The Shade Chronicles | Book 2 | Predator

by Bradley, T. K.

  “Or I could’ve just looked at your blood under the microscope!” I snap.

  Trey just shrugs. “That’s another way you could go, but I’m honestly a little sick of things being shoved into my eyeball. This way it doesn’t involve me at all.”

  We’re all forced to watch what comes next.

  It begins with a little bit of sweat. I hate to admit that I’ve seen this transition too many times to count. It’s different for each of the patients—victims—but for all of them there’s one similarity. Pain. They’re all in an excruciating amount of pain.

  Bob starts to itch at the scratch on his arm. There are tendrils of black veins spidering away from the cut, leading up his arm and under his shirt. Toward his heart, toward his brain. His eyes begin to roll around in his sockets, as he begins to lose himself to the virus. In anything, the variant seems to have sped up the transition. This is faster than I’ve ever seen it happen.

  Kelly manages to crawl toward him, leaving a trail of blood across the floor behind her. Her wound doesn’t seem to be healing; maybe something to do with the facility’s weapons. Part of me wants to let her bleed out, but in the end, the doctor in me wins out. While Trey’s attention is focused on Bob, I kneel down at her side and check her shoulder. The bolt must’ve had barbs in it, and when it punched through her shoulder, it tore the edges to shreds.

  “He used me as a fucking shield,” she grits out between clenched teeth. Why am I not surprised? “He’s only out for himself. Don’t believe a word he says—he won’t save you once he’s finished with you. You’ll only be in his way.”

  I know she’s right. I do. But what other choice do I have?

  Bob lets out a guttural moan, and the cadence of it sets my teeth on edge. Something about the pitch is almost subsonic, outside the range of what I can actually hear, but it’s enough to raise the hairs on the back of my neck.

  I don’t want to look. Deep down, I know what I’m going to see if I look over at Bob. Instead, I look down at Kelly, whose gaze is weak and distant, but what little focus she has left is on her father. “Daddy—” she chokes out, a tear tracking a zigzag course through her textured skin. “No.”

  I can feel Lori’s eyes on me, urging me to look at her, but I resist it. She’s the only person here with the power to break me. If I see that she’s in pain, I will do anything I can to set her at ease, and right now… right now I know that my breaths are likely numbered.

  What the hell, what else have I got to lose at this point? My soul, I suppose. And if there’s any way I can give that to her, then she’s welcome to it. And so, I do look up. Lori and I lock gazes, human and monster, meeting somewhere in the middle. I’d like to think we could’ve made a relationship work. I made the cure for her. Everything I did, I did it for Lori. And now… it feels like it was all such a waste.

  As Bob lies there in the throes of his transition, I try to find order to all the things I want to say.

  As Trey growls, “Hey, Doc, I’m seeing some changes to his skin. You know what that means, don’t you?”

  Lori’s lips form the words, “I’m sorry.”

  And as Trey barrels down toward me, I abandon all that I wanted to say for just one sentence. “I love you.”

  23

  Lori

  My breath catches in my throat, stopping my scream from escaping. I’m helpless to watch as Trey picks Kenzo up from the floor in one hand, his claws tearing through Kenzo’s lab coat like single-ply toilet paper. I know I’m no match for Trey—not in size, not in strength, and most obviously, not in experience—but that doesn’t mean I won’t at least try.

  My muscles coil to spring, my entire body tight with intent, but before I can put my body into action, Kenzo drops to the floor. I instinctively drop into a crouch, prepared to move—if Trey hurt Kenzo, I will kill him!—but no, Kenzo takes a gasping breath. It takes my brain a second to catch up.

  Ellis! He’s moved so fast that I barely have time to register what’s going on. He’s a blur! But you know what isn’t? Trey’s heavy body as it collides with the far counter.

  A massive crash reverberates off the steel cabinets and glass wall. I hope blindly for a second that Trey is down for the count… but no such luck. He simply growls low in his throat and rises up to his full height, brushing off the debris like it’s dust, rather than broken glass and splintered wood.

  “You okay?” Ellis asks Kenzo, and I breathe a sigh of relief as Kenzo nods weakly.

