That hadn’t been his choice. The last thing he wanted was another man hugging his waist as they rocked and rolled with the horse’s movements.
When they arrived at Ashdale, Dylan found himself smiling. He hadn’t spent much time there aside from the cleanup following the governor’s fires, but the town had a quaint, homely feel to it. Unfettered by fences and walls, Ashdale was the symbol of freedom. The town’s protection resided in the same alarm system which now dotted the newly-constructed road between towns—bells on large pillars, operated by rope.
They rode through a town now at peace. People wandered to and fro, busy about their day. They made their way past houses which had been recently recovered and rebuilt and past markets and small stores and several public houses with swinging signs out front before they found their way to where Stump was leading them.
The Cloak & Dagger looked as shabby as ever, a leaning, dilapidated building with smashed-out windows.
Stump struggled to hop off Shitallion, turned the key in the lock, and allowed them all entry, catching Dylan’s expression as he took in the state of the tavern. “It may not be pretty, but it is home,” he said as they followed him in.
He ushered them upstairs and into a room at the far end of the building. It was dark inside, but Dylan gasped when he saw the walls lined with shelves—walls choked with books. It almost seemed as though the shelves were fighting to spit them out, there were so many.
“Quite the collection,” Dylan marveled.
“Knowledge is the key to the future,” their host responded simply. “Those who read acquire the tools for survival.”
“You’ve read all of these? Every single one?” Alice looked impressed. It seemed the enigma that was Stump knew no bounds.
The dwarf nodded, walked across the room, and grabbed a stool. He dragged it across the floor towards a shelf which the others could have easily reached, but it seemed he wasn’t particularly inclined to ask for help.
After fingering several tomes, he found what he was looking for—an old leather journal with a cracked and faded cover. The text inside was faint and the pages were creased, annotated by words written in handwriting which was now barely legible.
“Here,” he said, stopping at a dog-eared page he’d bookmarked.
Dylan moved closer, picked up the book, and read the words. It appeared to be a diary entry.
“What is it?” Christy asked, craning around Jamie’s shoulder. “What does it say?”
Dylan read it aloud.
They say hope is a fleeting thing. A winged beast which flutters by like an insect on the wind. Take the chance to grab it. You’ve only got one. Before you know it, it’s gone. Another blink to leave behind in the shadow of a memory.
That is how I feel.
Deflated. Cursed. Trapped with the knowledge of the problem with no quicker method to a solution. The Mad are here to stay, by the looks of things. And still, my experimentation has led to nothing more than failure.
The secret is in the nanocytes, of that I am sure. The tiny vessels of alien life surging within my blood. Within all blood, it seems. The very same poison which created the vampire and which spills the ink from this pen is the same curse which has scourged the lands and trapped me in this self-made prison.
I will not quit.
Today, I have captured a Mad of my own. Or, rather, a newly infected victim of the plague. To chance stepping outside my door and discovering the poor bastard on my doorstep—can you believe it? A bite mark on his arm. A dead Mad behind him. It’s almost as though the Matriarch herself is delivering me the tools to progress.
If she’s listening, or able to read this, thank you, Queen Bitch. Thank you from the bottom of this worn-out heart.
The victim is young. Approx 21 summers. He has some fight in him, but nothing which can out-power me. He is now safe in the basement, chained to my testing table. My latest concoction works its way through his system as I harness every ounce of medicine and science I can to attempt to fix him.
Will it hurt him?
I don’t rightly care.
If I fail, he’s as dead as a doornail anyway. If I succeed, well, he can thank me later.
“That bitch sounds like a riot,” Larry said.
“How do you know it’s a woman?” Christy argued.
“Fair point,” Larry replied. “Keep reading.”
Dylan flipped the page and continued. “It’s a new entry.”
Twelve hours on and my remedy seems to be having an effect. In all my research, I have deduced that the incubation period for the Madness to take full effect can last from anywhere between several hours to several days. However, after recent observations of the test patient, the telltale signs seem to be slowing. The boils and sores which had been appearing at an alarming rate have slowed to an almost standstill.
I can’t rightly believe it, but I will not make assumptions without further proof. I can’t let the vampire in me overcome the scientist. I will continue observations and let the data speak for itself.
“It goes on like this, more and more tests on a poor bastard chained to a table while this whack-job watches,” Dylan said.
“I can’t remember the last time anyone chained me to a table and experimented.” Christy smirked.
“Well, that can be changed,” Jamie replied.
“Jesus, you two. Keep it in your pants when you’re in company,” Larry said, creasing his face in disgust.
“Stump? Who is this person?” Dylan said, flicking quickly through the pages now. “There are stats in here. Sketches. Reports. Recipes. Where did you find this?”
Stump flicked to the final few pages where the entries began to thin to mere sentences. On the final page was a signature which read, Helena Millican, MD.
“Helena Millican?” Dylan said. “Does that ring a bell with anyone?”
The others shook their heads.
“Stump?”
