Teeth of Beasts (Skinners) (20 page)

“They’re starting to disperse,” Ned announced.

Paige looked at each of the people in turn, all of them filthy from their chins down to their necks. A kid in his early teens locked eyes with her and snapped his neck to one side. What had started as some kind of fit quickly turned into something much worse as the kid violently twisted his head as far as it would go. Paige pulled the door open and bolted outside just in time to hear the loud crunch as the kid’s spine gave way.

The sight of the teen standing there with his head dangling from atop its severed spine was enough to freeze Paige in her tracks. His eyes still blinked and his mouth still moved as he spoke into her brain and ears at the same time.

“I can go anywhere I want now,” he said. “Dr. Lancroft showed me how.”

Without realizing it, Paige angled her head in the same direction as the kid’s. “Henry? Is that really you?”

Although he could talk, the teen couldn’t nod. He didn’t need to. “The fire ain’t in you, like it is in a lot of folks.”

“What fire?”

“Pestilence.”

“Are you doing this to all these people?” she asked.

It was in ’em already.

“Let them go,” Paige said as Ned’s feet shuffled across the porch behind her. “Henry, let them go or you’ll never sit in your room again. Remember your corner at Lancroft Re—”

“Shut yer mouth, bitch! I got somethin’ to stick inityoufilthywhore!”

But Paige wasn’t about to be frightened by words, whether they were in her brain or in her ears. When the kid took a step toward her, her right hand reflexively drew the club from that boot and willed it to take the only form she could manage. Although still crude in appearance, the machete’s edge was more than sharp enough to get the job done. “You don’t like hearing about the reformatory?”

Henry’s wild, twitching eyes snapped within the boy’s sockets as the rest of the muddy neighbors swayed in the stagnant humidity of a calm St. Louis night.

“Or is it Lancroft?” Ned asked. Henry’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open a little more. “Looks that way. You don’t like hearing the proper name of that reformatory. Did you ever meet Lancroft?”

“He will heap disasters upon you,” the boy said. His mind, however, spewed the words,
Pestilence and the teeth of beasts. Pestilenceandtheteethofbeasts!

“You know your scripture,” Ned replied.

“Then he should also know his history,” Paige snapped. “I gutted you once, Henry, but you were too stupid to let it end there. No other Full Bloods are here to help you this time. Is that why the big bad Mind Singer has to crawl around in other people’s heads now? You’re too afraid to face me alone?”

“I ain’t alone no more,” Henry croaked through the teen’s ravaged windpipe. “I can be anywhere I want.”
Anyone I want.

“Then come and get me,” Paige said. “Wherever that ugly Full Blood body of yours is, climb back into it and rip me to shreds.”

The teen’s face became tranquil, and one by one the muddy neighbors started to drop. “It don’t got to be so bad,” he said. “These folks ain’t got to hurt no more. They just been put out to clean up the leeches and wolves and such.”

Ned raced to the old woman who’d been clawing at his window and caught her before she hit the ground. She coughed up more of the mud but didn’t have any trouble breathing. Within seconds she and most of the other neighbors were wiping their mouths and looking around in growing confusion.

“See? Doc Lancroft is a good man,” Henry said. “He sent Pestilence to devour the wretches and kill them bloodsucking leeches.”

“Lancroft is dead,” Ned said while tending to the old woman.

Paige wanted to help the others who’d awakened from their muddy sleepwalk, but they were getting up on their own. “Jonah Lancroft made Pestilence? Was that when you were in the reformatory?”

Henry backed onto the curb as a police cruiser rounded the corner from Academy Avenue onto Kensington. Someone must have seen the strange assault on Ned’s house or gotten spooked by the swaying crowd because the cruiser hit its flashing lights as it drew closer.

“Lancroft is dead,” Paige insisted. “He was a Skinner like us. Whatever he did, it’s over now. Whatever you’re doing to these people, stop it.”

“I am the teeth of beasts,” Henry declared, “with the poison of serpents in the dust.”

And when the police cruiser rolled up to Ned’s house, the teen fell backward into the street. His eyes clouded over in the short time it took him to fall, and when his body thumped against the car, his head twisted around as the rest of him rolled across the hood like the limp, abandoned vessel it was. Standing there gripping her poorly formed machete in an aching fist, watching that kid hit the street in a heap of tangled limbs, Paige had never felt more useless.

Ned tossed his gun into the bushes in front of his house, took Paige’s weapon from her and threw it in next while the
cop was examining the teen with the broken neck lying near his front tire. In the minutes another police cruiser showed up and was quickly followed by an ambulance.

Statements were taken, questions were asked, hours passed, but the only real incident to be reported was the boy who’d been pronounced dead after throwing himself in front of a moving police car. Even though the rest of the neighbors seemed fine, the paramedics had no trouble spotting the grime on their faces. Talk of delirium stemming from the Mud Flu circulated as a possible explanation for the night’s events. All of the neighbors were taken to the hospital, and Ned and Paige were encouraged to do the same.

“Can’t be too careful,” one of the paramedics told her.

