Michael's footsteps echoed off the surrounding buildings, emphasizing just how empty the streets were. The few people he'd seen had ignored him in their rush to get home. The specter of the recent news report lay over the streets like a fog.
Michael wished he had some way of pinpointing where the Skins would hunt. He was fairly certain only one was hunting at a time. Otherwise, there would have been more bodies. He was confident he could handle one Skin, he just needed to find it.
He threaded his fingers behind his neck, giving in to a frustrated grunt. He'd been wandering past alleys and around closed down buildings for nearly an hour. He didn't know what time it was, having turned off his phone as soon as he parked his bike, but he guessed it was close to midnight.
His family would have realized he'd left by now. They'd come looking for him. He swallowed the knot forming in his throat as he turned a corner.
A scream shattered the silence.
He took off at a dead run toward the sound, clearing a full block and skidding into the alleyway the scream had come from.
He took in the sight in a single, heart-hammering second.
The Skin held a woman by the neck, pinned to the brick wall. It leered up at her, its razor teeth bared.
The woman's heels kicked desperately against the bricks as she gagged for air.
"Drop her!" The order burst out fueled by adrenaline and sheer terror.
The Skin slowly turned its head, lips bowing in a feral grin. Its husk was the form of a heavily muscled man, well over six feet tall. Dressed in jeans and a plain t-shirt, both torn and stained. As if it had worn them for a long time with no thought to washing or changing. "Antarian. We knew killing enough of these foul tasting rodents would bring you out."
Michael tightened his jaw to stop it shaking. "You have me. Put her down."
The hand around the woman's throat opened, dropping her several feet to land in a heap. Michael wanted to check on her, but he had to keep his attention on the Skin.
The behemoth stalked toward him, red eyes glowing through the human eyes of its husk. It tilted its head back, sniffing. "Only you. Brave. I shall enjoy devouring your flesh. And when your family emerges from their hole, we shall feast enough to sleep for a month."
Michael backed up in a semi circle, keeping some distance between him and the Skin. He needed to lure it further down the alley, away from the woman and any other potential victims. He could hear footsteps, likely alerted by her scream.
The Skin snarled and lunged. It closed the short distance between them in two strides. Michael threw his hands up, slamming them into the Skin's chest. Hot, blue light radiated through his palms and the pressure squeezed Michael's head like a fist.
The blast sent the Skin flying backwards. It twisted at the last second, hitting the wall with its head and shoulders. Brick cracked and crumbled. Booted feet slammed into the asphalt, and the Skin laughed. "A powerful one. How long can you fight, I wonder." It braced to charge.
Michael raised his hands, trying to focus through his growing headache. He had to get behind the Skin, and hit the trigger.
Two men appeared at the mouth of the alley.
The Skin's head snapped toward them.
Michael had a split second to make a decision. "Hey, you want me, remember."
When the creature turned back to him, he ran. Heavy footfalls vibrated the asphalt under his feet. Gaining on him.
Michael put on a burst of speed, aiming for the fence. If he could clear it in a leap, it would slow the Skin down. They were lousy jumpers.
The muscles in his legs tensed, braced to launch him up.
Fingers clamped onto his shoulders. The Skin swung him like a ragdoll. Michael's foot struck the wall with a smack.
Pain shot up his leg. He landed on his back, the air knocked from his lungs. A mouth full of razor edged teeth loomed over him.
The Skin disappeared. Michael struggled to push himself up. His shoulders burned, and his left ankle throbbed. A few feet away, the two human men squared off with the Skin. Michael opened his mouth to yell at them to run. But it was too late.
The taller, lankier man charged the Skin, moving with inhuman speed. His fist slammed into the creature's jaw.
The Skin's head snapped back, and it staggered.
The other man, a redhead, dove forward to ram into the Skin's midsection, driving it into the wall. Mindful of the release on its husk, the Skin twisted. It struck the wall with its hip, then grabbed the redhead, and lifted him. Surprise marked the Skin's face for the barest second, then it tossed the redhead aside.
He landed inches from Michael, and was on his feet in less than a second, growling. A terrified thrill rose in Michael's chest. Werewolves.
He grabbed the man's wrist. Silver eyes burned into him, and Michael jerked his hand back. "The bottom of the spine. You have to hit it really hard right above the tailbone."
