Forgotten Gods Boxed Set 2

by S T Branton

  “Hear that, Brax?” I asked. “Trust me. I know it’s not exactly your strong suit, but cooperation is the name of the game. The only way we’ll make it through the apocalypse is by working together. The militia won’t follow you if you aren’t united. We have to make this work.” I walked between them and set down my box of arms with a decisive thump. “I brought you some new toys to get you started.”

  “I take it the supply run was a success?” Dan asked.

  “As successful as anything these days.” The memory of the gaunt, nameless god surfaced in my head. I doubted telling him about the zombie horde would lift his spirits, so I didn’t mention it. “The bad guys are still in motion out there. They won’t wait for us to be ready for the next attack. We have to scramble.”

  “Agreed,” he replied.

  Somewhat grudgingly, Brax moved to the weapons crate and began to poke through its contents. “Not bad,” he allowed finally. “I can make this work.”

  “You and me both,” Dan interjected. Although the demon remained thoroughly unimpressed, he did not lash out, which I took as a sign of improvement. I sidled in the direction of the main camp. “And that’s my cue to beat it. I’m counting on both of you.”

  It took all my self-restraint not to simply turn and run the hell out of there. I had enough bullshit in my life without getting involved in theirs. Brax wasn’t the only one adjusting to being part of a team.

  It is unrealistic to expect better from the Marked, Marcus remarked dourly. The demon is a petty, contradictory figure. He knows nothing of leadership or teamwork.

  “We’re all learning new skills,” I said, angling toward the central teepee. “It’s sink or swim now. Either they work it out, or we’re screwed, and as much as they hate each other, neither of them wants to lose. Or die.”

  Perhaps a modicum of the soldier’s integrity will rub off on Abraxzael. I confess, my hopes are not high.

  “You know,” I said. “You do have at least one thing in common with him.”

  Perish the thought. I demand to know where such commonality lies.

  I smirked. “You both talk a whole lot of shit.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As I reached the teepee, with Marcus blustering indignantly in my ear, Deacon emerged from the nearby woods. He made an immediate beeline for me.

  “You’ll want to see this for yourself,” he said the moment he came within earshot. I tuned Marcus out and fell into step beside him. He seemed like he had something else to say, and after a minute of thoughtful silence, he turned to me. “Find out what that kid’s deal is?”

  “Luis? Yeah, we talked in the car. He’s good. I think he’s trustworthy. He’s tough too, and he’s keeping an eye on you.”

  The man looked surprised and slightly affronted. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing to keep an eye on.”

  I shrugged. “He doesn’t like that you’re a cop. And I think he caught you checking out my ass once or twice.”

  Deacon protested. “I’m not a cop!”

  Holding my hands up, I said, “Don’t look at me. I told him that. It didn’t seem to matter much.” I paused. The smirk from before crept back onto my lips. “What about the part where you were checking out my ass?”

  He coughed. “I plead the Fifth.”

  “Afraid of self-incrimination, huh?” Still smiling, I pulled ahead of him. The river babbled beyond the next curtain of trees, offset by a few hushed voices. I saw the outline of the body before we emerged onto the bank. A sense of foreboding gathered in the pit of my stomach. It only intensified when I drew close enough to view the corpse’s face and see that whoever this person had been, they were nearly unrecognizable now.

  The small cluster of onlookers migrated away from me as I stared down at the second victim. Deacon directed them toward the settlement, and their reluctant footsteps rustled into the distance. Then he was at my side, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, taking in the ghastly sight for the second time.

  “Looks like the same killer to me,” I mused out loud, mostly to myself.

  The upper torso was speckled with deep, bloodless puncture wounds that had left the skin waxy and paper white—at least, the parts of it that weren’t mottled by vicious bruising. It was all too maddeningly familiar, including the marks on either side of the throat.

  “Manual strangulation,” I mumbled. “Again.”

  “Yeah.” Deacon exhaled slowly. “You know what this means. We’re dealing with a serial killer.”

