while stepping over the bodies. The opening to the cockpit was bent and twisted to the point that even a multijointed Half Breed must have had trouble getting out. All he could see when he looked past that opening was shredded seats, broken equipment, and so much pulpy blood that it was impossible to say how many people had been ripped apart in there. One of the Half Breeds was probably a pilot, but the first could have been another soldier. That still didn’t explain how the Half Breeds had been created or ready to attack so quickly when most of their kind needed time to curl up and recuperate from the Breaking.
The scraping against the door continued. It was the same scraping as before. Same pattern. Same loudness. Same duration.
Not scraping, Cole realized.
Knocking.
He glanced out the scratched and dirty side window to find a lot of torn-up ground and an overturned statue of a Half Breed. There wasn’t a single gargoyle in the sky, which meant nothing for a species that was born to hide damn near anywhere. More than likely, Jessup was already doing his thing to point them toward the center of the nearby commotion.
The knock that tapped against the door nearly made him jump out of his skin. Cole managed to control his frazzled nerves and bladder by gripping the two automatic rifles he’d slung over his shoulders. The knocks that followed came in the same pattern and were made by a very familiar forked shape that cracked against the outside of the window directly in front of him.
It was his own spear.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cole readied the assault rifle as best he could. He might have fired a few different kinds of guns while researching his work on the Sniper Ranger series, but it hadn’t exactly been under field conditions. Also, those weapons weren’t tricked out as much as the ones stored in the IRD locker. He found the safety and knew which end the bullets came out of, and that would have to be good enough for now.
After opening the door, he thought of several different ways he could be attacked after stepping outside. The barrel of his gun could be grabbed, he could be stabbed from above, or he might be smashed in the face. So, ready for almost anything, he jumped outside with his finger on the rifle’s trigger.
“Heya, Cole.”
Spinning around to face the voice, Cole aimed his rifle at a man who leaned with his back against the helicopter and the spear propped casually against the dented metal beside him.
“What are you doing with my weapon, Rico?”
“You gave it to me back in Denver, remember?”
“Yeah. That was back before I found out what a traitorous piece of shit you are.”
The big man scowled, which did nothing to make his face any uglier than it already was. “You’ve been talkin’ to Paige, huh?”
“Yes I have, which is why I should shoot you right now.”
Rico stepped forward and raised both arms. He wore faded green Army surplus pants, heavy biker books with chains wrapped around the ankles, and a jacket he rarely took off. The tanned leather was made from several layers of Half Breed hide, and the strips of canvas were merely filler until he could collect and treat more dead werewolves.
“What are you doing here?”
In the distance, the chattering of gunfire was washed away by the thudding rhythm of helicopter blades and the inhuman baritone of a Full Blood’s howl. Cole had to strain to hear any of that, however, since his blood was pumping through him in a quickening rush that had to be spurred on by the tendrils squeezing him from the inside.
“Didn’t Paige tell you the part that doesn’t make me sound like a prick?” Rico asked as an ugly smile crawled onto his face. “I joined up with her Army buddies to check ’em out. A group of them picked me up outside of Louisville and hooked up with a unit of gunships and a few truckloads of soldiers. When Bloodhound decides to sell out, at least it’s with some style, huh?”
“What happened in Toronto? I want to hear it from you.”
“You mean the guy I brought along who turned out to be Kawosa?” Rico’s eyes shifted nervously upward as he asked, “You want to hear this story somewhere a little safer? This place seems to have some sorta big bat infestation.”
“We’ll talk about it here. I haven’t quite decided yet if I want to keep you from being