Blood Blade

Chapter 25

The parking garage looked like something that had been built on a whim and then left to be used for graffiti practice. It was three levels of weathered concrete, covered with more than enough spray paint to keep anyone from thinking they’d ever get their car back after being stupid enough to park it there.

Poorly lit and closed in by metal grates over the main entrance, it was situated in the middle of Palmer Park, which was about 150 yards from the tree Walter had picked for his perch. During the warmer months, it would have been next to impossible to watch the garage from that spot. But since the branches were bare and the moon was full, Walter had a pretty good view once he climbed into a tree. There was nobody else in that section of the park at the moment, lending credence to the theory that the locals were following their natural instinct to give the predators some room. Cole knew that instinct was very real, because it currently screamed inside his head like a maladjusted car alarm.

“I don’t like Paige going in alone like this,” he said as he paced back and forth beneath Walter’s tree. “I should be with her. I’m her partner.”

Walter sat no more than six feet off the ground, which was more than high enough since there were only dead branches to obstruct his view of the garage. Most of his weight was supported by a thick branch, and he sat with one leg dangling against the trunk. “She knows what she’s doing,” he said as he peered through the scope of the Brown Precision Tactical Rifle.

“I know she does, but I should still be there to help.”

“You are helping.” Walter kept glancing over his scope and through it again so he could make minor adjustments to the lenses and the angle of the sights. “By covering me, I don’t need to look away from this scope, which means I’ll be able to cover her. I’m sure she’d rather have it this way than needing to worry about you.”

The whole town seemed to be asleep. When he looked around the park, Cole saw nothing but frosted grass, bare branches, a few benches, and a locked public restroom.

Staring through the scope, Walter asked, “Do you see Paige yet?”

Cole focused his attention on the road leading up to the parking structure. Although he’d seen her heading that way a while ago, there was no trace of her now. He told Walter as much and continued pacing around the tree.

“Just let me know the minute she shows. I’ll keep an eye on the garage. It doesn’t look like there’s much of anything going on there either. I count at least four Nymar inside. Possibly five. There’s more than that sneaking around, though.”

“What are they doing?” Cole asked. “Is it some kind of meeting?”

Walter shook his head without moving it more than a centimeter in either direction. “I just track ’em and point you guys in the right direction.”

“Why even do that much?” Cole asked.

This time Walter did look away from his scope, to fix his eyes on Cole. “Excuse me?”

“I kind of got pulled into this, but nobody forced me to stay. If you don’t want any part of it, why don’t you just leave?”

Slowly, Walter shifted his eyes back to the scope. “I spent a good amount of time in law enforcement, so maybe I’m no stranger to seeing hopeless situations. A man’s gotta do what he can.”

“So why not be a Skinner?” Cole asked.

Walter shifted against his branch. “I’ve also seen plenty of men think they could save the world and only wind up getting chewed up and spit out by it. If a man gets lucky a few times and survives a few bad calls, he gets cocky. Once he gets cocky, he gets killed. Think whatever you want about me, but you Skinners must be awfully cocky to keep going against these creatures. Learning about them is one thing. Pissing them off on purpose is another.”

“Yeah? Well…” Cole tried to put together a good comeback but could only grumble, “That actually makes sense.”

After a few quiet seconds, Walter asked, “What about you? From what I’ve heard, you were there to see what happened to Gerald and Brad. If it was a Full Blood, it couldn’t have been a pretty sight.”

“It wasn’t, but I survived because of them. Gerald asked me to do him a favor and I wasn’t about to refuse. After that…I don’t know. Things just sort of fell into place.”

Walter smirked and nestled his cheek against the side of his rifle. “See what I mean? I’ve seen it with Skinners just as much as I’ve seen it with cops. They luck out of a few bad situations and they think they’re untouchable.”

“Lucky?” Cole asked. “If I was lucky, I’d be back home, playing my games, secure in the knowledge that werewolves and vampires were just cool characters in them. I’ve already seen enough to blow that to hell, so now I’ve got to do something about it.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yeah,” Cole said reflexively. He took a moment to think it over and then nodded again. “I do. If I left now, I’d only feel guilty every time I heard about some wild animal attack or bizarre murder on the news. I’d wonder if it was one of those creatures that did it, and then I’d wonder if I could’ve kept it from happening.”

