The Shade Chronicles | Book 2 | Predator

by Bradley, T. K.

  She scoffs, and it comes out as an animalistic snort from between her pointed teeth. “Friends? You must be joking. This place was a prison, and these people were my cellmates, nothing more. They’re hardly better than chattel. Howell treated us all like his personal playthings. Or worse, subjects for his experiments.” As calm as she appears outwardly, her words are hot like a whiplash.

  “I came to kill Howell,” she says bluntly. “Where is he?”

  Ellis gives a half-hearted shrug, but I hate to say that I have absolutely no qualms about throwing our fearless leader under the bus. I point at the impenetrable door behind me. “He might be a Shredder too,” I tell her, but she just waves away my comment.

  “It makes no difference if I feast on his body or not. He won’t survive the night.”

  A crackle of static erupts from overhead. “I’m still human, for whatever that’s worth,” Howell’s voice says from a speaker. “I have my own air supply, separate from the compound.”

  He’s been watching and listening, I realize with a sick fury. He witnessed Eleanor’s death and did nothing to stop it. Watched as the virus infected everyone, as Judith and her army of Shredders flooded the halls.

  Judith’s lips curl into a slow grin. “Why don’t you come out to play, Howell? I’ll give you a head start.”

  “I think not,” he answers, his voice tinny. “You need me.”

  “I need you to feed my pack,” she snarls.

  A low chuckle comes from the speaker, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, I think you need me more than you know. It appears that Kenzo here might have a natural immunity to the virus. Which means that he might be the key to a cure.”

  Judith looks at me, her eyes moving up my length, assessing. She doesn’t look surprised; this isn’t new information for her. “What do I need with a cure? I would be right back where I started, dying of cancer.”

  “You would condemn your entire pack to this life? Slowly dying of starvation?”

  Shredders need fresh blood to survive, and there’s quickly becoming a severe shortage of that. My move of infecting the entire compound had been impulsive. I knew it could protect them from being eaten, but I hadn’t thought ahead to what they, in turn, would eat.

  A cure… If the blood coursing through my veins could put an end to the virus, how many lives could I save?

  Judith has come to the same conclusion. “And what about a lab?” she asks the disembodied voice of Howell. “How are we supposed to process this cure? Can we do it here?”

  Her eyes are directed at me. I look around at my trashed lab, run through the list of dwindling supplies and failing equipment in my mind. I don’t have what it would take, not for something on this scale. I shake my head slowly.

  Judith’s lip curls, but before she can say anything, the speaker crackles. “There’s a research facility,” Howell says slowly, careful how much to divulge. “I can get you there, but you need to let me live.”

  A memory flits to the surface of my mind. Howell had said something about a private research facility in northern Canada. He was going to abandon the civilians so that a select few could travel to the lab and create more batches of the Type-2 variant. He wanted more soldiers like Ellis, with all the strength of the Shredders but without the intolerance to the sun.

  I could probably admit all this to Judith. She could rip off Howell’s bunker door, tear him limb from limb, and I could likely still get us to the lab. But what if I couldn’t? What if Howell really is the only one who can get us there?

  Stomach acid burns the back of my throat. I’m not even sure who I am anymore. Maybe I’m more monster than these creatures surrounding me.

  Judith nods slowly. “Okay, then. I’m not above making a deal with the devil. After all, I’m hallway to hell already.”

  “Lovely,” Howell says in a voice that indicates there’s nothing lovely about any of this, and I have to agree. Especially since I’m on this side of his heavy-duty door. “We will take the day to prepare and then head out at sunset.”

  “And can I ask where we’re going? Or how we’re going to get there?”

  “I think not.” The speaker clicks off, discussion ended.

  The deal struck, a kind of stilted calmness settles over us. I don’t let it fool me, though. Ellis may relax his stance, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Judith for a second. And when Alex comes back into the room, Ellis gives a sniff to the air and slides discreetly into the space between us.

