Where was Ella? He wanted words with her. Words and more. He grinned and tried to sit up again. He was ready for the pain in his chest this time and held his breath until he was upright. He lifted one leg and let it hang over the edge of the bed. There wasn’t any part of him that didn’t ache. But he could stand, which meant he could walk.
He lifted his other leg out and put them on the floor. Using his elbows, he pushed himself upright and stood. The room spun around him and he leant back against the bed. Steady. Slow, easy breaths and take it easy. The door opened again and the strong lady came in.
‘Ella?’
Her forehead creased as she saw him. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?’ She marched over and shoved him back onto the bed. He was too weak to complain as she lifted first one leg and then the other back under the sheets. ‘You stay here until I say otherwise. You’ve lost a lot of blood, you’ve got a cracked rib and a lot of bruising. Frankly, you got off lightly—’
‘I could get off again, if you fancy it.’
Her eyebrows rose and she looked like she might spit. Instead she smiled tightly and shook her head. ‘Quite aside from your relationship with Harriet, I have as much intention of making love to you as flying to the moon—’
‘I wasn’t thinking about making love. Maybe you could do me a nurse’s service?’
She hissed at him and stormed to the door. ‘You stay here, in bed. Do you understand?’
He didn’t reply and she rushed out, slamming the door behind her. He settled back against the pillows, sucking in air between his teeth. Tiny tits anyway. He could stay here for a bit longer. Not much reason to get up now he’d seen her. He lifted his left hand. Not much reason to get up at all.
Something got in his eye and he blinked it away, swallowing against the lump threatening to form in his throat. He still had his right. Most of it. He could live without his left hand. Although…
He started to pull at the bandages with his teeth. Maybe he didn’t have to live without it. Maybe he could make himself a more useful tool for the Lord. If he was to spend his life fighting zombies, then why not have the weapons he needed on hand? He sniggered. That was a good one.
The bandages lifted scab and skin as they came off, and he scowled, grinding his teeth together to keep the shout of pain inside. He sneered at himself. He’d battled a demon, what was a bit of pain in his hand?
The bandages dropped to the sheet and he stared. His fingers were doubled over, like he had four joints instead of only three. The rest of his hand looked pretty good. There was potential there.
His right hand was still wrapped and until it healed he couldn’t do anything, anyway. Both hands dropped to the sheets and his head rocked back against the pillow. This was so boring, so damned boring. He hated being trapped like this. He glanced at his hands again. Maybe he could begin surgery without his right hand.
He raised his left hand and stared at his little finger. It was held on by a strap of skin and the tiniest bone he’d ever seen. Little fingers were pointless at the best of times. He didn’t stop to think or give himself a chance to wimp out. He shoved his little finger in his mouth and found the cut. His last thought was that he might need to remove the knuckle as well. Then he bit down and his vision went dark.
Luke
The Father wasn’t listening. Was this how humans felt all the time? It had to be, because they never received an answer. He, on the other hand, expected one. But here and now he was finding it hard to remain faithful. How did humans do it, with thousands of years of never getting an answer, of never having proof? People like Alex made much more sense to him now.
Alex could see what he believed in, see it and prove it. But religious people believed in something with no substance. They believed in something they could never prove. Not until now.
How many believers would have found consolation in the appearance of Seph? Etienne and his men clearly had. At least someone had found something good in it. Luke was ready to spit at the constant questions going round and round in his brain. He was even enjoying training the ladies for the peace it gave him from the endless doubt.
Should he join Seph and Az and finish the job he started thousands of years ago? Was it time, finally, to overthrow the old bastard and bring about the new order? There was no logical reason he could think of not to. He could reopen Hell and run the Flights how he wanted. He would finally be in control of himself after three hundred years of slow, subtle brainwashing.
But it was that brainwashing that made this so difficult. Because no matter how compelling his old friends were, he found he couldn’t deny his origins or who he was. He was an angel. He may have fallen, or dived, as he preferred to call it, but he was still born among the stars. He was alive because of the Father and he was human because of the Father and somehow the latter didn’t eclipse the former.
In fact, when he watched the ladies training and saw how they’d progressed in the last three days, he was acutely grateful for the humanity. He could go back to being immortal with a true understanding of what it meant to be human. He could do his job so much better then. When the Father took him back.
Luke slammed his fist into the wall and rose from the chair. He didn’t want his old job back. He didn’t want to go back to the lists, doing the same thing every day. He wanted the power that came with ruling. And there was only one way to do that. But if that was true, why was he wasting his time here?
He stomped from the private room and down the corridor, sniffing. Lunch break was over and he’d failed, again, to eat anything. He was still getting used to needing to eat and drink. The sleep had come naturally, but he wasn’t getting hungry.
He reached the broad corridor beyond the field created by the devices and waited. The ladies came in a crowd from the main room and found a space on the floor. As with the last two days, Alex came with them.
He called them closer and outlined the afternoon. They’d been stretching and exercising for the last three days, but time was running out.
‘We’re fighting this afternoon. We’re using throws only, no punching or kicking. Remember, the corridor’s solid, so try not to throw anyone too hard, okay?’