“You won’t be able to prevent all the killing, you know.”

“Sure, but I can try.”

Shifting to get more comfortable in his spot, Walter said, “I suppose we all just gotta do what we can. Right now you gotta keep your eyes open because one of the Nymar is talking to a few others inside that garage.”

“Is it Misonyk?” Cole asked anxiously.

“Big bald guy with black marks running up to the top of his head?”

“Yeah,” Walter said. “And it looks like he’s about to step outside.”

“Shit,” Cole snapped. “I can see a bunch of them walking toward the front of the garage. Paige is approaching from the other side of the building.”

Already shifting his aim to the wide entrance of the parking structure, Walter nestled the rifle’s stock against his shoulder and adjusted his cheek in its spot beside the scope. “I see them.”

“What should I do?”

“You know what to do! Paige can take care of herself. Just keep your eyes open for anyone coming at us and I’ll let you know when I hear from her.”

Although he wasn’t the one who got to use the sniper rifle, Cole wasn’t completely overlooked in the firearms department. The revolver he’d been given was a .44 loaded with rounds that had dark streaks running through them, making them strangely similar to their intended targets. He checked again to make sure the revolver was loaded, then dropped the .44 back into the holster under his arm. He then picked up his wooden weapon, which had been leaning against a tree, and held it like a spear. There was nobody close enough to be of much concern to him or Walter, so he held the spear with his fingers around the barbs. There would be plenty of time to bleed later.

Paige walked up to the parking structure and immediately spotted the reception committee that was headed toward the front entrance. From within the garage, several men and a few women pushed on the metal grate so they could slip through a gap where it had fallen off the track built into the cement doorway.

The men and women who swarmed toward the garage were extremely pale, which meant they were hungry. Their markings were gray, skinny threads stretching beneath their flesh and extending all the way to their hands and up to their chins. The Nymar were definitely fresh kills. Their spores had settled in, but were still stretching out to probe theirs new hosts.

“Here they come,” Paige said just loud enough for her voice to be picked up by her earpiece. “They’re freshly infected. Looks like Misonyk has been expecting trouble.”

“I got ’em,” he replied. “Just try to draw them out into the open so I can get a clear shot.”

The shotgun in her hands was a pump action that could hold half a dozen specially packed shells. She pumped the first round into the chamber, put the shotgun to her shoulder and aimed at the closest target.

“Where’s Misonyk?” she shouted. “He and Henry are all we want.”

The Nymar approaching the garage stopped and looked at Paige while flashing fangs that were still bloody from cutting through their gums for the first time. Despite their tough act, they were obviously taken aback by the fact that she wasn’t scared by their display. The first woman to crawl through the grate was a bit taller than Paige and had skin the color of ash. She looked at Paige with wild, hungry eyes and opened her mouth to hiss and show the set of thinner upper fangs next to her primary ones. Her markings were darker and thicker, which meant she’d been infected a lot longer than most of the others in the vicinity.

“Misonyk is beyond your reach!” the ashen woman screeched. “He controls the Full Bloods and soon he’ll control the Nymar.”

“Where is he?”

“Protecting us. Teaching us.”

“You think so?” Paige asked. “Maybe you should ask the Chicago Nymar about how much bullshit Misonyk’s feeding you.”

The ashen woman scowled defiantly. “We have all seen the power from drinking souls. We will spread from this city and bring true unity to all of our kind!”

Although Paige listened to what the Nymar woman was saying, she was distracted by what was just inside the garage. Stacked up against a booth where parking fees had once been collected, there was a pile of bodies in clothing ranging from uniforms to mismatched coats and boots. Since the bodies weren’t much more than dried husks, she knew these Nymar had been making good on Misonyk’s threats.

“Misonyk has shared his memories of you with us,” the ashen woman said. As she spoke, the other Nymar grinned as if they were all in on a private joke. “If you start running now, you might just get away before we catch you. I still don’t know if you’ll ever be able to outrun the Full Bloods when he calls them down like a—”

Without so much as a wince, Paige pulled her trigger and fired a thundering blast into the woman’s head. Since the Nymar had closed the distance between herself and Paige to less than ten feet, the shotgun blast nearly decapitated her. She fell to the ground and writhed as the Nymar within her slithered out the gaping hole at the top of her neck. The eel-like creature made it less than a foot before it had absorbed all the fluids in the woman’s body in a useless effort to heal the grievous wound. Once the fluids were gone, the body cracked like a section of desert floor.

