by PJ Schnyder
A shop door swung open and first one then another man stepped out laden with new gear.
“I’m telling you, Sam, we’re going to get us some fan-fucking-tastic trophies. My contact guarantees us plenty of targets. We can shoot all we want. This isn’t like hunting moose.” American, by their accents. Amazing how they could use the same words and still make a bloody mess of the language. “They don’t make you submit an application and wait on the results of some lottery to see if you’ll be awarded a permit.”
“Can’t wait to get out there.” The other American’s voice was a veritable boom on the quiet street. “Show these Brits how to get things done. No worries about any apocalypse once we start taking them down.”
The older constable shifted his weight, catching Seth’s eye. The corner of the human’s mouth twitched. Seth raised an eyebrow in return.
He’d be a bad, bad man for finding amusement. He should try to give these hunters a fighting chance, some idea of why zombies were different from hunting natural prey.
“These locals, they didn’t carry decent weapons before the zombies started appearing. I hear they haven’t even settled on a standard issue rifle for their cops yet.” Tourist hunter number one hefted a fancy rifle. “I bet they never used a Henry Big Boy. Mine’s custom.”
Was that ivory inlay on the stock of that rifle? Pretty, pretty for a big man’s weapon.
Tourist hunter number two hefted a sack of garlic heads, holding it far away from his pristine camouflage. Not a speck of dirt on those, anywhere. He must have ordered them custom fit and decided to wear them right out of the store when he’d come to pick them up. “And I’ve got plenty of garlic to throw the monsters off my scent.”
Garlic? Were they hunting zombies or vampires?
Far as Seth knew, the local vampires had no particular aversion to it.
The sharp scent of salted beef cut through the garlic. Seth glanced to his side to see the younger of the two constables holding out an open sack.
“Beef jerky? My mum made it.” Both were chewing away at the snack. “Figure your kind would like it better than tobacco.”
Seth accepted a piece. Nice of the man to offer.
The three stood in companionable silence, taking in the continuing tourist entertainment.
“I hear the Brits are getting so desperate, they’ve got werewolves hunting them zombies down for ’em. Before you know it, they’re going to be out there on horses in those nifty hunting jackets.” Tourist one guffawed. “Can you see it? One of ’em sounding off on their horn with a pack of werewolves running out in front chasing down zombies. It’s all about the sport, I’m tellin’ ya.”
To hell with warning these men. Burning in hell wasn’t so bad. Seth chewed on his beef jerky and kept his advice to himself. He’d caught enough of their scent to remember them. It’d be interesting to see if he came across the trails of these two again.
“Best to let those types go on their way.” The older constable spit on the sidewalk once the two hunters left. “All shiny and new, they were. Out to prove something.”
“Try to give them a word of warning and they won’t listen in any case.” The other constable scratched his head. “At least they tend to go into the parks, away from normal people. Won’t have to worry much about them shooting innocent people when they get all worked up waiting for a zombie to stumble by.”
True enough. They would worry about having all their “trophies” to themselves. Little did they know, their precious trophies would be naught but ashes by the time they arrived back in the States.
“As long as they don’t make trouble for us, they’re welcome to take their shots at the buggers.” Seth tried for an amiable tone. He couldn’t bring himself to smile, even in the name of camaraderie.
Funny how a smile had come to his face so readily the night before.
“Well, and we all appreciate what you and yours do to help keep the public safe.” The older constable coughed. “Takes some getting used to, won’t lie to you there, but we’re learning new tricks. If you get my meaning.”
“We all are.” Seth gave them another nod as they headed off on the rest of their patrol.
He made a mental note of Constables Middleton and Turpin. Danny would find them amenable to contact in the future.
His mood held out for the next hour or so. Cloud cover came and went as the day moved into afternoon. Shadows raced across the streets, alternately revealing then hiding the way London had deteriorated. As he walked, he kicked at fallen mortar and stones from the various buildings falling into disrepair.
Not enough residents left in the city to maintain them.
Most had moved into apartment complexes clustered closer to the police stations. Any homes near the various parks had been long since abandoned, with only the odd small businesses remaining—aside from the businesses directly capitalizing on the new tourist hunting excursions.
A low moan snapped Seth out of his musings.
There, in a tiny alley. The movement raised the fine hairs on the back of his neck. He approached slowly. Careful.
The zombie hadn’t caught his scent yet. It was scrabbling against the far wall of the alley. The corpse stood on two feet, fairly solid for a rotting thing. As it scraped its hands over the rough stone of the building, bits of flesh came away and streaked the mortar in rot. The tips of bone had been exposed on its fingertips and added a sickening sound with the friction of bone on stone.
It could get out. No encumbrances were visible around its legs. Hell, he’d seen a few of them drag themselves against a snare until a leg came loose. They didn’t care much about leaving a body part behind if they were determined to go after fresh meat.
There was none, though. No one on this smaller street besides him. So what was this zombie after? It kept at the wall, trying to get through. Seth studied the building. Windows boarded up, falling apart, not even a small business in the ground floor to make any noise that’d attract the thing. It wasn’t far from Maisie and the clinic. Most of the buildings in this area were abandoned or close to it.