  Long blonde hair sprouted above the victim’s pale, bloodless face. I searched my memory for the poor woman’s identity, but I came up empty. She was merely one person among the hundreds I’d seen on my way out of New York. I felt bad for not knowing, but maybe it was better that way. Easier.

  “Zombie gods and serial killers,” I said. “And people used to think that New York was dangerous.” I shook my head. “Okay, do we have any idea who’s behind this godawful scene?”

  “It’s definitely a god, right?” Deacon asked. “It has to be. We’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  I nodded, observing the punctures one more time. “If not a god, at least a Forgotten. Something we haven’t run into before. What pisses me off is we don’t know where it’s coming from or how it’s getting so close. You’d think we would have seen some sign of a god by now.” My thoughts flew instantly to Tahn with her serpent’s fangs and flickering tongue, but the brutality of the killing didn’t seem like her style. She had been cunning, wily, and dangerous in her intelligence. She had not been a vessel of such barbaric force.

  This is not the work of Tahn, Marcus confirmed. She would never kill so sloppily.

  I crossed the serpent goddess off my mental list. Beleza was the only other god I’d encountered recently, but he was almost certainly still in the city. That bronze prick craved worship, and for that, he needed people around. Plus, the bruises on the victim’s neck were of normal proportions.

  “Could be someone in the camp,” Deacon theorized. “Someone like a vamp or Were hiding their monstrous nature behind a normal human exterior.”

  I frowned. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing, so to speak. While we’re looking for an outside threat, the killer strikes from inside the camp.”

  “That would explain how it’s happened twice on our watch,” he said. His face darkened.

  I sighed. “So, the best-case scenario is that some shitty monster we can find and kill is prowling the woods? The worst-case scenario is a killer hiding among us.”

  Deacon chuckled grimly. “Pretty much.”

  “We’ll have to keep this to ourselves for now,” I said. “If people think the killer is one of us, they’ll turn on each other left and right. We need to get out of these damn woods, pronto. I’m talking yesterday. And if the killings continue after that, we’ll have one answer, at least.”

  He nodded. “True. Still, it might be worth sending out a hunting party in case it turns out to be a local pest.”

  “Maybe when Maya gets back, I’ll ask her to do some more recon. If she finds something lurking around, she can take it out.” Standing close to the bank of the river, I looked into the trees, half expecting my favorite werewolf veterinarian to pop out at the sound of her name. Of course, she didn’t. “I hope she’s on her way back.”

  “She’ll show up soon,” Deacon said. “That girl’s one of the most reliable people I’ve ever met.” He glanced down at the body. “I’ll get a shovel so we can take care of this before anyone else comes by.”

  “Yeah, I’ll keep a lookout in case,” I told him. But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, rapid footsteps approached through the underbrush. I braced myself, automatically dropping my hand to the hilt of the Gladius Solis, ready for whatever was about to barrel toward us. If we were lucky, our problem was a few seconds from solving itself.

  But instead of a monster or a crazed murderer, it was Jules who burst onto the riverbank. Her periwinkle eyes were wide, and her cheeks were flu
shed with exertion. “Come quick!” she urged, out of breath.

  “Whoa.” Deacon reached out a hand to steady her. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

  “It’s Frank,” she said. “Come on. They want to kill him!” She wheeled and dashed back the way she’d come. Deacon and I followed in hot pursuit.

  An angry mob always had a distinct sound—a wild mess of screaming, shouting, cursing, and stomping feet. The howling mass roiled back and forth in front of the central teepee, hungry to destroy the object of their rage. Poor Frank could never catch a break. neither in life nor the afterlife.

  He huddled in his shabby, dark suit jacket, trying to make his bulky frame seem as small and non-threatening as possible. The scared expression on his face was one I had seen many times before, although for once, I wasn’t the cause of his fear.

  “Frank!” I shouted, diving headlong into the churning crowd. Some of them parted for me, but others required a firm shove.

  All kinds of things flew around me, from fists to heavy rocks wrenched up from the damp soil. Some of the words became clearer to me as I forged a path. “It was him. He killed her. He’s one of them. He’s a fucking vamp.”

