Teeth of Beasts (Skinners) (27 page)

Now that the initial tension had passed, Cole put his hands on Paige’s shoulders and started to massage. She let her head roll forward while scrubbing the shampoo through her hair. After rinsing off, she placed her hands on either side of the showerhead and let the water flow down over her entire upper half. “That feels nice,” she said.

“No,” Cole replied as he pressed against the smooth curve of her backside and reached both hands around to cup her breasts. “
That
feels nice.”

Shifting her hips to coax a bit more from his erection, she said, “It most certainly does.”

Every inch of her was wet, soft, and warm. As his hands moved up and down her sides, Cole listened to Paige’s breaths mingle with the spatter of water against the tub and walls. When he hit a certain little spot near the upper portion of her inner thigh, she let out a giggle that echoed through
the bathroom. Her hair hung in two thick sections divided unevenly between her shoulders to expose a soft, rounded divot that Cole had never seen before. As he placed his lips on that impossibly silky skin, he moved his hands to the warmer, even silkier region between her legs.

Suddenly, Paige turned around and planted a kiss on him that drove Cole back against the shower stall. Her feet slipped in the soapy water and she tried to grab hold of his arm, but her right hand couldn’t get there fast enough. He caught her just before she took a painful spill and held her while she let out a soft, embarrassed laugh.

When they kissed again, she chewed hungrily on his lower lip and writhed against him as her back was placed against the wall. Cole grasped at her thigh, so she propped that foot up onto the edge of the tub. Just as the hardness between his legs slipped into the softest softness he could imagine, Cole snapped his eyes open and said, “Um, hold on a second.”

“What?” Paige breathed. “What, what,
what
?”

“Do you have any…protection?”

She pushed her head back to get a look at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I mean…”

“Don’t worry about that. All those serum injections sterilized us both a long time ago.”

“Wh…huh?”

“Kidding. I’ve been fixed. I’m also starting to prune.”

Paige reached for a towel as soon as she stepped out of the shower, but Cole wasn’t going to let her get away from him. Drops of water trickled down her shoulders, tracing slippery lines between her breasts. He snatched the towel from her hand, threw it away, and let his hands roam freely. It had only been a few seconds, but she felt different to him. The water faded from her bare skin, allowing tight muscles to relax into smooth contours. When he tried to pull her over to the bed, she diverted him with a few playful shoves and then pushed him backward into a chair.

Cole’s butt had barely hit the seat before Paige was straddling him. She grabbed onto the back of the chair with her right hand while using her left to explore his chest and stom
ach. He couldn’t decide what he liked more: feeling her or watching her. The muscles of Paige’s finely toned stomach would have held his interest for hours if he hadn’t been distracted by the touch of her hand wrapping around his erection and guiding it into her.

She pulled in a breath, shifted, and then exhaled as she lowered herself onto him. Before he was all the way inside, she placed her hand on Cole’s shoulder and locked eyes with him to watch an expectant smile grow into a relieved grin. Her face showed a hint of surprise when he pushed up into her a little more after she’d eased all the way down. After that, Paige grabbed onto the back of the chair with both hands and rocked back and forth on top of him.

Suddenly, Cole was very grateful for all the time he’d spent learning how to steady his breathing. Paige’s body was strength in motion. Her muscles rippled beneath her skin as she glided up and down in his lap. Placing his hands upon her hips allowed him to slow her down or keep her completely still as he pumped up into her. Not wanting to rush to the finish line, he reached up to cup her breasts and gently teased her rigid nipples as she ground slowly back and forth.

Paige clenched her eyes shut and moaned appreciatively. Sliding her hands down so her palms rested flat against his stomach, she began thrusting her hips in stronger, more insistent motions. She rode him with purpose as sweat rolled down the front of her naked body.

But Cole wasn’t content to just sit there. He found a rhythm of his own, ebbing when she flowed, pressing forward when she fell back, until they were pressed tightly against one another. Before he could lift her up and carry her to the bed, Paige buried her face in the spot where his neck and shoulder met. Her moans caught in her throat and her entire body clenched around him. As she climaxed, her lips curled back and she reflexively dug her teeth into his flesh.

It wasn’t a hard enough bite to break the skin, but it would certainly leave a mark. That little jolt of pain, however, was more than enough to break through the steely discipline that had allowed Cole to last this long. He stopped holding
back, held onto Paige and allowed her to sweep him over the edge.

When he caught his breath, Cole was glad he hadn’t tried picking her up. He doubted he could lift his own ass out of that chair.

