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  She had almost regretted socking a mean right hook to his nose after that. In hindsight, it was a compliment in itself, but she couldn’t blame him for wanting to end the relationship. He’d done so with a hand cupped over his nose as blood seeped between his fingers.

  She looked to her right, then rolled her eyes when Hendrick winked at her.

  Sure, let them try and take me, she thought. Next thing they know, they’ll be bleeding on the ground having the world’s most unhygienic circumcision with an unsuitably large scalpel.

  At some point along the way, Dylan raised a fist, and everyone came to a halt. Caitlin strained her ears, struggling to hear them at first.

  Then, there it was. The tell-tale siren-song of the Mad, somewhere far off in the distance, a chorus of screeches and cries as they roamed endlessly across the world. Former humans, their entire will had been bent by the Madness to the insatiable hunt for human blood.

  And I thought vampires were supposed to be bad.

  It was difficult to tell which direction they were coming from, but there was almost something sad about the sound. It started as a melancholic wailing as the infected called out in pain to the stars and the moon. A moment later, another would join in, then another. The macabre melody drifted, distorted by the trees and thick undergrowth.

  “Why are we stopping? There are none nearby,” Caitlin said in a hushed tone.

  Hank looked at Dylan for confirmation. He’d not spent a great deal of time actually out in the wild, and his anxiety, though controlled, was still very evident.

  Dylan looked at the stars, studying the sky. “That’s not necessarily true. Not all the Mad call or scream. Hearing several in the distance doesn’t mean there are none nearby. Some rest in the shadows of trees. Some collapse on the floor, hidden in the leaf-strewn dirt, snapping teeth and rolling heads like animated bear traps.” He pulled his sword.

  Caitlin reached for her own, then cautioned herself against it.

  Not yet…not yet.

  She heard the sounds of the others withdrawing their blades.

  “They can come at any time,” Dylan continued. “Keep your wits about you, gentlemen. We’re not too far off from Mossy Hollow now, and the last time we checked, this place was an anthill of Mad.”

  As Dylan again took the lead, he moved closer to Caitlin to whisper in her ear. “No running off this time, please.”

  Caitlin shook her head and smiled. “Ass.”

  “Bitch,” Dylan replied.

  She looked ahead, seeking instinctively for something familiar to remind her of the night before. At first, she couldn’t see anything at all that suggested they were where her brother said they were. Not that she doubted his abilities. If anything, his skill was admirable.

  She looked to the stars, then at the ground itself…

  And there they were. Deep treads in the ground. Dozens of pairs of footprints leading away from the far side of the clearing.

  Dylan nodded, confirming his direction.

  “We’re close,” he whispered to the others.

  Caitlin felt the tension rise.

  It spiked even more when, as they began walking again, they heard the dying cries of a bear cutting through the silent darkness ahead.

  Chapter Six

  Carter Manor, Silver Creek Forest

  “Ho-lee-cow,” were Caitlin’s first words as she stared at the savaged remains of the bear on the floor.

  “More like, ho-lee-bear,” Dylan whispered

  Not ten feet away, Hendrick held up the shredded remains of an arm and hand he had picked up off the floor. He was busy playing with the fingers, fashioning the hand in such a way that, by the time he was finished, it was flipping the bird at the others.

  Dylan, Caitlin, and Sullivan watched with a mildly sick look on their faces. Each of them clearly thought the same thing—the arm likely belonged to Drek Francis, their fallen comrade from the night before. It had no doubt spilled from the stomach lining of the bear which now sprawled on the floor.

  Hank, on the other hand, struggled to hold in his laughter. There was something primal in him deriving pleasure from the idiocy of Hendrick playing puppet with the arm.

  Victor laughed, though it seemed more out of necessity than his own humor. He had, in fact, gone rather pale.

  An overwhelming desire to punch Hank and Hendrick and wipe the idiotic smiles off their faces washed over Caitlin.

  The injustice of it all swept over her. How tragic that death had become a thing of laughter.