“Yeah,” Paige said. “Thanks for the advice.” Her eyes remained locked on the first cop, who was still talking to a fellow officer, giving an impassioned statement while gesturing at the mangled front end of his car.

Knowing Paige well enough to read her mind without any supernatural tricks, Ned wrapped an arm around her and led her back to the house. “You can’t tell them what happened,” he whispered.

“But he didn’t kill anyone. He’ll have to live with thinking he broke that kid’s neck.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure this gets balanced out in the end. It’s what we do, Paige. Little lies need to be told and smaller sufferings need to be felt to keep the bigger ones from causing more damage.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“Tough,” Ned snapped. “It’s been a long day and that’s the best I could come up with. Answer your phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone’s ringing. Answer it.”

After digging the phone from her pocket, she jammed her finger against the glowing green button. “What is it?”

Stanley Velasco’s voice dripped with self-satisfaction as he said, “Come and get ’em.”

Cole emerged from the Cahokia Police Department, turned around and then looked at the building where he’d spent the better part of the last day. It was a little structure that barely seemed large enough to hold the cell, not to mention the officers guarding it.

Rico, on the other hand, wasn’t about to look back. “Another notch on my belt,” he said as he strode toward Paige. She tossed him the keys to the nearby SUV, but that didn’t stop him from lifting her off the ground in a bear hug. “I knew you’d sniff us out, Bloodhound. That’s what you do!”

“You know what else I do? Kick the hell out of big hairy creeps who try to throw me around.”

Rico set her down and examined the keys she’d thrown him. “What’s this?”

“Your ride home. Me and Cole are taking a cab.”

“You sure?”

She nodded and then looked Cole up and down. “Anyone try to molest you, pretty boy?”

“It was just a holding cell. No biggie,” he replied with strained nonchalance while running his hands over the top of a head that was greasy on the outside and sore on the inside. With every breath of fresh air he pulled in, the throbbing pain subsided. “Go on and leave without us, Rico. I’ll pick up the Cav from the impound lot.”

“All right then,” he said as he hefted his jacket over one shoulder. “I’ll check up on that guy who sprung us, maybe see if there’s anything more about those bodies we saw on the news.”

“What bodies?” Paige asked.

“Let’s get away from here before the cops change their minds.”

The village of Cahokia was a flat collection of squat buildings and wide streets. There didn’t seem to be much to look at under the best circumstances, and even less to catch the eye once the sun was down. A few streaks of light colored the sky’s lower edge, but it wouldn’t be long before darkness claimed Missouri. The cab arrived quickly, and when it did, Cole sat with his wallet, spare change, cell phone, and watch wrapped up in a plastic bag on his lap. His spear lay on the seat beside him, still in its harness and labeled with a tag from the police department, which he pulled off and tossed onto the floor. There was a lot to tell Paige, but he didn’t want to get too involved with the cab driver less than three feet away. When he looked over to her, she was already showing him a tired half grin.

“I missed you,” she said.

“Really? I thought you’d chew me out for getting locked up.”

“I will later. Right now, I’m just glad you’re out.”

“Some guy named Velasco arranged it. He says we owe him big-time, but the cops were glad to be rid of us after what happened while we were in there.” Again Cole looked toward the driver’s seat and cut himself off before finishing his story. “How’s your arm?”

She shrugged. “A little better.”

It was a short ride to the impound lot, and when they arrived, Cole was handed the keys to the Cav and a slip of paper that read
PAID IN FULL.
“Damn,” he grumbled. “Looks like we really do owe that Velasco guy.”

Once they got to the spot where the Cav was parked, Paige looked the car over from front to back. Her mechanical expertise wasn’t extensive enough for her to guess how much repairs might cost, but she’d been with the old rust bucket
long enough to know what damage was new and what had been written off as “charming imperfections” long ago. While she completed her inspection, Cole sifted through his plastic bag to make sure all of his stuff was accounted for. Once his phone was turned on, several missed calls and text messages blinked to his attention. Most of the calls had been from the MEG guy, Stu, and all of the voice mails, asking why he wasn’t answering his phone. Paige slid in behind the Cav’s wheel and prepared to turn the key in the ignition.

“If it doesn’t work, can we scrap her and get a new one?” Cole asked.

Paige gritted her teeth, turned the key, and smiled when the engine rattled to life. “No such luck.”

After settling into the passenger seat, he pressed redial on his most recent Missed Call notice.

“MEG Branch 40,” Stu said after one and a half rings.

“Are you stalking me?” Cole asked.

“Have you been on the trail of something? Is it another Chupacabra? Why did you take Abby on that hunt and not me?”

“Didn’t your parents ever give you the Talk?”

“Romance aside, we’re on the same team,” Stu grumbled.

“What’s so important that you had to call me a thousand times?”

“I got somewhere on that research you asked about. Did you open those pics I sent?”

After sifting through the text messages, Cole found the ones with attachments. “Not yet. What are they?”

“Etchings and paintings of various temples found all across the world that share certain structural similarities.”

“A-frames?”

