“I want to make a deal with you.”
Kain rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go. It’s always a deal with you people.”
“Show me what you are. Shift—”
“I’ve just told you—” Kain tried to interject.
“Change into your true form, and I’ll release you.”
Kain paused a moment, staring into the depths of the governor’s eyes. He exhaled slowly. “What’s the catch?”
“You join my side. Become a law enforcer of Silver Creek. Help sniff out more of your kind and bring them to my cause.”
Kain fell into thought. Halrod watched eagerly, his heart thudding a steady beat in his chest.
This was perfect. With a werewolf by his side, no one in the town would fuck with him. There’d be no more disobedience. No more betrayers. No more liars. He could use fear as his ally, and there’d be no more Monica Chapmans. With a Were there, he’d have the town under his thumb.
And what about the other colonies? The other towns which fell under Halrod’s guardianship? The ones only his closest advisors knew of.
On the days when Trisk left to attend to matters in the smaller clusters, the Were could act as the ultimate enforcer. He’d be able to keep folks in line until his return, watch over his guards, and ensure that people knew and feared the governor’s wrath.
He thought suddenly of the rangers and the guards currently walking through the forest towards the manor. A Were and a vamp? Now that would be a deadly combination to harness.
“What do you think?”
A horrible bubbling sound arose from Kain’s throat. A second later, a thick glob of spit flew through the bars and landed on Halrod’s cheek.
He felt his anger boil. Kain grinned, revealing a row of sharp, yellowing teeth. “I think you’re about as trustworthy as week-old meat, and if I were to even consider—”
In a burst of movement, Halrod rose, kicked his chair away, and reached into his pockets. The sound of the chair echoed and magnified within the jail cell walls like a gunshot. He withdrew a small metallic parcel from his pocket, aimed it at Kain, and the room burst into the sound of pulsing electricity.
Kain fell to the floor, twitching and writhing. Halrod held the button on the taser so tightly that his thumb turned white. His face a distorted mass of anger and rage, he reached into his pocket with his other hand and withdrew a muddied handkerchief with which he wiped the spit from his face.
He watched with delirious satisfaction as the man shook and trembled before him, noticing then that as Kain looked at him, his eyes began to glow a bright amber. The hairs on his back began to thicken and grow.
He waited a couple more seconds before releasing the trigger, feeling a warm feeling rising to his groin. Suddenly, his trousers felt too tight.
Footsteps sounded behind him as two guards rushed into the room.
“Sir, is everything—”
“Everything is fine, gents. I’m just teaching our friend here what it means to disobey his new governor. Take note, then return to your posts.”
The guards exchanged a look which Halrod didn’t see. “Of course,” the shorter guard replied. They disappeared back around the corner.
“Kain, Kain, Kain… I see you’ve got a lot to learn here. Just because I’m a human without the supernatural powers that you freaks hold, doesn’t mean that I don’t have my methods of subduing those I need to subdue.”
“Where… How did you…”
Halrod looked at the taser in his hand, his eyebrows rising in mock surprise. “Oh, this? A handy little relic of the old world. Did you know that just a few centuries ago, mankind invented a way to charge electrical items using nothing more than the sun?”
Kain coughed, clutching his stomach.
“They created loads of handy gadgets, most of which, unfortunately, have been lost to time. Though imagine my surprise when this little gizmo was pillaged some years back from an old city police station. I never thought I’d have a chance to use it but kept it collecting dust in a drawer.”
Halrod crouched down.
“See, I have ways of making people obey. If you won’t change voluntarily, then I’ll just force it on you. One way or another, I’m going to get what I want. I always do.”
He pressed the button on the taser again, instantly forcing Kain to go rigid. Once again, his eyes began to glow as the transformation began.
The shorter guard ran into the room, his words urgent and hurried. “Sir, I’m sorry to disturb—” Halrod released the button.
“What is it?” he growled.
“It’s Walker. He needs to talk to you.”
