Extinction Agenda (25 page)

Waggoner stood in the doorway with his back against the splintered frame so he could see inside the cottage as easily as he could see outside. “Doesn’t he have any backup or someone watching him?”

“The Vitsaruuv herders need to work alone so their beasts don’t turn on the other Nymar. Isn’t that right?” George asked as he swatted the side of the Nymar’s head. “Vasily is waiting for the good news, so this one will give it to him.”

The Nymar spat a few words at the Amriany, which were cut short by another swat.

“I don’t care if he finds out. Right now, I just care that he gets good news.” George slid the steel pole under one of the vampire’s arms, across his chest, and against the front of one shoulder. With a bit of subtle maneuvering, he could twist either arm against its joint using the cumbersome yet effective hold.

Once Milosh stepped forward to press a blade to the Nymar’s throat, the vampire grunted, “All right. I will call.”

Milosh nodded to Cole, who asked for the number. When he dialed it, he waited before pressing the Send button. “You sure this is the right number?”

“It is,” Sophie said from the doorway.

Waggoner looked her up and down before asking, “What’s
mulosheka
mean?”

She looked him up and down as well. “Roughly, it means piece of vampire horseshit.”

“Nice. I’ll have to remember that one.”

George kept the Nymar in place while Cole held the phone in front of him and Milosh held a knife to the vampire’s throat. The conversation was brief and well outside of Cole’s linguistic capabilities, but Milosh nodded until he motioned for Cole to take the phone away. After the connection was cut, Milosh said, “Should buy us an hour for sure. Any more than that is a risk.”

“How much time do we need?” Cole asked. “Your guy obviously isn’t here.”

Looking over to George, Milosh said, “We will search this place and move on.” To the Nymar, he said something in his own language that brought a response that needed no translation. The Nymar spat in his face, prompting George to twist the steel pole and wrench the Nymar’s arm from its socket. As soon as the vampire was allowed to drop to one knee, Milosh raked the blade across his throat, kicked him over, and spat an even juicier wad onto him.

The tendrils reached out from its wound to close it as Milosh put the knife back into its scabbard and removed another one with a darker blade encrusted with wide symbols wrapped all the way around its edge. He waited for the Nymar to look up at him before placing the tip of the blade under his chin and driving it up into its skull. The vampire grunted and flopped at the end of the weapon as his skin hissed angrily where it touched the blade. Cole saw that it was actually the Nymar’s blood that hissed and boiled when it made contact with what had to be specially crafted metal.

“We could have just tied him up or something,” Cole said.

“Why? So he can call another pack of Vitsaruuv or one of his bosses? This is how we deal with the Nymar here. You don’t have to like it.”

The two Amriany knew what they were looking for, so the Skinners allowed them to go through the cottage. Cole and Paige stepped outside, where Sophie, Nadya, and a few others who’d arrived in a different SUV waited. “It looked like you found a way to poison the Shadow Spore,” Paige said. “I’d like to know your recipe.”

“I can pass a few basic ingredients along,” Sophie replied.

“And we should be able to put something together for use fairly quickly. That is, once we get a chance to work on it.”

“Work here if you like. Ira wouldn’t mind.”

“Ira’s your blacksmith?” Paige asked.

“They are called Chokesari, but yes.”

Cole looked at the cottage and then down to the dead Half Breeds. “This, uh, doesn’t seem safe.”

Already the Amriany inside the cottage were making less noise. They’d either found something or were taking a breather.

“I’m surprised you were so squeamish in there,” Sophie said to Cole. “Have the Skinners been easing up on the Nymar even after their uprising?”

“No. We just don’t kill them without good reason.”

“Perhaps that’s why they’ve gotten out of line. Here, the moment they drink another human’s blood, that is good reason.”

“Must be nice to have that kind of leeway,” Paige said. “That and all the fancy jets.”

“Yes, well that has changed. We, like you, have been forced to cut some corners.”

Milosh and George stepped out of the cottage. “Ira left a marker behind,” George announced. “He’s headed north and isn’t answering his phone, but he may just be too deep into the forest for coverage.”

“You guys need a better calling plan,” Cole said.

“Are you sure your guy is still alive?” Paige asked.

Walking straight past them to put his weapon into the closest SUV, George replied, “He left the marker, which means he’s still alive. Even if he isn’t, there’s nowhere else to go but north from here. Vasily has already burned down our safe house in Trizs.”