  Judith and Alex begin a whispered conversation, likely going over their plans for the hostile takeover of the compound and what to do with all the no-longer-human residents. Their voices are too low for me to hear, but I have every confidence that Ellis is listening.

  I hate so much that Alex looks… satisfied. Ugh. My friend’s blood now runs through his veins, and he’s over there licking his lips like he’s just finished the finest steak, washing it down with dry red wine. A blind rage leaves me seething, but I have no choice but to bite back what I’m dying to say and bide my time. My teeth clack together, and I catch the tip of my tongue. The taste of blood fills my mouth, and Ellis’s eyes flit to me.

  I swallow it down quickly, but it’s too late. The damage is done. I recognize the way he looked at me, I can’t unsee it. He can smell my blood, and a part of him hungers for it. Eleanor’s blood runs in Ellis’s veins too, I force myself to admit. He’s just as much a killer as Alex. Maybe more so.

  I would be a fool to trust him.

  “So… what are they talking about?” I ask in the most awkward attempt at changing the train of thought that I’m sure we’re both on.

  He gives a shake of his head and gestures for me to follow him. “Not here,” he says.

  I follow him through the hallways. They’re mostly deserted, but a few Shredders wander about. They’re all members of Judith’s crew. “Pack,” she’d called them, as if they’re animals. I shudder. That’s exactly what they are.

  When we’ve reached a dead end, Ellis finally stops before a door and turns to me. “Down these stairs,” he directs, “you’ll find a storage area. It’s all the personal effects from the compound civvies. Take what you need.”

  He begins to walk away, and I stop him with a hand on his arm. I pull back quickly, mentally slapping myself. Regardless of how much I tell myself not to trust him, there’s a part of me that can’t help it. He’s my friend, and that will never change. Not even if he rips into my throat and uses my neck as a straw.

  “What were they talking about? You could hear them.”

  He nods. “Their pack is starving. They broke in here with the promise of a good meal, enough blood to keep them fed for weeks, but now, thanks to you, there’s nothing. They won’t be happy.”

  “Shit,” I mutter. “And what happens when the Shredders aren’t happy?” As one of two remaining humans in the compound, I have a personal stake in the answer.

  Ellis doesn’t answer, though. He doesn’t have time before he whips his head around to look down the hallway. A figure moves around the corner and stops, staring at me.

  Scraggly black hair, eyes like twin pools of jet, tattered hospital scrubs, and a Shredder’s hunched posture. She may not look anything like how I remember her, but I couldn’t mistake her for anyone else.

  “Lori.”

  She gives an earth-shattering roar and lunges for me.

  3

  Lori

  The compound isn’t at all how I remember it. The fluorescent lights are dark, the halls are silent, and there’s a gaping hole torn clean through the wall. But it’s none of those things that make it feel so different. It’s the fact that I’m no longer being forced to stand within its walls. I’m here by choice.

  Well, sort of.

  I’m free to go wherever I please. No one would stop me if I decided to wander off into the sunset—or sunrise, rather—but there’s nothing out there for me now. I’m not entirely sure there’s anything in here for me either, but if what Trey says is true, then my mot
her is still alive.

  Mommy.

  I think back to the last time I saw her, lying weak beneath a thin sheet, her body ravaged by cancer. There’d been nothing left of her. When I look at Trey and try to imagine my mother as one of these Rippers, I can’t seem to merge the images together in my mind.

  “After you,” Trey says, sweeping his hand out in front of me. Ever the gentleman.

  I take one more glance over my shoulder at the smoke-smudged sky. Fire is like a rabid dog, unpredictable and dangerous, but for now, it’s keeping its distance. That fire is my fault, I know it. Bob’s boobytrap at the department store… it went up like a struck match.

  I turn my back and step one foot through the hole in the wall, the rubble coarse beneath my bare feet. I left my shoes several miles back on the road behind us. As the virus mutates my cells, my body itself is being undone, remade in the Rippers’ image. And that means that my shoes no longer fit.

  I stare down at my foot for a moment, at the hooked toes and elongated nails leaving gouges in the concrete. I close my eyes against the image. One foot in front of the other. A movement that should be second nature is now completely new.