“A previous guest. She came late one night and left before sunrise. I didn’t think anything of it. We get strange folk in here, but not many from abroad. I didn’t ask questions, which seemed to please her. When I checked her room in the morning, she was gone. This was left behind.”
“Deliberately?” Larry asked.
Stump shrugged. “Hard to say.”
Dylan fell into thought as he played with the pages, catching snippets of words here and there— Nanocytes…the cure…degeneration of Kurtherian virus.
“Did Helena say where she was heading?” he asked, closing the book and tucking it under the crook of his arm.
The dwarf shook his head. “No.”
Dylan’s mind raced. In his hands, he held proof of actual progress of the nullification of the Mad, the recipe book Stump had used himself to slow the effects of the Madness on the governor. It might not exactly be a cure, but it was certainly a step in the right direction. Any progress was still progress, after all.
And what with the ever-increasing reports of the Madness in Silver Creek, now would be a good time for progress.
As they rode back home on their horses, Dylan leaned across to Larry. “We need to get batching this shit, and fast,” he said. “I don’t know exactly how people keep falling sick at Silver Creek, but if we can slow this shit down enough to control the spread, we at least have some hope here.”
He furrowed his brow, thinking about Caitlin for a moment and wondering what she’d think if she returned home to find Silver Creek overrun with Mad.
The Sewers, The Broken City, Old Ontario
Kain was exhausted, and his night hadn’t even started yet.
“I forgot how amazing that was,” he said as he rose from Cynthia’s bed and hunted for his clothes.
“You always did have a memory like a sieve.” She beamed, looking radiant in the glow of the candlelight. “Though it wasn’t your best. I’d give it a six.”
“Out of ten?” Kain gasped.
“Out of 100.” She winked, rose from the bed, her naked body open to the
air. She found her way to Kain and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. “I’m just playing. You know you always know how to press my buttons.”
“It’s a gift I seem to have.”
He pulled his clothes on, then turned and took a moment to soak in her form. It had always been a sweet arrangement for the Were. Somehow, he and Cynthia had always found a way to fall into each other’s bed, but there had never been any level of expectation between them for anything more. Close on nearly twenty years his senior, she valued her own space and only wanted her needs satisfied. Everything else was off the table, and that was just the way Kain liked it.
“You will be careful tonight?” she asked after a moment.
“I don’t believe I have much of a choice,” he responded. “With Bryce at my side, I should be fine. Unless he decides to turn on me, that is. A huge fucking bear versus a tiny Were afraid to turn into a wolf? I think I know who my money is on.”
Cynthia giggled. “Bryce may be Geralt’s number two, but don’t let that mislead you as to where his heart lies. I’m telling you, find out what you can from him. Get back into his heart. He’s one of the good guys, I can feel it. And, if we can get Bryce on our side, we’re halfway towards a rebellion as it is. Think of the information we could get from Geralt’s right-hand man.”
“No pressure, then.” Kain winked.
He slipped out the door and navigated his way through the tunnels. The sounds of children playing came faintly to his listening ears. Somewhere nearby, he could hear the playful barks of the cubs. He closed his eyes and imagined the feeling he’d get when they were all freed.
He found Bryce not too far from Geralt’s chambers.
“Dude!” Kain exclaimed. “You could have at least put some clothes on. Nobody wants to see your cauliflower dong.”
Bryce looked sheepishly at his parts. “Cauliflower? More like a radiant aubergine nestled finely between two peaches.”
“Quite the poet, aren’t we?” he responded with a smirk.
“Shut up, wolf. You know how this works. Last thing I want is a trail of clothes the humans can follow back here when I transform.”
Bryce led the way, his form almost swallowing the tunnel. Each step seemed magnified as they walked silently onwards until they eventually came to the hidden doorway.
Without preamble, Bryce fit the key in the lock, pushed the doorway aside, allowed Kain through, then sealed the entrance. When the lock clicked, he sniffed the air. “Eurgh,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
“What?” Kain sniffed the air tentatively. He was met with a concoction of smells which seemed to blend and combine in his nostrils into one unidentifiable scent.
“You really have been a human for too long if you can’t smell that,” Bryce said. “Oh well, I’m sure you’ll recognize it soon enough.”
After a short while, they found themselves in the house’s basement. Bryce growled again as the scent seemed to irritate his nose but made his way up the stairs and into the open air without hesitation. The minute he reached the surface, he closed his eyes and transformed.
Kain watched with silent admiration as his body warped and grew and hairs sprouted and covered his body. His face elongated into the powerful jaw of the black Werebear he had been gifted with.
“Dude, that’s so not fair,” Kain murmured.
Bryce looked back and winked before skulking ahead on all fours into the night.
Kain followed, silently battling with his own desire to turn into a wolf there and then. It wouldn’t be so bad, he thought. I’ve already done it recently, and I was fine.
But would he be? He cast his mind back and remembered the effort it had taken to change back into a human after leaping over the governor with Caitlin on his back so she could lean down and slice him open. There was no way to describe the fear which had come with the delay in which no change occurred or the pain that followed when the transformation kicked reluctantly into effect.
