the first sighting came from.”
“Plenty of holes get dug around there.”
“Yep. There are also caretakers who would pick up on something like a hole that doesn’t belong or strange animals coming and going from it. If I don’t find something on my own, at least I’ll have someone to ask.”
“While we’re there, why don’t we just clean them out?” Cole asked. “We’ve got guns and some better ammo. Let’s hit them while they’re sleeping.”
“I think Officer Stanze liked me, but not enough to give me a pass if we get hauled in for shooting up his city. Even if we forget about the guns, the last thing we need to do is get a bunch of those things worked up and have one get away.”
“Then what the hell are we here for?” Cole snapped while tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “People are already dead! I thought we came to help.”
Paige didn’t get angry and she didn’t lose her patience. She simply placed a hand on his shoulder and replied, “We are here to help. Just ask yourself something. How long would a game last if you went charging into a fight before you knew what you were up against?”
Gritting his teeth, he replied, “Not very long.”
“Right. We’re scoping things out and taking a head count right now. Please tell me you’d do the same thing if you would have thought it over for a few more seconds.”
“Yeah,” Cole sighed. “I guess I would’ve gotten there eventually.”
“Good. We’ve got weapons and tactics that have been working for a couple hundred years or so. I can immunize you against werewolf bites, treat Nymar infections, and even heal some ugly wounds, but we’re not invincible. We need to think. That way, when it’s time to fight, we stand a better chance of winning. Trust me, that time’s coming soon enough.”
Chapter 16
Forest Hill Cemetery was a large, sprawling property surrounded by a low stone fence. Paige and Cole stopped at a short section of broken sidewalk where one of the cement squares had been torn up to reveal what looked like a manhole. A larger portion of the ground behind that section had been pulled up as well, and the whole stretch was marked off with bright orange plastic fencing held up by a couple of iron bars.
Paige huddled down next to one of the bars at a spot where the temporary barrier had come loose. “Smell that?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Cole replied as he pulled in a lungful of air tainted by the stench of Half Breed. “Makes me long for stuff like hot tar or dead skunk.”
“Listen.”
Cole stood on a square of sidewalk that was still intact and watched the few people in the cemetery along with the cars driving by on Troost Avenue. “I can’t hear anything.”
“Come closer to me.”
Reluctantly, he took a few steps closer, but at her tug on his pants leg, dropped down to one knee beside her. Paige’s hair had an almost imperceptible hint of strawberry scent from her regular shampoo. Whenever she got around to cleaning up after this long day, it would smell good enough to drive him crazy.
“Hear that?” she asked.
Fortunately, he heard something before he had to admit he was either deaf or sniffing her hair.
“That’s a big one,” she whispered.
“Sounds like there could be a lot of them.”
Paige led the way back to the car and jumped in. Once the door was closed, she spoke in an excited rush. “There’s enough room down there for more Half Breeds than we can clean out right now, and the only thing keeping them in that pit is the sunlight. They’re ready to run, which means there’s not enough time for us to go all the way back to where Daniels is staying. We’d only distract him. Let’s get a room somewhere around here and we can get to work. I’ve got mixing to do and you need to find us a good wide-open spot.”
“What kind of spot?”
In a thick cowboy drawl, she told him, “A spot to make our last stand, pardner.” Wincing, she added, “Bad choice of words, but you know what I mean. We need to bring these Half Breeds all together and take them out.”
“How do we bring them anywhere?” Cole asked. “Drop invitations into their dirt pits?”
“Bait,” Paige replied with a grin.
The first thing Paige had insisted upon when Cole signed up to work with her was that he pack a bag of clothes and supplies that would always be kept in the car. She had plenty of cases tucked away in the Cav, about half of which were hidden well enough to make it through most international border inspections. They didn’t have to pass anything along those lines to check into the Holiday Inn on Westport Road, but Paige pushed her luck by insisting that Cole help her drag the dead Half Breed up to their suite on the fifth floor. The room cost an arm and a leg, and there was barely enough space for Paige to unpack everything she needed.
“Why do hotel clerks look at you like you’re a criminal when you pay cash?” she squawked while dragging the stinking garbage bag the final couple of steps to a spot next to the luggage rack.
“Why do they insist on calling a room like this a suite?” Cole replied. “Some mysteries defy explanation.”
“No, I’m serious. I paid cash, in full. He doesn’t need to bother with a credit check. They’ve got all their money, but he looked at me like I was going to open a meth lab in here.”
“Oh no,” Cole chuckled. “Instead, you’re going to cut up a dead werewolf. What could be wrong with that guy?”
“Fine, smartass. Just for that, you get to do the mixing while I clean up.”
“What am I mixing?” he asked.
“It’s an old Skinner recipe that Half Breeds can smell for miles in any direction. We’ll need to place it around the city and near those dens, but it should bring them right to us.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t sound like a great idea.”
“Sure it is,” Paige said as she rooted around in one of the larger cases. “We get to pick our spot, draw those things away from where too many people will get hurt, and take them out. This is how Skinners have worked for so many years without everyone learning about us.”
Cole stretched his aching legs and leaned back. “What would be the harm in that? I mean, why not just tell the cops about all this crap and let them deal with them? Half Breeds can be killed by big enough guns, and there’s no shortage of those.”
“Tried that once. Actually,” Paige said as she straightened up and tapped her chin, “I think that’s been tried three or four times. Once was in England a couple hundred years ago. There was a big Half Breed growth spurt, which led to one hell of a hunt that ended with a lot of rotting bodies of all shapes, sizes, and breeds. Apart from the people killed after those Half Breeds were whipped into a frenzy, the scientists of the day had a ball dissecting the carcasses to see what made them tick. All that unnatural blood and bacteria and Lord knows what else mixed with the air and water to make a whole new problem called the Black Plague. They didn’t know that when you get that many dead werewolves in one spot, you gotta burn ’em.”
“Bullshit,” Cole said. “The Black Plague was caused by rats or fleas or something.”
She shrugged, picked out a few containers that looked more suited for holding leftover veggies, and went right on. “Then there was a few of the smaller villages in the original colonies. Those Pilgrims ran into a little shapeshifter problem when they got to the New World and they did the proper thing by telling the authorities…or whatever they had for authorities. As far as we know, some of the creatures were killed, but not before most of the villagers were killed. They didn’t do a complete enough job, got on the wrong side of a very bad thing, and got completely wiped out by whatever came by later to finish them off. The Natives only survived because they knew when to cut and run. They also knew you don’t screw with a pack of monsters unless you know how to screw every
