“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.”
Chapter 17
Eat Rite was a diner.
It wasn’t a restaurant or a bar. It was a diner and didn’t try to be anything but. There were less than a dozen tables in the narrow storefront space located between a pawnshop and a paintball supply store. Cole and Paige sat on stools bolted to the floor along a counter that ran from the front of the place all the way to the storage rooms in back. His spear looked harmless enough, if a bit out of place, propped against the counter like a piece of shoddy sporting equipment near Cole’s feet. Behind the counter were pyramids of mini cereal boxes, stacks of plastic cups, pastries in a clear case, and a display for locally made oatmeal cookies next to a coffee machine and a milk dispenser.
When she sat down, Paige refused a menu and ordered, “Two coffees. Two slingers, scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast on the side.”
The waitress was a cute girl with nice legs and dark hair cut in a bob. Scribbling the order onto a long pad of green and white paper, she asked, “You want onions on those?”
“Of course.”
The coffee was some of the best Cole had tasted in recent memory.
A short cook wearing the standard-issue uniform of greasy white T-shirt under greasier white apron put their order together while Paige told Cole about her introduction to Ned’s neighbors. When the cook was through, he handed the plates to the waitress so he could disappear through the back door with his pack of cigarettes. The concoction that was placed in front of them was composed of eggs, sausage, chili, cheese, and onions served on a bed of hash browns.
“This looks like a heart attack waiting to happen,” Cole mused.
“Say that now,” Paige replied. “Thank me later.”
Cole didn’t know where to start. After taking his first few bites, he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop. “Thank you,” he said through a mouthful of artery-clogging goodness. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Paige smiled and shook hot sauce onto the glorious mess occupying her plate. “You weren’t inside for long, but I thought you’d be hungry for some real food.” She scooped some potatoes and chili onto her fork, jabbed a hunk of egg, stuffed the whole thing into her mouth and asked, “So what happened in there? I heard there was some commotion.”
Telling her about his encounter with Henry and even describing the slime oozing from those glassy-eyed inmates wasn’t enough to put a dent in Cole’s appetite. He finished his story while smearing grape jelly onto his toast. “After the mess was cleaned up and the paramedics left, things were quiet. The cops took it easy on us since Rico and I helped bring those nut jobs down, but it still wasn’t easy getting out of there. Whoever that Velasco guy is, he pulled a lot of strings.”
“So you’re sure it was Henry?” she asked.
Using the side of his fork to cut up his last sausage patty, Cole replied, “He talked like Henry and knew all the stuff Henry would know. He was sure bat-shit crazy as Henry.”
“Henry’s a Full Blood,” Paige reminded him. “He’s also the only one who’s found a way to get around our early warning system. Maybe he’s not so crazy.”
Cole looked down at the scars on his left hand. “I didn’t feel a twitch from any of those Mud Flu people either, but they seemed to be controlled by him.”
“The medics called it the Mud Flu?”
“Yep.”
“How bad were they?”
“Apart from the bumps and bruises they got during the fight, those muddy prisoners were fine after Henry was gone. The paramedics said he snapped his neck during a seizure because of the flu, but he snapped it himself. I heard his voice in my head, so maybe he can throw the rest of himself into people’s minds now. The whole neck snapping thing may be Henry’s way of getting comfortable in a new body. There’s no bouncing back from that once he leaves, though.” Tapping his fork against his chin, Cole added, “I think I also saw him try to change. He kind of puffed up like he thought he could shift into…” There was only one other customer in the place, reading a newspaper at one of the back tables, and neither he nor the waitress were interested in what the Skinners were talking about. Even so, Cole lowered his voice and grunted, “You know.”
The waitress loitered at the other end of the counter, washing silverware in a long sink. After circling to refill coffee cups, she started in on the rest of her side work.
“When I spoke to the Nymar, they called Henry the Mind Singer,” Paige said. “Maybe this jumping around from one person to another is what separates him from any other telepath.”
Cole didn’t notice the waitress straightening the cereal boxes nearby when he asked, “Did they know the one whose body they showed on the news?”
“Ew, that was gross,” the waitress said. “I think it was some sort of prank, though. Like those fake werewolf pictures from Kansas City.”
Cole showed Paige a chili-stained grin at the mention of his handiwork.
Placing two packets of Wet-Naps on the counter, the waitress said, “Be sure to wipe your hands when you’re done. Can’t be too careful with this Mud Flu going around.” She shuddered and washed hers vigorously in the same sink where she’d just cleaned the dishes. “Can I get you two anything else?”
“No, we’re fine,” Paige said.
“Then I’ll run to the back for a smoke. Just holler if you need me.”
Cole tore once again into the pile of meat, cheese, and potatoes on his plate. “So, you missed me, huh?”
Stopping her hand a few inches from her mouth, Paige allowed her eggs to slide off and plop onto a mound of chili. “I was stuck with Ned. That sort of trauma will make you say things.”
“Well, you made it up to me with this.”
“Play your cards right and I may even spring for a lap dance later tonight. We’re headed back to Sauget to meet your stripper buddy, Tristan.”
“The nymph from Wisconsin? She really gets around.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” she told him. “I called Prophet to see if he’d seen her recently and he had. Only an hour before I did. In Albany, New York.”
Cole chewed his next bite thoughtfully. “That’s a hell of a long way to go. Even if a plane could make the trip that fast, that barely leaves enough time to get to an airport.”
“She’s not taking a plane. Those nymphs have something else going on. Either they’ve got some way of getting