Paige ejected the spent round and pumped in another. More Nymar sped through the break in the entrance grate and then scattered to flank her. The new arrivals who’d been approaching the garage from the outside moved erratically rather than coming at her head-on. Instead of wasting a round in trying to catch another head shot, Paige lowered her aim and fired into the middle of the crowd streaming from the garage. The shotgun pellets tore through two of the closest Nymar and then spread out to rip into a few more behind them. The pale faces constricted with shock and pain as antidote-infused lead shredded them, but their bodies were already knitting back together.

Nymar rushed at Paige from both sides as she managed to fire two more shells at them. The first one missed completely, but the second knocked one man down. The color of his skin was a bit darker, but that was merely a remnant of his living visage. As the Nymar healed, his skin paled and he became hungrier. When he caught sight of Paige, he ran at her twice as fast, and was dropped by a high-powered round that had been fired from an entirely different section of the park.

“Thanks, Walter,” Paige said as she swung the shotgun so its stock caught a Nymar in the side of the head. The undead man recovered quickly and lunged forward to bite her neck. She dropped to one knee, pulled her clubs from the sides of her boots and rolled backward before anyone got close.

“I’m going after her!” Cole shouted.

Walter levered a fresh round into his rifle and sighted through the scope. “You do that and you’ll leave me open. Stick to the plan.”

“But Paige is outnumbered!”

“You guys are always outnumbered,” Walter replied as he calmly fired another shot.

Cole was debating on whether he should argue or just run for the parking structure. Both options were pushed aside when he spotted movement in the corner of his eye. He looked over to find two shapes racing toward him from the surrounding shadows. All this time, he thought he’d had a good feel for the park. Now he felt as if he’d just been dropped into alien territory. “Someone’s coming,” he said.

Walter’s reply was as calm as it was stern. “Just don’t let them get to me.” He didn’t so much as glance down at Cole, even as the impact of feet upon cold grass rumbled through the ground.

Misonyk and one of the muscular bodyguards from Shimmy’s scrambled forward in a low crouch. The bodyguard snarled while extending his arms and balling up thick, meaty fists. As he approached, Misonyk showed Cole a wide smile, complete with both sets of fangs protruding from his upper jaw.

“So you have chosen to stand your ground,” he said as he glanced at the weapon in Cole’s hands. “I’m always happy to send another Skinner from this world.” He then shifted his eyes toward Walter and snarled, “Kill him before he fires another shot!”

The bodyguard ran toward Cole, but leapt into the air at the last moment.

Shifting his grip to hold onto his weapon more like a golf club, Cole swung the spear upward and snagged the bodyguard’s foot with the two points at the bottom of the grip. That was enough to divert the airborne Nymar’s course and bounce him off the trunk of the tree next to Walter’s.

Walter kept the rifle to his shoulder and fired whenever a target presented itself. If he had any doubts regarding Cole’s ability to protect him, he didn’t voice them.

Tightening both fists around his weapon the way Paige had shown him, Cole swung in a low arc that cut across Misonyk’s ankles. The blow caught the Nymar by surprise, but only caused him to stumble back half a step. Then he straightened and lashed out with one hand. The Nymar’s nails were short, jagged, and sharp enough to slice through the air like tempered steel. Cole leaned back to avoid getting eviscerated and saw Misonyk’s other arm coming straight down toward his face.

It was nothing but reflex that brought both of Cole’s arms up to block the incoming swing with his weapon. Misonyk’s fist landed like a sledgehammer, sending a shockwave all the way up to Cole’s shoulders while also burying the weapon’s thorns into his palms. At first Cole felt numb, then the pain hit him in a white hot explosion that caused his vision to blur around the edges. Gritting his teeth, he pulled one end of the weapon back while pushing the other end forward to drive the twin spearheads into Misonyk’s midsection.

Misonyk hopped backward while pressing a hand against the bloody gashes that had been torn across his stomach. As he bared all three sets of his fangs, the muscles in his jaw strained as if every one of his teeth were separate entities that hungered for Cole’s blood.

Cole’s rage grew as those thorns pulled and twisted within his hands. When he caught the bodyguard approaching Walter’s tree, he was glad to have another target on which to vent some of the fire that had been sparked within him.

