I poked my head out and scanned both sides of the corridor, which was eerily clear. I walked out, Satan at my heels and my scythes in my hands. The world outside looked almost normal, and if I hadn’t just decapitated Mr. Gervis, I’d have presumed the Elders were wrong or the talk of zombies had been some tactless tactical exercise.
The streets seemed darker than normal. Although the darkness did not bother me, I did note it. Lights hadn’t been switched on tonight. Perhaps no one was there to do it. Everything felt tight and at too-close quarters. I rushed down the stairs to the next level’s fire escape, hoping it would give me the jumping distance needed to leap to the ground.
As I moved blindly onto the landing, I bumped straight into a few more neighbors. Unfortunately, they hadn’t fared much better than Mr. Gervis and were a mass of half-eaten, animated leftovers. Satan, who’d caught up, stopped behind me and growled. I knew that lone zombies and small groups were going to be easy enough to deal with. Only if they swamped me would I get in trouble. About five had congregated in the corridor—how many made a horde? They stood and stared at me. I guessed that my smell freaked them out a bit. After all, I was really just a slightly more sentient version of what they were. The big difference was that I was less grabby and more seductive in my killing methods. After a few moans, they lunged forward, and I began to cleave off their heads, keeping them at a leg’s length with speedy roundhouse kicks. When I was done, a small mound of body parts quivered at my feet.
“Thanks for the help.” I raised an eyebrow at Satan, who’d backed into a nearby corner with his ears flat to his head and tail between his legs. He slunk toward me for a reassuring head pat, which I gave. He then pricked his ears up and sniffed at a nearby door. In all the zombie-killing frenzy, I’d forgotten what I was actually supposed to be doing, trying to find survivors. I listened at the door. I definitely heard at least one heartbeat in there. I knocked.
“Hello, is anyone there?”
I heard movement, but no answer.
“I can hear you in there. It’s Brit from upstairs. I’m here to help you.”
Whispers, then the door opened to reveal a woman in her thirties with two sets of big, round eyes peering from behind her legs.
“I remember you. You’re that Goth girl,” said the woman.
“Umm, no. I’m not actually a Goth girl.”
I’ve been around much longer than that, I thought.
“Oh, you always look so…”
Yeah, this conversation wasn’t going to earn her my protection, so I cut it off quickly.
“I know a place that’s safe. I’m here to escort you there. Pack up quickly and let’s get these flats behind us, okay?”
She looked a little lost and vague, but the two children behind her turned, ran, and started packing their toys. They looked about seven and were twins, a boy and a girl.
“Go on, then. It’s not getting any safer.”
I nudged the mother, and she seemed to wake from her trance.
“Sure, okay. Umm. I’m Tracy.”
“I know.”
I didn’t actually know her name, but pretending we were bigger buddies than we really were might move things along quicker.
She turned and started to pack up a few things: photos, purse, a jumper—the only useful thing. I stepped farther into the flat and looked around. Still neat and tidy, and it smelled of fresh washing and buttered toast. No wonder she was reluctant to leave. Satan butted his head in behind me. The kids were then drawn to him as though he were a massive furry magnet. He let them fuss him a little too roughly then stepped back into the hallway in order, one would hope, to keep watch, although I had to keep reminding myself he was just a dog.
I heard a jagged symphony of moans echoing from downstairs and looked at the three survivors. If I had to run and choose who to take, I’d grab the children and let the mother fight her own battle. The children were more of an asset. They would have longer lives and yield more blood. I had to think like that. Satan would also have to fend for himself if it came to it.
One of the kids was suddenly at my feet looking up at me. With all the bright primary colors I was wearing, I probably looked like a toy. I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but my lip got caught on my fangs so it came out more of a toothy snarl.
She grinned at me and said, “Cool.”
Then she turned to finish packing. Modern children had been brought up with the notion of vampires and werewolves. I guess even the slightest hint I was one was a bonus. After all, zombies were munching on her neighbors. It wasn’t the biggest leap in the world that a vampire could be standing in her hallway.