Sean Walker was the town medic. One of the only residents who held anything close to what could be considered medical experience in Silver Creek. An interruption from Sean usually only meant one thing, and one thing only. Someone had fallen with the Madness.
“Who is it this time?”
“It’s Georgia,” the guard said, his cheeks flushing. It always felt strange saying the name of one of the governor’s whores.
Halrod’s frustration emerged almost like a growl. He looked longingly back at Kain, who now lay still on the floor. Slow, shallow breaths sounded as his body rose and fell. As much as Harold wished to see the transformation, he couldn’t help but hold a soft spot for Georgia. She could…do things that the other whores simply couldn’t.
“Tell him I’m on my way.”
The guard nodded and ran at a surprising pace out of the room and up the stairs.
“This isn’t over,” he grumbled back at Kain before whipping his cloak and leaving the prisoner to clutch his stomach in the darkness.
Chapter Five
Silver Creek Forest
“How much farther is it?” Hank called from behind them both, his voice grizzly and fierce. “I swear, if you’re leading us the wrong way, Harrison, I won’t think twice about gutting you like a pig and roasting you over a flame for dinner.”
Caitlin turned to Dylan, who hid his determined expression beneath the shadow of his hood.
It wasn’t exactly how Caitlin had pictured it, and she wasn’t at all sure if that was a good or bad thing. By the governor’s command, she and Dylan had been summoned to meet back at his quarters later that day. They found several other men waiting patiently when they arrived.
Hank stood with a sickening grin on his face as though he knew something that the others would never know—which, more than likely, was the case. With him were two other guards who both looked as though they were pretty new to the ranks—their faces fresh, their uniforms clean—and, to Dylan’s surprise, Sullivan was there too.
“Hey, boss,” Sullivan said, his voice deep.
“Sullivan? What are you doing here?” Dylan asked.
“He’s coming with us,” Hank answered as though it were the most obvious question in the world. “You think the governor trusts you two to drag the vamp back?” He shook his finger and tutted. “No, no, no. We’re going to do what the others have failed to do on their own. Ain’t that right, gentlemen? Time to bring out the big guns.”
The two guards nodded enthusiastically, while Sullivan merely shrugged as if he had no clue what was going on. As if he hadn’t heard or absorbed the word “vampire.” He was happy to help Dylan, his leader, and that was all he needed to know.
Now, as they navigated around the twisting roots of the forest floor, Caitlin wished it had been only her and Dylan. The entire time, the guards had walked behind them, Hank flanked by the other two as they made crude remarks and wolf-whistled as her hips shook while she walked.
She could practically feel their eyes burning into her.
Still, she had Dylan to her left, and Sullivan on her right. That had to count for something, right?
The forest was cast in shadow, the moon hidden behind clouds. Despite the situation they found themselves in, Caitlin felt calm. She took deep lungfuls of the air and listened to the sounds of wildlife around her.
Something small rustle
d and ran out of sight in the foliage. Birds tweeted from somewhere above.
It was nice. Musical, even.
“How you holding up?” Dylan whispered.
“Just fine, boss,” Sullivan replied, a little too loudly for Caitlin’s liking.
“Not you,” Dylan replied, unable to help the smile from growing on his face. “Not that I don’t care.”
Caitlin glanced down and managed to avoid a small hole that had been covered with leaves. “Fine, I think.”
She glanced cautiously behind her to where the three guards were in their own deep, quiet discussion. Occasionally, their eyes caught hers and Caitlin didn’t like the look they gave her and the others.
“You know, it’s not too late to run,” she said, grinning.
Sullivan’s eyes suddenly widened, but before he could say anything, Dylan quieted him with a gesture of his hand that might have suggested he was petting a cow.
“Warriors don’t run,” Dylan whispered. “Warriors fight. Warriors survive. And the surviving warriors? They become revolutionaries.”
“Why are you talking like that?” Caitlin asked.
“Like what?”
“Like some kind of brainy philosopher.”
