Howling Legion (Skinners, Book 2) (8 page)

“What about me?” Ace asked.

“Let him go, Cole.”

Suddenly, Cole felt like he was in one of those dreams where he was supposed to deliver a speech in front of his Spanish class but could only remember one word of Spanish. He stared down at the spear in his hands the same way he would have stared down at all those blank note cards. After a bit of mental screaming, the end of the weapon creaked and snapped apart to form the forked end he’d carved there in the first place.

Ace pulled his hand away so quickly that he dropped his gun. Either that or his fingers were too numb to hold the pistol any longer.

“Any chance of you giving me this Burkis guy’s number?” Paige asked.

Rubbing his wrist, Ace stood against the wall like he was exactly where he wanted to be. “Any chance of you telling us what knife he’s asking about?”

“I don’t need knives,” Paige told him. “Just ask Miss Crushed Velvet and Anguish over there.”

“Hey!” Stephanie yapped.

Before the fight was started all over again, Ace steered things back on course. “So we’re done here?”

“Sure,” Paige said while looking around as if daring one of the Nymar to make a move. “Unless one of you still has an itchy trigger finger.”

Finally, Stephanie announced, “We’ve got more customers coming in a few hours and we need to cover the mess you made in here.”

“Just throw around some more red roses or bat statues,” Paige quipped. “Nothing says ‘eternal torment’ like bat statues.”

“That was great!” Paige said while steering the Cav onto Ontario Street. “If you were saving that for a surprise, it sure worked because it was a hell of a surprise!”

“You mean the surprise where I almost got beaten to death or the surprise where I almost got shot?” Cole asked.

“The second one. Since when could you get your spear to do that?”

Cole knew the truth, but didn’t want to tarnish something that had gone over so well. “Oh, I’ve been working on that for a while.”

“Well, good job. I was worried you wouldn’t be able to hold off until I got there.”

“Yeah, speaking of that, where the hell were you? And why do you smell like antifreeze?”

Paige brought her arm up to her nose and took a few quick sniffs. As she did, the lights from the street played off her skin with a glistening effect. “The grease from that sweatshirt doesn’t dry too well. It kept me hidden for a bit longer than I thought it would, and I didn’t want to waste an opportunity to do some sneaking around in there.”

“You mean you didn’t know how long it would last?”

“I tested it a few times back home, but not the way I did tonight. It seems to really stick to loose cotton like sweatshirts and-pants. Once it starts to evaporate, it really goes fast.”

Suddenly, something about the odor struck a nerve. “Wait
a minute,” he grumbled as he sniffed some more. “I’ve smelled that before. Back at Raza Hill.”

“I told you I tested it.”

“In my room!” Cole snapped his fingers and added, “In my room three or four nights ago. I was on my computer and I smelled it. I looked around but didn’t see anything.”

“There you go,” Paige quickly told him. “The stuff really works well.”

“You were in my room? You were spying on me!”

“Testing, Cole. Testing.”

“What did you see?”

“Nothing,” she said while raising her eyebrows. “Nothing at all.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

Paige laughed and patted his arm. “The only time I went in there, you were hunched over a picture of some warehouse with guns on the floor and flags posted at either side.”

“That’s one of the new
Hammer Strike
maps,” he breathed with a sigh of relief. “Don’t mention anything about that to anyone, by the way. It’s under wraps.”

“Yeah, Cole. With everything we do, I’m more anxious to leak your game levels to the Internet.”

“So what did you find out while I was so expertly distracting everyone?”

“That side entrance led to a back room in the bar. There wasn’t much in there, other than a secret door that opened to some back stairs leading up to the parlor. On the other hand, the monitors in the security room were interesting. Their customers are either into some nasty stuff or Ace sprung for the deluxe S and M channels. He walked right past me without noticing a thing, though. He might have smelled me, but he didn’t see squat. It was great.”

“Did you happen to see me and Stephanie on a monitor?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry. There was a lot more action going on in the room next to yours. Anyway, I got the addresses of other Blood Parlors opening up around town along with a list of new employees. Since Sid’s name was on the list, the others are probably Nymar or potential converts. I jotted down some names and phone numbers, so we’ll be able to
keep real busy for a while.” Paige veered to the right, cutting off a blue Lincoln in her haste to get to the ramp onto I-94. “Speaking of getting busy, you should hope you didn’t pick up anything while that skank was grinding on you.”

“Sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

Her pigtails whipped against her cheeks as she glanced at him. “You
wish
I had a naked chick grinding on me,” she chuckled. “I saw the kind of websites you visit.” Looking back at the road, Paige got another face full of hair. She nearly tore some of it out in her haste to remove the bands that kept it tied up.

“I warned her against going to Cicero,” Cole said in a desperate attempt to change the subject, “but I don’t know how seriously she took me.”

“Did you do anything I might have missed from the security room?”

“No.”

“Then she took you seriously. Trust me, women who strut and flaunt like that are used to guys dropping to their knees and doing whatever it takes just to get on their good side. If you’d caved to that, she wouldn’t have listened to another word from then on. You’d be just another one of her toys. If she had some fake boobs and a sex tape, she’d be in some good celebrity company.”

“You should leave the pigtails in when you bare your claws like that. It’s hotter.” For once, he’d been the one to fluster her. Before she could fire back at him, he added, “Sorry about the fight, by the way. It seemed like she was getting ready to spring something on me, so I thought I’d make a play of my own. I figured you’d be waiting for something like that.”

“I was waiting for something more along the lines of yelling or you getting slammed off a few walls, but you handled yourself really well. I hung back until things got bad because you needed practice other than sparring. And what you did with your weapon was…well, that was impressive.”

“It was an accident,” Cole grumbled.

“I don’t care. It was just what we needed. The whole reason Skinners haven’t been killed off by now is because
the Nymar and all those other things out there see us as the freaks. You threw them a curveball with that little trick. Everyone back there will be talking about it for weeks!”

“I don’t know if I’m excited about being the topic of Nymar conversation, but there it is. What’s next? We’re obviously not headed home.”

“We’re paying Daniels a visit.”

“You think we should go there right after we heard about someone looking for him? What if one of Steph’s people follows us?”

“First of all, nobody’s following us,” Paige said confidently. “Second, Steph already knows who Daniels is because she mentioned him by name. The Nymar may not have this city as wired as they say they do, but they can probably track someone down if they want. If she knows where he is, she’ll make a play for him right away. If she doesn’t, then we’ve got nothing to lose by driving there now.”

“Do you think they know Daniels has been helping Skinners come up with new weapons?”

“If they did, he would have been dead a long time ago. What concerns me is that Ace and Stephanie might just call this Burkis guy to let him know we were there so he can give us some grief. That’s why we need to get out to Schaumburg as soon as possible, which would be even easier if
someone learned to use a turn signal!”

Paige had stuck her head out the window to aim those last few words at an old man in a new Honda four-door. After leaving him in her dust, she calmly said, “Maybe you should call MEG while I let Daniels know we’re coming. Could be that someone else has mentioned someone named Burkis.”

Cole dug into his pocket and removed his new phone. It still had the clear plastic film over the touch screen, which would stay in place until it either fell off on its own or got too smudged to see through. He cradled the phone in one hand and began swiping through his screens with gentle, loving motions of his finger. “I’ve got all the MEG branches on speed dial,” he said proudly.

“Take them off.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you only need to know a few phone numbers, and you should have them memorized. Anyone who gets ahold of your phone could find out all of your business. Right now your business is my business, so delete those numbers.”

“Fine. As soon as I hook into my computer and update the software so I can make changes to the system, I’ll do it.”

“Real convenient phone you got there. Is that the one you borrowed all that money for?”

Rather than answer that question, Cole dialed the number. He even used the speed dial to really show her who was boss.

After a few rings a woman picked up and said, “Midwestern Ectological Group Branch 40. How can I help you?”

“Hi, who’s this?”

“Midwestern Ectological Group Branch 40.”

“I know that. Where’s Stu?”

Although there was a touch of tired aggravation in her tone, the woman at the other end of the line was far from flustered. Being an organization that searched for ghosts by following creaks in people’s attics and flashing digital cameras at cold spots in the middle of dark, empty rooms, MEG got more than its share of strange calls. “If you have an instance to report or a sighting to document, you can log onto our website. If you need to reach someone in particular, I can pass along a message.”

Cole knew all too well that the woman wasn’t even close to writing anything down yet, so he spoke quickly before she hung up. “His name’s Stu. He usually always answers the phones. Just tell him it’s—”

Swatting him on the arm, Paige whispered, “Use your number.”

The first time he’d called the paranormal investigation society, Cole needed to pass along an identification number belonging to a Skinner named Gerald Keeley. A lot had changed since then. Gerald was dead and Cole had his own identification number, but he was on such good terms with the guy who usually haunted MEG’s main phone line that he never needed it.