“Not now, Kainy-boy,” he said to himself, running after Bryce who had already disappeared around the corner. “Not now.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Sewers, The Broken City, Old Ontario
Leena May was excited.
It had been a long year, but progress was finally being made. One of the smartest Weres in Geralt’s pack, Leena was something of a rarity—a Were with good looks and brains.
“A place for everything, and everything in its place,” she murmured as she busied herself around the room, setting everything straight. She double-checked her tray of instruments—needles, vials, scissors, scalpel—then hopped over to the small table in the center of the room. Carefully, she checked leather straps attached to the work surface.
Having trialed her experiments for Geralt on several occasions now, each had been met with the same results—humans who convert into Weres with the same issues as every Were had these days. Still, Leena was almost positive that tonight would work. The change would be successful, and they would produce actual functioning Weres.
They were going to use Geralt’s blood, after all.
Always considered the runt of the litter, Leena relished the chills of excitement that ran through her. If she could make a breakthrough in this regard, then what was to stop her finding the cure for Weres? If she could be the one to restore them to their glory, then not only would she earn Geralt’s eternal gratitude and respect, she could fix herself.
How she yearned for one more run as the slender wolf she had spent her years padding around as.
“You realize this isn’t going to work, don’t you?” Alicia’s voice came from behind her.
Leena snapped around, her face twisted. “You realize that you haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about?”
Alicia sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. She had been tied up against the wall in Leena’s lab for the best part of an hour now, simply watching the Were prepare.
“Seriously, you Weres are fucked,” the woman continued. “Sure, you can take me and tie me down and do whatever it is you feel you need to do to me to get your orgasmic fix, but all you’ll be doing is fanning the flames of war. If I die, I become nothing more than a martyr, and my people will come. Oh, they’ll come. And with them will come the fury of gunpowder and blood.”
Leena chuckled. “Oh,” she said, placing a hand theatrically on her chest. “You think we’re going to convert you? My dear, you must have your ego twisted too tight. Why would we sully the great Were name by converting the likes of you?”
Alicia’s mouth flapped emptily.
“That’s what I thought.”
When the door creaked open, Leena turned so quickly that it was almost a surprise her neck didn’t snap.
“Master Geralt,” she said, bowing so low that her nose nearly touched the floor.
He padded into the room in his bear form, his broad shoulders scraping the sides of the door. In one smooth motion, he transformed into the hulking man he was, grinning at Alicia strapped to the wall.
“And there she is, my favorite human in the whole wide world,” he said, moving so close that she could smell the stink coming off his body. “I hope you’re not finding your stay comfortable?”
Alicia wrinkled her nose and made as if to spit but found Geralt’s hand already covering her face. “Oh, no, dear. We Weres don’t fall for the same trick twice.” He felt the saliva dribble down his palm and rubbed it over her face. “You should know better than that.”
“You’re all monsters,” Alicia said. “You know that, right? You want to come and join us up in the city, but you’re nothing more than vermin. Rats. Filth who belong in the sewers.”
Geralt smirked. “I can see you’re angry. I get it. No, really, I do. But the problem is, you don’t see the bigger picture, my dear.” He sighed and paced around the room. “For years, it has always been about evolution. About the next step in humanity’s line which will last the ages. At first, we started as nothing more than chimps and apes. Then we progressed
to Neanderthals. Further into humans, and then, only a few hundred years ago, the blessed Kurtherians bestowed a number of us with the gift of becoming a Were.”
There was a clink of vials as Leena placed them down and left the room, preparing for the next part of the procedure.
“Weres and vampires. We are…were…the next level of that evolution. Gifted with powers beyond human understanding. Until, that is, the blasted Madness came, and the problem began.
“I was only a young Were when the Madness descended,” Geralt said, his eyes hazy as he reminisced. “Born and bred in the same bunker in which my parents died. The same place my family had lived in the generations following the World’s Worst Day Ever when the world crumbled and the nukes struck—or at least that’s what I was told. My first glimpse of the real world was an escape from the bunker into a land of zombies and chaos.
“My whole lineage were Weres as far back as I can remember. And to think there came a day in which the evolution stopped. Weres regressed. Now, I have a pack filled with nothing more than humans and animals. I’m no more than the guardian of children and pets!” He slammed the table, shaking the instruments so hard that several fell off and clattered onto the floor. His eyes shone amber as he growled. “Where’s the justice in that? What kind of Were-hating scum force of the douchebaggery division would enact a change that would set us back? To have us cowering in fear of creatures like you. Creatures whose necks I could snap with barely a true measure of my strength?” He stared at Alicia with a mixture of emotions swirling in his expression. “How can it be that we are stuck down here? And you…humans…get to live in the world?”
“Hey, it’s no walk in the park up there,” Alicia responded, unfazed by Geralt’s speech. “We’ve got zombs, we’ve got in-fighting, and sometimes, our crops grow into strange shapes. Last week we picked a carrot that looked like a penis? Imagine trying to eat that without flinching.” she smirked.
Hunting The Broken: Age Of Madness - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (The Caitlin Chronicles Book 3) Page 20