  I take a deep sigh, and my eyes fly open. That smell.

  Without thought, I’m moving. Prowling. The scent is familiar, comfortable. But also… delicious. Warm, vibrant, earthy undertones.

  Jeez, it’s like I’m describing a fine wine.

  The closer I get to the source of the smell, though, I start to realize how right that assessment is. It ignites a thirst in me, and my mouth waters.

  Left, right, with each turn through the compound, my body follows its own course. I’m dimly aware of Trey following along behind me, but it’s secondary input. He matters nothing to me in this moment. Only one thing is important.

  The hunger.

  When I turn the final corner into a dead-end hallway, he’s there in front of me. Kenzo.

  My rage is blinding. All I see is red, my vision tinted with bloodlust, sudden and ferocious. A roar rips from my throat, echoing inside my mind.

  I begin to charge at Kenzo and find myself lowering to all fours in a loping run down the narrow hallway. In this moment, I know only one thing—everything that’s gone wrong with my life is his fault. He knew my mother was alive and let me grieve her loss. He was a part of this compound and all the corruption within.

  He told me he loved me and yet couldn’t protect me.

  His face registers surprise, his eyes widening, his mouth forming a perfect O. There’s no fear, though. With everything that I am becoming, and he still can’t seem to be afraid of me.

  I rear up in front of him and pull my hand back to slap his stupid face, but I realize too late that my human reaction may now be a bit overkill. My claws are too sharp, my momentum too great. I’m about to tear his head straight off his neck.

  As my arm arcs forward, something clamps onto my wrist, stopping me short. I turn toward the new threat, a feral snarl ripping from my lips. Ellis steps into my turn until he is mere inches from my face. We stand there, nose to nose, neither of us willing to concede defeat.

  I try to be grateful. Ellis likely just saved me from killing Kenzo. And, as angry as I am with him, I should at least be able to admit that I don’t want him to die. Right? Except that the rage is still pulsing through my veins, making all rational thought impossible.

  “Dammit!” I swat Ellis away and pivot back to Kenzo. If I can’t kill him, the least I can do is yell at him. “This is all your fault!”

  He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he hangs his head. “I know,” he says simply, dejected.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? If we’d known she was still alive, maybe we wouldn’t have left the compound in the first place. I wouldn’t be this… this thing. My dad would still be alive, and Brent—” I stutter to a stop, refusing to acknowledge that Brent could be gone, that I could’ve killed him.

  Kenzo’s eyes fill with grief and guilt, his face crumpling in on itself. “They’re dead? I-I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

  I look away from the raw emotion in his expression, because it reminds me of my own broken heart. And right now, I’m doing my best to ignore the traitorous thing still beating inside my armored chest.

  I know I should walk away, but Kenzo just keeps talking, filling the silence hanging between us. “It wasn’t my choice to make,” he says. It’s like he wants me to understand that he had nothing to do with it. He was only following orders. As if my opinion of him matters. “She told me to do it, that she didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to, I tried to talk her out of it, but—”

  “Wait,” I growl softly. “You were the one who turned her? She wasn’t scratched or infected… she was injected?”

  A throbbing begins at my temples. Rings appears over my vision, homing in on the focus of my rage, Kenzo, the center of the bullseye. He takes a step back, but even Ellis won’t be able to stop me this time. I dart around Ellis at lightning speed. I let out a piercing shriek just as arms wrap across my chest like steels bands, trapping my arms at my sides. They lift me clear off the ground. I kick my legs uselessly, but I can’t get free from the iron grip.

  Trey drags me backward down the hallway. Kenzo is practically vibrating with adrenaline, and the tang of it drives my instincts wild. I can smell his fear.

  And I like it.

  There is a moment where Trey and Kenzo look at each other, and while I’m all too familiar with the hatred that passes between them, there’s also a strange kind of grudging gratitude. They’ve come to some kind of understanding.

