Milosh staggered into the room carrying a bottle in one hand and a hunk of bread in the other. “If you think you can loot us for more, then you’re mistaken!”
“Enough!” George said. It was the first thing he’d said since leaving the SUV, and his words appeared to carry plenty of weight among the others. “We’ve already let them know how much we don’t appreciate what Skinners do or have done. They’ve heard it. But they haven’t come all this way just to try and steal from us. They need to speak to a Chokesari.”
Either Milosh wasn’t drinking alcohol or he sobered up very quickly when he heard that. “Why does he need to talk to a metalsmith?”
“Because they’re the ones who make the Blood Blades and they’re the ones who work with the Jekhibar,” Sophie replied.
Paige nodded. “Then that’s who we need to see. When can you set it up?”
The Amriany began speaking among themselves in harsh voices that Cole still couldn’t understand. Sophie calmed them down by striding over to the fireplace and placing her hands on a long sword that looked too pristine to be anything but ceremonial. One hand rested upon a blade adorned with meticulously carved symbols, and the other brushed against a handle fashioned from superbly polished wood. Although the Amriany didn’t fall completely silent, they settled down so she could be heard without having to shout.
“This,” she said reverently, “is how things used to be. When our two peoples were one. Before the maiden voyage to the New World. Before your founders communed with the native tribes in what is now called America. Before the discontent within our ranks became a chasm that would split Amriany from those who would become Skinners, we used to work together to create what was needed to keep the shadows at bay.”
Cole couldn’t take his eyes off the sword on the mantel. There were no thorns in the handle, but the craftsmanship and coloration of the varnish were all too familiar to anyone who wielded a Skinner weapon. Both elements, wood and metal, entwined beautifully to create a weapon unlike anything he’d seen. And considering all he’d seen over the past year or two, that was saying a lot.
“Since we have split,” Sophie continued, taking her hand away from the sword, “both of our peoples have guarded our secrets carefully. There have been infractions on both sides making this not only reasonable, but necessary.” Before anyone could refute that, she squared her shoulders to the room in an unspoken challenge to anyone who might interrupt her. None came. “Because of this, it is no simple matter to just bring a Skinner to see one of our Chokesari. They have been forging our steel for generations and were rare even when the Amriany were not. Without them, there can be no Blood Blades, and if even one metalsmith is lost, their entire craft will be threatened.”
Any Skinner understood as much without needing further explanation. Everything from their fighting methods and recipes for mixing the varnish, which allowed their weapons to bond with its bearer or change shape to their will, was passed along through one Skinner teaching another. The few written records of exactly how to brew Nymar antidote, mix weapon varnish, or carve a weapon itself were sparse and closely guarded. It was a subtle system that made it crucial for Skinners to guard their partners almost as staunchly as they guarded themselves.
“Do you honestly think we came all this way to kill one of your blade forgers?” Paige asked.
Sophie’s eyebrows rose as she coolly regarded her and Cole. “Maybe it’s not something you’d do consciously. But we’ve heard about a group that may fracture your structure just as the Skinners fractured ours all those years ago.”
Straightening into a more defensive posture, Waggoner drew a deep breath to fuel what would surely be a whole lot of unfriendly words.
“Hold it,” Cole said preemptively. “The Vigilant have set themselves up in strongholds around the country. Our country,” he added when he reminded himself of where he was. “They’ve even made a move against the military by breaking me and others out of prison. That’s been on the news! It’s got to be plastered all over official records in police and government agencies all over the place, so it’s not like it’s too hard for someone to piece together enough to know that the Skinners are having some internal conflicts at the moment.”
“Internal conflicts,” Milosh grunted. “I love the American sweet talk.”
“How’s this for sweet talk?” Waggoner snarled. “Up. Yer. Ass.”
Even though that wasn’t as bad as Cole had anticipated, he jumped in before it could be spiced up anymore. “The point is, it’s understandable why these guys might not be so anxious to escort us straight into their hidden base or whatever.”
“Yes,” Paige said. “But we’re the ones at a disadvantage here. We’re on your turf while ours is burning, and the longer we’re away, the more it’ll burn.” Pointing to Milosh, she said, “I was with him in Atoka. Nadya and I were the ones to risk our asses running through a field of Full Bloods to keep him from turning into a Half Breed. If he can’t vouch for me after all of that, I don’t know what else you want from us.”
When Sophie looked over to him, it didn’t take long for Milosh to nod his approval. “My issue isn’t with you,” she said, “or Cole. It’s with the company you keep. We know you work with Nymar, and we can’t afford to have the American vampires infecting any more of ours with the Shadow Spore. For all we know, they could be watching you. Or,” she added while focusing on Waggoner, “using you as spies.”
“Having a bit of an uprising here, huh?” Cole chided. Although he’d thrown the comment out offhandedly, he could tell by the looks on the Amriany faces around him that he’d struck one hell of a nerve.
Sophie’s next words came very deliberately and weighed heavily as she spoke them. “The European Nymar have been taking lessons from the Americans. Already, several police officials as well as military personnel have been killed in a way that would implicate Amriany involvement.”
Paige chuckled. “Now there’s some classic sweet talk. So your Nymar are stepping out of line. That just means now is the time to act before things get as bad here as they are back home.”
“The Full Bloods were always going to return,” George said. “That’s never been a question. Esteban is only the first.”
“Which is why we all need to figure out a way to keep it from getting worse,” Paige insisted. “The Nymar can be dealt with just as long as there are people willing to take them on. Unless things change where the Full Bloods are concerned, we could be looking at extinction. Not just Skinners. Humans.”
Sophie placed a hand on the mantel, less than an inch away from the sword. After looking around to the other Amriany, she spoke a few words in their language, got a few words back from each one, then shifted her attention back to the Skinners. “You’ll have your meeting with the Chokesari.”
Cole let out a tired breath. It might have been a small victory, but it felt good to have one at all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Amriany proved to be gracious hosts, offering their guests a place to sleep and food to eat. Due to the instant time change they’d experienced in their unusual travel method, the Skinners were barely able to fall asleep long enough for it to be considered a nap. The rest of the time was spent varnishing weapons, cleaning guns, and limbering up with the normal exercise routines. Paige mixed up some more healing serum and prepared a batch of the tattooing ink she’d invented. Even though Cole had given the stuff its first successful field test when fighting Lancroft, she was still unable to use it. Daniels couldn’t be sure if the good ink would interact with whatever remained of the bad ink that still might be trapped in her wounded arm, and she wasn’t about to risk it by being as impatient as he’d been when her arm was wounded in the first place.
Cole had just finished taking inventory on what Daniels sent along with him when he found Paige standing outside going through a series of steps with her weapons, intended to strengthen her arm. He stood behind her and to one side, taking in the sight of her lithe body going through its well-practiced motions against a backdrop of a red and orange sky. Being so far away from a big city, his breaths were like a spray of cold water cleaning the grit from lungs infected by too many years of urban living. “Tristan told me something interesting before we left,” he said.
Paige’s weapons were in their blunted form, but she swung them as if they’d sprouted the deadly blades that had cut short so many werewolves’ lives. “Let me guess. Pole climbing tips? Be sure to let me know when you’re
