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Copyright © 2021
Kat Drummond
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Contents
Chapter 1. War
Chapter 2. Absolutism
Chapter 3. Academics
Chapter 4. Joy
Chapter 5. Engagement
Chapter 6. Love
Chapter 7. Statement
Chapter 8. Persona Non Grata
Chapter 9. Distress
Chapter 10.Sacrifice
Chapter 11.Mole
Chapter 12.Bus
Chapter 13.Leadership
Chapter 14.Mortality
Chapter 15.Dusk
Chapter 16.Allegiance
Chapter 17.Void
Chapter 18.Regret
Chapter 19.Reprieve
Chapter 20.Rivalry
Chapter 21.Chaos
Chapter 22.The Blood Remembers
Chapter 23.Retribution
Chapter 24.Dawn
Chapter 25.Home
Afterword
Acknowledgements
ATTENTION
This book is a direct continuation of Cursed Earth, Book 12 of the Kat Drummond Series, but also of Blood Hunter: A Katverse Novel.
If you wish to truly appreciate this novel, I advise that you read both before embarking on this journey.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1. War
War never ends. Even when you think you’re safe. Even when you have fired your last shot a lifetime ago, the echoes of war will persist within your head. And, even when all your comrades are long dead, they will continue to whisper to you. To remind you of your loss. To make you promise, again and again…
Never forget.
And never forgive.
I tore through the acrid alleys of this overgrown slum, bursting at the seams with poverty, sewage, and stench. It was like a blister, ready to burst. And within it was a bloody pus.
Something at the back of my mind flinched at the ever-present stench of burning rubber. The sign of a dirty weyline and dark magic. My instincts balked at it. But, I had long since grown to tolerate it. Being in the Corps, I had spent most of my life in the shadows. Where else was I to go?
The denizens of the dark took everything from me, including the light. So, I went into their domain. I breathed in the stench of dark magic. I lit the torch of my purifying fire. And I took everything from them in return.
I spun as I heard a clatter. I couldn’t tell if it was day or night. These tenements and shacks were built on top of each other as if they were designed by a kid with too many Lego pieces. Even if the sun shone above, I didn’t know if it could break through the structure above my head. This left the endless winding passages forever in darkness, lit only by the occasional lightbulb or candle.
My handheld floodlight would have come in handy. But I had dropped it earlier that evening (or would it be earlier that day?). It was a resilient piece of hardware, but a vamp’s claws were more potent. It hadn’t stood a chance.
I gritted my teeth as I heard more clattering behind me. Shadows darted in the distance. Black on black. Subtle. Almost invisible. Most people wouldn’t notice. But I wasn’t most people.
I was Corps.
I slowly reached towards my jacket pocket. I didn’t want to use this. Only had one left. But I’d rather be without it than dead.
Silence fell. No more clattering. I held my breath. The slums were never a relaxing place. When they were alive, they were raucous and unrelentingly chaotic. But, when silence fell, it was the uneasy stillness before the kill.
The silence you heard and felt within your bones as you knew a predator was stalking you from the shadows.
But, here’s the thing about the Corps. We’re prey, sure. And vampires are the apex predator. But, while they lick their lips and toy with us like cattle, we get ready. We sharpen our spears. We take aim. And we…thrust.
Silent, without any exertion, the shadow surged onto the wall and across the ceiling. Cloaked in darkness, a man with red eyes and a glistening fanged smile ran upside down, his footfalls not making a sound. Then, he leapt.
No sound. No breathing. Not fledgelings then. They had been vampires for a long time. They’d drained a lot of people of their blood. Killed people. Killed families. Like mine…
But, they wouldn’t kill me.
In a single movement, I pulled the flashbang out of my pocket, pulling the pin and shoved it into the airborne vamp’s mouth. Stunned before it even went off, the vamp went limp. Not too experienced then.
I grabbed the creature’s shoulder, using its momentum to throw it over mine, colliding with the shadows at my back, pressing in. Hisses broke the silence as the flashbang detonated. That’d give me a moment. All I needed.
I broke into a sprint, under no illusion that I could outrun a vamp, but knowing that I needed to find better terrain. To fight them on my own terms.
This hive was their turf. They had the advantage. But, they were also arrogant. Vamps were always arrogant. They would slip up. Because they didn’t know who I was. What I was. I liked to think that if they did, they would not have chased after me.
I rounded a corner, pressing a button on a device in my hand as I slammed it onto the corner wall.
Three, two, one…
An almost human scream reverberated through the halls, warped by the metal of the shanties, as the charge I set blew a hole through one of my pursuers.
One down. Not for long, probably. Vamps weren’t good at dying.
I hit the deck. I didn’t have any sort of rational observation suggesting that I should duck, but I’d learnt to trust my gut. My instincts were vindicated as a shard of dark energy put a fist-sized hole through a piece of corrugated iron just in front of me.
Just what I fucking needed! Vamps were one thing, but vamp mages were a whole other pile of shit.
