Vampire Uprising (25 page)

“I don’t know how much longer!” someone said from the Dryad Skipping Temple. “Just be ready to go when I say!”

Despite the urge to rush into the next room, Cole held the AK-47 at the ready and stalked toward the narrow door. The power radiating from the Dryad symbols in the floor, walls, and ceiling glowed enough on their own. The drops in his eyes gave them an additional bright green shimmer. Standing in that glow, with a phone in one hand and a smoking .45 in the other, Paige gave the other two Skinners a quick upward nod by way of greeting. “About time you got up here,” she said.

“Paige!” Cole sighed. “Where the hell have you—”

She cut him off with a single upraised finger while lifting the phone to her ear and saying, “Okay. Now.”

The Dryad symbols glowed brighter as a pulse of energy filled every last one of them and rippled through the swaying beaded curtain.

“I cleared this room but there’s more Nymar on the way,” she said while sticking the phone into the pocket of her jeans. “Let’s get out of here and save the explanations for later.”

“Fine by me,” Rico said as he approached the beads and stepped through.

Paige waved at Cole impatiently, which was more than enough to get him moving. He felt a few of the beads knock against the side of his face, caught a whiff of pine-fresh goodness and then found himself in a room half the size of the Skipping Temple and covered with twice as many symbols. The curtain was flanked by a woman on each side. One was topless and the other wore gray slacks and a form-fitting T-shirt. Both sang in a pitch that rattled through the entire room.

The drops in Cole’s eyes did not react well to the neon that assaulted him when Paige shoved him into the next room. All of the nymph clubs were starting to look alike to him, but the stage setup and position of the bar seemed familiar. Just to be certain, he glanced over to a brightly lit buffet that smelled of lasagna and overheated goulash. “We’re in Shimmy’s?” he asked.

“Yep. Try not to get kicked out this time.”

Twenty miles northeast of Chattanooga, Tennessee

No Half Breed had a face capable of expressing emotion. While they may have been mistaken for large dogs or wolves when running at high speeds, they could never pass for one of those animals during an up-close meeting. That wasn’t much of a problem since anyone who saw a Half Breed up close for that long was either too busy fighting or dying to worry about such things. There were only a few creatures on earth that could rise above such concerns. Three of them ran side by side over the rugged terrain of the Smokey Mountains, casually adjusting their strides to make sure the Half Breeds behind them didn’t catch up too quickly.

Liam glanced over one shoulder at the pair of Half Breeds nipping at his heels. Already growing bored of a chase that had begun in a small cave fifty miles north of their current position, he allowed his momentum to slow until the closest Half Breed sank its teeth into his rear leg. Digging his claws into the ground in front of him, Liam tore up large chunks of cold dirt as he shifted his weight so his rear end swung around like the snapping end of a whip. By the time he came to a stop, the Full Blood had shifted into his two-legged form and was beset upon by all three Half Breeds.

Hearing the ravenous snarls of the smaller werewolves mixing with Liam’s deep, barking roar, Randolph and Kawosa broke their formation to circle back around along a path of steep, tree-encrusted land. Randolph lowered his head and slammed into one of the Half Breeds with enough force to break every bone in a lesser animal’s body. The Half Breed yelped and tumbled into a cluster of thick bushes, tearing many of them apart with flailing bony claws. The other two Half Breeds took a moment to see what had happened to their pack mate, but weren’t going to waste any more time than that.

“These have spirit!” Liam bellowed as he stood up on his hind legs and grabbed one of the Half Breeds by its left foreleg. “Little stronger than the others too.” As he said that, Liam smashed the Half Breed against the ground like a heavy load of ground beef wrapped in discarded fur coats.

Pacing around the Full Blood, Randolph kept his large head low to the ground. His mouth hung open just enough to allow cold air into his lungs and wispy steam to spill out. His blue-gray crystalline eyes were encased in a thick furrowed brow. Kawosa had picked a higher spot upon a pile of fallen trees, where he hunkered down and watched the spectacle with interest that drifted close to obsessive.

