The military was taking a stand, but not in Topeka.
Soon, like most other cities, Topeka burned. Whether the fires had been started by accident or as a last ditch effort to kill the werewolves didn’t matter. The flames rose and the people who tried to put them out were set upon by another pack of ravenous beasts. The firefighters that lived to crawl away only howled in pain as their bodies were twisted into one of those things that set out to hunt for food. Like the rest of his family, the man who now clung to his fiancee to keep from slipping on a patch of ice on I-29 hadn’t wanted to leave Topeka.
His natural instinct was to stay. For the first several weeks of the crisis, people barricaded themselves indoors to fight for survival. They watched their televisions for news about how far the insanity had spread and what was being done to stop it. Before long, people stopped watching the news and just focused on living for another day. Then, as things got worse, the highways became crowded with cars on their way to someplace better. The people behind the wheels might or might not have known where they were headed, but it was time to go.
The man from Topeka stayed until his friends and family were consumed. That’s what people started calling it, since there often wasn’t a way to know if they were truly dead. At least that word was better than the thought of seeing a parent, child, or neighbor broken down into a screaming heap to be reforged into something with fangs and wild, pain-filled eyes. The last possible good he could do was take his fiancee away before her pretty face was twisted into something cruel and hungry. They’d made it as far as KC, and he was determined to keep going. When she slipped, he was there to pull her to her feet and urge her onward. They’d passed the minivan which had spun 180 degrees before plowing into a drift. The four-door was directly ahead of them, cleared off and waiting for them like a freshly unwrapped present.
“Stay here and I’ll check it out,” he said.
The door was unlocked and the keys were on the dash. After fidgeting with fingers that were almost too numb to feel the keys, he slipped the right one into the ignition and started the car. “Come on, honey!”
The woman cautiously stuck her feet into the snow. Tracks that were too large and spaced too far apart to be set down by humans surrounded the car. They converged a bit farther away from the road near a pile of crimson pulp that had been covered by a fine layer of snow. Heeding Ben’s advice, she turned her eyes away from the mess and fumbled with the handle of the passenger side door. After she got in, but before she had a chance to pull the door shut, the car lurched forward.
“Where are we going?” she asked while frantically tugging at her safety belt.
“I’ve got some old friends in St. Louis. We’ll go there.”
“Can we make it all that way? How far is it?”
Blinking furiously as a Half Breed leapt out from a hole on the side of the road, only to be overtaken by a beaked Mongrel, he sputtered, “I don’t know, but we’re going. We came this far, we won’t stop now.” He looked over to her and saw nothing but determination on her trembling features. She swiped some tears from her eyes, nodded, and placed her hand in his.
Smoke rose into the sky. Shapeshifters roamed freely. Corpses lay scattered beneath a stark winter sun. Randolph Standing Bear could smell all of those things as he pulled long, deep breaths into his lungs. The air also carried more familiar fragrances like pine trees and the crisp, simple purity of snow that lay piled hip deep across most of the Canadian wilderness. The Full Blood cherished winter more than any other time, simply because it was the quietest of the seasons. Considering all that had transpired over the last few months, silence had become the rarest of commodities. Launching off two powerful hind legs, Randolph closed his eyes and lifted his nose toward a sky that seemed to have been painted above him in thick, chalky gray.
His front paws stretched out as his stocky body cleared the highest point of his jump. In his four-legged form he could run fast enough to cross several miles of ground within the space of a minute. Powerful muscles propelled him forward after being tensed during all the time spent on the boat that had brought him from European shores. The soil felt familiar when his paws touched it again. Almost every stone was right where he’d left it. Despite everything that was happening to this continent, it was still his territory. And throughout the trials that lay ahead, he would reclaim it once again.
That had always been his intention. The move to his homeland had been necessary to create enough wretches to keep the humans huddled within their homes and firing their precious guns in every direction. Now he would take steps to reclaim the territory he’d fought so hard to claim all those years ago. And thanks to the chaos cinching around the world like a noose, other territories would change hands as well.
This was a new world, and a new breed was required to live in it. If Liam had been right about anything, it was that Full Bloods were through with hiding. With little or no effort, Randolph could hear the other Full Blood’s voice in his mind.
Sometimes Liam’s voice was hard to block out. It was strange to miss the other werewolf, considering all the times he’d been ready to kill Liam himself. In the end, Liam’s death was just another responsibility that Randolph had allowed to slip from his grasp. But those irresponsible days were over. The Breaking Moon had risen, imbuing all of the Full Bloods gathered at the source of the Torva’ox with more power than they’d ever tasted. Those primal energies now flowed freer than ever, and it was Randolph’s intention to find out who among his brethren would put them to use. Then, the Skinners would be dealt with.
For too long he had tried to keep everyone in check. When the Skinners were poised to claim weaponry that would tip the balance in their favor, he was there to take it away from them. When Liam threatened to draw too much ire or shed too much blood, he was there to see it didn’t go too far. But no matter how much he tried to rein things in, they spiraled even further out of control.
Perhaps that was true, but he had already given up trying to control things. Ever since he caught the scent of the First Deceiver, Randolph had known there was one last opportunity to set his new homeland back onto its proper course. Kawosa roamed free, opening geysers of the Torva’ox in his wake and imbuing his precious Half Breeds with new strengths, like a craftsman tinkering with a favorite line of toys. Kawosa had one more purpose to serve, and when that was done, there would finally be quiet.
No more humans with their arrogant voices and filthy machines.
No more wretches with their wild, pained cries.
No more Mongrels tunneling and sneaking in the dark.
No more leeches strutting and preening like spoiled children.
Just pure, natural, blissful quiet.
A quiet the world hadn’t known for over a thousand years.
Chapter One
Paige stood on a highway overpass, wrapped in two T-shirts, a tactical vest, and a light jacket, all of which was all topped off by an olive drab canvas coat that came down to her knees and was tied shut with an old belt. It was just past sundown, and the wind tore across the Mississippi River to become even colder than when it had started rustling on the other side. In the distance, car horns honked and tires screeched across slippery roads that were even more poorly tended now that the salt trucks had been attacked by a large pack of Half Breeds. That alone wasn’t enough to call in the heavy artillery, but the Full Blood sighted by the scouts across the border in Cahokia, Illinois, raised all the red flags needed to bring the Skinners there.
“How many times do I have to clean this place out?” she grumbled while checking one of the many handguns strapped beneath her arms or clipped to the mesh belt holding her coat together.
The man lying on the shoulder of the overpass might have gone completely unnoticed by a casual observer if he hadn’t shifted on his stomach and scraped his legs against the ground. His back was covered by a thin layer of snow that blew off him like ash. He twisted around to prop himself up on his elbow so he could look up at her. “Wasn’t just you the last time, you know.”
Paige lifted a pair of compact binoculars to her eyes and scowled through them. “Yeah, right, Cole. I also know
