“The war has already begun,” Esteban said. “What good do you think you can do now, apart from drawing the ire of those who could be your greatest allies?”
Rather than try to respond using a mouth filled with blood, the Mongrel curled her lips up in a fierce, protective snarl.
“The Nymar staked their claim,” the Full Blood said, “and if we don’t take what’s ours, there will be nothing left. Those humans you cherish,” he added while pivoting to bat Frank aside as the Squam lunged at him. “Do you think they will show their gratitude for what you do here by granting you immunity when the next armed attacks come? Do you think the Skinners will allow you to live peacefully in your swamps with whatever is left of your family?”
The Mongrel’s teeth were not only bared, but elongated, as her snarl became a wild, rasping groan.
“Ahhh,” Esteban mused. “So there is not much left of your family. A regrettable certainty among our kind, I’m afraid. They would have died off soon enough no matter what you did to try and save them. Just like these humans here. And since we now see that humans are the only thing preventing us from fully absorbing the Torva’ox, we must put them out of our way. It is the nature of things. The cream will always rise. These loud, filthy creatures and their machines were simply too stupid or too arrogant to realize they’re not the cream.”
Frank had been using every one of his senses to pick the opportune moment to strike. He could hear, see, even smell the overconfidence within Esteban as he spoke. And when it seemed the Full Blood had regarded him as nothing more than one of the insects to which he’d referred, Frank launched his next attack.
The werewolf made no move to avoid him. He stood his ground, watching him and the Mongrel carefully as clawed hands reached up from beneath the ground to grab his legs. The IRD soldiers who’d been broken had already turned to attack their former comrades, leaving the Full Blood to deal with Frank and the Mongrels. Now that they’d snagged Esteban, the diggers emerged to grab any part of him they could, and when the Full Blood’s limbs were ensnared, Frank and the feline Mongrel charged. The Mongrel darted straight at Esteban while Frank leapt high to throw himself at and quickly through the massive werewolf.
When he passed through the space that Esteban had occupied, Frank felt a chill move in a wave through his body. Unlike the winter chill that barely made it through his scaly flesh, this was a cold that seeped all the way down to the bone. But it was more than a change in temperature. There was something insinuating the cold upon him like a thousand little needles injecting it directly into his core. Beside him, the Mongrel seemed equally confused as she landed and was thrown off her feet by her long tail.
Esteban flung her through the air and turned toward Frank. “I have taken the form that had been all but forgotten by our kind. I have mastered not only changing my shape, but shifting between form and shadow. The few weapons that could kill a Full Blood will now pass through me just as you did. Just as I passed through the stone shell the Skinners used to take Minh prisoner. Flee now or take your chances with these humans once they eventually take you prisoner as well. They are getting stronger and will eventually find a way to bring the fighting to a level that will make this world uninhabitable. Although,” he added while glancing around at the field, now filled with wreckage, charred mounds of dirt, and milling Half Breeds, “today brings only death.”
Frank launched a flurry of attacks while the few remaining soldiers piled into the last helicopter. His claws either scraped against a body that was almost as solid as steel or passed completely though a form with less substance than a memory. After brushing him aside with a few clubbing swings, Esteban clamped his jaws around a Mongrel that had reached up to grab him from underground and tore a large piece of the digger off, to be spat out. Then he calmly walked toward the Half Breeds that had clustered reflexively out of striking distance.
“There is much to do,” he announced casually. “I have heard Cecile’s cry, which means she has finally broken free. Perhaps she will be more open to the truth than you.”
The Mongrel struggled to stand as she shifted into a mostly human form. Now a woman somewhere in her early forties, she enclosed her arms around herself more as a way to stanch the flow of blood from her wounds than to try to cover her naked body. “It’s not supposed to happen like this,” she said. “I know the Full Bloods and Mongrels have never fared well together, but now is a time we can hold a council or—”
“Council?” Esteban snapped. “Why would I care what you or any of these others have to say? I would rather tear the face of this world apart than bargain with the likes of you.”
“What about Randolph Standing Bear?”
That name stopped Esteban in his tracks. When some of the Half Breeds began approaching him, he warned them off with a brutish snarl that sent them scattering, to nip at each and establish a crude pecking order within the newly formed pack.
“Randolph has not been seen since . . .” Esteban’s voice trailed off as a slow breeze brought new scents to his nose. “But I know now that he has recently returned. And he’s found the trickster. Do you expect me to believe he’s suddenly overcome his distaste for your kind?”
“If he’s still with Kawosa, he’s not striking any deals,” she told him with absolute certainty. “He is scheming while this war rages. At a time like this, someone like that is the most dangerous of all.”
Esteban took another slow sample from the air and frowned his disapproval. The helicopter blades of the last remaining AH-90 roared to a crescendo as the steel bird rose. “You can do nothing against me, child,” he said. “Best for you to find a place to hide or think of the best way to please me before it’s worth my time to end your life.” And then he broke into a run. The howl that exploded from his throat caught the attention of every Half Breed, a churning mass of bodies in his wake as they all ran for the nearby city.
The remaining Mongrels bolted after Esteban, leaving Frank alone with the dead and dying in that field. He reached down for a nylon belt clipped around his waist, removed a phone from a small pack and found he’d gotten a call. After pressing one of the preset speed dials, he was quickly connected to a familiar voice.
“Cole,” Frank said. “It’s me.”
“Where are you? Did you find any Mongrels to help Adderson?”
“Caught up with them outside of Shreveport, Louisiana. So did Esteban and a whole lot of Half Breeds.”
“How many Half Breeds?”
Looking around at the carnage, he told him, “I don’t know, but after Esteban howled at these soldiers, there were a whole lot more. Now they’re all running into the city.”
“Can you do anything about it?” Cole asked.
“We tried to stop Esteban, but he found a way to turn into a ghost, and I don’t think I or the Mongrels will be able to touch him.”
“Wait . . . what?” Cole stammered.
Frank explained what happened in quick, choppy sentences while jogging toward the city. Even after he was finished, Cole still seemed confused. Then again, in the time he’d known the Skinner, Cole seemed like that a lot. “Just ask your Skinner friends about Full Bloods being able to pass into shadow. That’s what he called it. What aren’t you telling me about him?”
“You think I’m hiding anything from you?” Cole asked.
“About Esteban,” Frank said in a snarl that surprised even him as it rumbled out of his throat. “You told me plenty about Randolph Standing Bear and Liam and even something about the female, Minh. Add the young Full Blood you and Jessup met in New Mexico . . .”
“Cecile,” Cole said with a regretful tone in his voice.
“Right. It seems you and Paige know a lot of these Full Bloods on a first name basis. Why is it you haven’t told me much of anything about Esteban?”