Dylan looked up at the sky, his face cast in thought. “I don’t know. Maybe one day, when I’m too old to serve as a ranger, I’ll become a philosopher. I’ll scratch my knowledge into tree trunks and paint on dilapidated buildings. Leave a legacy behind in a way that others won’t. It’d be nice to be remembered.”
“Such a romantic.”
“And, hey, maybe Sullivan could be my philosophical wingman. A sounding board to bounce my ideas and theories off. You’re quite the thinker, aren’t you, Sully?”
Sullivan’s face melted into confusion, evidently struggling to understand what exactly philosophy was. Caitlin and Dylan both burst into laughter.
It was nice to know that Dylan was still thinking ahead to the future. It reassured her that he didn’t think their late-night excursion and the mission they were currently embarking on would not be their end.
Kiera had been unfortunate. She hadn’t had Dylan as a brother.
She hadn’t had a decent sword.
She didn’t have a vampire miraculously help her.
Running a quick equation of her odds and the things that had worked in her favor the night before, she considered the possibility that everything could be okay.
Somehow, it gave her strength.
“Hey! Keep it down,” Hank whispered, the sound sibilant in the eeriness of the night. “This is supposed to be a quiet mission. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not create a load of disturbance and attract any nearby Mad to us, wouldn’t you?”
His hands moved to the hilt of his blade. Caitlin held back a satisfied laugh when she saw the condition his sword was in. The edges were practically rounded, the color so dull and brown that it looked more like a stick in the light.
I guess even being a senior in the ranks couldn’t make the blacksmiths perform any better.
Sword-maintenance, like so many other skills, seemed to have fallen into short supply in the days following the appearance of the Mad.
Hank waited for them to respond. Sullivan was the first to nod, then Dylan, then Caitlin.
“That’s better,” Hank’s voice sounded condescending and deep. “Now, let’s make sure that you guys can keep your word and shut the fuck up.” He clicked his fingers. “Hendrick, you move up front with the chatty ranger boys. Caitlin, you come back with Victor and me. Maybe then we can keep our cake-holes shut and actually have a chance of sneaking up on the vamp, eh?”
They swapped over, albeit rather reluctantly, and continued on in relative silence. Hendrick—a guard nearly seven-foot in height with dark skin and teeth so stained that many had fallen out—accommodated the gap between Dylan and Sullivan, and Caitlin now walked in the middle between Hank and Victor.
She could smell Hank as they walked, a smell of body odor that reminded her of Trisk—stale and earthy. Her nose wrinkled as she tried to keep her thoughts distracted, knowing that every time she’d turn to look at Hank, he’d be watching her with a twinkle in his eye.
With every footstep, she felt her concealed sword tapping against her leg. She smiled, remembering the moment the vampire had given it to her. There was something comforting in knowing that she had a method of protection should the shit really hit the fan.
She had a lot to thank the vamp for, really.
“That’s a pretty little smile,” Hank said, slowing down enough to let the three in front take a greater lead.
“Thanks,” Caitlin said bluntly.
“Don’t you think she’s pretty, Vic?”
Victor nodded, taking a second to eye Caitlin up and down. “Wouldn’t mind spreading her on a slice of bread.”
“You might have to wait your turn.” Hank’s gaze burrowed into Caitlin’s. She despised the way they scanned her and could feel the thoughts hiding beneath.
It was no secret that Hank had a track record behind him of…well…taking what he wanted.
Caitlin had heard the stories and now thought of the countless women who had shared their tales of abuse and violation. They were people she had known and encountered, women who had all tried to go to the governor for some kind of justice but were waved away without a word.
It seemed it must be pretty comfortable for Hank, living in his master’s pocket. Trisk loved his pet too much to see any kind of flaw in the man whom many feared.
Caitlin flushed at the idea of Hank laying hands on her.
Though, to her surprise, when she did actually feel a hand on her ass, it turned out to be Victor.
“Mmm…juicy.” He leered at her, his face close enough for her to see it more clearly than she liked.
Adrenaline pumped through Caitlin’s body. The world suddenly became a blur as icy fear shot through her.