“You mean the place we slept last night?” Cole asked.

“Yes.”

He blinked away a series of fiery memories that had been in the back of his head since he narrowly escaped the burning remains of the old Chicago restaurant that he and Paige once called home. Those thoughts were jammed in a mental corner along with the rest of the things that would haunt him until he grew too old to recall them.

Sophie lifted her face to a breeze that shook the cottage’s shutters as well as the chunks of broken door still hanging in the frame. There were lights behind some of the windows of the houses and shops in the distant town, but they might as well have been bright spots on a rustic painting.

“Is Chuna in those forests?” Cole asked.

“Yes,” Sophie told him. “Chuna is there, but still sleeps. If that has changed as well, you Skinners will get more old school than you might have wanted.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sixty-five miles northeast of Atalaya, Peru

T
he journey into South America was one of the longest runs Randolph had taken.

It was glorious.

He was able to run as fast as he could go without holding back. The ground flew beneath his paws without him really feeling it, voices trailed past his ears without having a chance to sink in, and his eyes only needed to focus on what was directly in front of him. If he was human, he might have called it therapeutic. Covering more ground in a series of leaps between runs, he gazed around to notice the landscape changing from mountains to desert to wetlands and back to desert before finally becoming a lush green that stretched up to surround him on all sides. Perhaps the trip had taken hours. Maybe the better part of a day. Perhaps more than one day. All that mattered was that the air rushing over him carried scents he hadn’t experienced in decades. The water splashing against his belly was cool and wild. Creatures snapped at his heels as he passed, and exotic insects buzzed in his ears.

Jungle surrounded him on all sides until it became the only thing capable of slowing him down. Even if he’d wanted to, he would have had a rough time breaking free consistently enough to regain his former speed. He was in his four-legged form, prowling beneath a green canopy as a thousand eyes watched from above, below, and within the waters of the Amazon. Propping himself onto his hind legs, the Full Blood craned his neck while drawing in a breath that not only swelled his lungs, but caused his muscles and skeleton to realign. When he exhaled, he stood upon two legs with thick claws stretching from his fingers.

Something heavy moved nearby. If not for the distinctive scent, he might have allowed the sound to blend in with the constant movement of his surroundings. Even though he could feel the familiar weight against his back, Randolph placed a hand on his chest to touch the strap of the sling he’d fashioned. It was still there, as was the cargo he’d gone through so much trouble to collect and bring to this place that was as far away from human civilization as he was from their species. He turned while crouching down and bared his teeth at the other Full Blood emerging from the thick wall of trees on the opposite side of the river.

She made no attempt to hide from him. Moving comfortably in her upright form, her muscles writhed beneath protective layers of thick, dark yellow fur that might allow her to be mistaken for a cheetah from a great distance. Long legs and a lithe body might have furthered that illusion if not for the thick musculature and tapered snout of a werewolf. As she walked toward him, the animal features melted away, leaving a woman with dark, bronzed skin and flowing black hair long enough to cover her firm breasts, if not for the whims of a restless breeze. Coming to a stop several paces in front of Randolph, she bore the countenance of a sentinel that was more than capable of fending off him or anyone else who dared take another step. Reflexively, Randolph came to a halt.

“If you’re seeking refuge from the storm to the north,” she said in a musky voice that was colored with accents from several different cultures, “you can keep running. There are still some quiet places in Panama where the military and wretches aren’t such an eyesore.”

“I’m not running away, Jaden,” Randolph said.

“Good. After all you’ve done to brew that storm, the least you could do is sit in it.” Propping her hands on rounded hips, she said, “You’d better not be thinking about reversing my deal to trade territories with Liam. If you have a problem with the arrangement, you’ll have better luck bargaining with him than me.”

“That’s quite an amusing prospect. Liam never was much for speaking reasonably with anyone. Perhaps that’s why he’s dead.”

Claws eased from beneath her fingernails, but only enough to be seen. More than likely they’d appeared as an unbidden reflex, along with the tension showing beneath her skin. “He’s dead? Did you kill him?”

“That does seem the likeliest scenario,” Randolph said with no small amount of sadness. “He fell to the Skinners.”

