Howling Legion (Skinners, Book 2) (26 page)

Thanks to the loud music blaring through the speakers inside the place, Paige’s words didn’t carry much farther than a few feet. Apart from the guy who’d taken their order and the tall woman refilling supplies behind the counter, there were only two other people eating at the far end of the room beneath a flat screen TV suspended from the ceiling. Nobody seemed to have heard anything worthy of their attention. Cole envied them.

Both of their faces brightened when the guy behind the counter called Paige’s name. Cole’s sausage was served on a huge roll, covered with peppers. Paige’s Fridge overshadowed his meal in every way.

“Good Lord,” he gasped when he got a look at the monstrosity she was about to consume.

The Fridge needed to be served on a larger roll, since the Italian sausage was covered by a thick layer of shaved Italian beef. On top of that was a mess of peppers that practically sent a wave of heat through the air. The whole thing had been dipped into an au jus sauce that dribbled from the soaked-through bread when she picked it up.

“Good Lord is right,” Paige said. She turned her head sideways, opened wide, and bit off a good chunk of the upper layer of shaved beef and peppers. She said something after that, but only a few sloppy syllables made it through her food. Having barely swallowed that, she took a bite of the lower sausage portion. If she’d looked happy before, the sip of strawberry pop she took to wash it all down nearly pushed her straight into the orgasmic range.

“You like that Fridge?” the guy behind the counter asked.

Paige turned and threw a few unintelligible words his way before she swallowed and wiped her mouth. “You’re an artist! I’ve never had one of these outside of Chicago.”

“Neither have I. That’s why I opened this place. What about you, guy? How’s that Butkus treatin’ ya?”

Cole took a bite that was equal parts fire and flavor. “Damn! That’s…” His hands worked on their own to snag a few fries and stuff them into his mouth. They were just the right kind of greasy without being obnoxiously so. “These are…
damn!”

The guy behind the counter nodded and gave them a thumbs-up. “Glad to hear it.” Then he turned and started cleaning off his grill.

For the next few minutes Cole and Paige just sat and ate. He made it halfway through his meal before his stomach burned with a heat that felt warm and friendly without showing any signs of letting up. It was perfect.

“Youff neffer had one of dees before?” Paige asked through enough food to stop a weaker heart.

“No, but I’ll be getting one before we leave town. Now I see why you get so pissed off when people screw up Chicago hot dogs.”

“It’s messing wiff pure beauty,” she said, accenting those last three words with a beefy spray.

They finished their meal a bit too quickly and headed for the door.

“I want to get a few more dogs for the road,” Cole said, “but we probably won’t be on the road for a while.”

“We’re leaving right now, but we’re not getting any more to eat. You need to be able to move.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means you ate enough already,” she said while cheerily patting Cole’s gut. “Any more and I’ll be able to rub your belly to make a wish.”

“No, I mean about being on the road. Rosetta still needs to make her calls.”

“So we’ll leave them alone for a few hours,” Paige said. “They need to gather the rest of their team, which gives us enough time to zip out to Valparaiso and have a look around.”

Cole knew better than to argue with her, so he piled into the car and hung on as she drove for the interstate like a winged rodent fleeing the proverbial home of the damned.

“If we can do this on our own, why did we even bother those MEG guys?” he asked.

Paige grabbed the directions he had written down when he looked up Omaha and Valparaiso on the Internet during the drive from KC. Steering onto the ramp for southbound I-680, she replied, “We’ll see if we can speed things up a bit for our new friends. That’s all.”

Cole had a few other questions, but they wound up lodged in the back of his throat after Paige slammed her foot against the gas pedal. Thanks to her maniacal disregard for road safety and the general flatness of Nebraska, she was able to spot speed traps from miles away and rip across the distances in between them. They made the trip in less time than
the website had estimated, which put them in Valparaiso at about four-thirty.

Once there, she slowed down and asked, “You feel that? Mongrels are tricky little buggers. They’re shapeshifters, but not like Full Bloods or Half Breeds, so we can’t sense them like we can a real werewolf. What we can feel doesn’t change much if a Mongrel is a block away or right in front of you. It’s kind of like the heat you get from a Half Breed, but deeper down.” Flexing her hands, she added, “Sort of…arthritis with a purpose.”

That analogy didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but thinking about it that way, Cole could feel something flowing from his shoulders down to his elbows that was more focused than the ache he always got after sitting too long at his keyboard. “The houses are supposed to be down this street a little further.”

Paige found a place to park along the street and killed the engine. Reaching down to grab one of the levers near her left leg, she popped the trunk and said, “Get that trash bag from the Blood Parlor.”

“That’s still in there?”