The bodyguard bent at the knees and launched himself toward Walter’s legs with both hands open. In doing so, he left himself open for the impact of the single spearhead that Cole drove all the way up between his ribs. The Nymar opened his mouth to scream, but only half a grunt came out. The bodyguard’s arms and legs flailed, losing their grip on the tree.

Cole drove him to the ground and pulled the sharpened end of his spear free, just as Misonyk’s arms wrapped around him from behind. With the fire still raging through him, Cole twisted his upper body back and forth until he gained some leverage. At the first cold touch of Misonyk’s deadly lower fangs against his throat, he leaned forward and drove the lower end of his weapon down and back to take a chunk out of Misonyk’s right shin. As Misonyk cursed and fell back, the bodyguard rose up to renew his attack. Cole pulled one hand free so he could draw the .44 and fired several shots into the bulkier Nymar.

The gun slipped within Cole’s bloody hand, but his target was nearly at point-blank range. Each bullet knocked the bodyguard farther back and kept him off balance. Even as the .44 was still bucking against his palm, Cole could see the bodyguard’s wounds closing up like little, toothless mouths puckering beneath the holes that had been blasted through the Nymar’s clothes. Finally, he fired a round that glanced off the big man’s head and sent him spinning on one heel and flopping to the ground. Cole knew better than to assume the bodyguard was dead, but the Nymar was obviously stunned. Turning back around, he reflexively fired his last round when he saw Misonyk fly at him like something launched straight out of hell.

His shot caught Misonyk in the chest and tore open a gaping wound, but didn’t do much to slow the Nymar. Misonyk knocked him down and dug his claws into the fabric of his jacket. As he wrapped his hand around the barrel of the .44, steam erupted with a noisy hiss as heated metal met bare skin. Without showing the slightest reaction from the burn, he yanked the .44 from Cole’s grasp and tossed it away.

Jagged fingernails scraped against Cole’s chest as Misonyk pushed him down. What worried Cole more was the strength behind those fingers, which was enough to hold him against the grass without any hope of wriggling free.

Gritting his teeth, he brought his weapon around to hit Misonyk in the ribs. For the first time, he was thankful for the thorns connecting the weapon to his hand. Without them, he would have surely lost his grip on the specially treated spear. One of the two sharpened points dug into Misonyk’s side, landing within inches of the first wound Cole had given him. The Nymar bared his teeth like a wounded animal and swiped at Cole’s face, but quickly pulled his hands back to protect himself from the next swing. Cole turned his head when he saw the Misonyk’s jagged nails slashing toward him, and he felt the breeze as those claws passed less than an inch from his cheek.

Since the bodyguard was still pulling himself up and Misonyk was backing away, Cole scrambled to his feet and gripped the spear in both hands. “Walter! How’s Paige?” he asked quickly.

Walter fired another shot and reached into his jacket pocket for more ammunition. “You don’t want to know.”

The newly infected Nymar knew how to bite and snarl, but they were still uncomfortable in their own skins. Their spores had yet to spread fully throughout their bodies, which meant they were slow to recover after taking the damage Paige was dishing out.

She held a club in each hand and kept her stance low. The weapon in her right hand had shifted into a sickle, while the other had extended into a stake with a sharpened point on either end. That way, she could hit one Nymar after another in a series of quick, flowing movements. After putting one of them down with a stab to the chest, she managed to crack a few skulls with the side of her other weapon. Walter had dropped a few of the Nymar, killing at least two, but that left plenty more for Paige to contend with.

They came at her in waves, flailing madly with claws that were too new to be sharp but still strong enough to shred through the layers of clothing protecting her arms, neck, and back. Only a few of those claws were quick enough to cut her skin. The rest were deflected by her weapons or scraped along the protective black body armor. She didn’t even feel the attacks that bounced against her torso, thanks to the layer of werewolf hide, which was strong enough to make Half Breeds among the most feared animals in creation.

Most of the Nymar relied upon their bare hands or a few small weapons to attack Paige. A few bullets whipped past her or slammed into her vest, but Walter focused his aim on the Nymar who’d brought guns. Paige remained in motion so she could always attack, while also making herself a difficult target to hit. As soon as she spotted a Nymar who had thick, muscular arms marked by the gray tendrils beneath his skin, she bent down low and raked her sickle against the back of his knees, cutting his hamstring and sending him to the ground. She then buried the sharp end of her double-ended stake into the heart of another attacker, a blow that landed perfectly and put a look of stark terror onto the Nymar’s face. Its eyes shifted from those of a hungry demon to a tired victim grateful to be released from the twisted shell that had once been his own body.