  “Seriously, Hill,” Trey says, shaking his head sadly. “It’s like you’re one of them.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Ellis replies. He doesn’t stand, rather keeping his center of gravity low. “I would rather be human than this… thing.”

  Trey circles around Ellis, swaggering, trying to look casual, but it’s impossible to miss the way his eyes dart, assessing, the way his claws twitch. He’s a soldier by training, a monster by nature. “The humans are weak,” he hisses. “They’re nothing more than fodder. They’re officially at the bottom of the food chain. We are the top!” He pats a claw against his chest, and it clicks against his armor-like flesh.

  Ellis’s body relaxes a fraction, and he actually smiles, though there’s nothing kind about it. “I think you mean to say… I am the top.” His expression is almost cocky. He’s trying to goad Trey into a fight.

  And it works.

  Trey’s faux calm contorts into pure rage, and I have to cover my ears to block out his roar. He launches himself at Ellis. I expect them to collide—maybe it’ll be like a hitting a brick wall, Ellis’s body like cement. Or maybe they’ll both go down hard. I can’t help but think of how effectively Ellis fought an entire pack of Rippers, though I don’t for a second think Trey will go down so easily. Instead of an impact, though, Ellis turns his hip at the last second, and he takes Trey over in a tucked roll.

  They meld together into a tangle of limbs, arms and legs akimbo, taking out every obstacle in their path. Tables, chairs, and eventually, even my mom falls victim to their thrashing. She tries to jump out of the way—too late.

  The lab is too small, too cluttered for this kind of brawl. My mom knocks against a cabinet and bounces off into the wall. She doesn’t even cry out, but there’s a crack in the stone from where she made contact.

  As distracted as I am, there’s only one thing that can draw my attention away from the action. Fresh blood.

  The copper tang of blood grips my senses. Not my mom, whose skin is as thick as mine, and certainly not Trey or Ellis.

  I turn to where Kenzo is lying on the floor. Poor, fragile Kenzo. When he was knocked from Trey’s hands, his head hit the ground, splitting the skin of his forehead. A small trickle of blood is dripping down his cheek.

  It’s just a few drops, nothing life-threatening, except…

  I’m not the only one who has smelled it.

  Bob’s transformation isn’t complete. His skin is patchy, he still has all his hair. But… I remember all too clearly the first moments when the virus begins to take over. At this moment, his senses are being overloaded. The light it too painful for his eyes, every sound is like a bass drum, and Kenzo’s blood… it’s calling to him.

  Bob lifts his head, swiveling back and forth, pinpointing the location of the scent. I see the way his nostrils are flaring, and when he tilts his head toward me, his pupils are dilated wide. We lock gazes, and even as I watch, his eyes begin to bleed with black, like ink from his veins, until the whites of his eyes are swallowing by the darkness.

  Forget the scrap going on between Ellis and Trey. The real threat is Bob.

  I chance a glance over at the brawl. The two seem evenly matched, neither able to gain any ground. Ellis has the obvious advantage—his harder skin, his superior strength, and seemingly better training, even over Trey—but the fact that he’s trying his best not to hurt Trey puts them on even footing.

  Trey, on the other hand, is out for blood. He has nothing left to lose. The sound of his claws scraping again
st Ellis’s flesh is enough to raise my hackles, and I grind my teeth against any concern I might feel for either of them. They’re big boys. They got themselves into this mess, they can find their own way out.

  Kenzo, though… he’s only here because of me. This is all my fault.

  I inch around the edge of the room, ducking and dodging, pressed against the wall trying to stay clear of swinging claws, though Trey and Ellis seem oblivious to me… for now. At any second, that could change. I’m not stupid. I’m all too aware that Ellis has a soft spot for me, and that means only one thing. Now I’m the bargaining chip, just as I was used to manipulate Kenzo.

  Kenzo is moving from where he fell on the floor, but sluggishly. I keep one eye on him, and the other on the fight. I don’t have enough eyes to go around! Movement out of the corner of my vision has me turning my head to see Bob drawing up onto his feet.