After a quick pack, the three of them stood in front of me. I nodded at them like a drill sergeant inspecting her troops. I motioned for Tracy to pick up one child, and I leaned down, casually scooping the other into the crook of my left arm. He squirmed a little in my embrace, but then settled into the nook of my hip. Satan barked at a lumbering zombie shuffling down the corridor. I let that be the cue to get moving.
I led the way to the fire escape. Once there, I realized I had a kind of chicken, seed, and fox problem. If I took down the kids first, I’d have to leave them alone to go back and get the mother. If I took the mother, I’d be leaving the kids alone. If I took them all, they’d know for sure that I wasn’t human. Nuts, lesser of two evils?
“What’s wrong?” Tracy repositioned her daughter with an uncomfortable expression.
“We’re jumping down that fire escape.”
“I can’t do that. That’s over fifty feet!”
“You don’t need to.”
I whipped around and grabbed her by the waist, while simultaneously gripping both children, and jumped effortlessly to the street below. Once I set them safely on the ground, I called for the dog. “Satan!”
He jumped off the fire escape and straight into my arms. He licked my face, which was uncalled for. I let him jump the distance from my chest to the ground.
“What the…?” Tracy pulled her children behind her.
“There really is no time, and I think you know the answer anyway. You were all talking about me in the building long before this happened.”
She looked a little guilty.
“Are you going to drink our blood?” asked the girl with a little too much enthusiasm.
“Probably, well, at some point. Just not right now.” I winked at her, and she laughed. God bless the supernaturally obsessed, violence-numbing, drip-feeding media.
Tracy looked a little less happy, but she soon got behind me when another zombie neighbor lunged from the shadows. I kicked it so hard its head shot clean off, like a football propelled toward the back of a net. I then bent down, scooped up the children, and started to run, Tracy and Satan following close behind.
The Dead Hare wasn’t far, and the streets, although looking a little ransacked and burnt, weren’t too difficult to maneuver, even with three humans and a dog. If this was a taste of things to come, then the zombie apocalypse wouldn’t be as bad as I feared. Maybe all the books and films had it wrong, just like they got vampires wrong time and again. We arrived at the front door of The Dead Hare, which was blocked by a thick, metallic rolling blind. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again.
“What’s the special password?”
“Nicholas is an ass.”
I rolled my eyes, and Nicholas opened the door just wide enough for us all to scoot under.
He stepped back, looked at Tracy, the kids, and then Satan.
“What do you think this is? One Man and His Dog? Taking the shepherding duties a little too seriously, eh?”
“Shut up. Where’s Philippe?”
“He’s not arrived yet. Nice to see you started the collections early.” He motioned at Tracy as she pulled her children behind her.
“Don’t worry, Tracy. He won’t hurt you or the kids.”
I knew he wouldn’t. Nicholas was a lot of things, but he’d never attack frightened women and children, no matter what
the circumstances. In fact, they were probably safer with him than with me. Another thing I hated about him, righteous son of a…
I looked out at the pub and scanned the regulars’ faces, but I didn’t see Mrs. Lewis. She must not have made it here in time. I shook off the slight sensation of sorrow and bent down to fuss at Satan.
“So, how long do we wait?” Nicholas swept in beside us like a Dickensian villain.
“Until Philippe gets here. I’m not leaving without him.”
I knew that without Philippe, Nicholas and I would be at each other’s throats within seconds of leaving the building, exposing our new wards to the very dangers we were supposed to save them from.
“Well, you’re late, so that makes Philippe more than fashionably late. I’m going to call him.”
Nicholas flipped open his mobile phone. It was an old model, but it was still impressive that he carried that kind of technology on his person. Vampires don’t like things they don’t understand.
“Hello, Philippe, this is Nicholas. I’m here with Brianna, and we’re concerned for you. Please call back immediately.” He hung up and looked satisfied.