Pressing his phone against his shoulder, Cole used his free
hand to pat his pockets. “I can’t find my card,” he whispered to Paige.

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, she grunted, “You don’t keep
that number
on you, but you program in all the phone numbers that are plastered all over those MEG websites and that stupid cable show they keep rerunning?”

“Sir? Are you still there?” the woman on the phone asked.

“Yeah,” Cole said. “Hang on. I’ve got a number for you.”

“All right.”

The frantic expedition into his pockets turned up nothing but forty-two cents and a faded coupon. His socks contained his feet and a little over two hundred bucks, which only left one more place for him to look. Lifting his butt an inch or so from the seat, he slid his hand along the space where the backrest met the bottom cushion. That’s when he struck pay dirt.

“All right,” he said triumphantly as he plucked the card from where it had been wedged. “Here we go.” He read a string of numbers from his card as Paige busied herself with her own phone. When he reached the final digit, he heard a definite shift in the voice at the other end of the long-distance connection.

“Cole Warnecki?”

“That’s me.”

“I didn’t realize you were one of those…I mean…I’ve never talked to anyone who—”

“I know. I get that all the time,” Cole said, even though he rarely had anyone seem remotely impressed with his name. This was actually one of the few times a newcomer had even pronounced it correctly.

“You still want to speak to Stu? I’m sure I could help.”

As much as he wanted to draw out a conversation with a voice as sweet and promising as hers, he was hesitant to comply. There was more to think about than just getting on the good side of an interesting woman. Surely, the end of days was nigh.

“I’d kind of like to talk to Stu if that’s all right,” he said.

Quickly, the woman replied, “Sure. That’s fine. Let me
get him for you.” She didn’t sound annoyed or upset, just a little disappointed to be passed over. Now he really felt like an ass.

There were a few clicks, some static, and then a few more clicks before a familiar voice drifted through Cole’s new phone. “If you want me to retract what I said about those painted hammers on the Digital Dreamers forums, I won’t do it.”

“Hey Stu, it’s not about that. Wait…couldn’t you possibly consider—”

“No! What do you want?”

“I need to know if you guys have heard anything about someone named Burkis.”

“First or last name?” Stu sighed.

“Probably last,” Cole told him. “He’s supposed to be from New York. At least, that’s what my sources told me.”

“How reliable is the source?”

“Just look it up.”

The MEG guys were known as a lot of things. A small group of rabid fans called them brilliant scientists, but closed-minded folks used some more colorful and less favorable terms. Everyone else along the middle of the spectrum either didn’t know about them at all or found them mildly interesting. Their videos of grainy footage taken from inside supposedly haunted locations sold well enough to keep them stocked in batteries for their meters and cameras, but their real funding came from several private investors who didn’t bother hassling the Midwestern Ectological Group about unproven techniques or making up words to fit an anagram. Most of those patrons were Skinners.

Skinners were generally a very low-tech crowd. People who lived and died hunting monsters also tended to be a little paranoid. To that end, they weren’t quite on board with the notion of taking their communications online with the rest of the planet. That’s where MEG came in. The branches of paranormal investigation teams had their communication network well in place before they’d ever crossed paths with a Skinner. Cole often wondered how funny it was when that
first ghost chaser tried to get a hardened warrior to pose for a picture in front of a freshly killed werewolf.

Stu’s fingers rattled over his keyboard and he muttered incoherently into his headset. Then again, Stu did seem the type who might also wear one of those obnoxious little wireless earpieces. “There’s a couple Burkises mentioned, but those were in Ontario,” he finally said. “Oh, that was one of our cases.”

“You guys are doing investigations in Canada now? Congratulations.”

“Yeah. After all the commotion when Gerald and Brad’s bodies were found, it’s been a real hotbed up there. Uh, no offense.”

“None taken. What happened with those bodies?”

“They were buried in a private ceremony. Apparently someone claimed them and arranged for it all. No pictures, but it was probably real nice.”

“Yeah,” Cole said as he looked over to a certain brunette who used to work with Gerald before the old man was killed. “I’m sure it was.”

“You got your own number issued, huh? Congratulations right back at ya. Let’s see…Burkis in New York. There are a few listed in phone directories and stuff, but nothing connected to any notes from you guys. I’ll keep checking. Honestly, I thought you called about whatever killed those people in Kansas City.”