“It wasn’t industrial acid,” Kamden said. “It was stomach acid. Walkers can produce large amounts of it to help break down the bodies they eat. The fact that you were able to find any remains that weren’t completely corrupted means the walker was either sloppy or in a hurry. Probably the latter. Did the DNA results confirm it was your brother?”
Turner nodded, looking devastated all over again as if he’d just heard the information for the first time. “Which is why I was shocked when I saw his face showing up on the video footage from a bank robbery in Billings, Montana two months later.”
“It was the skinwalker in your brother’s form,” Kamden said. “But that’s not like any other walker I’ve ever met. Robbing a bank like that would draw too much attention, essentially forcing the walker to go through another change right away.”
“So, all skinwalkers don’t jump from body to body like that?” Turner asked, looking at Kamden with a confused expression. “Isn’t that what your kind does to survive?”
Kamden didn’t say anything for a moment. Beside him, Lydia squeezed his hand.
“I don’t normally talk about this stuff because walkers like Strickland are an embarrassment to my species. But no, that isn’t the way most of my kind behaves,” Kamden said. “Most walkers—including me—refuse to kill. We only take a body after the person has passed, even though it severely limits our options. We treat each body as a gift and seek to extend our life in it as long as possible. We consider it wrong to consume more skins than absolutely necessary.”
Mike looked at Turner. “What happened after you saw the person you assumed to be your brother pulling that bank job in Billings? More importantly, how did you make the leap to him being a skinwalker?”
“It wasn’t as much of a leap as several clumsy tumbles,” the marshal admitted. “The man I thought was my brother disappeared a week after the bank robbery with another partially dissolved body in a nearby motel. I was able to recover a tiny fragment of DNA, confirming that it wasn’t my brother. Instead, it was a man who’d gone missing only a few days earlier. When I started digging into similar body dump cases, I was stunned at how many I found. Within a year, I picked up on a pattern that I couldn’t ignore. It seemed crazy, but the truth was right there in front of me. Someone was traveling back and forth across the country, jumping from body to body, killing, raping, and robbing banks as they went. I considered resigning from the Marshal Service just for entertaining such an insane idea.”
“What stopped you?” Carter asked.
“While I was in LA working an attempted prison break investigation, I met up with a friend for dinner,” Turner continued. “I had a couple drinks and ended up mentioning my brother’s murder and the bizarre circumstances involved. I expected my buddy to tell me I was crazy but instead, he took me across town to a no-name underground club with a neon cat above the door. Next thing I know, I’m standing in a room full of supernatural creatures, realizing that the world is drastically different than I’d ever imagined. I learned about werewolves and skinwalkers and witches that night from a woman with fangs and eyes like a cat. I’ve been chasing the skiwalker currently wearing Strickland’s body ever since, through seven body jumps in eight years.”
Mike’s brow furrowed. “So, Eugene Strickland is dead and the remains of that body in the bathtub in his apartment were his. While I’m impressed that you kept up with this skinwalker through all the body changes, I have to wonder why you’re finally asking for help after all this time.”
“Desperation, I guess,” Turner said with a shrug. “I’ve been chasing my brother’s killer for eight frigging years, and in all that time, I’ve never gotten as close to catching him as I am right now. Bottom line, I’m man enough to admit when I need help, especially now that this skinwalker has somehow found a way to recruit goons stronger than I’ll ever be, who are willing to throw themselves off a roof on his orders.”
“They aren’t his goons,” Kamden said. “They’re his spawn. And if you think they’re strong now, just wait a few more days.”
That didn’t sound good.
“Maybe you should tell us what you mean by spawn,” Carter said.
“Spawn is the term we use to describe someone who’s started the process of becoming a skinwalker,” Kamden said.
He glanced sideways at Lydia like he’d rather not talk about it. When she encouraged him with a nod, he continued.
“Skinwalkers aren’t born. We’re made. It starts when a walker bites someone deep enough to force their saliva into that person’s bloodstream. Within hours, it changes the spawn’s body in preparation for the rest of the transformation. During that time, spawn become strong, aggressive, fearless, and completely devoted to their sire.”
“I guess that explains a few things,” Turner muttered. “Like how those cell block doors were ripped open during the escape from Coffield, and why McMahon jumped off the roof of your apartment building. But it doesn’t explain why those spawn were in the woods trying to grab those homeless people, or what Strickland was doing at the apartment going after Hadley.”
Kamden winced. “Considering there’re still at least three spawn out there, kidnapping homeless people makes complete sense. And it’s obvious why the skinwalker is after Hadley. Especially when you consider how long he’s been in prison, and the fact that he wasn’t able to completely consume Strickland’s body.”
Carter stared at Kamden along with everyone else, waiting for him to elaborate. “Maybe you should explain what you’re talking about because it’s not making a lot of sense to any of us.”
“Man, I really hate talking about this,” Kamden said with a sigh. “It’s the part of being a skinwalker that’s vile and revolting, and the stuff you want to hear is the exact reason I’m willing to risk my life for a chance to be human again.”
Turner looked like he wanted to ask a million questions but held his tongue.
“We wouldn’t be asking this if it wasn’t really important,” the marshal finally said.
“I know.” Kamden nodded. “So, for a spawn to transition into a full skinwalker, it requires an enormous amount of food.”
“Food?” Carter repeated, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Please don’t tell me Strickland was planning to feed those two homeless people to his spawn.”
“Those two, along with a lot more,” Kamden said. “Even with only three spawn remaining, they’ll probably still need six to eight people to complete the process. And that’s assuming he hasn’t decided to create more.”
Carter winced at the thought of Strickland creating more of the creatures like the one he’d fought in the woods.
“Each spawn can eat two or three people?” Hale asked, looking queasy. “Is that what you did when you became a skinwalker?”
Kamden went out of his way not to look at any of them, especially Lydia, choosing to focus all of his attention on the floor. “In my case, they were corpses, not living people. Not like that’s any better, of course. Spawn are like sharks in a feeding frenzy. They’ll tear apart anything they can reach.”