He paired them up and set them going. Bayleigh had drawn his attention to one called Sophie. Apparently she was lovely. She was also ruthless. She had her partner on the ground in about two seconds and with enough force to knock the air from her lungs.
Luke grinned and clapped and she grinned right back, eyes flashing.
‘This is fun.’
‘I’m sure she thinks that as well.’ Luke offered his hand to the unlucky loser. ‘How about you fight Alex instead?’
Sophie nodded enthusiastically and they crossed to where Alex was trying to be gentle with one of the ladies. She hadn’t grasped the throws yet and was already on her back. Alex, at least, had the wherewithal to put her down gently. Luke sent her to fight Sophie’s old partner and set Alex to face her.
Sophie grinned and flexed her hands, beckoning him on. Alex was getting stronger and killing the zombies a few days back had helped. But Luke could tell from the way Sophie carried herself she was better. Sure enough, as they came together, Alex looked slower and clumsier and minutes later was dumped unceremoniously on the floor.
He groaned and rolled onto his knees, rubbing his side. Sophie knelt beside him. ‘Oh goodness, I am sorry, are you alright?’
Luke chuckled. ‘Sophie, it’s really not good to apologise to your zombie once it’s down. What should you do?’
‘Stab it in the face.’ She beamed at him, miming hitting Alex in the face with a knife. Luke nodded slowly. She definitely had what it takes. ‘Or the head. It doesn’t have to be the face.’
‘Right. But still,’ she turned back to Alex, ‘I am sorry.’
He waved her away and clambered to his feet. ‘It’s nothing, really. Let’s try again.’
Two hours later they were all exhausted and bathed in sweat. He staggered the ending to give th
em all a chance to use the showers, leaving him with Sophie. As she sauntered towards him, hips swaying, he tried to decide whether it had been coincidence. She was young, but since when had that ever bothered him?
‘You did a good job this afternoon. You enjoy doing this?’
‘Yeah. I did a bit of kickboxing at uni, in my first year, but it got in the way of my studies so I stopped doing it. I like it.’
‘That’s good. We need a few more people who enjoy the fighting. Whether we like it or not, there are plenty of fights coming up.’
‘When are we going?’
Luke shrugged. ‘Bayleigh’s still trying to find the perfect getaway vehicle. We leave the moment she does.’
‘And go where?’
Luke started to walk and Sophie fell in beside him. ‘The country. I don’t know much beyond that, if I’m honest. We need somewhere quiet but I don’t want to go too far from the city. The other ladies are still here and I don’t intend to be far from them if I can help it.’
‘Why? They’ve got Jackson, haven’t they?’
‘That’s why I’m worried.’
Sophie gave him a look, eyebrows raised, but he stayed silent. He didn’t want to stir things up, not now. They were settled just enough that he thought he could get them out to the country without anything else untoward occurring. He’d feel better if they found Dave, but getting them away from here was the priority.
She stayed with him as he headed for the private room.
‘So what did you do, before this?’ Sophie asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’re Lucifer, aren’t you?’
He nodded.
‘So, were you torturing souls or something?’
He couldn’t help laughing. ‘I haven’t done that in a long time. And even when I did, it was strictly professional.’
‘What’s a long time?’
‘Three hundred years, give or take.’
She stopped dead, grabbing his arm. He grinned as the blood ran from her face.
‘Three hundred years. Are you really that old?’
There was something in the way she said it that made his heart sink. ‘There’s two ways to look at that. The three hundred years is a tiny fraction of my life, really. But at the same time, I was made of energy, immortal and unconnected to life in the way you understand it. In some ways, I’m about a month old.’
She screwed up her face. ‘That’s even worse.’
‘How old do I look?’
She rocked her head from side to side. ‘Late twenties.’
‘Let’s say I’m twenty six then.’
A smile creased her face and she nodded. ‘That sounds good.’ Sophie put her arm through his and they strolled down the corridor. He shifted, trying not to be awkward with the sudden contact. Why was he awkward? Go back half a millennia and he’d thought Az had it entirely right. He pictured Sophie naked and the awkwardness went away.
They bypassed the private room and found another, smaller, room with a bed beneath the window. She settled herself on the bed and drilled him about his life in the Flights. Trying to recall what he’d done there was like searching for someone else’s memories. They came and went. One minute he could describe his chamber perfectly, the next all he could picture was the window through which he’d viewed Earth.
But he could remember Sara like she was painted on the inside of his eyelids. He didn’t mention her. He’d been utterly ruthless not long ago, and now he found himself staring at Sophie’s hand and wondering how she’d react if he took it. He shook his head and searched for some of the darker stories. He regaled her with tales of humans he’d sent mad. But each time he found a particularly juicy one, he twisted it until he found the positive.
She was rapt, staring at him with huge brown eyes. Her pert lips were open slightly and he kept staring at them. She would taste nice. And she was so… simple was the wrong word. She had plenty going on behind the eyes. Guileless was nearer the mark. There was no front to her and she was making no effort to hide how she felt about him. It was a nice change after playing games with Sara for a couple of centuries.