Suddenly, the Nymar all jerked their heads around as if they were hearing something well out of Paige’s range. She scrambled away from the group and was barely able to brace herself before Henry leapt from the top of the garage to land with the crunch of bare feet against broken pavement. He pulled himself mostly upright and then took in as much of his surroundings as his wobbling head would allow.

Henry opened his mouth and let out a loud groan. Just then, a bullet from Walter’s rifle whipped through the air and snapped Henry’s head around. Since the fresh Nymar seemed to be more scared of Henry than of Paige, they scattered like a flock of birds flushed from the same bush. That bit of motion was enough to catch Henry’s eye, and he pounced on the first one that got within his reach. Consumed by a pained frenzy, he ripped open the hapless Nymar’s chest in one swipe.

Paige knocked aside the fleeing Nymar and summoned the will needed to change the shape of the stake until it curled around into another sickle. While Henry crouched over his dinner, Paige rushed at him with both weapons held at the ready.

Henry reared up. The Nymar spore he’d pulled from the man on the ground still hung from his mouth as he swung a fist at Paige. She ducked under the powerful swing and sank one of her blades into Henry’s thigh. After that, it was all she could do to hang on for the ride.

Henry spun around like a dog chasing its tail and kept swinging at Paige, who was attached to him by the weapon embedded in his muscle. She twisted and ducked while his own movements kept her out of his reach. All the while, he kept gnawing on the oily black thing between his teeth. Hanging on as best she could, Paige tried to get the impaled weapon to shift again. Before she could do so, Henry’s ape-like hand slapped against her arm and knocked her away with enough force to rip the weapon from his own flesh.

Henry staggered and rubbed at his eyes. The color drained from his face as he stared directly at Paige and groaned, “Hungry.” Then he clamped a hand around her throat. He’d moved so fast that she didn’t even realize he had her until her feet were off the ground and her back was being slammed against the wall of the parking structure.

“He’s got her!” Walter shouted as he fired, worked the rifle’s lever, and fired again. When Misonyk’s bodyguard pulled himself up, Walter quickly worked the rifle’s lever, lowered his aim and pulled the trigger. The round exploded from the rifle at such a high rate of speed that it cut through the bodyguard like a laser beam.

The bodyguard stared up at Walter with one good eye and another that had just been turned into a messy hole. He opened his mouth to bite down on Walter’s leg, but instead felt the stock of Walter’s rifle crack against the bloody hole in his eye socket. Dropping to his knees and pressing both hands to his face, the bodyguard howled in pain and fought to regain his senses.

Cole kept his eyes on Misonyk, but also caught sight of another shape rushing in from the darkness. He didn’t have to look over there to know that the burly figure was the second muscle-bound bodyguard coming to join his master. With Misonyk closing in on him, Cole reached into his jacket for one of the antidote syringes Paige had given him. Although he was fairly quick on the draw, Misonyk knocked the syringe from his hand in a blur of motion. Before Cole could reach for another syringe, Misonyk extended his arm and slashed at his jacket, tearing away that entire pocket.

“You disgust me,” Misonyk said as he threw the syringes to the ground and stomped them under his heel. “Chicago is practically mine and I took this place over in a matter of days. Now that Henry has provided some wolves to fight for my cause, I’ll be able to make every last one of you sadistic, godless Skinners pay for the pain you’ve caused.”

Listening to the howls and screams coming from the parking structure, Cole expected to hear sirens or some other sign of a police presence. Instead it seemed as if the entire town was curled up and ignoring the battle being waged within its boundaries.

“Henry will feed and allow me to claim this city for my own,” Misonyk growled. “He should be done with that bitch of yours before my partners have finished dealing with this town’s police.”

“And maybe you and that big, crazy hunchback of yours should lie down in another hospital room so you can whisper in each other’s ears,” Cole replied. It wasn’t his best insult, but it was good enough to get an angry twitch from Misonyk. “Then you can play God all you want with the one person on this planet that’s crazy enough to believe you.”

