Children of Blood (Kat Drummond Book 13)

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  “Next up is Ukwesaba,” Miriam continued. She frowned immediately. “We don’t know much about him, sadly. Just that he was the guy who almost broke Goldfield before the Corps. Some say he feeds off fear, but I don’t entertain such unscientific notions. What I do know is that he waged a terror campaign on Goldfield, the likes of which the continent has never seen before. Families dead. Communities depopulated.”

  I resisted gulping. This lecture wasn’t helping my nerves. I looked to Treth. He was taking notes on a spectral parchment.

  “Nkosiyabo is the last one. He seemed to be the closest to Kuzalwa. Both of them tried the most of the four to seem human. Kuzalwa, less so, as he led many troops into massacres without batting an eye, but at least he let himself be seen. And seldom manifested any sort of mutations. Nkosiyabo, by contrast, keeps his hands clean. Unlike his siblings, he claims to have been just a peasant farmer. But, I suspect that this comparable humility reveals a power far greater than the others.”

  I let Miriam drink the rest of her tea, contemplating her words, before I said anything else.

  “I think you can guess my question,” I finally said. “How do we beat them?”

  “I am no strategist,” Miriam said, sounding disappointed. “But, I do have an idea. The Izingane Zegazi are deeply feudal. They relish in criss-crossing loyalties, vassalage, fealty and stuff that makes the Holy Roman Empire look positively progressive. The brothers revel in blood, glory and personal gain above all. I said that Kuzalwa and Nkosiyabo were the closest of the four. That means they have been seen together in public once before. Despite claiming to be comrades and brothers, the four hardly ever speak to each other from what we know. And they never work together. They usually act alone, using their own fledglings and ghouls to carry out their campaigns. In short, they don’t like to share.”

  I rubbed my chin, thoughtfully. And smiled.

  “Divisions in their ranks…that’s just what I want to hear. And it’s something we can use. Especially if they only come one at a time, or better yet, sabotage each other. Rifts, maybe only one of them will show!”

  “Oh, I doubt that, Kat. There’s something the Children all do have in common. While they will wage their wars by themselves and won’t share even a drop of blood, they take vengeance all too seriously. Don’t doubt for a second that they will come. And, when they do, their force will be relentless. You will need to kill them all before they stop.”

  Dozens…hundreds of vampires. And our only advantage was that they didn’t like sharing blood. Unfortunately, Hope City had enough to go around.

  I stood up as Miriam did, offering my hand. She shook it.

  “Thanks for the tea,” she said.

  “Thank you for the information, as always. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you sooner.”

  She shrugged. “It’s nothing. And I won’t be staying a stranger. I’m leveraging my entire network to help you. It’s about time that the Izingane Zegazi are removed. I have a family home in Port Elizabeth I’ve been wanting to visit again. Need to remove the vampires to get there.”

  I smiled and bid her farewell.

  I wanted to think that her information would make rest easier. That dispelling the myth behind the monsters and finding some weakness comforted me. But I didn’t sleep a wink, until Brett came to find me for another hunt.

  Chapter 4. Joy

  Slaying the undead didn’t put me in a good mood. That worried Treth. Usually, hunting undead was cathartic. I understood them. And, as long as they hadn’t harmed anyone before I got to them, it was like free target practice.

  This should have been the ideal hunt. Just a bunch of zombies, no mutations, trying to get into a meat locker some moron had left abandoned in a border-slum warehouse. No one had been hurt. The undead were directionless. Most of the zombies were since the Battle. It seemed we’d depopulated the local necromancers. That was something I should feel good about. And I would have, if not for everything else.

  I beheaded six zombies and then let Brett and some newbies finish off the rest. No risk of infection. No necromancer to make the necro-blood dangerous.

  Treth watched me as I sat in the corner of the carnage-filled room. His brow was creased like a mother watching her child not playing with anyone at the park.

  No use explaining myself to him. He knew. And he should understand. I was exhausted.

  Brett dropped me off at the HQ, just as he picked up Krieg. Only right that the old friends go out for some guy time.

  I didn’t really know what to make of Brett’s buddy. He was respectful, and Brett was so happy that he was here, but I couldn’t help but think about the tattoo on his arm. He also looked at me in a peculiar way. The way that many of the early Crusaders used to look at me. I didn’t know if he saw me as Kat. To him, I was the Last Light.