“My name is Britannia.”
“I knew you first as Brianna. I think I prefer Brianna.”
“Yeah, well, I preferred being Brianna, but some selfish asshole vampire turned me into something else.”
“Are you crediting me with your sexy patriotic persona?”
“Crediting isn’t really the word I’d choose.”
“No? Do you not like who you’ve become, Brianna?”
I smacked him. It was a closed fist punch that sent him crashing into the nearest wall. Still, it barely fazed him. He got up, brushed himself down, and walked back to where he’d been standing. That was when I noticed his outfit—black leather trousers, jacket, and a designer black turtle neck. “Nice outfit, Nicholas. All you need is the red ball and you’ve got a complete gimp suit set.”
“Well if you can lend me your little doggy’s ball…”
And I smacked him again.
“This isn’t helping anyone!” Tracy screamed.
Clearly, she’d had enough experience with squabbling kids to know when to step in.
“He started it,” I whispered under my breath.
“She’s right.” Nicholas sighed and straightened his polo neck. “Let us venture out while we can, save a few more…”
“Wards?”
I thought wards sounded better than cattle, blood bags, mortal minions, or even free-range humans.
“Yes, the rest can stay here. It is secure, and there is plenty of food and water to last for at least a couple of weeks.”
I looked around. It was obvious the Elders had either seen this coming or had been incredibly paranoid. Either way, it meant that our collection of humans was already at six pensioners, two bar staff, a mother, and two kids.
“We can use the pub as a drop-off point until we’re ready to travel,” I said in agreement.
Already the kids were being given crisps from behind the bar and being fussed over. It seemed like a good idea to keep everyone in a base camp.
“We need to check our…wards for bites. If we put an infected person in here, we may as well just kill them all now.” Nicholas looked at Tracy.
That was a good point, and I felt a little silly that I hadn’t checked the three I’d picked up.
“Have you checked the ones in here?” I asked.
“They never left.”
“Okay.”
I stepped over to Tracy and ran my hands down her arms and legs then checked her body. Nicholas then did the same with the children, who laughed as though he were tickling them. Fortunately, they were all clean. I hated Nicholas, but I had to admit his practical nature was probably going to come in handy.
I turned to Tracy. “Philippe is another…one of us. He is meeting us. If he gets here when we’re out, check that it’s really him. Ask him this question, ‘Who are your children?’”
Tracy narrowed her eyes. “Okay.”
“The answer is Tate and Lyle.”
“You’re kidding. Tate and Lyle, like the sugar?”
“Philippe always had the best sense of humor.” Nicholas grinned. “But let only him in. No one else. Even if they are human, they might be infected.”
Tracy nodded.
“Well, do let us back in, though.” I thought I’d better add that in case Tracy turned into an automaton.
She nodded again.
Satan padded up to me, and I scratched his ear.
“You stay here and protect everyone.”
Nicholas pulled on the front steel blind, and we inched through. The blind slammed behind us, and I started feeling very unsettled. Having Nicholas so close was starting to fester uncomfortably in my gut. Every now and then as we walked, he’d look over at me and smile. If I didn’t know better, I’d have said he had engineered the whole zombie invasion just so we'd be working side by side and he'd have the opportunity to worm his way into my affections.
My footfalls seemed louder than usual as we made our way through the ruined streets of London. Underground stations were collapsed in on themselves, leaving piles of rubble and blood stains. Buildings were partly boarded up with Rorschach-style blood splatters layered across them, and the only sound was the sizzle of dying fires on the breeze.
“Where are we going?”
Nicholas struggled to keep pace with me, while I struggled to keep him out of my eye line.
“There.”
I pointed to an office block in the distance. From one of its windows flapped a white sheet with the word “Inside” spray-painted on it in dripping black.
“When did you see that?”
“When we left the Dead Hare.”
“Why didn’t you say?”