They did manage to get some sleep, but not much. When they stirred beneath the tussled sheets, the heavy curtains were drawn tight enough to keep out all but a trickle of lights from the parking lot.

“Are you awake?”

After a pause and a stretch, the response came. “Yeah.”

“You don’t know how much I needed this.”

“I think I do.”

“After all that’s happened, it’s good to have something to look forward to. Is that corny?”

“Yes.” They shifted to face each other, arms and legs entangling within the fabric cocoon to draw their bodies closer. “But I know what you mean. Sometimes, you must think I’m just…well…I want to tell you how great it is that I found you. Or you found me. With all the stuff I’ve seen—now that
we’ve
seen—it’s good to know there’s something better than just more blood and more killing.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“I know it’s sappy, but this is the best I’ve felt in a long time. Everything’s different and I’m glad.”

“Mmmmm. Me too.”

“I think I’ll wrap you up in the comforter and dump you out the window.”

“Hmmmmm.”

“Are you awake?”

This time the deep breaths didn’t even try to form a word.

“Fine. Whatever.”

“After last month’s events in Kansas City, are any measures too extreme to combat what’s recently been called the worst outbreak of rabies in the past two centuries?”

The woman who asked that question did so from behind her anchor desk at a St. Louis television studio. Her short brown air was perfectly maintained and her hands were flattened nicely upon her prop desk. When she addressed the camera, she did so with the same seriousness she would have used to report the next world war.

“According to the Humane Society of Missouri, four dozen animal fatalities have been attributed to what is believed to be deliberate poisoning. Most of these slain animals have been found in or near Kansas City, but nearly half a dozen similar cases have sprouted up in the St. Louis metropolitan area, with several others cropping up around the country. While a few of the animals were similar to the dogs that terrorized Kansas City streets or viciously attacked several people across the nation over the last several weeks, the animals found locally were mostly feline. At this time it is unclear whether these large cats had escaped from a zoo, were part of an exotic private collection, or simply wandered in from the wild.”

The camera panned over to a younger woman dressed in a navy blue suit. “Thanks, Katherine. In other news, two more
business establishments in Sauget were shut down after reports of possible Mud Flu contagion. Earlier today, authorities issued a statement confirming the discovery of at least forty-six Mud Flu cases at an exotic dance club. Nine more people were treated in a residential section of the Central West End, and eighteen have been checked into hospitals over the last two days. While several people are in critical condition after what are being reported as incidents of panic relating to the flu, all other patients have since been allowed to return to their homes. Stay tuned to this channel for any updates regarding this and other stories.”

Ned turned away from the television and took a long pull from his beer. The Keyhole Tavern was closed for the night, but he had become friendly with its owner after putting an end to a group of Nymar who tried using the place as their personal feeding ground. Since then he could stop by when the customers were gone and collect his thoughts amid the neon beer signs, retro video game cabinets, and blinking pinball machines. Headlights from a passing car were narrowed down to slivers thanks to yellowed blinds that had been drawn over the front window. When those same headlights swept over the front door, they cast the shadow of a figure on glass frosted in a way that had been stylish about fifty years ago. The figure on the other side of the door tapped on the glass with the knuckle of one finger.

“You got that?” the bartender asked from the back room.

Ned hauled himself off the stool and made his way to the door. “Yeah, I got it. I can lock up too. My friend and I just want to shoot the breeze.”

“Sure. Whatever you like.”

Moving fluidly in the near darkness, Ned skirted tables without disturbing any of the chairs stacked on them to flip the latch over the front door and head back to his seat. The man who stepped inside wore a tan jacket that extended an inch past his waist, and he had enough pockets to make a shoplifter drool with envy. He twisted the latch back into place using a scarred hand, walked to the bar in a few quiet strides, and propped the staff he’d been carrying against it.

“What happened, Jonah?” Ned asked. “This was sup
posed to be a way to clean up the storm that was kicked up in KC, not create a new one.”

Lancroft’s beard didn’t have a single whisker that was too long or out of place. His eyes were cold and calm as he said, “The mess is getting cleaned up. Thanks to the pheromones from the nymphs I’ve harvested, the Half Breeds have been drawn to the Pestilence carriers quicker than we could have hoped. Even Mongrels drop dead within a few seconds after Pestilence gets into their system.”

“And what about the Nymar? Every time one of those things pops, it’s a goddamn spectacle.”