  Trey doesn’t let go of me until we’re far enough away that Kenzo’s scent is barely more than a tickle at the back of my throat. “Are you done?” his voice rumbles in my ear. Even though his voice is familiar enough to be comforting, there’s a razor-sharp edge to his words. Sharp enough to cut.

  I nod. “I’m fine.”

  His breath brushes against my throat as he lets me go, slowly at first, to make sure I’m not planning on darting away. “You can’t kill him,” he says, though he doesn’t look terribly happy about it.

  “Why not?” I snap. I don’t mean it. Probably.

  Trey doesn’t answer my question. Instead, a new voice joins us. It’s like molasses, rich and thick. “Because we need him,” my mother says.

  Except she’s not my mother. Not really. Even as my heart still aches over her loss, my brain sees the monster she’s become and scoffs. I want to rail and rage at her for leaving me here, for the betrayal. But that would mean admitting to myself that this hulking creature standing before me, with the untrusting eyes and predatory stance, is my mother. And that is so not happening. “After what he did to you, you still think we need him?”

  Her scaly forehead raises where her eyebrow used to be. It’s a bizarre look, a skeptical iguana. “Did you happen to notice that he’s still human?”

  “Pfft! Kinda hard to miss.”

  “Well, do you smell any other humans around here?”

  My nostrils flare without thinking. A predator’s instinct. My brain sorts through the layers of scent, musky and stringent. Motor oil, ash, and soot. But the only other blood I smell is old, already spilled and coagulating on a floor somewhere. It lacks the sweet scent of Kenzo; instead, it’s sour, dank. Unappetizing.

  My mom nods, already seeing the confirmation on my face. “Kenzo’s blood may hold the cure to the virus.”

  A cure? Like, I don’t have to be stuck this way forever?

  She continues, “We’ve cut a deal with Howell. We’re going on a trip up north to a research facility.” She steps close to me and reaches out tentatively, waiting to see if I’ll bite. “Honey, I asked Kenzo to infect me because I didn’t want to leave you. But I never wanted this life for you.” She catches the lone tear as it drips down my cheek. “Please, Lori. I’m sorry. It’s my fault, not his. You need to forgive him.”

  When Trey told me my mother was still alive, I imagined a heartfelt reunion, hugs and tears. Instea
d, I’m left feeling cold right down to my bones. She’s not my mother anymore, just as I’m not her daughter. We’ve… changed.

  I refuse to look her in the eye, and eventually, she gets the hint. She gives a small nod and steps back. Trey steps into my side, but even his presence sets me on edge.

  I try to remember what it felt like to be human. To find comfort in Trey’s touch, in my mother’s embrace. I ache for some kind of relief. But there’s nothing now. No escape from the itching I feel beneath my skin. The undying thirst clawing at my throat. The sensations are flooding my brain, the scents, the sounds, even the very air surrounding me vibrating against my hypersensitive skin. I can tell that the sun outside has crested the horizon. I know with certainty that I could track its position across the sky without even laying eyes on it, and that I would know the precise minute it was safe for me to step outside.

  My mother and Trey share a look, and I hate that it’s familiar. They used to give me those looks, but now it’s like a foreign language to me. I can’t read these reptilian features, their black eyes. I ball my fists at my side, my claws pressing into my palms but not penetrating the armor-like skin. “If you’ll excuse me,” I spit out, “I have better things to do than stand around awkwardly trying to force chitchat with the people I used to care about.”

  My mom’s breath catches as I storm off down the hall, but I tell myself that her hurt feelings don’t matter. I feel like a hormonal teenager all over again, except worse. Now I have super strength and an unquenchable thirst. Now, a temper tantrum could turn this city into rubble.

  A tiny voice niggles at the back of my mind, reminding me that the thirst isn’t unquenchable… It was quite satisfied after tearing those people limb from limb. After Brent—Nope! Not ready to unpack that meltdown waiting to happen.

  I cover my ears and hold my breath. I run through the labyrinth of hallways in the opposite direction of Kenzo. It’s just safer for everyone if I don’t kill the only man who may be able to save us all.