“Yeah. Turns out the greasy invisible stuff lasts longer than I thought. It’s not as strong as it used to be, but it should be enough to do the trick.”

Rather than ask her what she had in mind, he did as he was told and waited to be surprised. Paige took the bag, pulled out the crumpled hooded sweatshirt and slipped it on. The garment smelled like sweaty glue, but the sun was just low enough in the sky to work in her favor. When bright rays hit the greasy fabric, they were bent enough to make her shimmer in a few spots.

“How do I look?” she asked.

“Like a crazy lady in an old sweatshirt.”

Pulling the hood down and stretching it to cover her face, Paige vigorously rubbed and pushed the hood back into its spot on the top of her head. “What about now?

There must have been more of the greasy stuff in the fleece lining, because Paige’s features were all but erased. “Not invisible, but kind of like those drunks who get their faces blurred out on cop shows.”

“Good enough. Get in the car and drive down to the corner. I’ll be there in a few.”

Cole watched her dash down the sidewalk toward a nearby row of houses. The street was mostly empty, with the exception of a few kids playing in a yard and a couple of cars rounding the opposite corner. Spotting Paige from a distance, he could see a few more spots where the Mongrel grease was kicking in again. She was a long way from invisible, but the sunlight curled around her just enough to make a few sections of her back and side fade away.

A lot more cars were at the next intersection, probably because of the bank and Dairy Queen located there. Braking at a stop sign, Cole idled for a full minute without anyone else pulling up behind him. When he got a curious look from a kid on a bike, he waved.

Then something tapped against the window behind him and he turned to find a blurry sweatshirt racing around the back of the car. By the time he shifted toward the passenger side, that door was pulled open and a mass of stinking cotton slapped against the side of his face.

“Keep going,” Paige said after she’d tossed the sweatshirt toward the backseat. “Don’t speed, but just get moving.”

“What happened? Is anyone chasing you?”

“Nobody’s chasing me, but I did get a look at those houses from Rico’s report. Even better, people in those houses got a look at me.”

When Cole and Paige drove back into Omaha, they were just in time for rush hour. Compared to the snarled tangle of metal and pissed-off commuters they would have found in Chicago or Kansas City, it was nothing more than a time for drivers to slow down and listen to the radio. The heat had eased off and lunch was still a very fond, very spicy memory, so they took their time and moseyed back to MEG Branch 18. Their easygoing mood lasted until they walked through the doors of the ghost chasers’ office.

“There you are!” Rosetta said from behind the front desk. “You’ll never believe this! We caught a break and we can head out to those homes in Valparaiso
tonight!”

Cole blinked and reflexively looked over to Paige. “Really? What happened?”

Mick strode down the short hallway with a spiral notebook in one hand and the nub of a pencil in the other. “I don’t know if it’s what you’re after, but there’s been activity reported. One lady called less than an hour ago and told us she saw some sort of faceless figure in her backyard.”

Still watching Paige, Cole said, “That’s interesting.”

Her poker face held up well enough.

“This isn’t just one isolated instance!” Mick continued. “There really may be something out there. A kid next door to this woman saw a similar figure run down her driveway.
She said it had holes in her back and no face. I’ve never even heard of anything like this.”

“Don’t get all worked up,” Paige said. “If we find it, we’ll deal with it.”

“I know, but if there is a presence or some sort of entity there, that falls under our jurisdiction, right?”

Cole saw a flicker of conscience pass across Paige’s face. “Yeah,” she said. “If you find anything in the ghost family, it’s all yours.”

Mick and Rosetta turned to each other, grinned, and went through a few other congratulatory motions. “The lady who called back was freaked out enough to give us free access to her home,” Rosetta said. “I asked about her neighbors and she told me she’d have a word with them. Even if we don’t hear back, once the neighbors see us parked in someone’s driveway, they’ll start asking questions. At the very least, I think we should be able to get in and have a quick look around one or two more houses.”

“Perfect,” Paige said. “When do we leave?”

“I’ve already called Quentin and Val. We’ll have a briefing, I’ll introduce you, we’ll get the equipment together…what’s that smell?”

Cole averted his eyes, but Paige shrugged as if she truly didn’t have remnants of the acrid scent of invisibility oil drifting from her clothes.

Cutting the awkward moment short, Mick said, “We should be on the road by seven-thirty or eight. You guys want to hang out here until then?”

Just as Cole was about to cover for whatever excuse Paige came up with for them to leave, he heard her say, “Sure. I’d like to see what you guys do here.”

Mick and Rosetta were almost as surprised as Cole. Once they got over that, the grand tour began.

“This,” Rosetta said proudly as she waved toward her desk, “is my phone.”