  Well, couldn’t be helped.

  I yawned as Brett waved his final goodbye and they sped off. The sun was setting. The road in front of the HQ was covered in litter, discarded signs and broken bottles. But no protesters. Thank Athena! If they had still been hanging around, I don’t think I would have had the energy to stop Heather or Kyong from picking fights with them.

  The HQ was quiet. I couldn’t even hear the usual faint chatter coming from the mess hall or mosh pit. Just the eerie silence of an empty office. An almost empty office. Jane looked up at me from across the hall, from her reception desk.

  I managed to summon up a smile as I approached her. She responded in kind. Her fake smile was much better than mine. One would hope so. She had been a politician, and quite a successful one, before becoming what Heather called the glorified receptionist of the Crusaders. But I saw the bags under her eyes. Her suit and hair were usually immaculate. That was before this last week. Like most of us, Jane had changed. She cared less about her appearance. And she had gained a hunter’s stare behind the permanent façade of professional courtesy. If only Heather could see that! Jane was one of us, even if she did spend more time behind a desk than on the field.

  I didn’t know what she had faced in the HQ during the Battle. I knew that some undead and vampires had made it into the hospital area. I also knew that Jane had been there. Just more horror for the evening.

  “Evening, Kat,” Jane said, sounding as cheerful as one could under the circumstances.

  “Hey, Jane. Any messages?”

  Jane shook her head, giving one of her rare sincere frowns. No messages were often a good thing. But now it was just a sign that we weren’t getting new clients. That more and more of the city was turning against us.

  “Good news, though,” Jane said, perking up. “We managed to disperse the protesters. None of them are pressing charges. Well, one tried but the cops who rounded them up were on our side and refused to take statements.”

  “Sounds like corruption to me,” I mumbled, taking a seat opposite Jane’s desk and slumping back. I’d known Jane for a long while now. I considered her a part of the inner circle.

  Odd. A while back, I’d wanted to slap her across the face. But things had changed after she’d been kicked out of the Chairman elections. It had made her human.

  “Corruption is the life-blood of politics, Kat. The grease that keeps the wheels turning. It’s inevitable. Might as well have it benefit you.”

  “If you’re trying to make me like politicians, you’re failing dismally.”

  I sighed. A heavier sigh than usual. Jane noticed. She wasn’t some dumb popularity contest winning dolt, I had to remember. I had very little respect for the average politician. Jane had not been one. She had an understanding of politics and people far superior to most of her peers. And, while she was conniving, manipulative and underhanded – I do believe she would have been good for the city. And I’m an anarchist!

  It wasn’t that which made me sigh, however.

  The protesters had been dispersed. That was good. And we still had enough friends among the cops to make them look the other way. They were also men of violence, as much as I was quite di
sparaging of them most of the time. They understood what we went through. And a lot of cops appreciated that they weren’t expected to face things with as many teeth as we had to.

  But, I couldn’t shake this guilty feeling down in my gut. That these protesters had lost homes, family, friends. They’d lost lives. They had a right to be angry. To seek vengeance. To criticise us as we’d practically invited evil into the city.

  “I know that look, Commander,” Jane said, sternly. “And stop it. Evil doesn’t need an excuse. The Necro Lord did everything he did because he was a sick, twisted psychopath. Would have made a good politician, actually. We killed him. That makes us the good guys. These protesters are just finding something to be pissed off about. Yesterday, it was the orcs. Today, it’s us. Tomorrow, they’ll hopefully be protesting outside Sanitation. Those bastards need a wake up call.”

  “I know, I know. But…isn’t there something we can do? We are meant to protect them. We can’t do that if they think we’re the bad guys.”

  Jane waved the comment aside. “We’re still getting paid, even if they protest after the transaction clears. Most so-called activists have a big case of hypocrisy. When it really matters, they’ll come begging for us to protect them. And I’ll be holding the bag to collect the cash. Placards and empty slogans mean nothing, no matter how hurtful. Money is what matters.”

  “I’ve seen the reports, Jane. I know we’ve been getting cancellations. And, with all the new manpower and expansion, we can’t afford it.”