“Fucktard,” she snapped as, in one swift move, she grabbed Victor’s wrist, pulled it towards her, twisted as she went, and threw him over her shoulder. His eye went wide as he flew through the air, a grunt escaping his lips.
As Victor thudded onto the dirt, she heard the breath leave his lungs. She stood back in shock, temporarily frozen, struggling to comprehend what she had just done.
Caitlin had never considered herself strong or particularly capable, but in her moment of anger had somehow managed to replicate the same wrist hold her brother had used on her the night before, only with her own spin. It felt effortless to use the guard’s own momentum against him. A two-hundred-pound man now lay winded and on the floor because of a hundred-pound woman.
In her mind’s eye, she imagined Jaxon barking madly, cocking a leg, and pissing on Victor’s face. Now that would make a grand final nail in the coffin of humiliation.
The three in front spun, Dylan’s expression torn between laughter and concern.
Caitlin froze, unsure what to do or say. She had to say something, though, and quickly, before Hank could get his words together and absorb what he was seeing.
“Touch my ass again, and you won’t have any hands left to toss off your cronies,” Caitlin said, straightening her back and taking a few cautionary steps away from Hank.
Hank stared back at her, his face turning from shock to laughter to anger.
He settled on that last emotion as his nostrils flared. His face turned red, and clearly, now decided that he needed to put his foot down and take charge.
He took a step towards Caitlin. “You stupid bitch—”
“Now, now,” Dylan said, appearing at Caitlin’s side. She was surprised to see that his hand was on the hilt of his sword. No one ever stood up to Hank and, while she loved her brother for jumping to her defense, she wasn’t entirely sure that it was the best option in the long run.
At some point, we’re going back to Silver Creek. At some point, Hank will tell the governor about this, and then what happens?
Dylan saw Hank’s hesitation but s
eemed to also read Caitlin’s thoughts. “We’re all on the same side here.” He raised his hands away from his sword. “What’s the use of fighting amongst ourselves when we’ve got a job to do?”
Caitlin had always loved how diplomatic Dylan could be, a trait he’d learned from their father.
For a moment, Hank and Dylan simply stared at each other. The others watched in silence—except for Victor who still lay coughing on the floor.
Hank’s rage shifted to an expression of mild contempt, a shift which Dylan had mentioned on occasion before and didn’t like. Caitlin knew, as he did, that while they were outside the safety of the town, he was on an equal level with Hank. The minute they stepped back through the gates, however, Trisk would take Hank’s side over Dylan’s without a moment’s hesitation.
“If that’s the case, you ought to keep this bitch on a leash. If she touches another one of my men… Well…let’s just say that it’s been a while since I’ve had a playmate, and there’s an itch I can’t scratch myself.”
The shit-eating grin was back on Hank’s face.
Sullivan, in all his infinite naivety, stepped over to Victor and offered him a hand which he slapped away. Hendrick chuckled, offered his own hand which Victor accepted, then pulled his comrade back to his feet.
They took their positions once more, though this time, Hendrick and Victor swapped places. The tension spoke volumes as they continued through the darkness, the wind whispering through the trees as they walked warily through the undergrowth.
With each and every step, Caitlin thought about what had just happened. Where had she found the strength and skill to throw Victor?
Was it from her anger? Was it skill, nothing more than a technique she’d super-learned from Dylan?
She replayed the scenario once more in her head, trying her best to slow it all down as she envisioned tossing Hank over her shoulder. In this replay, as Hank hit the floor, she followed it by drawing her sword quickly, and ignoring the gasp from her brother, made a swift slice across Hank’s neck.
There were a couple of moments along the way when Caitlin wondered whether they were headed in the right direction. After all, the last time she had found the manor, it had been accidental. The Mad had given chase, and the last thing Kiera or Caitlin had done was keep an eye out for memorable landmarks.
Dawn of Chaos: Age Of Madness - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (The Caitlin Chronicles Book 1) Page 5
