Teeth of Beasts (Skinners) (29 page)

“Then I’m calling him,” she said while flipping her phone open. The longer it rang, the more she shook her head. Too anxious to bother with voice mail, she asked, “Where’s that card?”

“The one from the cops?” Cole asked. “I’ve got it.”

She extended her hand to him and said, “Hand it over. Maybe one of these dumb shits is forcing Ned to answer a bunch of stupid questions.”

“Umm, maybe I should call the number,” Cole said.

“Then call it! I’ll give our weapons a dip in this stuff. Didn’t you hear anyone knocking when they left the card, Daniels?”

“Sure. On top of everything else you want me to do, I should answer the door
and
take messages.”

Cole was more than happy to hand over his spear just to give Paige something else to do. She piled her weapons on
top of his and grabbed a rag to dip into the silvery mixture in the paint pan.

The name on the card was Detective Tracey Shin, and she picked up her phone after one ring.

“Hi, my name’s Cole Warnecki. I found one of your cards on my door, so I figured I should call.”

Detective Shin spoke in an even, professional tone, sounded somewhere in her late thirties or early forties, and was curt without being rude. “What was the name again?” she asked while flipping through papers on her end of the line.

“Cole Warnecki. I’m a friend of Ned Post’s. It was his house where I found your card.”

The rummaging stopped. “Oh. When was the last time you saw Mr. Post?”

“A day or two ago. Why?”

“What’s your relation to him?”

“I’m a friend,” Cole’s stomach clenched and a cold sweat threatened to break from his forehead. Paige sat at the table, silently prompting him for details.

“Does Mr. Post have any immediate family?” Detective Shin asked.

“Not that I know of. What’s wrong?”

After clearing her throat, Shin said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Warnecki, but Mr. Post is dead.”

“Wh-What happened to him?”

“I’d like to talk to you about that in person if I could. Can you come down to the station?”

“Tell me what happened first,” Cole insisted.

The detective’s voice shifted subtly, which made it seem more like she was an actual person instead of a voice behind a badge. “Mr. Post’s remains were found at a bar in U City along with the bar’s owner. It’s looking like there was a robbery.”

“So he’s…dead?”

Hearing that, Paige jumped up from her chair fast enough to hit the table and splash some of the silver water onto the floor.

“I’d really like you to come and talk to me before I give any more details over the phone. Mr. Post was already in our
system due to some minor weapons charges, so we’ve made an identification, but we’d like you to verify it. There are also some reports that need to be filed, and if there are any immediate family members—”

“Where was he found?” Paige asked.

Covering the phone’s speaker, Cole whispered, “Some bar in U City?”

She nodded and left the kitchen.

“How soon can you get here, Mr. Warnecki?” Detective Shin asked.

“I’ll leave right now. Where’s the station?”

She gave him the address and expressed her condolences, but Cole didn’t accept them with more than a few grunts as he scribbled the important information on the closest pad he could find. He hung up, nodded at Daniels’s stunned face and went after Paige. He expected to walk into a meltdown, but only found her standing in the living room with her arms crossed and her eyes fixed upon one of the house’s many shelves.

“I’ll go to the cops and see what they know,” Cole offered. “Maybe it’s not even him.”

“Find out as much as you can, and if you run into any trouble, call me. If they won’t let you call me, call Stanley Velasco. You have his number?”

“Yeah. It’s in my phone.”

“If Rico calls, don’t tell him anything. Don’t even answer the phone. Let me tell him.” She wrapped her fingers around the eyedropper bottle as if she would never let it go. “Ned used to go to a bar in U City called the Keyhole Tavern. I know where it is. Rico and I will check it out.”

Now that he’d stood with her for a few moments, Cole could tell she wasn’t just staring at the bookshelf. Paige was looking down at the cement frog that sat on the edge with its legs crossed and hanging over the side. It was one of the most putrid pieces of random decoration Cole had ever seen, but seemed perfectly at home among all the dusty books, obscure manuals, and specimen jars. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer. “Maybe you should stay here. There’s probably not much to see.”

“We’ll check it out.”

“The cops said there was a robbery, Paige. It could be that Ned was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

She turned on him and snapped, “Ned wouldn’t have been killed in a robbery. It’s just not possible. He could probably take a bullet or get stabbed and not die with all the serum in him.”

