“No. There’s something wrong with it.” Paige couldn’t stop looking at its eyes. No matter how strange its body was, there was something in its eyes that brought her mind all the way back to Kansas City when Liam was dragged underground by one particular burrowing Mongrel. That creature’s name snapped into her mind almost immediately.
“Max?” Paige whispered.
A flicker of recognition drifted across the creature’s face, but was pushed back by something else. Its eyes darted toward a second shape in the corner of the room farthest from the door. Tucked away behind the foot of one overturned bed was a more recognizable horror. The Half Breed scraped at the floor and stared at Paige with wide bloodshot eyes. It was in its resting phase where most of its fur was still tucked away to expose pale, leathery flesh. Werewolves in that form shunned the sunlight but weren’t destroyed by it. As near as Paige had been able to figure, Half Breeds transformed simply by flexing whatever muscles were required to do so. The effort made their bodies tense to the point of trembling and drove them to become wilder than the wounded creatures they were. If the trait was given to them by design, it effectively shaped them into taut killers that were always snapping their jaws and full of nervous energy. Paige didn’t like to think of it that way, however, because the god she prayed to would never design such a thing.
As she reached for her boot, the Half Breed shifted its gaze to follow her hand. The creature didn’t have a way of knowing what she was reaching for. Half Breeds ran on instinct and pain. This one’s instincts drew it from the shadows even farther as its panting grew into a snarl. Max watched Paige as well and growled in a way that caused every other living thing in that room to take a step back. There was no doubting it now. A Full Blood had reshaped Max into this thing. Paige’s scars could feel it. She just wasn’t sure she could believe it.
Lowering her shotgun, she closed her hand around the grip of her machete. She felt the rush of adrenaline shoot through her as its thorns bit into her palm. The connection between herself and the weapon allowed her to make the blade narrower so she could ease it from the holster without making a sound.
The Half Breed stretched out a forepaw that looked more like the gnarled hand of an elderly man with nails that had been filed down to points. Muscles beneath its skin twitched spastically, tugging the corners of its mouth to reveal fangs coated with old blood that had caked on and dried to flaky rust. Its eyes were bloodshot and its chest swelled with the effort of hauling its body up onto all four legs. Its entire frame quaked when it leaned forward, and its eyes widened even more, as if the lids were being pulled back by fishhooks connected to the wall. Once Paige stopped moving, however, it followed suit.
“All right,” she said. “It’s definitely guarding something.”
“Maybe it is buried in the floor.”
Paige studied the floor carefully, focusing on the spot where the boards had been torn up. Easing a little flashlight from her pocket, she took a quick look at the edges of the hole. Layers of the foundation were visible, along with cement and thicker pieces of wood that had either been beneath the floor or fallen in later. That hole went all the way down to the dirt, which looked to have been turned and then piled back in. Careful not to shine the light into the faces of either shapeshifter, Paige watched both creatures for any sign that they were about to attack.
Max stayed rigid and still. His body was relaxed and his eyes were all but dead. Something was holding him in that spot. Even a wild animal had more going on inside its head than that. The Half Breed presented an opposing picture. It strained and snarled as if testing the boundaries of an uncompromising leash. Its pale skin trembled and its muscles flexed in an erratic rhythm. Only when Paige backed away from the pit in the floor did either of the creatures retreat to the spots from which they’d come.
“I’ll take the Mongrel,” Nadya said. “You take the Half Breed.”
“No.”
“You want the Mongrel? Fine.”
“No,” Paige repeated insistently. “They’re not attacking us. They’re just guarding. Have you ever seen