on a flimsy white frame. When Cole jumped into Jessup’s pickup, he almost crushed the parts already on the seat.
“Careful!” Jessup said as he shoved him toward the passenger door and gathered up his part of the kite.
“What the hell are—” Cole’s question was nipped in the bud by the hard slap of something against his window. Although he could still see the colors of the setting sun through the thin layer of skin now pressed against the outside of the glass, his view was impeded by what looked like a hastily drawn face with features that were nothing more than dark lines on a lighter surface. Talons scraped against the top of the truck and the face twisted as if trying to shove its way inside. The mouth that gaped open against the window had small ridges for teeth, no tongue, and no lips. Cole took the .38 from the glove compartment and pointed it at the window as more of the skin flags slapped against the outside of the truck. “What are those things? Were they after the gargoyles too?”
“Those are the gargoyles,” Jessup replied while hastily cutting apart the one he’d brought down.
“No, you were showing me the gargoyles. They were those stone animals outside the cemetery.”
“Nope. Those are what these gargoyles left behind.”
Now that it was clear the things outside weren’t strong enough to break their way in, Cole lowered his gun and focused on what the other Skinner was doing. “Every gargoyle I’ve ever heard of was made of stone. I’ve even heard of ones that are stone during the day and come to life at night.”
Jessup looked up from what he was doing to ask, “Where’d you hear about that?”
“Well . . . it was a cartoon.”
Shaking his head, the other man returned to his task. “Those statues were called gargoyles because they’re all folks saw after these things came through to feed or defend their nest.”
“They nest?” Cole asked as a chill worked its way down his back. “Where?”
“Damn near anyplace. They like cities because they can fold themselves up to fit nicely in all those angular crevices and narrow corners between buildings or under ledges. They ain’t got much by way of muscle, but they sure do have something to make up for it.” Jessup twisted his blade once more and pulled open a flap of skin he’d been cutting like a trapdoor. A spray of what looked like murky water emerged from the opening, which didn’t do anything to dim the smile on the Skinner’s face. Holding up a flat tube the size of a long water balloon, he declared, “This was worth the trip. If we don’t get a few more to use against that Full Blood friend of yours, we’ll have to improvise.”
“You think it would help if I knew what you were talking about?”
“Take a look at them claws,” Jessup said while tapping the chunk of creature Cole had brought into the truck. “Remember them scratches on the statues?”
“Yeah.”
“And the flat spots on their backs? That’s from this right here. Take a look.” Jessup held the tube as if he was about to decorate a cake. Instead of icing, a clear gel oozed from the end of the tube. The instant it touched the seat cushion between Jessup and Cole, the substance hardened with a soft creaking sound.
Inside the truck it was easier to block out the sounds coming from the northern side of town. Even with the Ford’s superior insulation, however, Cole could now hear the occasional chatter of automatic gunfire and the thumping bass of helicopter blades.
The bottom of the creature had an opening just like the mouth pressed against the window, except now he could see rows of tiny bristles just inside the opening. With the thing dead, a flat length of skin capped by four barbed hooks that could have been a tongue lolled from its mouth. Too much experience in handling deceased nightmares gave Cole the stomach to reach out and squeeze the tonguelike protrusion. Sure enough, it was a flattened tube that ended at the top of Jessup’s incision. By now the gel squeezed onto the seat cushion had formed a thick gray shell.
More of the pieces came together, finally coalescing when Cole tapped the barrel of his gun against the gray shell. It was solid and unmoving. After feeling the shell with his bare hand, he asked, “Is that rock?”
“Near enough.”
“So those statues are things that these bat-things swarmed and injected