“The serum didn’t help his eye.”

“That’s different, Cole. God damn it, just trust me! The Nymar Rico and I cleaned out of this city could never have killed Ned. Not on their best day, so there’s no fucking way some robber got that lucky. The only Nymar Ned and I saw in Sauget were either killed or too sick to do much of anything. Malia’s pack is too scattered to worry about him. That leaves Henry and Lancroft. This could be payback for chasing him out of that club or just something to distract us from coming after him again. I don’t give a shit what happened, this can’t go unanswered.”

Rico tore up Hanley Road as if he was trying to break the sound barrier. “It was only a matter of time before those gutless fucking Nymar came for payback after getting their asses chased from this town.” He parked with one front tire on the curb and jumped out with his Sig Sauer in hand.

“Put that away!” Paige said.

Bits of glass and cigarette butts stuck to the concrete, announcing the Skinners’ steps with a muffled crunch. The humid Missouri air hung around the bar, making the Keyhole seem even more isolated from the world of the living.

Rico’s eyes were fixed upon the front of the bar and he made it all the way to the entrance without noticing the place was closed. “Or it could be those motherfucking Mud People,” he snarled while holstering the .45 so he could pull at the door. “They found him once and they must have found him again. It’s not like Ned tried to shake up his routine or anything. He must come here three times a week. I told him not to be so goddamn predictable, but did he listen? Fucking cops probably wrote this place off without even bothering to look for anything.”

Paige tipped her head back and put a drop into each eye from the bottle she’d taken from Ned’s. “Before you get too worked up, let’s see what we can find in here.”

There wasn’t much to see from the parking lot. Most of
the windows were covered by shades yellowed from age and overexposure to daylight, but a few were uncovered. Looking in at the bar through one of them, Rico didn’t see anything but shabby furniture and old arcade cabinets.

“Ned was here,” she said as she studied the waves of Skinner scent drifting within the bar. “From what I can see, there were no Nymar.”

“Can you be sure about that?”

“No.”

“Then keep lookin’.”

After letting the drops soak in, Paige picked up even more of the Skinner scent within the place. “I think there may have been another Skinner in there with him.”

“What makes you say that?”

She looked at the scent left behind by herself and Rico and compared it to the traces inside. “Because Ned doesn’t move around enough to lay down that much scent. Even if he did laps inside of that place, his scent would have had to dissipate by now, right?”

“You’re the one with the funky vision,” Rico grumbled.

Compared to the fresher scents they had left, the trails drifting inside the bar were like wisps of stubborn cigar smoke. The longer she stared through the window, the more wisps she picked up. “Looks like it’s concentrated at the bar. There’s so much. My gut’s telling me there’s too much in there to have been left by just one of us. Did anyone else come here?”

“Any other Skinners? Not that I know of.” Rico’s expression took on a cold, steely edge. “Hasta be Lancroft. That old fuck got to Ned.”

Paige’s phone rang. When she answered, Cole immediately told her, “It’s him.”

“You saw the body?”

“I saw a picture of it. I met with Detective Shin. She had a picture on her laptop, and yeah,” he repeated with a sigh, “it’s Ned all right.”

“Are you alone?”

“Nope,” Cole replied in a forced conversational tone.

“What do the cops know about how he was killed?”

“The bar was robbed. They found the owner with a broken neck and Ned’s throat was cut. There wasn’t much by way of security at that place, so they’re going with the robbery.”

“Then meet us at The Emerald. You remember the address?”

“I got it.”

“Good. Any problems, give me a call.” She snapped the phone shut and turned on her heels so she could walk up the sidewalk to Rico. The big man got some amused looks from passersby, thanks to his deathly stare and patchwork leather jacket, but he wasn’t concerned with any of that. He clenched a cigarette between his teeth and expelled smoke as if trying to spit it into the world’s face.

“You wanna hear something stupid?” he asked.

“I’ve spent enough time with Cole to make me immune to stupid.”

Rico’s eyebrows flicked up as one choppy laugh pushed the rest of the smoke out of his throat. “Damn! And here I thought you liked the guy.”

She lowered her head and stuffed her hands into her pockets while walking away.

“I knew it,” Rico grumbled as he fell into step beside her. “So have you two…?”

“I thought you had something stupid to tell me.”

