After the events surrounding the Breaking Moon, Cole and Paige hadn’t settled in one place long enough to call it home. The IRD provided them with quarters when they were close enough to a base within Adderson’s jurisdiction. Every now and then Cole found himself thinking back wistfully to the weeks he’d slept in an old walk-in freezer at the condemned restaurant he’d only known as Rasa Hill. To this day he still wasn’t certain if the faded lettering on the front of that building spelled Rasa or Raza.
“You are quiet,” Frank said.
“I’m driving,” Paige snapped.
The Squam pulled in a rasping breath. “You are always quiet. I meant Cole. Being silent this long usually means something’s wrong.”
Cole looked over to Paige, who seemed to have expected his glance. They didn’t have to say a word to each other before she let out a heavy breath and nodded to him.
“Whatever you’re thinking, you can say it to me,” Frank told them. “I deserve that much for putting my life on the line as living bait for you and those soldiers.”
“Not living bait,” Paige told him. “Scout.”
“Scouts run ahead and look for things,” Frank grunted. “I have to dodge bullets and hang from helicopters.”
“Scout plus?”
Although Frank’s yellow eyes were covered by translucent lids, they were still capable of conveying plenty of emotion. When Cole glanced back at the Squam, he could relate all too well to the frustration he saw in them.
“The answer to your next question is no,” Cole told him. “Being with her never gets any easier.”
Chapter Two
The IRD had their mobile outpost set up in Collinsville, which was a short drive from St. Louis. The outpost consisted of two large campers, three covered trucks, and two helicopters. By the time Paige parked between the campers, another helicopter was returning from the St. Louis Riverfront. Its machine gun had been pulled inside and the landing gear lowered so it could touch down and unload the three soldiers who had been riding inside. Judging by the spring in their step, the men hadn’t left the helicopter to engage any Half Breeds. Although none of the higher ranking officers acknowledged Frank with more than a careful glare, the soldiers all sought him out so they could give him a grateful nod or wave. Frank’s thin, reptilian lips curved into something of a smile when he accepted their show of respect.
Paige and Cole stood outside of the second camper, stomping their feet and enjoying the hot chocolate that had been served to them in a paper cup. It was a thin and watery mix, but Cole preferred it much better than the salty yellow water that was supposed to pass for chicken soup.
Not only was the wind brutally cold, but the sun had been down long enough for the smallest remnants of its light to have been long forgotten. Both Skinners stood in the bracing chill and turned their faces into the wind. Cole closed his eyes and savored the way his nose tingled and the wind whispered directly into his frosted ears. Embracing his humanity by reveling in the simpler things was a habit he’d picked up from Paige. One of the good ones.
“What’s wrong with you two?” asked a man who stood in the doorway to one of the campers. “After all that’s happening, you want to catch your death in the cold?”
“Be right in, Ma,” Cole said.
The man who’d scolded them was somewhere in his early forties, dressed in heavy black and gray fatigues, his light brown hair buzzed down to a perfectly even layer. Although Cole had been clipping his hair to within an inch of its life, the shears he used paled in comparison to the fine military precision that marked Major Adderson’s hair as well as everything else he wore, touched, or said. Obviously not threatened by the cold, Adderson scowled at the Skinners and stepped aside while propping the door open with the side of his boot.
Paige and Cole drank their hot chocolate until it was gone, but knew better than to make the major wait long before entering the camper. Inside, the vehicle had been stripped and refurbished with a row of computers and monitors along one side, several televisions bolted to the ceiling used to monitor national and local news broadcasts, and a communications setup on the other side. At the back of the confined quarters was a space that had probably contained a bed. Now there was a small square table with a built-in illuminated touch-sensitive screen. Mainly it was used to display maps and objectives for the various IRD operations in which Cole and Paige had taken part. As soon as the Skinners were inside, Adderson led them back to join the two men who sat there.
“This has been a long couple of days,” the major said, “and we all look like hell.”
Cole chuckled at that. Compared to Adderson, he and Paige always looked like hell.
Paige crumpled up her paper cup and tossed it into a small receptacle that Cole hoped was a trash can. “If you guys want our help with these things, you gotta start listening to us!” she declared.
Adderson eased down onto a little stool bolted to the floor and sighed, “Do we, now?”
“Yes. Someone could have been killed. Just ask your pilot.”
A skinny young man wearing dark khakis and a baseball cap arched his back to work out a kink. Although the cap bore a Marine Corps emblem, the rest of his uniform was marked only by his rank on one shoulder and an IRD patch on the other. The Inhuman Response Division’s insignia was a half skull and half wolf’s head beneath crossed assault rifles on a field quartered into red and gray sections surrounded by a gold rope. The letters IRD were stitched on one side, and USA stitched on the other. “I don’t know what mission you were on,” he said, “but I wasn’t about to crash.”
“What about when that Half Breed clamped onto your helicopter?”
“That’s in my report, lady.”
“I’m sure it was. I’m not trying to call you out on anything. Just tell me one thing.”
Although Paige had made her intentions clear, the pilot still eyed her as if she were doing her best to get him in trouble in front of his boss. “I bet I can tell you plenty of things, honey.”
“Hendricks!” Adderson barked.
The pilot nodded toward his commanding officer and then met Paige’s eyes when he said, “I mean . . . ma’am.”
Paige walked up to the pilot, stood toe-to-toe with him and then leaned her chin forward just enough to make it seem she might try to bite his nose off. “Tell me how high a Class Two shifter can jump.”
When Hendricks looked over to Adderson, all he got was a steely glare. Shifting his eyes to Paige, he said, “Approximately five to six meters.”
“That’s what you were told when we made that first run into Nevada,” she replied. “It was wrong then and it’s still wrong now! Cole and I have told you as much as we can, but you still stick to your same damn guidelines.”
“We’re working on definitive profiles of all of these creatures,” Adderson said. “Your input is appreciated, but it’s not consistent. Until we can lock in some parameters for what we’re dealing with, we’ll work with the knowledge we have.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be able to deal with new intelligence as it comes in?” Paige asked.
“Sure, but when it changes according to who’s giving it, we have to take it with a grain of salt. Would you like to debate this further or shall we continue with the debrief?”
After shooting a disgruntled look in Cole’s direction, she crossed her arms, leaned against one of the monitors and allowed the soldiers to continue. For the next several minutes the pilot and crew from the helicopter gave their reports on what happened at the Riverfront. Then it was Cole and Paige’s turn to let them know what they did as far as the Half Breeds were concerned. When that was done, Adderson wrapped up by clapping his hands against the table and declaring, “We were called in to get a good idea as to how many Class Twos were positioned near the Riverfront and that’s what we did. Correct?”