“Yep,” Stu replied. “Or the ancient equivalent. And they’re always described as colorfully painted to match local flowers, the morning sky, or flowing wine.”

“So…purple.”

“Right again. There were always inscriptions along the outer perimeter of the temples, but the stranger thing is that nobody seems to know who these temples were built for. Most of the texts just say they were discovered in good con
dition and filled with offerings. The only statuary or murals on the walls are of your generic sort of magical creatures and beautiful women. The pics I found are all over the place stylistically. Renaissance, Christian influenced, Hindu, Slavic, you name it.”

“What about nymphs?” Cole asked.

Stu groaned. “You can imagine what I found on a Net search for that one. We have access to more specialized libraries, but didn’t find much apart from the typical stuff. Nymphs are all very pretty. They like to dance in the forest. Big-time party girls.”

“Have you gotten any more reports from other Skinners about them?”

After a few taps on his keyboard, Stu told him, “There were a few recent ones, but they were mainly complaints about how you and Paige let that one go in Wisconsin.”

“You mean Tristan.”

The mention of that name caused Paige to tap Cole’s shoulder. “What about Tristan?” she asked.

Rather than hold a conversation on two fronts, Cole waved impatiently toward the road just beyond the lot’s fence. She took the hint and drove for the gate amid a series of loud rattles and screeching belts. Apparently, slapping against the side of a bus didn’t do the Cav any favors.

“Is Paige with you?” Stu asked. “Tell her hi. And yeah, it was Tristan. After that first sighting, all the others have been watching her. She’s not causing any problems, but she’s been moving around quite a bit. She was seen in Boston, Jersey, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Missouri, and several different spots in California. Huh. Our records might be a little off, because it says she was seen in L.A. and Cincinnati on the same day within a span of a few hours.”

“Can nymphs really fly or something?”

“Not as far as we know, but most of the paintings and mythological references show them with wings. Even the wingless ones depict nymphs floating through the air.”

“Thanks, Stu. You did a great job.”

“Be sure to check the base of the next purple A-frame you find. If there’s writing or arcane symbols etched close to the
earth on an outside wall, you’ve got yourself a temple. Those symbols, the color, and the shape of the structure are the only constants. One of my books says that the A shape can channel, focus, and disperse energy. I had to do a lot more digging, but these particular structures are tied in to a ton of ancient pagan rituals involving primal energies and mystical power sources. Do you know what lay lines are?”

“No.”

“Good, because these aren’t the same thing. Abby and I had a big throw-down about that. Lay lines are thought to be sources of natural energy that can be tapped for power. These structures are meant to amplify mystical energies, boost them, and even store it up for later.”

“Is there a way to detect that kind of energy?”

As Stu paused to think about that, Paige finished haggling with the attendant of the municipal lot regarding the difference between an impound fee and an additional fine for driving a car that no longer conformed to Missouri safety regulations. Recognizing a losing battle when she was in one, she handed over the money and set the Cav loose upon the world again.

They were tearing toward the highway when Stu said, “If this sort of energy registers on the electromagnetic spectrum, I suppose the meters we use in our ghost hunts could pick it up. We should be able to modify the same equipment to pick it up but I’d need to be there to take the readings. Think you could give me an exclusive?”

“Hold on,” Cole said as he gripped the dashboard. “I’m about to get into my second wreck this week and I think Paige is flipping off a Denny’s.”

“Just relax,” Paige said. “You busted out the blinkers on this side so I’ve got to use hand signals.”

“Did you signal that last turn before almost sideswiping that Taurus?”

Lying on her horn in response to the wail from the other car, Paige said, “No.”

“Then bring it down a notch!” Once he’d caught his breath, Cole put the phone back to his cheek. “So where does this energy come from?”

“Any number of places. There’s rituals and of course mystical creatures or spirits. I wouldn’t have more of an answer to that until I knew what sort of energy it was, which is where my proposed field trip comes in. How’s this weekend sound?”

“Do you have anything else for me as far as your research goes?”

Stu sighed. “No.”

“Then I’ll get back to you about the rest.” With that, Cole cut the connection. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere to help you feel better after your jail time,” Paige said. “What did the MEG guys have to say?”

As Cole ran down the basics of his conversation, he watched the highway through the cracked windshield. Wind rushed in through the gaping hole where the passenger window used to be, while metal scraped against metal in at least four different spots on the Cav’s chassis. And yet, the car didn’t have the good sense to give up and die. He had to admire the ugly heap for that. They rattled onto I-55 and headed toward South County with lukewarm night air rushing across their faces. She kept driving south before finally exiting at Lindbergh Boulevard.

Cole’s eyebrows perked up when he spotted a row of car dealers lining the busy street. “Do I get to pick out the new Skinnermobile?”

“Not if you’re gonna call it that.”

“Okay. We’ll call it whatever you want.”

“Still no.”

“But you said you were going to make me feel better.” He turned to her and grinned luridly. “Unless you had something a little nastier in mind?”

“No,” Paige said as she crossed Tesson Ferry Road. “But your tongue will still be plenty happy.”