“There’s a big cluster behind Frank and to the left,” Paige announced.
Cole’s thumb flipped the safety off and he pressed his cheek to the rifle while keeping both eyes open. As soon as he found the group she was talking about, he sighted through the scope and fired two quick shots into the mass of fur and gnarled muscle. The Half Breeds scattered amid a series of grating yelps, leaving three of them behind. Two staggered and fell over, while the third hobbled and gnawed at a fresh wound in its flank that must have been put there by a round that went through one of the other two. Cole put it out of its misery with a shot straight through its face, which was a beauty to behold.
“I’ve got three Snappers left,” he said. “Should I load ’em up?”
“Don’t bother,” Paige told him. “Listen.”
A low rumble filled the air, which Cole could feel almost as much as hear. As the rumble became more rhythmic, a voice crackled over their earpieces.
“Raven One approaching. Targets in sight.”
Seconds later a sleek helicopter roared over the Skinners’ heads, then angled out toward the water. Cole saw that it was the same type of aircraft that had been brought down when he and Jessup had met up with Rico in New Mexico. After working more extensively with the IRD in recent months, he knew it was a modified NH90 Tactical Transport. It roared down to where most of the Half Breeds were gathered, hovering about twenty feet off the ground while a large barrel extended through the third window along the helicopter’s curved frame.
“Frank, clear out!” Cole shouted almost loud enough for his message to make it to the Squam without the earpieces.
Frank skidded amid a spray of dirty snow, changed direction and started retracing his steps. The Half Breeds closest to him scrambled and adjusted their course as well. So far, none of the werewolves were paying any attention to the helicopter. Leaping over the Half Breeds, Frank cleared a path for the aircraft’s gunner to open fire. The belt-fed machine gun sprayed hot lead onto the Riverfront, hitting more snow than Half Breeds as the helicopter swung around to keep the creatures from racing toward the riverboats anchored less than a block away. Rather than scatter again, the Half Breeds leapt up to sink their claws into the side of the helicopter.
“Can you take any of them out?” Paige asked as she watched the helicopter through her binoculars.
Cole looked through his scope but was having a hard time keeping the bobbing aircraft in view. “It’d be a wild shot. Even if I hit one of them, there’s a chance I could punch through the helicopter.”
“Shit. This is why we should always work up close,” she grunted while packing up the few things she’d brought along. “I told these Army guys not to rely too heavily on guns, but do they listen to me? Nooooo!”
“So they are Army?” Cole asked while securing his rifle. “I still haven’t gotten a straight answer on that.”
“You know what I mean. Let’s just get down there before somebody hits Frank.”
The Skinners carried their equipment to a four-door car with Illinois plates. Since it wasn’t a Cavalier, Paige didn’t seem to care whether she drove it into a wall. Since it wasn’t their old Cavalier, specifically, she barely seemed to care what model or make it was. Once their stuff was loaded, she climbed in behind the steering wheel and started the engine. The moment his back hit the seat, Cole was reaching for his safety belt.
Near the Riverfront, the chopping sound of the machine gun competed with the thumping of the helicopter’s blades as Half Breeds barked and screamed up at the aircraft. Soon those sounds were joined by the screech of metal being peeled away and the whine of an engine straining to compensate for additional weight. Cole looked back and saw several werewolves dangling from the helicopter and kicking as they were lifted farther off the ground.
“They’re trying to bring it down,” he reported.
Paige shook her head and gritted her teeth while driving to a nearby off-ramp. “Of course they are. They always do. Why the hell do they make us give those stupid briefings if nobody listens to us about little things like how fast Half Breeds are or how high they can jump?”
“Because Adderson already thinks he knows everything?”
Most times, just hearing the name of the man in charge of the IRD was enough to make Paige’s mood worse than usual. “Bingo,” she said. “Keep them updated on what we’re doing. Hopefully that’ll keep them from shooting us.”
“Raven One, this is Cole. Paige and I are driving down to the Riverfront.”
When there was a long pause before he got his answer, Cole rolled his eyes and added, “Over.”
“Maintain a safe perimeter until we clear these things out. Over.”
“Frank’s still down there!”
“I think they know where I am,” Frank said through the earpiece. This time his voice was strained, which meant he must have been doing a lot more than running and jumping.
Cole didn’t have to search for long before he spotted Frank hanging from the rear leg of a Half Breed that had embedded its claws into the lower edge of the chopper. After a few pulls and a couple sharp jabs from his claws, the Squam convinced the werewolf to let go so it could twist around to snap at him. He pushed away from it as soon as he started to fall. Both he and the Half Breed dropped toward the pavement, but only Frank was agile enough to turn in midair to land on his feet. The Half Breed thumped heavily on its side, and would have broken its legs if they hadn’t already been snapped along with the rest of the bones in its body during its initial transformation. Despite the awkward landing, it flopped over and stood up so it could howl and roar along with the rest of the creatures.
“Come and get me,” Frank hissed. “Now!”
It was tough to read expressions on a Squam’s face or in a voice that sounded like two dry blocks rubbed together, but there was no mistaking Frank’s urgency. Paige focused even harder on the road and swerved toward the Riverfront. The helicopter gunner unleashed a steady torrent of automatic fire that should have shredded the Half Breeds. Although some of the creatures fell and were subsequently hacked to pieces by the large caliber rounds, most of them were batted around and enraged by the insistent gunfire. Those were the newer breed that had thicker hides and matching sets of tusks protruding from upper and lower jaws. Paige steered directly toward them, knowing that Cole would brace himself for the inevitable impact. Before they got close enough to worry about scraping creatures off the windshield, the car’s headlights splashed over a tall figure that landed in front of them.
Frank was dressed in thick canvas pants and several layers of thermal material that encased his body without doing much to hinder his movement. The headlights illuminated the pale yellow and tan scales covering his arms and glinted off of his darker yellow eyes. When Paige threw the car into a sideways skid, he moved back far enough to clear a path and then opened the rear passenger door to climb inside. “I think this is all we’ll flush out tonight,” he said, “but that gun won’t kill them all.”
“I know,” Paige replied while slamming the car into a lower gear. She tore away and headed back to the ramp and onto the highway. Not only had the IRD set up roadblocks to keep the overpass clear, but the helicopter swung around to fire at the remaining Half Breeds until the wave of creatures moved away from the Skinners.
Even after the roadblock, traffic was light on I-64. Once St. Louis and the river were behind them, Illinois stretched out ahead. A year ago Cole would have been glad to be back in the state where he’d spent the initial part of his career as Paige’s partner. In more recent times, however, the two of them had wandered so much that it hardly felt as if they had a home anymore. What hit him even harder was that if they returned to Chicago, they wouldn’t have anywhere to go. Rasa Hill was gone, and even Steph’s Blood Parlor had been torched during the Nymar uprising that resulted in most Skinners being placed on federal and state Most Wanted lists.