I rose swiftly and renewed my sprint, darting and weaving as dark bolts flew towards me, hissing and crackling.
I needed to get to a good staging ground. Preferably, somewhere outside. If I could keep them on the run long enough, they’d start being distracted by the sun’s imminent rise. Would make them scared. Make them sloppy.
Too bad this blasted place didn’t have any semblance of order. I couldn’t even recall how I got in. Or how long ago I’d entered.
At a crossroads, I turned left, trusting my gut. The room was well-lit. That was something. Vamps could see in the dark. I couldn’t. Needed to even the playing field.
I skidded to a halt.
No, no, no…this couldn’t be right. My gut had told me to come this way. And there’d been no dead ends anywhere else. That was the thing about this hive. Every direction went on forever.
But, it seems I was wrong. Because I was staring at a concrete wall, lit up by the world’s most pointless fluorescent light.
I heard the footsteps. They weren’t trying to hide anymore. A
nd they didn’t attack. They knew they had me cornered.
I heard whispering. A hissing laugh. And the smacking of lips and tongues. They approached slowly. I didn’t turn.
No more running. No more hiding. I had killed half a dozen vampires in this slum. A half-dozen monsters who couldn’t hurt anyone else. My death would be a worthy consolation.
My only regret was that the Corps would lose another…
I spun, a silvered combat knife in my hand as a vampire loomed closer. It caught my wrist as if blocking the blow of a child and twisted. I winced, trying to hold on, but everyone has a limit. I dropped the knife.
Another vamp, face filled with rage that made it look almost human, strode up to me and punched me in the face, sending me reeling to the floor. I tasted blood.
“Don’t kill him!” the leader of the pack hissed. He held my knife, testing the edge. I saw smoke rise from where it touched his skin.
“Why, Moss? The fuck killed Laurie. Cut her up into little bits and left her out in the sun.”
“Did she heal enough to scream?” I asked, grinning.
The vampire’s fanged mouth hung open, before he lunged towards me. His boss grabbed him by his hoodie, pulling him back to collide with the wall behind him.
A third vamp piped up.
“Why we toying? She was your sister!”
Moss, the obvious leader, kept playing with my knife. His expression was blank.
“She drained a family dry,” I hissed. “What I did was too good for her.”
I heard the slap before I felt it. My vision swam as I was carried across the floor, gravel scraping my cheek. I felt myself being pulled up again.
“I don’t care what she fucking did,” Moss finally shouted, even as his impassive expression remained. He lifted me up by the scruff of my neck.
“You killed her. And that means I’m going to drain you. But not before you tell us who you are! You aren’t with the Crusaders or fucking Whiteshield. Who are you?!”
Despite the blurriness, the pain and the ringing in my ears, I smiled. I felt the sting on my teeth where they had been chipped.
“Taste my blood, monster. You’ll taste decades of sacrifice. Decades of hate. You’ll know what I’ve done. And you’ll know what I would have done to you. Drain me dry. I rejoin my brothers in death.”
Moss and the other vamps were stunned. The one who’d punched me took a step back, his red eyes wide.
“It can’t be…” the other whispered.
“One way to find out…” Moss hissed, and raked his clawed hands across my sleeve, ripping open the fabric.
12-2. A simple number tattooed over the image of a fanged skull, with a dagger through its head.
Moss dropped me. His impassive façade fell. His red eyes flickered, and he mouthed two words. He couldn’t even say them out loud. But I heard them in my head and in my heart.
Extermination Corps.
Gunfire boomed and rattled down the hall.
“What the fuck?” The other vamp swore, waking from his reverie.
Moss’ eyes widened. “Krang is still out there!”
He turned to me, angry, but with thinly veiled fear. He shivered.
“How many of you are there?”
Zero. The Corps was gone…
I grinned. “Endless…”
Golden fire flooded the room, its crackle punctuated by the deafening rattle of machine guns. The vamp at the back screeched as bullets eviscerated him.
Despite my wounds, I dove forward, tackling Moss to the ground, wresting my knife out of his hand.
“Take one alive!” a woman yelled over the cacophony.
I pressed the silver edge into Moss’ neck. He struggled but the more he did so, the deeper my silver went. I wanted to end him now. To not suffer a blood drinker to live…but I owed my saviours something. I kept Moss alive. For now.
The flames cleared.
Dark-grey figures, head to toe in tactical gear, with sword and shield emblems on their shoulders, filed into the room. The other vamps twitched on the ground. One lashed out towards one of the men. Calmly, the gunman put a bullet between the vamp’s eyes.
“Clear!” the gunman called. My eyes widened as I heard the long-lost voice of a ghost.
I’d heard that voice before. A long time ago. I had thought its owner was dead.
A woman wearing the tabard of Heiligeslicht entered, her fingertips resonating holy energy. But it was the person who entered after her that stunned me.
A young woman, with eyes of different colours, wreathed in flames.
I hadn’t been in Hope City for long, but half the world had heard of her.