He could see that his words prickled against Misonyk’s skin. The corners of the Nymar’s eyes kept twitching and his lip jerked upward as if it had been hooked by a fishing line. He walked toward Cole slowly, but snapped his hand out to grab the weapon in Cole’s hands and take it away as if he were disarming a small child. When Cole turned and started running toward the car, Misonyk laughed.

“I admit, I didn’t think you’d take me up on my offer to run,” he said. “The Skinners must surely have fallen since the days when Jonah Lancroft was among them. Or perhaps that was a fluke. Perhaps you have always been an order of morbid braggarts who pick at carcasses and then strut about as if they are to be feared.”

Cole made it to the car and got the trunk open. Knowing he wouldn’t have much time to work, he rummaged through the towels stuffed on top of Paige’s cases. He took out the plastic retainer case she’d given him, opened it and managed to find the thing he was after. His hands worked feverishly as blood from his palms soaked into the white towel. Within seconds he could hear footsteps behind him that were quick enough to have come from a rat scrambling across a hard-wood floor.

“My offer was for you to run, Skinner,” Misonyk practically whispered into his ear. “Not for you to dig out another toy to be used against me.” Grabbing Cole by the shoulder and spinning him around, he looked to the second bodyguard and growled, “Search him.”

Cole raised his arms high over his head and dropped Paige’s towel. Looking past the two Nymar, he saw Walter still in his perch, glancing nervously back at him. He looked away from Walter as the bodyguard roughly patted him down.

“I cannot abide a coward,” Misonyk sneered.

The bodyguard’s fangs extended from his gums, and the muscles in his jaw twitched with the anticipation of sinking all three sets into fresh meat. No venom dripped from the slender set of fangs, making it clear he wanted Cole to spend his last moments kicking and flailing.

“Did you ever tell any of your followers how much you cried when you were laying on your back on Lancroft’s floor?” Cole asked before the bodyguard could get any closer.

With a subtle motion from Misonyk, the bodyguard froze.

The air was cold against Cole’s face, and the chaotic sounds from the garage rumbled through the park. Sirens and gunshots finally echoed from farther down the street. Cole even thought he could hear tires squealing and people shouting, but that was just background static. As Misonyk leaned in closer, Cole’s ears filled with the pounding of his own heart mixed with the mad Nymar’s voice.

“What…did you say?” Misonyk asked ominously.

“I saw your memories,” Cole said in the steadiest voice he could manage. “I saw how you laid on that floor with Lancroft’s spear in your chest, crying like a little…like a little bitch every time Lancroft or one of his men would do whatever the hell they wanted to you.” Even though he somehow got his words out, Cole thought his own nervousness might overtake him. Sweat pushed out of his face when he added, “I’ll bet you liked it. Maybe that’s why you want to find more Skinners. Maybe you just miss the days when Lancroft would—”

Misonyk’s hand clamped around his throat in the space between heartbeats. Jagged claws pressed against his windpipe, turning Cole’s head so he was forced look directly into the Nymar’s twitching eyes. Cole let out a breath that caused his body to droop within Misonyk’s grasp. That way, he was able to line up his left hand with the thick black tendril that ran beneath Misonyk’s skin and reached all the way to the top of his scalp. Then, using every bit of strength he had, Cole delivered a single blow to Misonyk’s neck.

The Nymar hadn’t seen it coming.

Wincing at the quick pinch in his neck, Misonyk looked down at Cole’s fist. Something shimmered within Cole’s grasp, as if the pale moonlight had wrapped around it instead of shining directly upon it. Only when he shoved away from Cole did Misonyk see his own black, oily blood dripping from the end of a needle that appeared to hover in the air beneath Cole’s fist.

“What? What’s…?” Misonyk stammered as he reached for the aching spot in his neck.

Cole knew he should run, but he couldn’t resist holding his arm out and wiping away the greasy residue that he’d smeared onto the antidote-filled syringe from his emergency kit in the scant moments before Misonyk had gotten to the car. If those towels with the Mongrel substance hadn’t been at the top of the pile in the trunk, he might not have had enough time to fully cover the thin plastic tube. Fortunately, Paige had collected more than enough from the trashed hotel room.

