covered in sweat and gave off a putrid, pungent stench that must have come from the viscous fluid coating their skin. The one who’d gotten his head cracked against the toilet lay splayed upon the floor. Underneath the flap of torn scalp was a slick surface that looked like the side of a wet tree stump.

Henry lay on the floor, gazing at the bars with clearer eyes. The murkiness was gone and there was no trace of blood within the white surrounding his dilated pupils. When the paramedics arrived, one of them checked Henry’s pulse and examined his waggling head before announcing, “This one’s dead. His neck’s broken clean through. Looks like he also sustained some massive trauma to the face.”

“He sure did,” one of the cops said. “Bastard tried to kill us with his bare hands.”

The paramedic motioned for gurneys to be brought in so Henry, toilet guy, and the more seriously wounded men could be taken away.

Rico turned to Cole and made himself comfortable against the bars. “Since it seems like we’ll be here for a while, how about you tell me about this Pestilence crap again.”

The next morning, Paige woke to the smell of burning Nymar and the piercing shriek of her cell phone. Although the ring tone became more tolerable once she got her wits about her, the smell only got worse. She rolled out from under the covers of her twin-sized bed and reacquainted herself with her unfamiliar surroundings. It was a guest room only because of the bed, but was mostly filled with books that were either waiting to be shelved or sold to a secondhand dealer. Volumes in all conditions were piled throughout the room, giving it an overall smell of pulp and cardboard.

She’d fallen asleep after taking off no more than her boots and socks, so she poked her head outside to find traces of light and movement coming from Daniels’s makeshift lab. Smoke drifted through that door, but she didn’t exactly want to know what parts of Peter Walsh might be burning. And despite all of these halfhearted distractions, her phone stubbornly refused to stop ringing.

Paige didn’t recognize the caller information on her phone’s screen, so she jabbed the annoying device and squawked, “What?”

“Miss Strobel?”

“Yes.”

“This is Stanley Velasco of Liberty Bail Bonds. Walter Nash said you have some friends that require our services.”

Forcing her fingers through her thick black hair, she winced as she discovered a series of knots created during her tossing and turning in a twin bed that doubled as a book pedestal. By the time she stormed across her room to pull open the heavy curtains covering the window, her brain had woken up enough to remind her that Walter Nash was Prophet’s real name and that he’d told her to expect a call from Liberty Bail Bonds. “You were supposed to call last night,” she said.

The man on the other end of the line spoke in a voice that was deep in tone, but had an underlying wheeze that made it sound as if he was forcing each word through a chest clogged with bacon grease. “What’s the matter?” Stanley asked. “Your friends not locked up anymore?”

“Can you get them out or not?”

While shuffling through some papers on his end, Stanley said, “Fortunately for you, I’ve done some work in St. Louis and the surrounding area. Also, Prophet spoke highly of you, so I’ll handle your case personally. Looks like your buddies had a fun night. We got charges of reckless driving, failure to yield, destruction of city property…”

“What’s the bottom line?”

Continuing as if he was talking to himself, Stanley droned, “Criminal mischief in regards to use of a firearm, a few more traffic violations, and illegal dumping of noxious substances.”

“What was that last one?”

As the paper shuffling stopped, Stanley said, “It seems your friends didn’t stop partying once they got locked up either. There was some trouble at the lockup and the cops don’t want to give them up just yet.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“A fight, but the two you want me to bail out weren’t the instigators. I should be able to get them out sometime today. Tonight at the latest.”

“Call me as soon as you can post their bail.” Now for the part she was dreading. “How much is this going to set me back?”

“We’ve got plenty of payment options, but it depends on
how much the actual bail amount is set for. Seeing as how your friends are still in the middle of their own little—”

“How much?”

Shifting into a more candid tone, he told her, “I’ll get it down as low as I can. For right now, don’t worry about it.”

Paige squinted as if she could study the other man through the cellular connection. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch is that some vampires have been sniffing around looking for Prophet and a few of my other bondsmen.” He let that sink in while slurping from a drink. “And since you didn’t tell me I’m a lunatic just now, I think you’re just the help I need. Walter’s told me about you people, Miss Strobel. I heard what happened in Wisconsin and I also heard about the shit that went down in KC. I’m guessing the noxious substance was the remains of a vampire or…what do you call them? Nyman?”

“Did you say vampires?”

“Uh-huh. Maybe you’ve seen them. Kinda pale, lots of pointy teeth, all marked up with black tattoos, spitting nasty crap that makes you dizzy. Any of this ringing a bell?”

Paige gripped the phone a little tighter, imagining all the unpleasant ways she could convince Prophet to keep his mouth shut the next time she got her hands on him. “They’re Ny
mar
,” she sighed. “Not Nyman.”

“Right. Does this new crop of legal trouble have something to do with the rabid dogs and riots in KC?” Stanley asked.