As Liam reached around to grab the Half Breed chewing on his back, another group of the creatures darted from the surrounding trees to converge on the Full Bloods. Randolph was ready for them and leapt forward to scatter the pack with a savage roar. Two of the Half Breeds streaked away while a third adjusted its angle of attack so it could sink its teeth into Randolph’s hip. The bite stung, but only registered as a slight twitch of one eye. He clamped a hand around the Half Breed’s face and pried it loose before it could find a more tender spot. The creature’s jaws snapped shut loudly and it struggled to pull away.

It had spirit indeed. Most Half Breeds were wild and fast, but this one kept its eyes fixed upon the wound it had opened as its claws scraped against the ground. This wasn’t the first Half Breed Randolph had fought, and he waited for a sign
that it was about to swipe at him. The attack came as expected, but its long claws still scraped against his ribs and peeled away a few ribbons of his flesh.

“Watch the tusks,” Liam warned.

For as long as Randolph could remember, Half Breeds had heads that were shaped like a shoddy interpretation of a wolf’s. A low brow protected glinting eyes over an extended snout and wet nose. The main difference lay in a flesh and bone structure that looked more like melted wax drizzled onto a bony shell. The tusks, however, were completely new. Upper canine teeth extended down and curved back toward the hinge of its jaw while the bottom set curved up and slightly outward. When the crazed werewolf attempted to bite him in a series of powerful snaps, its tusks scraped together like a pair of scissors.

Liam swatted away one Half Breed and caught another between his teeth as it lunged at his leg. Before he could clamp down and finish it off, the Half Breed contorted in a way that would be impossible for any animal with a normal skeletal structure. Since every one of its bones had been fractured and lashed together by knots of muscle during the Breaking, the Half Breed was able to bite Liam’s neck and tear at him with all four sets of claws. The Full Blood tossed it aside and swiped at the Half Breed’s head, but caught only air when the smaller werewolf darted away. Liam did not pursue. Instead, he dropped to one knee and let out a savage howl while pressing a hand against the side of his neck.

Straightening up to show every bit of fury encased within his seven foot frame, Randolph let out a roar that would be heard by those dwelling in the little mountain homes over a mile away. The pair of Half Breeds in front of him scraped their chests against the ground as they backed away.

Kawosa watched with detached amusement from his perch upon higher ground as another Half Breed circled him. “Their noses are keen,” he said in a voice that escaped his narrow, pointed snout like steam from a kettle. “Their forerunners wouldn’t have even known I was here.”

When the Half Breed charged, it came at Kawosa with
the speed of an electrical discharge snapping between two oppositely charged posts. The calm expression on his face didn’t shift in the slightest as he popped his front half up, placed a hand on the Half Breed’s shoulder and pushed the passing werewolf so he merely had to lift one rear leg to let it pass beneath him. Kawosa touched down again as if he’d done nothing more than step over a rock. Swiveling around to face the Half Breed, he flashed a pair of amber eyes that froze the werewolf where it stood.

Randolph and Liam had dispatched most of the other Half Breeds, and each held one down beneath their massive paws. The ground was covered in choppy waves of dirt kicked up by the creatures and soaked through with their blood. Even as Liam pressed all of his weight down upon the Half Breed beneath him, the creature bent and twisted in a frantic attempt to escape. “Their claws are longer,” he said.

“I noticed as much,” Randolph grunted. “And their tusks are more than just teeth.” Grabbing the Half Breed around the base of its neck, he lifted it and quickly slammed it down with enough force to render it unconscious. Now that the creature was subdued, he pinned it with one of his rear paws so both hands were free to dig at the gaping wounds in his side. He let out a strained grunt while pulling out a pair of long curved shards that had been driven in deeper than a bullet could ever reach. Holding the broken tusks up to examine them, he said, “They’re not very sturdy.”

“A perfect defense,” Kawosa said as he approached the Half Breed in front of him. The creature trembled anxiously but was unable to break whatever spell had befallen him. Slinking forward, Kawosa mused, “You’ve adapted to Lancroft’s pestilence, haven’t you? And you’re just the first generation to do so.”

“The Mud Flu wasn’t cleared up that long ago,” Liam said.

Randolph was studying his Half Breed, sniffing so intently that its fur bristled against his breath. “Their strength has always been in adapting to the changing world, and it never takes them long to do so. Still, this is extraordinary.”