Misonyk’s hand twitched, and Cole was just fast enough to slap it away before it could close around his throat. The Nymar leaned his head back and started to let out a pained grunt, but quickly began to gag on the venom he’d collected in his mouth. Coughing and staggering a few more steps, Misonyk dropped to his knees and grabbed the earth beneath him as the distant sirens grew louder.

Hacking up a strained laugh, Misonyk said, “The wheels are…already turning. I am the only one who could…control the fire that has been lit. And when your authorities arrive, the monkeys you try to protect will…throw you into a cage…just as they did to me.”

Walter had climbed down from his perch and walked up to Cole while keeping his rifle trained on the remaining bodyguard. “He’s right. There’s a bunch of cops headed this way. Whatever was distracting them before isn’t holding them back anymore.”

“And they will…find bodies,” Misonyk promised. “Here and…more in the years to come.”

Although still holding his head up, Misonyk was losing the strength to keep it there. Death wrapped its arms around him, starting at the spot where the antidote had entered the vein in his neck. A pale gray shadow spread throughout his body while draining the moisture from Misonyk’s skin. The thick black markings beneath the Nymar’s flesh dulled like paint left too long in the unforgiving elements. A faltering breath escaped Misonyk’s throat and the tendrils dwindled into thin, quivering lines.

Since he’d dropped the syringe and didn’t have another to replace it, Cole picked up his double-ended spear and faced the remaining Nymar.

The bodyguard stalked forward, but as his employer crumpled to the ground like a broken cement statue, he backed away from Cole so he could run into another section of the park.

Turning to Walter, Cole asked, “What’s going on with Paige?”

Walter had his rifle reloaded and against his shoulder. “There’s enough cop cars headed toward this park to form a parade,” he said while pointing his scope toward a part of town that had suddenly become very active. “Looks like they’re chasing someone. Aw, hell! Someone’s already firing back at them!” Placing a finger to his earpiece, he spoke in a quick rush. “Paige? Can you hear me?”

Henry held Paige against the garage in a way that prevented the other Nymar from getting to her. Then again, the other Nymar weren’t her main concern.

“Hungry,” Henry groaned as he sniffed the oily blood on her neck and the front of her jacket. “So…hungry.” With that, he slammed her even harder against the wall. His claws scraped against her torso and his teeth gnashed against her stomach in a flurry that peeled away the outer layers of body armor before getting to the thin layer of werewolf hide beneath it. The Half Breed fur absorbed some punishment from Henry’s attacks, but more of the impacts were getting through the heavy plates that lay against her body.

A voice drifted through Paige’s head that made her wonder if Henry was doing more damage than she’d originally thought. She slammed the side of one weapon against Henry’s temple in a blow that would have dropped most men. He reeled a bit from the impact but quickly recovered. When a freshly turned Nymar got bold enough to try and tear off a piece of Paige for himself, Henry slapped him away like he was swatting a fly. Paige took advantage of the small opening to deliver a blow to Henry’s other temple with her left weapon. It didn’t do any damage, but moved him back just enough for her to pull away and use her clubs.

The scent of Nymar blood was thick in the air as she used the sharpened ends to deliver one uppercut after another. Henry’s misshapen face swung back and forth like a speed bag but was tough enough to withstand her assault.

And then, like a gift from above, a bullet whipped through the air to tear off a chunk of Henry’s scalp. Backing up a few steps, Paige heard the sirens in the distance. She couldn’t see the flashing lights yet, which meant she still had a bit of time before adding the police to her laundry list of problems.

Henry’s torso swelled, and his ribs creaked outward to accommodate the swelling. He reared up and swung his loosely attached head to holler at Walter’s section of the park. When he started to turn toward Paige, she hopped sideways and then jumped forward with her left arm extended. The straight point of her left weapon dug into Henry’s skin, glanced off one rib, and tore a deep scratch into his side, which she used as a target for the sickle in her right hand. Her aim was true and the curved blade sank in almost a quarter of an inch.

Activity from the streets behind the parking structure was intensifying. Sirens blared, voices shouted over loudspeakers, and shots were fired.

Henry let out a pathetic whimper, took one limping step forward and then was hit in the side by another high-powered rifle round. That shot was followed by another, which dropped him to one knee. Paige circled around so she could get a look at Henry’s side without being in the line of fire. One more bullet whipped through the air and landed with a distinctive hiss as the round’s coating reacted with Henry’s Nymar-infested blood.