“What makes you think I was even in Kansas City?”

“Because weirdness tends to stick to the same people.”

Stanley definitely had a point there.

His voice reflected a sloppy grin as he told her, “Look, I’m no blackmailer. I don’t want to hang anything over yer head, but you folks can’t make ends meet by just relying on Prophet’s lottery picks.”

“He told you about the lottery picks too?” she asked.

“Actually he gave some to me here and there to pay off advances on his salary.”

One of the more practical uses for a man who claimed to dream visions of the future was to ask him for lottery
numbers. When they panned out, the winnings were divided among Skinners across the country. For the other seventy to eighty percent of the time, the tickets might be worth enough to pay for a few meals or a tank of gas. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it had its advantages. One of those was supposed to be a quiet way to pull in some untraceable funds.

Quiet.

That was the key word.

“Do you know where Walter is?” she asked.

Stanley didn’t have to be psychic to pick up on the tension in her voice. “Before you start planning any funerals, let me assure you he didn’t spell out anything vital for me. What little I pieced together about you or those tattooed freaks I did on my own, and I want the credit for it. If you want to blame anyone for spilling the beans about any overly weird shit going on, blame the little pricks who tried to scare away some of my bondsmen by draining one of them close to death.”

“Where did this happen?”

“In Helena about six months ago.”

She didn’t say as much, but Paige recognized that sort of reckless behavior from Rocky Mountain Nymar. There was a theory floating around that the high altitude or thinner air made them skittish and hungrier than normal. Skittish, hungry Nymar were not pleasant to be around and they didn’t care about making messes.

“I’ve got some major interests throughout Montana all the way down to Colorado,” Stanley continued, “and I can’t let them go just because some punks with long teeth spit on my men. Word of that gets around and I might as well invite all my clients to become fugitives.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“The only time I ever saw these tattooed jackasses get nervous was when they crossed paths with Walter. I kept an eye on him and it turned out he was meeting up with you and some old guy.”

That would have been Gerald Keeley. Almost everything Paige knew about cracking skulls and killing monsters had been taught to her by Rico. Anything on the subtler end of the
spectrum, such as tracking or using her head as something other than a battering ram, she’d picked up from Gerald. Thanks to a surprise attack from a Full Blood, Gerald and a promising kid named Brad were both dead. On a brighter note, Gerald’s last act had been to send Cole her way.

The way Stanley’s voice strained, Paige had an easy time picturing him leaning back and swinging his feet up onto a desk as he said, “I figure the next time you’re in the area, maybe you can talk some sense into these pricks.”

“We’re not enforcers,” Paige fibbed.

“Would it make a difference if I told you some of my guys found these assholes feeding in public?”

Even though Skinners didn’t hunt down and destroy every vampire out there, they drew the line at public feedings. Every Nymar should have known that, but not every guy who worked at a bail bonds office would be privy to that information. The sigh Paige let out slowly shifted into something close to a growl.

“All right,” Stanley admitted. “Maybe Walter told me a little more about you Skinners than what I originally said. But that was only after I found out a good chunk on my own.”

“We’re still not hired muscle.”

“I wouldn’t imagine putting you in that category! All I’m saying is that you folks must be in need of some legitimate income. Now that I know what to look for, I’ve realized several of my clients may be strange for reasons other than the normal ones. In fact, a whole crew that’s wanted for vice-related shit is marked up with those same tats. They’re harder than hell for my guys to track, and if I could get some specialized assistance in that regard, I’d be more than happy to pay my normal bounty hunter fee.”

Paige let her finger drift along the edge of her phone, lingering close to the button that would put an end to the whole conversation. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that Nymar did tend to be attracted to the seedier side of life. Some were upstanding citizens who dealt with their problem. Others were kinky, but law-aiding. Then there were the ones who wore their infection with pride. They not only
wallowed in certain perversions that hooked up biters with bitees, but created new ones with a considerably less happy ending.

Being in a business where he got hung up on a lot, Stanley no doubt could feel it coming and quickly interjected, “I’ll raise my fee for this case. After all, specialists shouldn’t get paid the same as the rank and file, right?”

“Get Cole and Rico out of that jail cell and we’ll talk.”

“How about I go one better? I’m only a two hour drive away. I could go down there and spring them personally in exchange for a guaranteed business meeting within the next week.”

“Done.”

Paige swore she could hear Stanley smiling through the phone.

“You won’t regret this,” he said.

“I’d better not,” she told him. “Otherwise, the Nymar may get a few phone calls telling them just how much you want to see them gone. And when they come a’knocking, you’ll be on your own to answer the door.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting you, Paige. Seems like we think along the same lines. You have a nice voice too. Why don’t we take our meeting over a nice din—”

She cut him short by finally allowing her finger to hit the magic button. Too bad every interaction wasn’t as easy to end.