“Because I’m not one of your little yes-sire-no-sire-three-bags-full-sire minions. I don’t have to tell you what I’m doing.”
“You do if you want me to help you.” He stopped walking.
I kept going. “Great. I don’t need your help. Yet another positive for keeping my mouth shut.”
“What if a zombie wrote that and it’s a trap?”
I turned and narrowed my eyes at him. “Seriously? Zombies barely have motor skills. You think one of them is some evil genius who not only hatched the plan, but also retained enough artistic skill to spray paint the sign, too?”
“Maybe it’s a zompire. Ever thought of that?”
“A zompire? You’re kidding! Vambie sounds better.”
“Vambie sounds like a lovable, bloodsucking Disney character. We don’t know how dangerous these things are.”
“Well, I guess I’ll find out when I meet the vambie who made that sign.” I jerked my finger toward the building and kept walking. I heard him mutter something beneath his breath, but he still followed.
The office block was one of those massive leaning monstrosities that swayed in a summer breeze and blotted out the sun. The sign was about five floors up, so I checked the reception map. The fifth floor was a solicitors’ firm.
“Maybe we should just leave them then,” Nicholas muttered. “Let’s not get solicitors involved with the new world order.”
He was far too close to me, so I pushed him hard in the opposite direction.
“I didn’t realize you were pro-law, Brianna.”
With a cocky swagger, Nicholas opened the door to the stairwell. As he did, a zombie office worker lurched out of it and bit him on the wrist. I watched him recoil then spring forward and break the zombie's neck in one swift motion. The wound closed up, but the healing process took longer than it should have.
I pushed past him and started up the stairs.
Our footsteps were swift, but still managed to echo up the building. We attracted two more zombies whom Nicholas easily dealt with. The earlier bite was like petrol on his flaming ego-rage, probably because we both knew that, had he been human, he would have been dead. I’d have gladly cleaved off his head, even
if the zombie hadn’t broken his skin, although my merry murdering ways were cold comfort to a vampire who prided himself on winning every battle and consistently getting his own way.
I was starting to think the whole undead thing might have been greatly exaggerated until we reached the fifth floor. Zombies lined the corridor, all of them pawing at the door beyond, which looked like it was just about to break beneath the sheer dead weight. I whistled, and they all turned around as if powered by one single brain.
“Brianna, we need a plan, not an attention grabber.”
“Christ sake, will you shut up and let me get this done? And quit calling me Brianna!”
I punched out at the nearest shambling zombie. My fist split its head open. Gore dribbled down my knuckles. Nicholas held his hands up in surrender then bowed, signaling with a gesture that the rest of the zombies were mine. How gentlemanly. I really missed Philippe.
If I’d thought that zombies would be easy kills, I’d been a fool. Over thirty of them had squashed into the corridor and were now falling over themselves to get to me. They were like a rolling wave of death and rot with the sole goal of making me one of them. I pulled out my scythes and began hacking at them like I was harvesting corn—really gross, putrid, blood squirting, and smelly corn. I didn’t get bitten. Even one bite would mean Nicholas had proved his point. I simply moved forward more quickly than the undead, darting into the small gaps created by their falling carcasses, always out of reach of the shifting wall of teeth.
After the last one fell, I heard a patronizing round of applause from Nicholas. The scythes felt heavy in my hands. The smell of the battlefield, such an odd odor indoors, invaded my nostrils, making them flare. I turned so quickly my plait fell out of place, leaving blue, straggling hairs around my face and obscuring my expression—which was why he didn’t see my sudden decision to launch at him.
Chapter Three
I first saw Nicholas at a party my father threw for his most loyal customers. As he sold the finest cloth and garments in England, many of his most loyal patrons were vampires. I didn’t know, of course. Nobody did, although rumors abounded of slaves who’d go missing after changing masters, debutants who never returned home from parties, and even lords who found themselves craving something richer and redder than wine and scented scarlet women.
Bad Blood (Battle of the Undead Book 1) Page 3