Red's eyebrows raised, then he nodded. He launched himself back into the fight.
The tall guy had been holding his own. A solid punch to the chest opened a hairline crack in the husk, visible through the torn shirt. It resealed itself rapidly, but the Skin backed away, more cautious. Its eyes darted between the pair of werewolves, and Michael could almost see the gears shifting. Skins were cowards, who ran from any fight they didn't think they could win.
Red called out to his companion, then darted around the Skin. Tall Guy charged, blocking a swipe from the Skin's clawed hand, and ramming a fist into its stomach. The Skin doubled over.
Red closed his fisted hands together and swung them down over the Skin's bent back. A divot sank into the skin with a click..
The husk retracted.
Michael's throat caught at the sight of the Skin's true form. A glitter of iridescent green and blue scales. Blood red eyes, wild with panic, as Earth's toxic atmosphere rushed over it.
It shrieked.
Michael winced. The two werewolves grabbed their ears in obvious pain.
The Skin stumbled sideways into the wall as the pieces of the husk dropped away, disintegrating into particles. Until only the creature remained, gasping for air, its scales blistering and peeling away. It tried to crawl to the mouth of the alley, but collapsed long before it made it.
Michael pushed himself to sit with a muttered curse. A quick search showed that the woman was gone. Michael hoped she hadn't been badly injured and had made it somewhere safe.
Tall Guy and Red were studying the remains of the Skin. Michael gripped the wall to pull himself up. At least that was the plan, until the weight on his injured foot nearly made him blackout. Stifling a whimper, he sank back down the wall on trembling legs.
Tall Guy crossed the alley and crouched beside him. "I can't wait to hear your explanation." He spoke with a deep, southern drawl, pure Texas cowboy.
They had not seen him use his powers. Michael pulled the best startled look he could manage. "I was just out for a walk and … I saw that … thing attacking a woman. Is she okay?"
Cowboy gave Michael a shrewd look. "She ran into an apartment down the block. So you were just out for a walk ... at midnight."
Michael grimaced. "Insomnia."
The expression turned sour. "How badly are you injured?"
"It's just a sprain." Michael forced a tight grin, once again using the wall to get to his feet. He was better prepared for the pain, and gritted his teeth. "I can walk it off." His god-damned foot was broken. He had to get away from these two, then call Max.
Red turned away from the body, cussing a blue-streak in a British accent, about the Skin, about Michael and the entire situation. "F*cking, mother-f*cking whatever that thing was, like a god-damned snake with legs. Did you see that f*cking thing's face open up? Like a god-d*mned mech suit. And this one," he jabbed a finger at Michael. "F*cking knew about that trigger on its back. What was that f*cking thing?"
Before Michael could form an explanation, Cowboy shook his head. "Not here. We need to get him somewhere secure. Call Adam, tell him we're bringing in one of his mystery kids, and a body."
Sweat broke out over Michael's forehead and neck. "You're not taking me anywhere." He started to push away from the wall. A sharp stab drove up his leg. His vision tunneled. Heart pounding, he fell back against the wall.
The two werewolves were watching him, unimpressed. "Kid," Cowboy said. "Even if you could walk out of here on your own, we're not letting you go. You're up to your neck in this, and we're not quite sure what side you're on."
Michael flinched, swallowing. The tingle of unspent energy pooled in his hands, still pressed to the brick behind him. He had a couple blasts left in him, but he didn't know if he could knock both werewolves out, or for how long. And that would still leave him with a broken foot, in an alley, with a pair of unconscious werewolves.
The pair seemed relaxed, but Michael suspected they were ready for anything he attempted. "I need help walking."
To Michael's embarrassment, Red came forward and lifted him right off his feet, cradling him like a little kid. Cowboy picked up the remains of the Skin with a grimace, and led the way to a four-seater Toyota parked a few blocks away. Cowboy hefted the corpse into the truck bed, and secured a tarp over it. Red deposited Michael in the backseat.
The door slammed shut with the finality of a jail cell.
Michael let his head fall back on the seat behind him. He still had his cell phone. Once he was sure Cowboy and Red weren't paying attention to him, he would send a text to the others. He winced. Telling his family to run and forget about him would not go over well.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes.