Paige took one of the syringes from her jacket pocket, popped off the cap and rushed toward Henry to give him the injection. When she slammed the syringe down on the wound, she felt the needle snap like brittle straw against him.

“All right,” she said as Henry snarled at the incoming sniper rounds. “Looks like I need to hit a softer spot.”

She dropped her left weapon back into its holster on her boot and focused her attention on the weapon in her right hand. Once the point of that stake was down to something close to a needle, she cocked it back, reached under her jacket at the small of her back, and twisted her body around in a tight circle. The lightning-fast movement snapped her arms around like whips. When her left hand emerged from beneath her jacket, it was wrapped around the handle of the Blood Blade. Her momentum allowed her to slice through the skin along Henry’s ribs and cut through several layers of hardened muscle. She drove her right arm forward to send the finely honed point of her stake directly into the deep wound she’d just made. Henry was already starting to heal, but Paige was just fast enough to drive the stake into the wound and bury it several inches between his ribs. From there, she closed her eyes and willed the impaled end of the weapon to split apart into three separate sections.

When Henry arched his back and let out a bellowing cry, Paige knew the weapon was doing its job. She could feel the petrified wood changing shape as if it was an extension of her own arm. While that should have been enough to bring Henry down, it was only adding fuel to his fire. She cocked her left arm back so she could do even more damage with the charmed blade. Before she could land the blow, however, the back of Henry’s fist caught her in the shoulder with enough power to knock her loose and pull the stake free. Because the stake had blossomed inside of him, however, it snagged muscle, tore flesh, and even chipped a few ribs on its way out.

For a moment Henry was dazed. He looked down at a hole in his side that was big enough to expose half his rib cage. A living flood of Nymar spore was spilling out of him. At least four of the slimy black things slipped out of his body, each one sending out gelatinous tendrils to grab hold of whatever they could to pull themselves back inside.

Paige grinned and retrieved the final syringe from her pocket. Closing her fist around the plastic tube, she buried the needle directly into one of the spores and jammed her thumb down on the plunger. The antidote was quickly absorbed by the Nymar spore, eating it from within and exploding outward to disperse the rest of the antidote among the remaining spores within Henry’s torso. One by one the spores sizzled and popped, until Henry’s entire system was exposed to the antidote.

For the next few seconds, Henry clawed at the ground and scraped at it with his feet. His mouth opened but he clamped it shut again and winced as the deadly process continued inside of him. When he lost the strength to hold himself up, he dropped to his belly and curled up so the hole in his side was facing the sky. The bulbous growths under his flesh had flattened to give his body a more familiar shape. And when the last Nymar within him was dead, the hole in Henry’s side began closing up. Already the blood flowing from him was losing its black, oily tint.

“Can you hear me, Paige?” It was the voice again. Now that she didn’t have an insane monster trying to rip her heart out, she could understand it a little better.

Touching her earpiece, she replied, “Yeah, Walter. We’ve got some cops headed our way.”

“I know. Misonyk’s dead, so get over here and we should be able to get out before things get too hot.”

“Great. Have you noticed what’s happening to Henry?”

After a slight pause, Walter said, “Looks like you got him. Great!”

Paige shook her head and took a tentative step toward Henry. Although some of the Nymar were still near the garage, they backed away as well. In a few more seconds they turned and bolted from the area like dogs that reflexively knew when it was time to cut and run. “It looks like Cole was right,” she whispered. “Henry is a Full Blood. Now that the Nymar’s out of him, that’s all that’s left.”

“Then kill him!” Walter shouted. “Do your Skinner thing and finish him off. Whoever or whatever the cops are shooting at, they’ll be at the garage in—”

“I realize what’s happening, Walter! But there’s something else—” Suddenly, a burning pain scorched Paige’s palm. She pulled her hand away from the earpiece as if she’d accidentally touched an open flame. The Nymar in the vicinity had made the scars from her weapons itch as if there were ants crawling beneath her skin. Henry’s presence had caused a reaction that was distinctive but muddled. This, however, was something much more powerful. It was also something that she’d only rarely felt before.

“Paige?” Walter said in a cautious whisper through her earpiece. “Look at the roof of the garage.”

When she looked up, Paige spotted a hulking form crouched on the edge of the roof. It glared down at her with brilliant, glittering eyes and let out a low growl that rolled like thunder through the cold night air.