with a wide bed and a polished chrome box placed just behind the cab, which looked like it was used for secure storage. The second was a light green rust bucket with a set of lights bolted to the roof, which probably could have lit a full stage performance of “Free Bird.” The red truck’s bed was full of young guys who used the top of the cab to steady their arms as they fired at the Half Breeds.
The werewolves chasing after the trucks had all been hit and were bleeding, but weren’t about to stop. There was too much fresh meat in front of them and the air was thick with the scents of their brethren. Whatever tiny bit of reasoning they had was overcome by those factors, fueling the Half Breeds with a rage that made them send bits of concrete flying when their claws scraped against the airstrip.
“You can’t hit them,” said someone from directly over Paige’s head, addressing the pickup trucks.
She looked up to find a lean animal perched on top of the wreckage. Instead of a bulky Full Blood, this one looked more like the gnarled, beefier cousin of a coyote. Its dull orange eyes weren’t the same as the ones she’d seen in Toronto, but Kawosa’s voice struck a chord deep inside her.
“You men are too frightened to fight,” he said.
The hollering faded away and the rifle shots began sparking against the concrete, when only a few moments ago they’d been thumping solidly into werewolf flesh.
A Half Breed lunged at Nadya and would have torn her face off if she hadn’t been quick enough to duck straight down to let the creature sail over her head and into the side of the wrecked Gulfstream. Paige dropped to one knee, lifted her Beretta and fired at Kawosa.
“Don’t listen to him!” she shouted. “You were just hitting these bastards! Keep it up!”
Nadya reached for the scabbard at her belt and drew a blade just over a foot long and shaped like a boomerang set into an intricately carved handle. Twisting her body around in a full circle, she snapped the blade out and around to catch the second Half Breed across its face as it leapt at her. The creature let out a surprised bark when the Amriany weapon lodged just beneath its eye socket. Jumping gracefully over the incoming creature’s claws, Nadya dragged the blade all the way through to shear off the top of the Half Breed’s skull. When that one hit the side of the jet, it slammed into the metal and slid down into a pile of twitching flesh and bone.
Paige raised her Beretta and pulled the trigger. The shots were taken quickly and without the proper amount of breathing to steady her hands. Fortunately, she barely needed to aim in order to put several rounds into a creature that was barreling straight at her. Absorbing three bullets at close range slowed the Half Breed a little, but the mindless beast threw itself at its prey and snapped wildly at Paige.
“Here, young ones,” Kawosa said from his perch. “This is where you’ll find them.”
His barbed voice carried all the way to the edge of the battlefield where Quinn and her Mongrels struggled to keep the Full Bloods occupied. From that direction, one shrieking, straining howl was joined by another. More Half Breeds gathered, and within seconds the pounding of frenzied feet upon the earth told of their pending arrival.
“You cannot hit any of them,” Kawosa announced to the men who now stood around the pickups as if they’d just woken to find themselves there. “The beasts are too fast.”
“Shut the hell up!” Paige said while sending her last rounds at Kawosa.
The first bullet sparked against the fuselage, and the next might have clipped him if he hadn’t darted away in the opposite direction.
“You can hit whatever you aim at,” she said as she stuck the Beretta back into its holster and approached the red pickup. “But don’t push it. Just get out of here.”
The front line of Rebs looked at her, started to put their rifles to their shoulders and then lowered them. At the head of the group stood a man in his early to mid-forties. His beard was dark brown with a few strands of gray that came almost down to his breastbone. He wore weathered jeans, work boots, and a hooded sweatshirt from the University of Texas wrapped around his thick body. “You two need a ride?” he asked.