And still, Seth had a gut feeling the bugger was trying to get into the building. It had moved to the very end of the alley, a dead end. It began half climbing a stack of crates as it continued to do its best to pass through a solid wall.
A hiss echoed through the alley.
The zombie froze, made a slow turn. Something live was in those crates. As the corpse crouched over, it uttered another low moan.
A thin yowl issued from a crate. A tiny paw shot through the cracks and swiped the zombie across its jaw, taking away a chunk of flesh.
Really?
He moved without thought. In a flash, he had the zombie by the throat. It took a simple twist to snap its neck and then he crushed its skull.
Another hiss.
He glared at the crate. There. A patch of dirty orange. In moments, Seth had an itty bitty bundle of tabby kitten in his hand. It literally fit in the palm of his hand.
“Poor bastard.”
Golden eyes glared at him with a defiance the tiny body couldn’t back up.
“Where’s your mum, then? You don’t stand a chance on your own.”
No sign of any other cats in the alley, not by sight or scent. However the little bloke had gotten there, it was obvious he was on his own.
He should leave the cat.
It huddled in the palm of his hand, waiting. Seth leaned in close then jerked his head back as the kitten took a swipe at his nose.
He chuckled. This one had fight to him.
“You’re supposed to be frightened.” The kitten seemed unimpressed. Still, most dogs and cats were scared to spitting of werewolves. They gave Seth a wide berth, cowering and running for cover long before he approached touching distance. This one, not so much.
Well, he’d wondered what reason he’d have to visit Maisie at the clinic.
* * *
“There now, settle down, won’t you?” Maisie gave the Yorkshire terrier
a final scratch behind the ear before closing the door to its kennel. Sweet boy needed a nap after running about so much earlier. “You’ve had a long walk and hours of play time with the others. Don’t you think it’s past time to rest and let me have a cup of tea?”
The Yorkie had been about to take her advice too, then suddenly he was up on his hind legs lunging at the door to his kennel, barking for all he was worth. The others erupted in a chorus of growls and yaps until the entire room was in chaos.
“If I get you that cup of tea, do you have a few minutes to spare?” Seth’s voice sent a shiver down Maisie’s spine.
She took a deep breath before she turned to face him, and hoped her cheeks weren’t too flushed. “Well, see what you’ve done now.”
He dropped his chin a bit, mouth twisted in what he must’ve thought was an expression of contrition but really, anyone could tell he was grinning. There was a distinct lack of a verbal apology. Really, the man was incorrigible.
And incredibly sexy.
“Enough.” She’d had to raise her voice to be heard, but the barking and growling decreased immediately. A few brave ones gave a final bark or snarl before she pinned each of them with a glare.
“You seem to have quite a lot of business.” He didn’t move and his voice remained low, deliciously dark. A few warning growls, but the peanut gallery remained relatively quiet.
“People’ve always liked to travel with their pets when they could.” She checked the doors to all of their kennels, pausing to give each of them a reassuring skritch to the nose as she passed. “Customs doesn’t seem to be holding most of the supposed zombie hunters to the normal quarantine times. Gives them the ability to bring in their hunting dogs, I suppose. But really, we get a decent number of these pets to board while their owners see their fill of zombie-infested London.”
She eyed Seth. She’d seen him in action. Energy fairly vibrated in the air around him, and yet he’d somehow managed to tuck it all away as he stood there, perfectly still. She wondered if it only lasted while he remained standing there. And why did he have his hand clutched to his shoulder like that?
“What happened? Have you gotten yourself hurt again, then?”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Well, has someone shot you besides me in the last twenty-four hours?”
He flashed teeth in a real smile. “I might have had a run-in with a stray zombie.”
“What zombie isn’t a stray, shambling about aimlessly until it stumbles across live meat?” She wanted to spit the bitter taste from her mouth, but it’d set a bad example for the boys and next she knew, they’d be drooling everywhere.
“I’ve been wondering that myself.” Could the man be more cryptic?
Seth turned and lowered his hand to the small utility table in the center of the room at the same time. She had to step around him to see.
There stood the tiniest orange tabby kitten, standing on wide braced paws and looking very annoyed.
“He fits in your hand!” She hushed herself and leaned in for a closer look.
The kitten immediately puffed into an orange ball of temper.
“There now, easy. We’re only trying to help.” She cooed and made soft nonsense sounds, let him see she meant him no harm. As his fur settled, she extended a single finger.
It took another long minute before the lad met her halfway to sniff her finger tip.
“All right then, now we’re friends, let me look you over in the other room.” Before the boys set to barking their furry heads off again and scared the bejeebers out of the kitten.
She gathered him to her chest and tried not to wince when needle-sharp claws immediately anchored into the front of her shirt. Poor thing didn’t trust her not to drop him.
Couldn’t blame him. Easier to survive in this world relying on no one.
Seth followed her into the examination room. “Found him in an alley, fighting a zombie.”
“You must be joking.”
“He reminded me of someone, so I brought him here.”
Oh, wasn’t that charming. She gave the werewolf a scowl for his trouble.