It was just past seven-thirty, and the sun stubbornly refused to drop. In fact, it seemed intent on hanging at just the right angle to blaze directly into Cole’s eyes as he drove toward
Valparaiso for the second time that day. It was too low for the car’s visor to do any good and still too high for him to look away. Due to the fact that the driver of the MEG van actually obeyed the speed limit, it took them just over an hour to reach the light blue house Paige had terrorized earlier. The van Cole followed was dark red and had MEG BRANCH 18 stenciled on one side. After pulling into the driveway, Mick hopped out from behind the wheel, waved, pointed toward the front door, and held up five fingers.

Cole parked the Cav and stepped out as the side door of the MEG van noisily rolled open.

The guy who emerged from the van had about a hundred clones wandering the halls of Digital Dreamers, Inc. He was in his mid-to late twenties, a little taller than Cole, but several pounds lighter. Thick, brushy hair looked like an abandoned project residing on his head, and the glasses he wore seemed thick enough to act as windows on a space station.

“Real great to meet you, Cole,” the younger guy said as he approached the Cav. “Is that Paige there with ya?”

Paige got out and shook his hand. “That’s me.”

“I’m Quentin. Historian and director of Special Projects for Branch 18. If you’ve got stories you wouldn’t mind telling or just want to fill me in on what you guys have been up to, I’m ready to listen.”

“He’s not a stalker, by the way,” added a skinny blond girl who looked just old enough to be somewhere in the first couple years of college. “Special Projects is pretty much anything regarding people like you two.”

Quentin nodded. “I probably connected a few phone calls for you both at one time or another.”

Flipping her short hair behind an ear, the blonde stepped past Quentin to say, “And he never lets us hear the end of it. I’m Val. Just an investigator around here, which adds up to a whole lot of walking around in dark rooms and sifting through hours upon hours of video.”

“That cool video they show on TV?” Cole asked.

“Mostly it’s just video of us walking through dark rooms. The audiotapes of that are riveting, by the way.”

Paige grinned and followed Val around to the back of the
van. “I like her. Let’s make ourselves useful and unload this stuff.”

While Cole, Paige, and Val unloaded the van, Quentin tried to look busy at a tricked-out laptop. After a few minutes of that, Mick opened the front door of the house and waved at them again.

“Time for us to get set up inside,” Val said.

Paige hefted a large plastic case from the van and set it down on the driveway. “Are all those waves some sort of code?”

“Nah. He waves at us and we do things how we always do them.”

There were a lot fewer wires and cords than Cole had been expecting. Val handed out flashlights, cameras, and digital audio recorders, while Quentin set up his own equipment at the back of the van and Mick escorted the home owner to the next door neighbor’s place. By the time they were ready to head inside, the last remaining traces of sunlight were orange smears across a prairie sky.

“Is there a reason why you always do this in the dark?” Cole asked. “Or is that just to make it all seem scarier?”

“We’re not trying to make anything look scary,” Mick replied. “We need to worry about reflections showing up in pictures or windows, stray light hitting dust particles, not to mention keeping on the lookout for anything giving off its own light. That’s the good stuff, and we can miss it if it’s being washed out by too much sunlight.”

“The short answer for that,” Val said as she walked by, “is yes. There are reasons for doing this in the dark.”

Paige chuckled mostly to herself as she followed along behind Val. “I really do like her.”

They filed into the house, which was an odd mix of decorating styles, including several layers of afghans draped over the sofas and a few pieces of modern art hanging on the walls. The living room was small and led into a smaller dining area, but none of that caught Cole’s attention as much as what was in the back corner near a closet.

“Is that a stripper pole?” he whispered.

Mick leaned over and hissed, “Just keep checking your equipment.”

“If the lady who owns this place has a stripper pole, maybe I should check her equipment.”

“She’s sixty if she’s a day. Besides, we’re not here to make fun of her home. Are you going to do your job or should you wait outside?”

Cole let Val and Paige walk ahead and down a hall that led past a fairly nice kitchen. The light from their flashlights was just enough to cast a dull glow throughout the space.

Mick stood beside him, rummaging through the various pieces of electronics clipped to D-rings on his shirt and belt. “This,” he said while tapping a black box he handed over to Cole, “is a K2 meter. It’s basically a simpler version of our EMF detectors. See those lights?”

The box Cole had been given was bigger than a cigarette lighter but slightly smaller than a glasses case. An arc of little lightbulbs crossing along the top of the box went from green to red as they progressed from left to right. At the moment the first two green lights were flickering.

“Those register fluctuations in the electromagnetic field,” Mick explained. “The field should be pretty stable under normal conditions, but can be affected by other energies. When you see those lights jump into the red, there’s a fluctuation.”

“What about your meter?” Cole asked.