  I clenched my teeth. I should have known.

  “I bet he killed that other kid, too,” someone hollered close to my ear. “There were bite marks, weren’t there? Who else coulda done it but him?”

  The question was met with a chorus of enraged, bloodthirsty affirmation and another flurry of projectiles. All that was missing from the scene were blazing torches and pitchforks. Poor old Frankie-stein wouldn’t burn tonight. Not if I could help it anyway.

  I bent my head and shouldered my way through the last layer of the angry crowd. The hapless victim hunched in the eye of the storm, peering out from beneath his heavy brow. He wasn’t alone. Steph stood over him with her gun out, brandishing the firearm at anyone who got too close. In the couple of seconds it took for me to absorb the whole scene, I saw her trigger finger twitch at least twice.

  Desperate to avoid a potentially fatal confrontation, I stuck my fingers in my mouth and let fly with the shrillest, most piercing whistle I could muster. “What the hell is going on here?” I demanded. “Everybody shut the fuck up.” I took position beside Steph, guarding Frank with my body. “Somebody start explaining before I lose my shit.”

  My harsh words brought the crowd’s roar down to a dull murmur. A huge, bulging dude in a ripped-up muscle shirt and faded jeans stepped forward and jabbed a finger in Frank’s face.

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on,” he spat, sneering. “Freaks like him aren’t welcome here. None of us are safe with him around. Let’s kill them all.” He turned to the crowd for validation, raising his hands like a rock star hyping up the audience.

  The cheering stopped when I decked him in the jaw.

  He sprawled on his ass in the mud. I faced the crowd, which had suddenly gone deathly silent. The people in front glanced continually between me and my sword, which I hadn’t needed to draw yet.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked. My question was met with silence. “Anyone who doesn’t trust me, come up here and tell me right now.” No one moved. “Okay, good. Now that we’ve established that, let me make one thing clear. Frank is not your enemy. He is not a freak, and he’s not the bad guy here. In fact, he’s one of the only reasons we’re all standing here right now.”

  I paused to let that sink in. Angry faces watched me from the crowd, but they remained silent for the moment. At least they were listening.

  I pointed into the distance. “Our enemies are out there. And when they come howling for your blood, Frank here defends the front lines while you hide in your tents. How do you repay his courage and his selflessness? You call him a freak. You condemn him, even though he risks his life to keep you alive. Don’t forget that. We’re all in this together. At this point, that’s how we survive. We live together, or we let the gods tear us apart.”

  The crowd murmured and shuffled their feet. No more rocks or punches flew, but I could see that not all of them were convinced. The violence in the air had dulled, but it hadn’t evaporated completely.

  The meathead I had punched was back on his feet, scowling at me. “That’s bullshit!” he bellowed. “This bitch—”

  I grabbed him by the collar and lifted him in the air. “Call me a bitch again. Say it again, and see what happens, motherfucker.”

  He shook his head, and I lowered him. He glared at me from bloodshot eyes. “I’m just saying. Someday soon, your buddy is gonna lose his fat, ugly mind and rip this place apart.”

  A few people voiced their assent, but most of the group watched in uneasy silence now, trying to gauge the way things would go.

  I was fed up with this bro’s crap. “Did you join the militia?”

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “You heard me,” I said. “We put out a call for help to defend against the attacks. Did you sign up to be a part of the militia?”

  He cast his eyes to the ground. “Well, no.”

  I shook my head. “How about that? You’re all piss and vinegar when attacking a defenseless man, one who puts his life on the line for you every day. But when the real enemy shows up, you’re too much of a pussy to fight? Frank’s a goddamn hero, but you? You’re just a coward.”

  I turned away from the muscle-head and addressed the crowd. “I’m not asking you to fight. It’s enough that you keep going every day, surviving and helping each other. All I ask is that we stay united. Together, we’ll make it through this hell. But if you turn on the people trying to keep you safe, none of us will make it out alive.”

  The mob wasn’t angry any longer. Some of them even had the decency to look ashamed.