This time Jaden didn’t try to hide what she felt. Her hands hung at her sides, ready to put her curved, daggerlike claws to use. Wide eyes, the color of polished gold, flicked back and forth to study the trees along the riverbank. “The Skinners have acquired more Blood Blades?”

“Not yet, but they did organize well enough to take a stand. Not that the others left them any alternative. You heard about what happened with the Breaking Moon?”

“I’m out of touch lately,” she said. “Rarely leave the jungle. Only see the occasional human, and that’s easily avoidable most times. I knew there were others of our kind in America. Liam told me about the Mongrels taking a more active part in defending their homes. I honestly don’t know what took them so long to rise up like that.”

Randolph’s brow furrowed as he asked, “You’re sympathizing with them now?”

“No. We’ve been tearing at each other for so many years that it’s a wonder they haven’t grown sick of hiding or pulling up their dens when one of us gets too close for their comfort.”

“Perhaps they’re one of the few that always knew their place.”

“Now that,” Jaden pointed out, “is Liam speaking. Despite your differences, you two always were more like brothers.”

“I often wanted to kill him myself.”

“As I said. Like true brothers. So how did the Skinners manage to defeat him? Did he try to clear out another city?”

Randolph’s mouth formed a smile that opened at the edges to reveal teeth that had partially formed into fangs. “He brought the others together so they could draw more of the Torva’ox, empowering himself as well as a few of them with the ability to spark the Breaking within humans at will.”

“I haven’t heard of that happening since Gorren purged almost every other Full Blood from the planet just so he could have a Breaking Moon to himself. But that was long before my time.”

“Mine as well,” Randolph said. “The Skinners weren’t working alone. They had help from the Gypsies as well as the military. Minh was even encased by gargoyles and spirited away by the Dryad.”

Some of Jaden’s defensiveness was replaced by wonder as she asked, “Gargoyles?”

Randolph nodded. “They must have gotten stirred up amid all the confusion that brought everything else to the surface. Have you ever seen them before?”

“I’ve found a few old statues in the depths of the jungle and spotted some fleeting shapes in the upper tree cover, but not enough to be certain it was a gargoyle. I don’t know if anyone’s seen one of those dreadful things for ages.”

“They caught Liam, Esteban, and Minh by surprise, I can tell you that much. I might have been caught as well if I hadn’t distanced myself from all of that. It took more than gargoyles to bring Liam down, but he was taken down eventually. Probably poisoned or hobbled by some other Skinner trick.” His entire body shifted closer to the savage end of the spectrum as he added, “Knowing those ghouls, they’ve probably already chopped Liam into pieces and will be wearing his pelt while adorning their weapons with his teeth. With him gone, the humans have become brave enough to stand against the wretches even when it is clear the Breaking will claim them no matter how many guns or machines are at their disposal.”

“Such is the way of things, Randolph. You and Liam were always spoiled when it came to the harshness of the Balance. So much proud, self-righteous talk when it tipped your way. So much venom and contempt when it didn’t. The humans are simply doing what they do. Armies will fight and Skinners will sharpen their sticks. Shame about Minh. I know that you two had something of a history. Have you freed her?”

“I don’t even know where she is.”

Skepticism crossed Jaden’s finely sculpted features, but she let it pass. “So you came to warn me about the military?”

“No,” he chuckled. “If you need someone to warn you when those soldiers are packed into enough trucks and helicopters to announce their presence hours before they arrive, you’ve got bigger problems. I came because I have important business in your territory.”

“Asking permission for passage? Now there’s a courtesy I’d all but forgotten about. Sure you’re not seeking refuge?” Judging purely by the tone in her voice, Jaden was more than aware how much those words would grate on the ears for which they were intended.

“You know that’s not it.”

She sniffed the air and fixed her golden eyes on the strap crossing Randolph’s chest. “Then it is about what you’ve brought with you. If you intend on taking one more step into my lands, you’ll have to be rid of that filth.”

Randolph’s hand drifted to the sling and closed protectively around it. “A lot of trouble went into procuring this. Trouble, time, and sacrifice.”

“Don’t try to paint a prettier face on it, Randolph. I know what you’re carrying, although I must admit it’s hard to believe.”

“I swear to you, it’s not intended to harm you or your territory.”

“What else could you do with it? What else but evil could come from one such as him?”