“I could have spread Pestilence a lot quicker using those temples, but things didn’t turn out that way. It’s worked out for the better, though. My original creation has mutated like any other virus strain. Its effect on the Nymar has given me some ideas as to how to modify the next batch.”

Lowering his voice to a fierce whisper, Ned snarled, “That creature of yours is running wild. It found my home. It killed an innocent boy.”

“Henry wasn’t after you. He has some history with your student, but he is also a necessary part of the equation. Without the Mind Singer—”

“See, that’s what I don’t like,” Ned snapped as he twisted around to stab a finger in Lancroft’s direction. “Right there. Only the shapeshifters call that thing Mind Singer. When I agreed to work with you, it was to make a move that had to be made. I don’t give a damn if you’re the real Jonah Lancroft or not. The way I see it, any man who does what we do against these monsters has gotta have a screw loose. You wanna be called Lancroft? That’s fine. I knew a guy down in Florida who thought he was St. George the Dragon Slayer. He was a hell of a good Skinner, so I called him George and fought alongside him. You came to me with this notion to poison the well, so to speak, and it seemed like a shitty way to fix an even shittier situation. A minimum of folks would get hurt in exchange for Half Breeds to be wiped out.”

“And I’ve held up that end of the bargain,” Lancroft pointed out.

“Yes you did. Since the people comin’ down with this
Mud Flu seem to be getting better, I can let a lot of this pass. But I will not stand by and let you attack other Skinners. We’re all in the same fight here!”

Lancroft reached into one of his pockets for a metal flask and set it on the bar, where an inscription on the flask of flowing symbols caught the glow of tired neon. “If those three had come to me earlier, I could have spoken to them the way I’ve spoken to you. When they arrived, they’d already been swayed by the nymphs. Your students even took orders from one among them with roots that go much deeper than the other girls.”

“From what I hear, you were the one to get the fight rolling.”

“They were not in a bargaining frame of mind.”

“Well they probably wouldn’t have liked your goddamn proposal since it’s turned into an epidemic.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Lancroft said. “You’re starting to sound like those people on the news, crying because they had a sore throat that lasted for a few days. The Mud Flu is messy, but not fatal.”

“Not unless you’re one of the ones killed by a Half Breed.”

Lancroft shrugged and pushed the flask toward Ned. “Some had to be targeted so numerous others could be spared. Because of those sacrifices, there is hardly a Half Breed population anymore, and once I spread the nymph pheromones, the Nymar population will take an even larger hit.”

“Those pheromones are too potent. They don’t just attract the Nymar like we thought. They whip them into a frenzy. When they get a whiff of that stuff, Nymar don’t just feed, they tear people apart. I’ve seen it. And the Half Breeds are slaughtering more than just the folks that were sprayed with that nymph scent.”

“The wretches are strong-willed if nothing else. By any account, it’s worth some blood being spilled if it rids our world of such abominations.”

“They’ll come back,” Ned grumbled. “Half Breeds always do, and Nymar are worse. What if they get an immunity to Pestilence? What if they’re like cockroaches that can’t be poisoned by anything? You ever think of that?”

“By the time they adapt, I will have created a new strain. It’s the natural cycle between predator and prey.”

Picking up the flask, Ned ran his fingers over the cool metal and held it closer to his good eye. The symbols engraved on it were too large and irregular to be letters, but not detailed enough to be pictures. “What is this?”

“It’s called Memory Water. I told you I’d try to do something about your injury in exchange for your help.”

Ned set the flask down. “Keep it. We’re through.”

Smiling warmly through his silver beard, Lancroft signaled to the bartender, who’d just returned, and ordered a dark lager. “You’ve done more than enough to earn it,” he told Ned. “Besides, I’m a man of my word.” Leaning over to him, he added, “How do you think I’ve stayed so healthy for the last couple of hundred years?”

“Did you make this stuff?” Ned asked as he reached out to touch the flask.

“No. It’s been around for a long time. Now that your students have grown so close to the nymphs, they’ll probably find out about it sooner or later.”

Ned shook his head slowly at first, but quickly built up steam. “I been gettin’ along fine as I am.” He rapped his knuckles against the bar and pointed at a bottle of mid-grade vodka. As the bartender poured some into a shot glass, Ned grumbled, “All I do anymore is stroll around this city and chase off a few Nymar here and there.”

“Maybe you should take a more active role. Skinners need to learn from experienced trackers instead of splicing videos for the Internet. Men like us are needed to cut straight to the root of the problem and make sure the next batch does the same.”

Ned grunted. “The public barely even knows there is a problem.”