“He can’t be more than a few weeks old.” It took a bit of wriggling to detach him from her shirt. He’d better not rip it—she only had a few good enough to wear down to the clinic. “He’s in good shape, though, if he’s got this much fight to him.”
She set him down on the table and checked him over with gentle hands.
“Cats’ve been doing well in the city this past year, better than dogs.”
“You think so?” She’d not seen many dogs at all. “I thought most of the dogs might have run off.”
Seth shook his head. “Most people keep their dogs in their houses with them or tied up to a kennel. Usually dogs can’t run away from a zombie if one of the blighters gets into a home or yard.”
Her breath caught. Poor things. She focused on breathing away the pang of sadness and she spent an extra moment caressing the soft fur around the tabby’s face.
“Some of the dogs probably did run off,” Seth added. His voice had taken on an odd sound. Trying to ease the harsh reality a bit for her?
No need.
She straightened and reached for the thermometer and a few swabs. “I’ll take a few readings, then some samples to test him for worms and mites. Then, he’s in desperate need of a thorough bath. We’ve got shampoo for kittens and a powder to dust him for fleas.”
Seth’s face twisted in a funny expression. A giggle tickled her belly as she wondered if a werewolf ever had to be dipped for fleas.
“Don’t enjoy baths?” She tried for innocent. She sounded more like she was choking on something.
“I like baths.” His gaze pinned her, sent shivers across her skin. “When there’s someone to wash my back.”
“You do have a broad back.” Suddenly words were tripping over her tongue. “Could see how you’d need a bit of help reaching a few places.”
Silence fell across the room, wrapped her in an odd tension. She bustled the kitten through his tests and much needed bath despite yowls and squirming on his part. Seth even lent a hand to keep the orange spitfire in the sink.
Every time their shoulders brushed or their sides bumped, excitement tingled across Maisie’s skin. She remembered the touch of his hands... Wanted more.
And oddly, seeing how gentle he was with the kitten caused a twinge in her heart. She’d seen him crush zombie skulls, rip body parts off the monsters. And here he was, helping care for a stray kitten. So much control over all that strength.
Finally, the kitten was bathed, dusted and settled into a kennel in the room they kept for cats. When she placed a dish of wet food in front of him, he dove face first into it, smooshing the food with his paws as he greedily sucked up the much needed sustenance.
Seth chuckled.
“He’s a bit young to be neat about it.” Maisie felt a need to defend their little charge.
Seth raised his hands in acquiescence. “I can leave him with you, then?”
Of course.
Then Brian’s latest lecture whispered at the back of her mind and she grimaced.
“A problem?”
“It’s just that all of our business is boarding the pets of the tourists lately. It’s enough to keep us afloat, but not by much. We don’t have the means to care for strays really, and there are a lot of them out there.” She shook her head. “I’ll find a way around it.”
“Put his care on a tab and I’ll take care of it.”
She blinked. “We’re not a pub.”
“And I don’t plan to eat him.” Seth reached across the space between them and tapped her nose with his fingertip. “But I did make sure he didn’t become a zombie snack, so I figure I ought to see to his care until he can look after himself.”
“And what use do you have for a cat?”
“No idea.” Seth grinned. “We’ve got a few rats plaguing the cellar and I hear cats are good for those.”
“So are Yorkies,
and they’d seem a better choice for a werewolf.”
“Tch. You saw how those little...things reacted to me when I first got here.”
And he obviously equated Yorkie with a four-letter word, one not meant for polite company.
“This kitten is the first I’ve encountered willing to make friends with a werewolf. Least I can do is see if he wants a home with one once he’s big enough I won’t be stepping on him.”
She’d no idea what to say to that. Warmth spread through her chest all the same. The kitten would have a home after all.
Before she realized what she’d done, she was in his arms and kissing him.
“Maisie?” A voice came from the hallway. “Maisie, luv, are you back here? Brian said to come on back.”
Oh for heaven’s... No time to gather her wits. They were scattered all over the room.
She stepped away from Seth and cleared her throat. “Here, Mrs. Wells.”
Seth kept a hand on the small of her back as the older woman entered the room. When Mrs. Wells caught sight of Seth, the woman dropped her gaze to the ground almost immediately.
Did she know what Seth was? Or did she just do it without thinking?
“You’ve been such a help, these past few weeks, dear. I wanted to bring you something but it’s been so late when you’ve been coming back, I didn’t want to wake the children to give these to you.”
Maisie glanced past Mrs. Wells to the corridor, hoping Brian wasn’t within earshot.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have, really.”
Mrs. Wells pressed something soft into her hands. Knitted...gloves? Maybe leg warmers, for very thin legs.
“They’re arm warmers, dear. You can slide them on, all the way up to your shoulder, or leave them slouched around your forearms and wrists. I left them with just the thumb hole to keep them in place so your fingers would be free to do your work around the clinic.”
Handy, and good to keep her fingers clear to squeeze a trigger. Cozy too.
“Found a few balls of yarn while the weather was warmer,” Mrs. Wells continued. “Enough to make scarves for the children and something to keep you warm as well. You do such a good job of watching over us.”