  Dylan tried to hush them, snatching the arm from Hendrick. He seemed to instantly reach full alert, his eyes glancing at the back of the manor where overgrown ivy and weeds had made a good attempt at covering the entirety of the brickwork.

  Hank suddenly grew serious and stepped towards the manor, his arms spread wide as if to soak in the beauty of the crumbling building. “Okay, here’s the plan. We go in, we get out. Quick and painless.”

  “No wonder he’s single,” Caitlin whispered to Dylan.

  “By all means, Captain. After you.”

  Hank considered for a moment, then ordered his guards to follow him.

  They made their way to the back door.

  They weren’t in the least bit surprised to find the back door ajar. Since the Madness had plagued the world, there were countless houses, villages, and manors whose residents had fallen to the disease. Cars, blimps, and subways had all but been abandoned in the larger cities, and often, survivors would find buildings from the old world. All were ripe and ready for raiding.

  That was if they could work out what they were. There had been times when Caitlin’s father, a former ranger, had returned from patrol with gadgets and gizmos he had found. Often these were pieces of old weaponry but easily recognized, but half the time, they couldn’t figure out how they were in any way useful.

  Her father had explained to Caitlin and Dylan that there had been many things powered by electricity but were otherwise worthless when the power grids went down for good and electricity was no longer a household staple. Small contraptions with buttons and numbers and screens resembled nothing more than bricks now that their life source had ceased.

  Hank led the way. He creaked the back door open, and they found themselves in a large storage room. They filed in one-by-one and paused to take in the crooked shelves lining the walls with miscellaneous boxes and containers all stained or half-rotted.

  Sullivan closed the door behind them. They plunged into darkness.

  “Sullivan? What are you doing?” Dylan hissed.

  “I didn’t want to let all the cold into the house,” he replied a little too loudly.

  “Shhh,” Caitlin whispered.

  “What does it matter if the cold gets in? The door was already ajar. Clearly, the vampire doesn’t give a shit,” Hendrick replied.

  “I’m sorry. Manners are manners,” Sullivan said.

  “Can someone tell Pea Brain to open the door so we can see?” Hank asked. “And then can we please shut the fuck up?”

  Before Sullivan opened the door, Caitlin felt another hand claw her ass—a small squeeze. Subtle, she acknowledged, but not careful enough. A moment later, a gentle wash of moonlight illuminated the room as the door swung open.

  Caitlin wasn’t surprised to notice that Hank was considerably closer to her now. He caught her eye, then looked around as if to say, “What? Me? No…that couldn’t have been me.”

  Caitlin noted the increasingly familiar look on his face, saving it as fuel in her memory bank.

  Over the years, she had never had any direct contact with Hank. But she had always wondered about him as she’d seen him strolling through the boulevards and streets of Silver Creek. Mostly, she’d wondered what it must be like to be the Captain of the Guards. A part of her liked to imagine that there must be some nobility in him outside all the rumors of harassment and abuse.

  She was very quickly being proven wrong. The man was an outright spunk bubble.

  Hank stepp
ed away from Caitlin, apparently unperturbed at being caught groping her, and opened a door at the far end of the room. He recoiled, placing his hand immediately over his nose. The smell came in a thick wave. Caitlin wondered what it was until she remembered what had happened not twenty-four hours previous.

  It was the smell of the Mad.

  The smell of the dead.

  “Woah, Victor. C’mon man, we’re in the presence of a lady,” Hendrick said.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Dylan mouthed to Caitlin.

  Caitlin nodded and reached inside her coat. She felt for the hilt of her sword and clenched it in her fist, the sword’s body remaining hidden within her clothing.

  Guilt washed over her. Was she really going to use the vampire’s own sword to threaten her and drag her back to Silver Creek?

  It’s either that or die. The decision is yours, baby-cakes.