The one Mick held was larger and looked like any number of items pulled from a shelf at Radio Shack. It was larger than a digital camera and about twice as thick. The front was mostly taken up by a gauge with a needle waggling around various numbered scales printed on the face. Mick kept the box cupped in one hand and said, “This is a Tri-Field meter. It measures both AC and DC electrical current along with EMF.”

“How does that help?”

“Spiritual energy is still energy. AC current is man-made, but DC can come from natural sources. One time, I picked up a cat running through some bushes with this thing.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, it really is. But to get truly accurate readings, this meter needs to stand still. Otherwise, you might just be
picking up natural fluctuations of energy coming from the earth’s normal field.”

“Seriously?”

“There’s more to it than that, but basically yes.”

Cole followed Mick around the living room and into the dining room. In the time it took for the equipment to be handed out and the investigation to start, the sunlight had dwindled down to nothing. All that filtered in from outside was the dull glow of streetlights.

“We don’t have enough time to thoroughly check this place from top to bottom,” Mick whispered. “The owner wants us out of here before ten. Do you need any longer than that?”

“I honestly don’t even know what I’m looking for on this meter.”

“You’re after living creatures, right?” Mick asked.

“Yes.”

“Then let me know when you pick up spikes. I’ll let you know what you might have found. We may also catch something from that faceless apparition, so stay alert.”

“Is there a basement?”

Mick nodded. “Yes, but there’s not supposed to be any activity there.”

“The things we’re after are burrowers, so there may be more activity than this lady knows about. Let’s have a look.”

“Hold up.” Mick grabbed his cell phone from his shirt pocket and tapped a button. The phone chirped and established a quick two-way connection that must have cost a bit extra on the service plan. “Quentin, bring the thermal in here.”

After another chirp, Quentin replied, “Be right there.”

Mick continued shuffling through the kitchen. “We’ve had this camera on layaway for months but haven’t had the money to snag it.”

“A thermal camera must be a tax write-off for MEG,” Cole pointed out.

“Yes, but each branch pays its own expenses. Don’t get me wrong,” he quickly added. “You guys make lots of generous donations, but it’s all gotta be spread around. I went and
picked it up as soon as I heard why you two were coming, but it’ll have to go back tomorrow before the check is cashed, so don’t scratch it. Just don’t even touch it. Tell me where to point it and I’ll do the rest.”

“That should pick up any living things in here?” Cole asked.

“In here or under here within a reasonable distance.” Mick appeared somewhat menacing with just the faint glow of his little flashlight reflecting up onto his features. “This baby detects heat, so it’ll also pick up changes in temperature due to hollow spaces stuck in the middle of a wall or under the floor. If there are tunnels or even secret compartments where this lady keeps her porn, we should be able to scope them out.”

Cole whistled softly. “That’s really cool.”

“Tell me about it.”

Mick left the kitchen, walked down the short hall, and headed for the room currently filled with an eerie, bobbing white light. Tensing as he tried to get ahead of Mick, Cole almost reached for the spot where his weapon was normally kept. The weapon wasn’t there, but it turned out he didn’t need it. Paige and Val were in the bedroom, checking the floor and walls with penlights that cast the weird shadows.

“You two find anything in here?” Mick asked.

Val nodded enthusiastically. “Paige picked up a hot spot with the K2.”

Walking into the little bedroom, Mick expertly sidestepped piles of dirty clothes and a few shoe boxes to get over to where Paige was standing. “Really? Let’s see.”

Paige crouched down under a window built high up on the wall that looked out to the narrow space between the house and its neighbor. Every time she waved the meter over a spot on the floor, the lights jumped from the first two greens all the way up to the last two reds.

“See if you can confirm that one, Cole,” Mick said.

Stretching out with his right hand, Cole waved his own K2 over the same patch of floor. The spike he got wasn’t quite as drastic, but he also wasn’t able to get the meter as close to the floorboards. Nodding slowly, Mick hunkered down and
placed his Tri-Field meter near that spot. Almost instantly, it made a screeching noise, and kept it up even after he and Val pulled Cole and Paige away from it.

After a bit more screeching, Mick nodded and took his meter back. “Could be wires under the floor,” he said. “Could be a naturally occurring magnetic field. It could also be something giving off its own energy. Do you know if these burrowers manipulate magnetic fields at all?”

With a genuinely perplexed look on her face, Paige replied, “That might explain a few things, but I’m not sure. We should definitely take a look under here when we get to the basement.”

Placing his foot on the edge of the bed frame, Cole hoisted himself up to the rectangular window and took a look outside. He then lifted his left hand to wave. “Is the owner a rat-faced lady with her hair in a bun?”

“You could call her that,” Mick replied.

“She’s watching from the next house over.”

“She’ll probably be checking in on us throughout the night.”