  He’s unsteady on his new limbs, still in the process of growing and changing. He looks down on his fingertips in awe. “Claws…” his whispers reverently, flexing and stretching his hands. He reaches up to run his fingers over his gums, where I know they must be aching as his new dentition pushes through.

  Where I have despised every second of my monstrous existence since infection, Bob’s acceptance is immediate. This was his end goal. All except…

  Kelly. She was always meant to be with him through this. They were meant to be together. And now?

  I look over at where Kelly is lying still, her body like a marionette with cut strings, limbs bent at odd angles. Her black blood is already congealing in the cool lab air. Bob, as if sensing my own attention shifting, turns to where his daughter’s body grows cold.

  “Kelly?” Even while his voice holds hope, there is resignation on his face. “No… no, baby.” Bob staggers, and when his legs can no longer hold him up, he drops down and crawls.

  A large smash has me cowering, a remnant of my human instincts. I wrap my arms around my head, as if I need protecting from the broken glass raining down. I peek over at where Trey and Ellis are brushing themselves off, having rolled straight through the glass barrier and out into the hallway. Their clothes are torn, but still not a drop of blood marks their skin.

  This is going to take all day. Is it too much to ask that they take this outside?

  While the two macho men circle each other, glaring and snarling, I roll my eyes and turn back to where Kenzo is kneeling. He has a hand to his forehead, trying to staunch the bleeding. It’s barely more than a trickle, so it’s not like he’s going to bleed to death, but already it’s too late. The damage is done, the blood now coating his hands, soaking into his lab coat, and dripping to the floor.

  “Kenzo,” I hiss as quietly as possible, trying to get his attention, but instead of the human, all I get are four sets of monster eyes. Geez, of course they all heard me. Trey’s lip lifts in a sneer. Even now, he can’t stand to see me extending a hand to help Kenzo. He takes a step toward us, likely to finish the job he started, but Ellis intercepts him, slamming him back against the concrete wall behind him. Cement dust patters down, but the chalky scent doesn’t even begin to mask the copper-and-iron tang of blood.

  There’s a new zest in the air, and Trey straightens to his full height, brushing his hand over his midsection, coming away with a smear of blood. “Lucky shot,” he snarls.

  Ellis shrugs. “Not my fault you’re easily distracted.”

  As the men move back into a holding pattern, circling each other, I extend my hand toward Kenzo, waving my fingers to get his attention without making a sound… but now it’s Bob who’s watching me.

  “It’s your fault,” he says, though to be honest, I’m not sure if he’s talking to me, Kenzo, or even himself. He doesn’t leave me to wonder for long, though. “If you hadn’t come into my home—unwelcome, uninvited—Kelly and I would’ve been reunited months ago. We would be safe and happy… and alive.” He lets go of Kelly’s limp hand reluctantly to focus his whole attention on me. His claws are small but no less lethal and already glistening with venom. His skin is mottled, but it’s still mostly smooth in texture; it likely won’t be thick enough to protect him yet, and I can probably kill him if I have to…

  But I really don’t want it to come to that.

  I take a step, trying to place myself between Bob and Kenzo, and Bob tracks the movement, darting to the right, mirroring my step.

  There’s a fire behind those black eyes. Even though his transition isn’t complete, I can see clearly that he’s crossed over the tipping point. His humanity is shrinking in the rear-view mirror, soon to be nothing more than a distant memory of who he used to be.

  “Bob,” I say, no longer concerned about who hears. “Kelly wouldn’t want this.”

  He sneers. “You’re right. Kelly would want to be alive right now.” Now it’s him who takes the step forward, trying to circle around me.

  “I know what you’re going through!” I state firmly, trying to keep his attention on me. “My dad… my brother…”

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s not the same. Not even close! I gave her life… she was mine. My responsibility. And then you came into our lives and ruined everything.”

  “D-Do you remember how you said I reminded you of your daughter?” I sputter desperately. It might backfire on me, but he once saw me from a paternal perspective.