  Hank psyched himself up with a deep breath and stiffened posture, poked his head into the hallway. He most likely wouldn’t see the blood in the foyer. It was dark inside with only small scraps of moonlight able to make it through the thick grime that covered the windows. Caitlin tried to imagine what he could see—at the far end of the hall would be the forms of the dead piled on the floor. Lines of them would lead up the stairs.

  He paused. “Okay. New plan: Harrison one. Harrison two. Move up front. You know the way, yes?”

  Dylan looked at Caitlin for confirmation.

  Caitlin nodded. She brushed past Hank without making eye contact, muttering as she passed, “How’s it feel relying on a woman to do your dirty work?”

  Hank growled, grabbed a fistful of Caitlin’s hair, and pulled her head back so fast it felt like it might snap.

  “Watch your mouth before I find something of mine to fill it,” he threatened, his face hovering above hers. He released her hair, then shoved her forward.

  Caitlin rubbed her neck, took a deep breath, listened out for any signs of Mad—or vampire—and strode ahead.

  Mary-Anne could smell them all a mile off. She wasn’t exactly sure how many there were—that would need some further investigation. But even though her senses had lessened over the years, having a large group of humans trying to sneak through her house set her fangs into full salivation mode.

  At first, she sighed, hoping it wasn’t more of those damn soldiers come by to disturb her. But as she lay in her bed, listening to their laughable attempts to sneak around her house, a thought popped into her head.

  The girl? Could she be here again?

  Her mind flashed back to the night before, remembering the vulnerable position the girl had found herself in with a zombie behind her, and how Mary-Anne wanted to save her. That truth stuck with her because it was so unlike what she’d felt for the other men who had charged into the manor with weapons a-blazing. She had quickly dispatched those and made sure they never breathed another lungful of air again.

  No, Mary-Anne had saved the girl. But…why?

  Had it been a stupid move on her part? Mary-Anne didn’t think so. The day had worn on, and she had attempted to sleep in the darkness. Instead, she’d tossed and turned as her stomach did what it always did after a mere whiff of human blood, roaring and growling uncomfortably. All the while, she had grown more and more curious about her.

  Her last true encounters with humans had been years beyond count. Mary-Anne had traveled far across the country before finding herself back at her family home. Her friends fell one-by-one to the Madness, or slowly degenerated as they turned to vegetarianism as a basic means to survive. They’d found that, as time went by, their powers slipped. Their strength and speed began to fail until they were nothing more than simple human-strength vamps who wanted nothing more than to take their own lives.

  Mostly, they did, although some of her friends had found alternate ways to survive.

  Mary-Anne shook her head, remembering what she had found in a barn out in the wilds. Humans were strung up with rope, bite marks covering their bodies. They were all pale and as close to death as could be without actually dying.

  The idea of it made her stomach twist in knots.

  Then growl with hunger.

  She was a vampire, after all.

  But the girl…there was something about her. A vibrant strength that had somehow made Mary-Anne feel stronger simply by being around her. A strength that reminded Mary-Anne of a much younger version of herself in the days before she had been turned.

  Mary-Anne rose from her bed, cracked her knuckles, and snuck through the house to get a closer peek at the action.

  They paused out in the open of the foyer. There were bodies everywhere, those that had been sliced and destroyed the night before, now in segments for the flies to taste and devour.

  The least she could have done was clean her corridor, Caitlin thought, holding her nose though she could still almost taste the stench of death.

  “What the hell happened here?” Hendrick asked through his sleeve.

  “What does it look like?” Caitlin asked, suddenly growing bolder as she reminded herself that she had taken most of these Mad down. “The Mad came, but they did not conquer.”

  “How poetic.” Dylan crouched down to examine a body. “They look so peaceful when they’re dead. Who could believe they’re such monsters when they’re alive?”

  Hank was hit by an involuntary convulsion and covered his mouth.

  “You okay, boss?” Victor asked, though his voice sounded strange. Caitlin glanced over and saw his hood had been raised and his face was now shadowed.

  “Yes, fine. Fine,” Hank said, waving him away.

