to do with my next game was to make it so players could make their own power-ups by adding different things to the same base. When was the last time anyone’s added something to the stuff we use to treat our weapons?”
That caught both of the other two off their guard.
Grinning excitedly, Cole said, “Those Blood Blade chips are made to be melted down, so why not just melt them down into the varnish for our weapons?”
“You can’t just add whatever you want into that stuff, boy,” Rico said. “It’s a recipe that’s been honed for years. I may not use them sticks as much as I used to, but plenty of folks live and die by those weapons. Screwing around with that ain’t a very good idea. No offense, Bloodhound, but you don’t exactly need somethin’ else makin’ it harder for you to defend yerself.”
Paige raised an eyebrow and watched Cole expectantly.
Looking more at her than Rico, Cole explained, “We don’t need to mess with the whole recipe. Warriors used to dip their arrows and spears into poison. Why can’t we add a little bit of the Blood Blade to the edges of our weapons? A little extra kick when fighting a werewolf would come in handy, don’t ya think?”
Slowly, Paige’s mouth curled into a barely perceptible smile as she nodded and replied, “Yes. I do think. If we dilute it enough, we could even make it a part of the weapon itself so we’d only need to treat them a few times. That way the technique could be passed around to more Skinners.”
“We may even be able to make our own Blood Blades,” Cole said. “I’m just tossing out ideas, but there’s a lot of places to go with this! With four Skinners and a guy like Daniels in the same place, we should be able to come up with something, right?”
“Come to think of it,” Rico said thoughtfully, “Ned might be a big help with that. He’s got some ingredients that could make all the difference.”
“What kind of ingredients?” Paige asked.
“Nothing we could get arrested for, but there are a few mythological beasts that are missing some vital parts. Speaking of vital body parts,” he added with a lurid grin, “me and the new guy are headed to Sauget.”
“So that means me and the old guy will wait for Daniels to show up.” Nodding toward Cole, she said, “Try to keep your tongue in your mouth this time.”
Shaking his head, Cole grumbled, “I got kicked out of one strip club. Will you ever let me live that down?”
“Not a chance.”
Chapter 9
The hotel was just off of I-55 and Lindbergh Boulevard on a twisted road that wound between a Target, a few chain restaurants, and an electronics store. A mat of dirty cement cut from a broken sidewalk covered the entrance to an underground labyrinth that was guarded by the lanky alley cat Mongrel who’d confronted Cole and Paige earlier that night.
Still wearing his khaki shorts, Allen had replaced his shredded shirt with a new wife beater. The streets around him were a tangled mess and almost always blocked by an endless series of construction sites. One such project had been started the previous year and was abandoned in the last few months. It wasn’t clear whether the job had been delayed or if the site was forgotten by the city, but there was nothing on the small mounds of dirt to draw any interest. Beneath those mounds, however, were tunnels that twisted around the foundations of the nearby stores and even poked into a few basements. Allen paced upon the concrete square and jammed a cell phone against the side of his face as if getting ready to eat it.
“No, I didn’t find the old man,” he snarled into the phone. “Two more Skinners showed up…Yes, that’s on top of the ones that are already here. I think it was those two from Chicago you told me about, the bitch with the dark hair and the guy with the spear…No, you don’t need to talk to Malia! Just come here to help us clear these bastards out of our city!” After a pause, he slapped his phone shut and stuffed it into the pocket of his shorts.
Malia approached him in a form that was ninety-nine percent human. She could walk through a mall without frightening anyone, but her perfectly smooth dark skin and large milky eyes would certainly attract some interested stares. She was tall enough to stand out in a fashion model kind of way as long as she didn’t smile to display her rounded, needle-sharp teeth. Although she was technically clothed, the oversized button-up shirt hung open so that nothing much was left to the imagination.
“What did Kayla have to say?” she asked.
Allen twitched toward the sound of a siren moving along Lindbergh Boulevard and clenched his long, narrow fists. “Ever since she’s curled up in Kansas City, that tunneling little whore thinks she’s some kind of queen.”
Placing a hand on his shoulder, Malia stroked his neck with nails that slid easily out from the tips of her fingers. “She did a good thing in getting the Skinners to trust her, Allen. Don’t forget that.”
He looked up at her and muttered, “She wanted to talk to you, not me.”
“You’ll call her back and she’ll talk to you,” Malia said. “Kayla needs to be shown she doesn’t get to tell the rest of us how to behave. If she wants to lord it over Mongrels, she’ll find she won’t have many friends outside of the dregs left behind by the Full Bloods. Did you tell her about our little problem?”
“I didn’t get a chance. But,” Allen added with a twisted smile, “she’s got problems of her own. I heard that six more dead Half Breeds were found in KC and St. Joseph. Half killed humans and the rest swept through some of Kayla’s own pack. The cops are calling them animal attacks, like the ones that happened during the riot, but some are just being called violent crimes.”
“You’re sure of this?”
Allen nodded. “The scout I sent to KC sniffed them out herself. She says a few of the Half Breeds crawled away to their dens before they died, so they weren’t found. If that’s the case, then there’s no telling how many deaths are truly being caused by those beasts.”
Letting out a long breath, Malia barely moved her lips as she said, “Half Breeds are bad enough without being driven into this frenzy. The Skinners would be the first to go to such lengths to kill our kind, but Pestilence is something far worse than I could have guessed. The Mind Singer’s voice is stronger than ever. It comes and goes like the wind, and all it speaks of is this new plague. We’ve lost enough of our pack to that foul poison, but the Skinners are the only ones who don’t reek of it. Once they know one of their own created something that has killed so many humans, they will put an end to it.”
Crawling halfway down the tunnel so only his upper body protruded from the sidewalk, Allen asked, “Do you truly think Skinners will be so charitable?”
“All they need to do is point us toward the source of Pestilence and they will have served their purpose,” Malia replied. Then, crouching down so her creamy naked breasts could brush against her knees, she whispered, “Once they stumble upon those filthy, desperate Nymar, our territory will be cleared of more than one plague.”
Shifting into his mangy alley cat form, Allen lowered himself all the way into the shadows so he could spread the news to the others. There were preparations to make.
The GPS still gave directions in a kindly British accent, but the Cav had a completely different feel, thanks to the man in the passenger seat who continually shifted his weight along with the gun strapped under his arm. Lights from downtown St. Louis faded behind them as they crossed a wide rusty bridge into Illinois.
“So you think that Nymar who found you came from here?” Rico asked.
“That’s what his driver’s license said.” When he heard Rico laugh under his breath, Cole asked, “Why’s that so hard to believe?”
“Because there are no Nymar in St. Louis. Paige and I cleaned them out years ago.”
“Just the two of you?”
Rico nodded and looked out the window as if remembering a particularly succulent Thanksgiving feast. “It started out as a training exercise and turned into a rout. Of course, the Nymar around here were a bunch of pussies who got off on flashing their fangs to the ladies and having contests to see who could sulk more. One of them even cried when my little protege jabbed her sickle through his frilly shirt. It was so much fun that I almost felt bad when it was over.” With a wide, square-toothed grin, he added, “Almost, but not quite.”
“I wish all of the fanged crowd was like that,” Cole mused. “Any time we deal with the Nymar on Rush Street, we have to be ready to catch some hell.”
“That’s Chicago. I don’t think any of the other Nymar were too surprised to hear the pantywaists around here
