from where it was lodged. Suddenly, a rage swept through Cole’s entire body and he pushed the spear down until the metallic tip scraped against the cement beneath her.
“Answer me!”
She gripped the spear and was able to lift it up an inch or so while snarling savagely at him.
If not for the thorns in the handle, the spear might very well have slipped between his fingers or been taken away from him altogether. The Nymar’s burst of strength was not only fueled by the thing inside her, but from a final act of self preservation. She became stronger than any Nymar he had ever faced. Paige had warned him about jolts where a vampire could flush all of their blood-fueled power into a single attack. He was taught to either do as much damage to such a Nymar as quickly as possible or get the hell away until it faded. With his spear already trapped, both of those choices were blocked.
It was then that he felt a surge of his own.
His hands closed around the spear with the sole intent of preventing the weapon from being taken from him. As his grip became tighter, the thorns were driven in deep enough to hit nerves that hadn’t been deadened by previous contact or protected by scar tissue. They dug all the way through, growing longer due to the desperate commands rushing through his mind, until they formed little bumps on the tops of his hands. Letting out a primal scream, he straightened his legs and used both hands to scoop the Nymar up off the floor. She still grabbed the spear, if only to keep from sliding all the way down the length of the weapon like a hunk of meat that was too heavy for its kebob.
“Where’d you get one of our weapons?” Cole roared.
The Nymar’s legs flopped uselessly and her mouth hung open as she struggled painfully against the laws of gravity. “Hope … brought it … from Miami.”
“Are any more cops going to die?”
“Most of the ones that tried to get close to us … are already …” All of her grievous wounds caught up to her and the color drained from her face.
Rico’s voice echoed through the room, tainted by rage, pain, or both. A small group of Nymar rushed around the stack of pallets, only to be stopped cold by the sight of Cole holding the impaled Nymar several inches off the floor.
“… already dead,” the Nymar croaked. “Killed by Skinners … all over the country.” The fight was quickly draining out of her, and the effort of holding onto the spear dimmed the spark of life in her eyes even more. The only thing she had left was a tired, resigned smile.
Since the Nymar seemed content to fade at her own pace, Cole shook his spear to rattle the body attached to it.
Her eyes snapped open and she looked around as if she were taking in the sights for the first time. Fresh waves of gunfire erupted in the vicinity, but since he wasn’t getting pelted with live rounds, he figured Rico and the Amriany were dealing with it. “Tell me the rest, God damn you!” he demanded.
“Every cop in this building will be executed,” the Nymar announced. Baring her fangs in a spiteful glare, she added, “You being here will be enough to brand every one of you as cop killers. You’re fucked! Every Skinner everywhere is fucked!”
Cole could no longer contain his anger. He didn’t even want to. He twisted his entire body around to fling the Nymar at the pallets without a single thought about the strength required to toss her that far. Ignoring the fiery pain that incinerated his insides, he tapped his earpiece while racing to the door that led to the hallway.
“Something’s happening to those cops that busted in here,” Cole said.
Rico’s voice was the first to come back to him. “Whatever it is, I hope it lasts long enough for us to get the hell outta here!”
“I’m with him,” Prophet chimed in. “By the way, I got all I’m gonna get from this computer.”
“Prophet, just go. Rico, we need to get to those cops. They’re going to be torn apart.”
“They probably got bigger guns than us and—” Something snarled into his earpiece but was just as quickly silenced by a muffled gunshot. “And we got our hands full in here as it is.”
“Fine,” Cole snapped as he bolted into the hallway with a few stray rounds thumping against the back of his coat. “I’ll handle this on my own. Come find me when you can.”
Following the sound of shouting, gunshots, and squawking radios, Cole jogged down the hallway to retrace the steps that had brought him to the loading dock. The doors behind him were thrown open and someone charged through them. Driving his shoulder into the same soda machine Rico had used for cover a while ago, he allowed his body to slide along it while turning around to point his spear at his pursuer.
Nadya hobbled down the hall carrying Drina’s FAMAS with the stock pressed against her shoulder and the muzzle pointed downward. “Where are you going?”
“Those cops are going to be killed.”
“I know. I heard what that Nymar said as you lifted her. How did you do that?”
Cole had already turned back around and was heading toward the branch of the hall that led to the front of the building. “I don’t know. Adrenaline, I guess.”
“Where are you going?”
“I didn’t sign up for this Skinner crap just to let innocent people get killed while I run away.”
“Then I want to help you.”
“But you’re injured.”
Shifting the submachine gun against her shoulder, she nodded at him and said, “So are you.”
When Cole looked down, he saw no fewer than five deep gouges across his chest and a few holes in his jeans that were ringed with blood. Although he could recall being scratched a few times, he didn’t know where the holes in his jeans had come from. The healing serum in his system must have been doing its job because the wounds weren’t anywhere close to slowing him down. Most of the commotion he heard was confined to the rooms closest to the building’s front entrance, so that’s where he went. Since he didn’t feel like arguing with Nadya, he tucked the spear under his arm and reloaded the .45 before jamming it back into its holster.
“What will we do when we get there?” she asked.
“Will your partners back us up?”
“There were many Nymar back there, including Shadow Spore and a Kintalaphi. My partners will be lucky to get out alive.”
“Then maybe you should go help them.”
“We came to do a job and we’ll do it,” she said. “They do not need me getting underfoot and you should not go on alone.”
“All right, then,” Cole sighed as he placed his hand on the long metal bar of the door separating the hallway from the front of the building. “Sounds like those cops are fighting for their lives, so let’s help them out. Hopefully that’ll be enough to convince them which side we’re on.”
“And what about the police that have already been killed? Aren’t you and your friend wanted for that?”
“We’ll wait for a lull in the fight and slip away.”
“What is your plan for slipping away?”
“Ask me when the shooting stops,” Cole said as he shoved the door open. “Hopefully I’ll come up with something by then.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The door opened into a room that stretched out for about ten feet on either side. Less than six feet in front of him was the back of a counter and a window that looked out to a larger room that had the appearance of a lobby or display area. At the moment every square inch of that tiled floor was covered by cops, overturned furniture, broken glass, Nymar, or spilled blood. It was impressive, considering the room on the other side of the window was large enough to hold several cars and a few desks with plenty of space for customers to wander freely and peruse whatever the front company was supposed to sell. The front windows were blacked out, but powerful searchlight beams still managed to get in through narrow gaps in the paint around the edges of the glass.