They talked until the sun dropped and shadows crept long across the room. She was telling him about her parents when he realised how long Bayleigh and Krystal had been out. He started, half rising from his seat. Sophie cut off, frowning, and he rushed to apologise.
‘Sorry, I just realised what time it was. I expected Bayleigh and Krystal back by now. I’m just going to check Alex hasn’t heard from them. I’ll be back in a moment.’
He didn’t need to add ‘please wait’, she could tell from the way he looked at her. At least, he thought she could. He hoped she could. He thought about kissing her before he left, but he didn’t know if it was too soon. So he settled for a smile.
Alex was in the private room chatting quietly to Ed. The two of them had formed a bond since the attack. Ed still hid behind his hair but he’d opened up to Alex and was even smiling now and then.
‘Have you heard from Bayleigh?’
‘No. You neither?’
‘They should be back by now.’
They gathered by the window. It had started raining a few minutes ago and water hammered against the glass, sweeping across the city in great sheets. Luke stared out, seeing the rain before the dark buildings beyond.
The last few days had seen more of the electricity fail. The street lamps were working but some of the buildings were dark at night, great patches of emptiness in the gloom. How long would it be before the whole city went dark? There was no sign of the girls, though he hoped that meant they were at this moment heading here in something into which they could all fit.
We should go and get them.’ Luke said.
‘Let me call Bayleigh and find out where she—’
A scream cut him off and they spun to stare at the door. The scream came again, followed by another. It was close. Luke dashed to the door and flung it open. His gorge rose at what lay beyond.
Sophie was staggering towards him. Her hands gripped her shoulder but did nothing to stem the blood that oozed between her fingers and coated her top. Behind her, a zombie lumbered out of the room in which they had been chatting only minutes ago.
He started forwards, but he was too late to stop the creature burying its teeth into her neck and tearing free another chunk of flesh. Sophie’s eyes met his, then they rolled up and she crumpled face first to the floor.
Bayleigh
Bayleigh ground her teeth together and gripped the steering wheel like she was trying to rip it off. The soldier grinned madly and she wanted nothing more than to leap out of the truck and attack him. Krystal would make it, no doubt of that, but their quiet getaway had just become a rout.
She started the engine and nodded in satisfaction as the petrol gauge flipped to full. The zombies were running full pelt, or as close as they could manage. It was a bit like watching a pub race when all the drunks came out to have a go. She half expected some to collapse to the ground holding their hearts. But she could see yellowing, sharp teeth and blood-covered hands, and there was nothing funny about either.
Krystal swung herself up, panting. ‘My bloody bike’s gone. I’ve lost another bike.’
She slammed her fists against the dashboard and Bayleigh put a hand on her shoulder. ‘You don’t have to. He can help us once he goes all Rambo.’ She winced as she heard what she’d just said. ‘How long do you think before he turns?’
‘Dunno. Hour maybe?’
‘Right. So we sit tight for an hour until he comes out, all guns blazing. All the zombies get distracted and voila, we grab your bike and head home.’
Krystal gave her a grateful smile and rested her head against the seat, chest rising and falling rapidly. Bayleigh patted her shoulder again. ‘Good running. You could work on your form a little, though, a bit less elbow perhaps.’
‘Piss off.’
Bayleigh locked the doors and examined the cab of the truck. Krystal’s seat was
wide enough for two. The dash was simple, functional, and grey, just like the rest of the vehicle. Did the cars follow the same colour scheme as the robes? Were there white stretch luxury Humvees out there? She wanted one of them.
Most importantly, there was a door between the seats into the rear of the truck. She opened it and peered through. Once she was content nothing was going to jump out at her, she clambered through. The space was bigger than it looked from the outside. She could stand straight underneath the netting that hung from the roof, and walk down aisles made by rows of seats.
A thump came from outside, followed by another and a squeak from Krystal.
‘You alright?’
‘Yeah. They’re here.’
‘What are they doing?’
‘The usual. Hitting things, growling.’
‘You sure you’re alright?’
‘Mmm.’
Bayleigh stuck her head back into the cockpit. Krystal was examining her nails and pointedly ignoring the zombies clamouring at the doors. The sun was going down and the shadow of St Paul’s fell across the courtyard and the soldier’s truck. Bayleigh leant further in and looked up through the windscreen.
‘Storm soon. You sure you’re okay?’
Krystal patted her head. ‘I’m fine, mum, really, stop worrying about me. I won’t go out with any zombie boys until you’ve met them, alright?’
She laughed and ducked into the back before Krystal could see her flush. Mum. Sounded weird. It made her feel old but there was something nice about it as well.
The seats were narrow wooden benches, not the most comfortable way to travel, but they could fit fifty people in here easily. Some would have to stand but they weren’t going that far. There were rungs set into the wall behind the driver’s seat and she climbed up and peered over the netting. She gasped and tapped on the partition.
Thirteen Roses Book Five: Home: A Paranormal Zombie Saga Page 3