When the Half Breed pulled in a breath of its own, it was almost too light to make a sound. Its nose twitched, sending a ripple through its entire snout, which caused its eyes to snap open. If there were any lingering effects from being knocked out, they disappeared when it saw Randolph staring down at it. Before the wretch could make a move against him, the Full Blood cleaved its throat with a quick snap of his teeth. As the Half Breed’s life came to an end, a shuddering, vaguely relieved sigh emerged from the pit of its stomach.

“Their sense of smell has improved,” Kawosa said.

Curling his lips at the taste of the creature, Randolph added, “Or they’re just not as easily put down as the previous breed.”

Kawosa shifted into another form, one with an expanded torso, strong, wiry arms, and clawed hands. The fact that his head remained narrow and pointed at the snout threw off the entire picture of him. It seemed the rest of his body wanted to blend in with humanity but the part that did his thinking and speaking refused to comply. “Their noses are enhanced,” he said with complete certainty. “Most likely, they can smell whether Lancroft’s pestilence has touched any prey they might hunt down.”

“Makes sense,” Liam said. “Longer claws allow them to attack without getting as close as before. Even just a little more length there can make a difference in gutting someone without getting a mess on their fur. And those tusks must snap off so they can get away if the going gets too tough.”

“Can they be made to suit our purposes?”

“I’ve gotten real good at mingling bloodlines,” Liam said. “It may take a few tries, but I should be able to get a mix of us and them that’d be just strange enough to throw the Skinners for a loop. What do you think, old man?”

“You will need more than deception to deal with the Skinners,” Kawosa replied. “Lancroft used flesh stripped from my bones to develop a way to keep Full Bloods from healing. Poor Henry’s neck remained broken for hundreds of years as a testament to that. Full Bloods may be sturdy, but
they do not change. The Half Breeds thrive by evolving to fit within their world. That is what you need to acquire. Whatever may have been found in Lancroft’s dungeon, evolution is your answer to it.”

“We found
you
in Lancroft’s dungeon and pulled you out,” Randolph growled. “Don’t forget that.”

“I doubt you’ll ever let me forget it.”

“Since you’ve told us what Lancroft took from you, tell us how to counteract it.”

Kawosa shrugged in a way meant to seem sheepish but wasn’t nearly enough to fool either of the other two. “I provided only the meat. I couldn’t tell you how it was cooked. Not yet anyway. As for the Half Breeds, I can train them for the tasks you have in mind.”

Annoyed with the dark-skinned shapeshifter, Randolph looked over to Liam and asked, “Will these wretches look like us when you alter them?”

Liam examined the pinned Half Breed for a second and casually shrugged. “Hard to say. You saw those Mongrels of mine. These Half Breeds already look odd enough, and they’ll look even odder when I’m through with ‘em. Will they look like Full Bloods? Even I’m curious about that.”

When Randolph’s eyes shifted toward him, Kawosa said, “As long as I am close enough to exert my influence, the Skinners may be swayed. The humans will be much easier. They will believe what we want them to believe. What do you plan on doing with the others when they arrive?”

Shifting into his human form as easily as someone might get up from a seated position, Randolph asked, “What others?”

“Your brethren from the Old World. Their scent grows stronger with every breath.”

Both Full Bloods lifted their noses to the wind. Randolph’s eyes wavered slightly as he sifted through the myriad scents of life, death, pollution, steel, and dirt that he found. “I don’t smell them,” he said.

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

“Liam, see what you can do with these wretches.”

The ebon Full Blood didn’t need another bit of prompting before pressing his teeth against the Half Breed’s side and easing his jaws shut until the tips of his fangs broke the creature’s skin. While the Half Breed had been a vicious predator a few minutes ago, it now squirmed and writhed like any other animal being put through an excruciating amount of pain.

The creation of Half Breeds was mostly an accident that occurred when the marrow in a human’s bones mingled with saliva from a shapeshifter’s mouth. Attacks as brutal as that were most often fatal. To commit them with such express purpose required equal amounts of viciousness and precision. Randolph watched the process for as long as he could stomach it, fighting the impulse to put the poor wretch out of its misery. Liam, on the other hand, savored every moment.