Lancroft chuckled and sipped from his pint glass. “True enough, my friend. Back home, all I meet are Skinners who would rather go into business with creatures that don’t have a place on God’s green earth.”

“Where did you say you were from? Philadelphia?”

“That’s right. Did you know some Nymar back East want
to become Skinners? They speak with forked tongues while dressing like whores or dandies. Where the hell did these youngsters get the impression devils like that could be trusted?”

Nodding as if he’d just heard his own thoughts put into words, Ned raised his drink and knocked it against Lancroft’s glass. “Traditionalist, huh? That’s nice to hear. Makes me feel like I ain’t the only one anyway.

“The monsters fear us because they don’t fully understand us. It’s an old strategy, but a very, very good one. We can’t pick and choose which prey to hunt either. That decision has already been made for us by the natural order. Working with Nymar, trusting outside groups like those crackpot ghost chasers, those are the sorts of things that will undo us.”

“Welcome to the modern world.”

“Keep it,” Lancroft sighed. “I’ve had my fill.”

Surrounded by the comforting dimness of the bar and the warbly prerecorded voices of pinball machines, Ned savored the slow burn of the vodka easing through his system. “You’d best pull up your stakes and burn whatever’s left of Pestilence,” he said. “Otherwise, those youngsters of mine will burn you along with it.”

Lancroft placed both hands on the bar. “If we’re parting ways, let’s do it amicably. One more drink to celebrate a fine, albeit short, partnership.”

Taking his cue, the bartender waddled over to collect their glasses. He filled them and set them in front of the only two customers in the place.

“After all that’s happened,” Ned said, “another snort wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” He took his glass, doffed it like a cap, and knocked it back in one swig. The liquid inside tasted clean and cool. It had the burn of vodka, but a salty sweetness that didn’t belong. “This ain’t the usual brand.”

The bartender took a step back, cocked his head to one side and silently wiped at a dark trickle that ran from the corner of his mouth. In his hand was Lancroft’s flask.

“What the hell is this?” Ned snarled while throwing the glass away and reaching for his cane.

“A gift from the fairer sex,” Lancroft mused. “Memory Water.”

“I told you I didn’t want it!” Shifting an angry glare to the bartender, he asked, “What the hell did you do, Tom? Did you spike my drink? Did you?”

The bartender pressed his lips together as if suppressing a laugh. The trickle of dark fluid along his chin turned into a gush when he opened his mouth and violently snapped his head to one side.

“Get out of him!” Ned roared. When he tried to rush around the bar, Lancroft’s staff blocked his path like a cement post.

“Henry’s learned to do so much with his gift. But only recently has he grasped the notion of subtlety.”

Something twitched in Ned’s eye that was different than the usual pain. He blinked and resisted the urge to touch his face so he could keep both hands ready to attack or defend. The longer he stood there, the more the bar around him shifted into focus.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it?” Lancroft asked. “Makes you feel as strong as you did when you could still be out there fighting the darkness. Back when something as idealistic as that actually seemed possible.”

“What’s happened to me?” Even as he asked that, Ned looked around at the bar he thought he knew like the back of his hand. Instead of dimming the harsh glare of the outside world, his sunglasses now impeded him. Ripping them off allowed him to discover shapes in the shadows, coasters on the tables, writing on the beer taps, colorful cushions on the chairs. “Is this a healing serum?”

“Not as such. It’s essence wrung from the nymphs. Since you helped me find so many of the elusive little whores, it’s only fair you taste their nectar.”

Ned gripped his cane and looked away from the bartender. It was too late for him now.

“There used to be a time when Skinners opposed all creatures that fell outside the natural order and put whatever gifts they had to proper use,” Lancroft said. “Now, they are
making deals with Nymar and handing over entire cities to Mongrels! I have restored your vision, just as I can restore the ones who don’t bounce back from the Mud Flu.”

“The plan was to take out the Half Breeds. That’s done. It’s over!”

Shaking his head solemnly, Lancroft said, “Are you
still
blind? The Book of Luke told us there would be pestilence, fearful sights and great signs from heaven. We’ve seen more than our share of fearful sights. We’ve seen Pestilence. Now we see the great sign. My toxin has evolved into something greater than we could have hoped. It kills Nymar and other shapeshifters alike, and all we need to do is stand back to let it run its course.”

“Stop quoting scripture like it means anything to you,” Ned snarled. “You just want an excuse from on high to do what you please. Those Half Breeds were mad dogs, and poisoning them was a good way to put ’em down. Not all Nymar are killers!”