  Dylan put a hand on Hank’s shoulder, concern on his face. “C’mon, let’s move away from here. No one likes to see this many bodies dead on the floor—”

  “Don’t fucking touch me,” Hank hissed, moving with speed and batting Dylan’s hand away. “You think I haven’t seen bodies, Harrison? You think I give a shit if there’s three thousand bodies piled up in this room with maggots and rats crawling through the skin? No, I don’t. So don’t patronize me. You fucking touch me again, and I’ll add your corpse to the pile.”

  Dylan raised his hands, “Okay, jeesh. Easy, easy…”

  Hank ran a hand over his head. “Good. Now, can one of you lead the fucking way?”

  Dylan turned to Caitlin and rolled his eyes. He took to the stairs and began climbing as quietly as he could.

  Caitlin followed, but not without taking another look at Victor. For the first time, she noticed his eyes shining through the shadow of his hood. She hadn’t noticed before how bright and keen they were. A vivid green, twinkling in the stray rays of the moonlight.

  He turned away and marched ahead of her up the stairs.

  The house was bigger than she’d expected. She hadn’t had a chance to look the night before, but at the top of the stairs, there were two long, wide corridors leading off in either direction.

  “Split into two parties?” Dylan suggested.

  “Oh, no. You think I’m letting you two out of my sight, you’ve got another thing coming.” Hank pulled out his sword and pointed it at Dylan. “Pick one.”

  Caitlin nodded left—the same way she had seen the vampire emerge from the night before. Dylan walked ahead of the group. He moved slowly now, treading as lightly as possible. Not that it mattered, considering that Hendrick was so large, his footsteps were like muffled drums on the floor.

  The boards creaked and some sagged with their weight. The house was a shit show, old enough to feel as though, at any moment, a whisper of the wind would tear it down.

  And all the time, as they wandered down the dark corridors, poking heads into the doors that led to dark rooms, all Caitlin could imagine were red eyes shining from the dark. Eyes which glowed. Eyes that could, at any point, be a vampire’s—or that of the Mad.

  She closed her eyes and thought of them all lying out there. Zombies. That had been the hardest part so far—avoiding the empty stares of the faces of the Mad on the floor, vacant eyes
looking up at the ceiling. Those same eyes which had once been a fierce glowing red had now become nothing more than a dark, empty black.

  Caitlin couldn’t even remember if it had been a quick transition from red to black, or if it had been like a set of batteries dying, the light fading gradually over moments.

  Wait. What are batteries?

  She thought of a book she had read once, then shrugged.

  When they reached a room at the end of the corridor, Caitlin stepped forward and tried the handle. It was locked.

  “It’s locked?” Hank asked.

  Caitlin nodded. No shit, Sherlock.

  “Then it must be this one.”

  “How do you figure?” Dylan asked.

  “Because if she wanted to hide, she’d lock the door. Duh!”

  Hank turned to Hendrick for confirmation. He shrugged. That was enough for Hank.

  “Well, we can soon fix this. Come out. Come out, wherever you are!” Hank sang, his words ringing like thunder through the house.

  Before Caitlin could say a word, Hank raised his foot and gave the door a boot.

  The door crashed off its frame, smacking onto the wooden floorboards and forcing up a storm of dust.

  For a few seconds, they could see nothing beyond the dusty haze. They pawed stupidly at their eyes which burned from the powdered debris and dead skin particles of a family stretching back centuries.

  “There,” Hank said proudly.

  “Good one. The door’s open. But you might as well have fired a gun into the sky and cried out to every single Mad in the area. ‘Hey! Hey! We’re a walking fucking buffet. Here, have a nibble on our juicy thighs.’” Caitlin furrowed her brow.

  “If they come, I’m using you as a shield,” Hank said simply. He grabbed Caitlin’s arm and threw her forward into the room.

  Dylan moved to retaliate, but Hank’s sword was already prodding into his back. “Uh-uh,” he said, wagging his finger. “You first.”