  Then a scream pierced the air, loaded with fear and pain. Muscle Shirt swiveled, caught off guard by the primal sound. The throng began to dissipate rapidly around me, and I saw, framed in the hole that had opened up, a humanoid creature with a shambling gait that I already knew. Not one, but dozens and dozens flooded from the forest. They latched quickly onto dumbfounded group members, and the screams multiplied.

  “Militia, get ready,” Dan shouted. “We’re under attack!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The zombie horde closed in around us. The previously still forest writhed with legions of others marching slowly but steadily. Our group, gathered as it was, made too big a target to defend, and the ravening horde fell upon us like a pack of undead hyenas.

  They weren’t disorganized, though. The monsters themselves might have been as dumb as bricks, but whoever pulled their strings kept them in a tight formation, using strategy against us. The swarm swirled and thickened around us, blocking all potential escape routes.

  I cursed myself for not finishing the zombie god off when I had the chance.

  It felt like we had all stupidly wandered into a well-laid ambush. Whipping out my magic sword, I sliced and diced my way through the masses in an attempt to open some space for the panicked people around me.

  The cracking reports of gunfire reached my ears, but it moved away as the militia crumbled in the face of the zombies’ sheer numbers. We were slowly and methodically suffocated under the relentless thumb of a god. I slashed repeatedly, piling more bodies on the muddy earth, but every kill seemed to spawn more from the dark reaches of the forest. They surged over the camp in waves like vermin.

  The situation appeared bleak.

  Their numbers may be great, Victoria, but you are formidable. It is written in your name. Stand tall and wield your blazing sword until the power of Kronin compels the enemy to return to the earth from whence they came.

  I dragged in a huge breath and released a war cry from the depths of my lungs. The sword danced around me, sketching patterns of light with every fierce strike. I carved sweeping holes in the crush of bodies buffeting me on all sides, creating windows in which my friends battled.

  Near the edge of the fight, Frank and Steph had closed ranks around a handful of helpless
elderly, working together to stem the flow of the horde. She shot her sidearm when she was able, and when the zombies drew too close, she took them down with frightening speed and efficiency. I began to see why Deacon liked having her as a partner.

  On the other side of that little knot, Frank bumbled his way through every encounter as though he was embroiled in one long bar fight. His swings were heavy and wild, but when they hit, they pulverized the undead like a fucking wrecking ball. He bull-rushed into a line of zombies to drive them back and buy some time.

  I hoped the angry mob was watching him saving their asses instead of his own. I noticed Muscle Shirt was nowhere to be found.

  The creatures’ numbers increased. Before my eyes, Frank and Steph’s holdout was about to be overrun. I could see both Deacon and Luis trying feverishly to cover for their compatriots—the agent with his pistol and the younger man with that hunting rifle. For a city kid, he wasn’t a bad shot.

  Still, it wouldn’t be enough. I threw myself forward, hoping against hope that I’d be able to mow down enough undead to reach Frank and Steph in time. Then my vision became obscured by a weird haze that gradually formed itself into a tall, emaciated shape.

  “There you are,” I growled, gripping my sword tighter. “Time to finish what I started.”

  The god’s visage appeared, already grinning and slightly translucent. “We meet again, Swordbearer. Surely you didn’t think I could allow you to escape. Not when there was so much fun yet to be had.” The grin split his face almost in two, unhinging his jaw into a gaping, dark maw. “What a nice, vibrant soul you have. Gift it to me, and I’ll keep it safe.” A creepy giggle burbled from the back of his narrow throat. “Not that I can say when you’ll get it back, if at all.”

  The laughter morphed into a keening wail as he rushed forward with surprising speed, seeking to engulf me in his mouth. I rolled to the side, cutting down a few of his minions in my way.

  “It’s easy,” he whispered. “So easy. All you need to do is surrender that wonderful, beautiful soul. I promise to take exceptional care of it.” His looming white face, so thin it was nearly skeletal, was right up in mine. I smelled the weird, stale breath issuing from his jaws with every word. “Wouldn’t that be nice? No worries, no cares. You are on the brink of true oblivion. It would be a mere trifle to simply…give…in.”