In a firm voice, spoken through a mouth that was slowly forming into a snout as if to match Jaden’s partial transformation, he replied, “It’s an offering. To a Mist Born. Icanchu is here. I have studied the legends, followed the broken trails, and listened to enough of our own elders to know as much. And if he is not here—”

“Icanchu is here,” she said.

“You’ve . . . seen him?”

“That’s the beauty of the Mist Born. When you open your eyes and know what to look for, it’s more difficult to miss them. Searching for them is an understandable pastime, but trying to gain their favor or seek an audience with beings like them is more of a human quest. After all,” she added with a wry smirk, “there are more of them to replace the ones that go missing in such a pursuit. Like these trees, humans have some value, possess some beauty, but can replenish their numbers easily. Full Bloods should know better than to push the boundaries of their longevity. If nothing else, didn’t Kawosa teach us that the Mist Born are better left wherever they may be?”

“Kawosa will be dealt with if he decides to show himself again. For now, it is more important that he remain among the humans where he can wreak all the petty havoc he likes. That has always been his way.”

“Has it become his way to shed his limbs?” Jaden asked.

Shrugging beneath the sling as if he could feel its weight upon such a meaty shoulder, Randolph told her, “Perhaps it is no longer time to be satisfied with the Balance. Perhaps it is time to set things on a different path. Find a new way.”

She strode forward, almost casual in her steps and the smooth sway of her arms. “You’ve always painted such beautiful pictures with your words. Is that how you convinced the young one to follow your lead during the Breaking Moon?”

“Cecile knew it was better to follow me than the others.”

“And where has it gotten her?”

Randolph snarled. “She has been shown firsthand why it was a mistake to trust the Skinners. And she has also seen how we can take care of ourselves. What she does from now on is her choice.”

“We are the only ones qualified to act as our keepers. As for the rest of your business,” she said cautiously. “I still haven’t heard why you want to speak with Icanchu.”

“Do you know where he is?”

Randolph followed the path her golden eyes took when they glanced up at the low-hanging branches above and behind him. The leaves were always in motion, due to the wind or any number of creatures that lived among them. Insects filled the air, gathering in numbers great enough to shake the leaves even more. There were too many living things nearby for him to separate each individual scent, but his eyes were sharp enough to pick up on movement ranging from animals scurrying along the dirt floor to the writhing bodies of serpents hanging from thicker branches.

“I need to see Icanchu now,” he said. “There isn’t time for riddles or territorial disputes. This goes well beyond even Full Blood claims.”

“Why? Because you say it does?”

Randolph exhaled a breath that was accompanied by a rumble emanating from deep within his chest.

Stepping close enough to reach out and place a clawed hand upon his face, Jaden ran it gently along the jagged scar left behind when a strip of the Blood Blade had cut into his cheek. “Spending so much time this close to a Mist Born changes your perspective, Randolph,” she said in a soothing purr. “Even though I can sometimes hear the screams as the wretches and leeches tear the old world apart, I know there is one that is much older and will survive whatever fires are set by human or Full Blood.”

Another serpent moved through the trees behind her. This one’s scales were bright green as opposed to the light brown ones covering the body of the one Randolph had spotted before. Leathery bodies swam through the river, giving the werewolves a wide berth. The more he looked, the more living things he saw. They surrounded and enveloped them in a way that was foreign and unwelcome to one accustomed to open plains, snowcapped mountains, or mile upon mile of swaying grasslands. Even the cities were no longer as congested as that small piece of real estate. It was much easier for him to focus on Jaden’s smooth face and the simple, deadly purity of the fangs protruding from her mouth.

“I came to speak with Icanchu,” he told her. “And that is what I will do. Please don’t waste my time with trite sentiments like the Mist Born can always see us and all we need to do is speak to be heard.”

“I wouldn’t presume to deflect you with spirituality, Randolph. I will tell you that I have spoken with Icanchu more than once since claiming this territory from Liam. The Mist Born are short on tolerance and they don’t suffer fools. I think the only thing that kept Liam from being taught a very painful lesson is that he preferred to terrorize the locals and run along the river instead of venturing into the trees to take a long look at what was there.”

Upon hearing Liam’s name, Randolph smirked. Every now and then he could still hear his friend’s voice whispering some bit of bad advice into his ear or planting a disruptive notion into his thoughts. “Kawosa said you’d know where to find Icanchu. Obviously, the trickster was telling the truth.”