He watched her for another second, took the cigarette from his mouth and said, “I actually thought Ned was safe. Not like I didn’t think anything would ever happen to him, but just that so much shit already has. He was the only one to walk out of Miami after all those other Skinners got ripped to shit. We thought we lost him in the Everglades while he was off chasing Lizard Men.”

“Squamatosapiens,” Paige corrected. “The proper term is Squamatosapiens.”

“Right. Then he loses an eye and comes here to watch over an empty city. The old buzzard could handle himself, but he also did a damn good job of laying low. He dealt with the troublemakers and kept everything in line. I mean, I really thought he was safe.”

“You’re right. That is stupid.”

By the time Cole arrived at The Emerald, the new coat of foul-smelling varnish on his weapon had dried and a citation from the St. Louis Police Department was in the glove compartment. Daniels’s SUV was already in the parking lot, and Rico and Paige were leaning against it. “With all the shit going on around here,” Cole fumed after climbing out of the Cav, “the cops at that station bust me for not being roadworthy! What the hell does that even mean?”

“It probably means we should get those windows replaced,” Paige said.

“We should replace the whole car.”

“Do you know how long it takes to get all the secret compartments in the trunk, doors, and glove compartment just right?”

The Emerald wasn’t a purple A-frame, but according to the green neon sign out front, it did have Amateur Night every Wednesday. The sun was still a few notches above the horizon, giving the large one-story building a washed-out quality. A few other cars were in the lot, clustered directly in front of the entrance and Mötley Crüe’s “Girls, Girls, Girls” was just loud enough to make it through the walls.

Rico walked around to the back of the SUV with his phone pressed against his ear. “Yeah, it’s me. We’re here. Are you ready for us?” While he listened to the response, he pulled the rear hatch open to expose Daniels to the light. Although the Nymar wasn’t about to burst into flames, he didn’t seem happy about the interruption as he fidgeted with several boxes of supplies.

“Well how much longer?” Rico growled into his phone. “Fine, we’ll be right in…What? Why not? It’s hot out here!” He sighed, gritted his teeth and flipped the phone shut with almost enough force to crush it. “We’re waiting out here until the girls are ready for us. Shouldn’t be too long.”

“Screw that,” Paige snapped as she headed for the main entrance.

Rico grabbed her arm and absorbed the hooking punch to his shoulder that followed. “Tristan’s coming out here to talk to us, Paige. If you can’t be civil, then keep your damn
mouth shut for a change. I put too much hard work into this for you to trash it now.”

“What’s your hard work consisted of?” she asked. “Lap dances with one girl compared to two?”

“There was lap dancing involved, but not how you think. Do you know why all of these purple A-frame strip clubs have buffets?”

“Who cares?”

“To keep horny guys from leaving long enough to get a burger?” Cole offered.

“Close,” Rico told him. “It’s because their customers don’t
want
to leave. Not even long enough to eat. Turns out nymphs are like muses. They get their power from being worshipped. Suck it right out of the air like a Nymar sucks blood from a vein. That’s where the lap dancing comes in. One on one contact like that, staring right into someone’s eyes, any one of these ladies can charge ten batteries in that many seconds.”

“Ladies, huh?” Paige snorted. “Did they get their hooks into you after one too many freebies?”

Rico took an even sharper tone when he said, “Hey. They haven’t done any harm to anyone. A bunch of them have already been taken and may be killed at any second by that Lancroft asshole. Tristan and the others are willing to put their own necks as well as the necks of their sisters on the line to help us. Since they’ve offered to repay our help on a long-term basis, you should show some respect.”

“You’re right,” she admitted. “I’ll keep the attitude in check.”

“Good, because Ned wouldn’t want us to screw this up. It may be too late to save him, but we can make him proud of us wherever the hell he is. Plus you’re really going to like the deal I’m working on.”

“All right,” Daniels said from the back of the SUV. “I’m all set.” He climbed down from the vehicle, picked up a thin vial of black liquid and allowed his jaw to hang down far enough for his drooping fang to slip all the way out of its casing in his gums. When Cole followed Daniels’s line of sight to the vision strutting toward them, it was easy to figure out what had stymied the Nymar.