The Last Light. Kat Drummond, in the flesh.
The Last Light turned towards me, squinted at the vampire I was grappling and then at the tattoos on my exposed arm.
“Krieg!” the gunman called, as he took off his helmet and mask.
My awe at seeing the Last Light in the flesh abated, as a voice I had last heard a lifetime ago called to me. I couldn’t help but beam in childlike, disbelieving delight, releasing my hold on the vamp. Luckily, the Crusaders, as I now knew these men and women to be, took my place.
“56! Rifts! I thought you were dead.”
I embraced my long-lost friend, holding tightly to ensure he wasn’t just a ghost.
“You too, brother.”
I frowned. Our parting had not been under the most peaceful of circumstances. I remembered sirens. Smoke, ash. Our leaders were betrayed. But they never betrayed us. They gave us time to flee. Time to live. They sacrificed themselves for the Corps. The way it had always been. The way it always would be.
56…Brett Callahan…released me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, examining his uniform. “Crusader? The hunt never ends for the Corps, no matter the name.”
Brett frowned, for just a second, before his smile returned.
“I’m a founding member. But that’s a whole other story. We can catch up after this…”
I turned to where Moss had been bolted to the concrete wall. The purifier with the scarred arms was incanting some sort of ritual to purify the steel bolts. Cheaper than silver.
“We can make this easy or hard,” the Last Light said, with a nonchalance that made her words even more terrifying. “Tell us what the Izingane Zegazi have planned, and we’ll let you go. Otherwise, we’ll stake you to the roof.”
“Izi…what do I fucking look like? A Zulu fucking bloodsucker? I’m as Hopean as you are!”
“Monsters don’t get to be citizens,” Brett growled, jiggling one of the purified bolts in the vamp’s hand. Moss winced and hissed.
The purifier scowled. “Well, technically…”
She shared a look with a black guy, who was currently sorting through various sharp implements, coated in silver. He shook his head and the purifier stopped talking.
“It’s an open secret that your little crew helps smuggle blood packs across the border,” the Last Light continued. “You work for the Children. We’ve got your photo plastered all over the planning boards at the office. Photos of you with Blood Cartel and Izingane Zegazi leaders.”
The Last Light leaned in closer. Close enough to be bitten. She didn’t flinch.
“We know who you are. We know what you are. And it’s only fair that you know who you’re dealing with.”
Moss spat a globule of blood onto the Last Light’s flaming coat. It erupted into wisps of steam.
“I know who you are,” Moss whispered, trying to be menacing. If not for a lifetime of fighting them, I might have been scared. “You’re the bitch who killed Terhoff’s toy boy. And then ashed her. The fucking Final Flight or whatever. I’m not scared of you.”
Brett stuck a dagger into the vamp’s gut without flinching. Moss screamed, as Brett covered his mouth, leaning in.
“You don’t need to be scared of her. But me…”
He revealed his 56-3 tattoo.
“I’m different. I can see that fea
r in your red eyes. You know what these numbers mean. You know what I’ve done. You don’t want to deal with me. Tell Ms Drummond what she wants to know, or you’ll have to talk to me and my friend over there.”
Brett indicated the black guy. With a straight face, he scraped two cleavers together, kicking up sparks.
“I’m not sure which one of us hates vamps more.”
“Enough,” the Last Light said, ushering Brett to the side. I smelled piss. Moss had a dark spot forming between his legs. Not blood.
It was fast, but I caught a glare from the Last Light. Brett backed off.
“Last chance,” she said. “Are the Izingane Zegazi in Hope City?”
“I…I don’t know…” Moss sobbed, pretending to be human.
“Do you know when they will be coming?”
“I don’t fucking know! Please…let me go.”
The Last Light’s flames seemed to darken alongside her expression.
She shook her head.
“You could be telling the truth,” she said. “But that won’t change the fact that you’re still smuggling blood from children’s hospitals to monsters across the border. That’s not something I can accept.”
She shared a look with the purifier. Grimly, the purifier nodded.
A curved sword, glistening silver, manifested in the Last Light’s hand. In a swift movement, she beheaded the vamp.
The black man stowed his kit of sharp implements, almost disappointed. Brett seemed to slump a little. The 56 I knew would have wanted to torture this creature more. It wasn’t just about information. It was about vengeance. But there was a chain of command here. Had to respect that.
The Last Light’s sword disappeared as quickly as it had shown up, as she turned towards Brett and me.
“So, Brett…going to introduce me?”
“Oh! Kat, this is Desmond…Krieg. He’s from my old squad.”
She frowned. What did that mean?
“The Corps?”
Brett nodded, a bit grimly. I shared the sentiment. We had fallen on hard times. It wasn’t a joyful thing to bring up.
I locked my feet together and saluted. “Last Light, it is an honour to meet you.”
It was quick, but I caught the Last Light rolling her eyes. “I have a name…”
Children of Blood (Kat Drummond Book 13) Page 1