  He falters. Kelly, too, had a soft spot for a human, doing everything she could to protect her father. Surely he can understand…

  His hesitation doesn’t last long. He looks down to where his daughter’s blood is edging toward his shoe. “I was wrong,” he says sadly, turning his tear-filled eyes up to me. “You’re nothing like her.”

  He knows he doesn’t have a chance against me, not how he is now. But I don’t think he has any intention of coming back from this. This is the end for him.

  His eyes trail down to where Kenzo is still kneeling on the ground behind me. I can see it in his eyes, the resignation, the plan unfurling. If he’s going down, he’ll try to take us all down with him—and now, with salvation so close I can taste it, the surest way to ruin us all is to take away our cure.

  I’ve always heard moments of intense stress described as happening in slow motion, but if anything, this is the exact opposite. It’s all flashes, snapshots, and it won’t be until it’s all done that I’ll be able to analyze what actually happened.

  Bob lunges, low to the floor, trying to take a swipe at Kenzo from around my legs. Even though my predator instinct should’ve been to attack, somehow my humanity is still guiding my actions. I don’t attack Bob—instead, I swing around, hooking Kenzo around the elbow and following through, sliding him away and placing myself in Bob’s path.

  Bob’s not a large man, but his weight knocks me off-kilter, and we both go down. Kenzo rolls clear, and I press down into Bob’s back to keep him flat to the floor, to stop him from making another attempt. He lets out a weak sob. “Just end it. Please.”

  His spine feels so delicate beneath my palm. It wouldn’t take much…

  “Lori…” Kenzo grunts where my mom is helping him to his feet. “I can cure him. The syringe…”

  I follow his line of sight to where the cure lay on the counter. Bob begins to sob, tears trickling down his cheeks. “Please,” he begs. “I can’t go on without her… the cure is wasted on me.”

  Trey roars, and I turn in time to see him shove a fist against Ellis’s chest. There’s a sharp crack of their bodies connecting—and another smash as Ellis slams back into a cabinet, sending shards of wood in all directions.

  Ellis rolls out of the fall, snatching up a bent chair leg, and charges straight at Trey. As conceited as Trey is, he just stands there, a smirk painted across his mouth, and lets Ellis come at him. The force of the blow snaps his head back and forces Trey up against a wall, but still, it doesn’t penetrate. Ellis pulls back to try again—maybe with enough repeated force, he can crack that protective shell—but he doesn’t have a chance.

  As he bri
ngs back his arm, Trey snatches up one of jagged wooden splinters and darts forward, lodging it straight into Ellis’s eye socket.

  My own gasp is drowned out by Ellis’s scream as he staggers back, clutching at his ruined eye. Blood pours down between his fingers. As Ellis stumbles and falls to the floor, blindly backpedaling, Trey casually stalks toward him like he has all the time in the world.

  “Well, well, how the tables have turned,” he drawls. “All I wanted was the virus, but you couldn’t just let well enough be.”

  Ellis’s breathing is ragged, but at least he’s stopped screaming. “You didn’t need to kill them all,” he grunts. “You could’ve just left.”

  “I think we both know leaving isn’t my style.” Trey grabs Ellis’s ankle and drags him closer so that he’s standing over him. “I want it all, and if I can’t have the variant, I’ll just have to settle for whatever’s left. In this case… killing you. Then at least I’ll be ruling champion of the food chain again.” He leers over at where Kenzo is standing. “And once I’m through with Hill, I’m coming for you.”

  I can’t watch. I turn away from the blood and the gore, knowing I’m powerless to stop it. But my eyes land on the counter, the row of syringes.

  I don’t think, I just act.

  “I’m the king of the fucking world,” Trey says, holding a single claw up over Ellis’s face, lining it up with his eye socket. This is it. The end.

  I come up behind Trey and wrap a hand around his forehead, pulling back with everything I have. I can’t overpower Trey, I know that, but I catch him unaware enough to angle his head back. With the other hand, I jam the end of the syringe into his eye and push down on the plunger.

  “Fuck!” he shouts. He grabs hold of the syringe and whips it across the room, an arc of fluid sluicing through the air. Then he begins to scrabble at my arm.