Tristan rushed across the parking lot wrapped in a tan robe that covered her from ankle to neck. Although she held it shut well enough to keep from stopping traffic, a breeze flipped it open to show that all she had on beneath it was a collection of multicolored veils that stuck to her like pastel smoke. Quick to pull the robe shut again, she said, “We’re almost ready for you. Since we’re not in a proper temple, we’ve had to gather a lot more energy than normal.”

Cole felt a tightness in his chest that he hadn’t experienced since the first time he followed Paige on a hunt. “Are we really doing this?” he asked. “This is teleportation. We could never be seen again. We could get some kind of exotic disease. Hell, we could freaking
melt
for all we know!”

Rubbing Cole’s face, Tristan purred, “You’re cute. Why don’t you bring your things and come with me? We’ll talk along the way.”

As Rico walked with him to an unmarked side entrance, he slapped Cole on the shoulder and said, “Don’t get worked up. I checked it out already. Well, as good as I could check it without actually trying it. The theory sounds pretty solid.”

If Daniels’s loud muttering wasn’t enough to get his displeasure across, he made sure to slam his cases shut as loudly as possible before hauling them out of the SUV. Cole went to the Cav and stuck his head in through the broken passenger window so he could pull the GPS unit from the bracket mounted to the dash and stick it in his pocket. Seeing the impatience scrawled across Paige’s face, he told her, “This thing’s worth more than the damn car.”

The club’s side door opened into a storeroom that was filled with cases of beer, empty kegs, stacks of coasters and bundles of napkins. Tristan walked through another door that led to the narrow space behind the bar, rubbed the tender’s shoulder and skirted the edge of the main room.

It was a short walk that allowed the Skinners to sneak in without attracting much notice. Then again, considering what was going on in the spotlights, a herd of elephants could have ambled through without being noticed. Two large stages were bathed in pulsing light. Shae was on the first one, crawling up to a row of gray-haired gentlemen standing
with dollars in their hands. Her miraculously perky body was on display thanks to a pair of shorts that could have easily passed for a rubber band and a wet T-shirt plastered to her breasts. Every move she made was enhanced by a spray of water droplets, and when she brushed them off her skin, everyone in the club could feel it.

Kate was on stage number two in a one-piece swimsuit made of two strips of material that crossed her front and back to form a V on either side of her body. Although Cole could feel her touch running down his stomach, he decided the real magic trick was how she managed to keep the straps of her suit in place.

The free show was over in a matter of seconds as the Skinners were led into another storeroom. This one had been emptied of clutter and supplies so the walls and floor could be marked with the same swirling symbols as the ones in the purple A-frame. As with the previous temple, a beaded curtain hung from the ceiling to separate the front half from the back. “These look kinda like hieroglyphics,” Cole said as he extended a hand to touch some of the symbols. “But they don’t seem to have a beginning or an end. I can’t even tell if one leads into another.”

“That’s the language of the dance,” Tristan said. Looking to Paige, she added, “And I’m not trying to be poetic. That’s truly what it is. My sisters and I speak through our bodies. Our gifts flow through our movements. These symbols date back to a time before humans decided to write in straight lines from one side to another. I explained it all to Terrance.”

Cole started to say something, but Rico beat him to the punch. “It’s still Rico to you, boy.”

Holding up his hands, Cole was more than happy to concede the point.

“Most of our gifts use energy that we extract from a person’s spirit,” Tristan explained. “And most of our talents aren’t much use to anyone but our kind. There are some gifts, however, that have made my sisters and I very sought after throughout the years. We are what you might call magical beings.”

“Oh, Christ,” Paige groaned. “Here we go.”

“See!” Rico said as he snapped his fingers. “I
told
you magic was a real thing! I’ve been telling this one for years, but she never listens.”

Paige stepped through the beads and pivoted on the balls of her feet as a crackling force tugged at her hair. “Magic is what people call something they can’t explain. It’s a term used for something that can’t
be
explained. Our weapons, everything we do, and all the things we fight, have an explanation. There is no magic. Even these beads have an explanation. What are they made from?”

“Ceramic,” Tristan replied. “Some are glass and some are metal.”

“Forged through a specific process?”

“Yes.”

“There you go, Rico.” Paige nodded to Tristan and said, “Please continue.”

“The magical forces my sisters and I produce allow us to create a bridge from one temple to another. With enough power, we can create a passage using only one temple, but it’s not very stable.”