  Jane twitched. Almost a frown. Almost.

  “Temporary. Riaan is using us as a scapegoat for his own failings. Typical politics. But I didn’t think he was capable. I’m kinda impressed.”

  “Please don’t flatter my enemies too much.”

  Jane snorted in amusement. “He’s not our enemy. He’s a small little man blinded by ideology and petulance.”

  “He’s actively trying to destroy us.”

  Jane shrugged. “That’s just politics. And he won’t win. There’s only one thing that can destroy the Crusaders. And it is eating away at us right now. You know what it is?”

  “Vampires? Taxes? The French?”

  “Low morale,” she announced, pointedly and staring at me now with an intense gaze. “There’s no joy anymore. Life is about ceremony. Small, happy habits that make all the exhausting stuff seem less heavy. We used to have the Gravekeeper. Weekly drinks at the pub. It was good. And not just because of the booze. It was a distraction from the tedium and the violence. But that’s gone now. The Crusaders need levity, Kat. A break from all this.”

  A break…

  Oh, how I longed for that. I felt Treth’s sincere pity. He couldn’t feel the ache in my bones and in my heart. But he could see how it affected me.

  But I also knew we couldn’t afford to stop now. Not with all the blood on the horizon.

  “I’m heading up,” I said, standing and passing Jane on the way to the stairwell.

  Jane nodded. “Goodnight, Kat.”

  Goodnight. I snorted. It was only 6pm!

  I pulled myself up the stairs. The silence of the office still pressed in on me. Everyone was on duty. No rest for the wicked. And if Riaan had his way, everyone would see us as wicked.

  Jane thought it was just petty politics. That Riaan wasn’t the enemy. Perhaps, she was right. But that didn’t stop what he was doing. He was slowly turning this city against us. And we were starting to listen to him ourselves.

  I had never wished for the Gravekeeper to be open more than I did now.

  The sound of fingers hastily clattering on a computer keyboard stopped me. Light pooled from an office on the way to my own.

  Cindy’s office.

  I should use this time to sleep. But sleep wasn’t what I really needed. Jane was right. We needed something more. Joy.

  I knocked on Cindy’s open door. My friend lifted her head and smiled, faintly.

  “Kat! What’s up?”

  I shrugged and entered, taking a seat.

  Cindy’s office was impeccably clean. Her books, a combination of new and old spell tomes, were neatly arranged on a metal shelf. And there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere.

  Cindy was a purifier. One of the best. And while as a sorcerer she didn’t need spell-words to cast her healing magic, she took refining her abilities very seriously. That included keeping a clean mind and body, which necessitated a clean environment. Some people saw Cindy as obsessively clean. But it was better than stench and decay. A welcome alternative to the prey I hunted.

  Cindy finished typing something, clicked and then swivelled her chair to face me.

  “I’d work at home,” she said. “But the pixies have gotten it into their heads that my computer needs upgrading. They tried to grow a flowerbed on the motherboard.”

  Treth manifested nearby, taking a seat. Cindy nodded in greeting. She was one of the few people who could also see him. In fact, she had been the first besides me.

  “You cut those blighters a little too much slack,” Treth added, sternly. “They need some discipline. They can’t get away with everything.”

  Cindy laughed. “Have you tried telling a pixie what to do? They’ll just double down on the mischief. And, besides, I don’t actually mind. They keep the weyline clean, and they’re good company. Rifts know we need it with…”

  She stopped herself short. But I knew what she was going to say. Themba, Guy’s cousin, had been traumatised by something in the east. He was now living with Guy and Cindy. Sometimes, he fought alongside us. But, more often than not, he was a broken man. A shell of someone that Guy had once adored.

  Cindy shook her head and allowed her smile to return.

  “It’s still weird, you know? Not having you living there with me, but also having…” her grin widened. “Guy there.”

  “A worthy trade, I think. I’m glad you’re happy.”

  “I am, Kat. And it actually makes me feel a bit guilty that I am. With all that’s going on, I should have a cloud over me. But I don’t. I’m happy. Immensely. Perhaps, because I’m used to all this. That this is just a cloudy day in a city of storms.”

  “It’s more than that, Cins. I know that when I finally got together with Brett, things got a lot brighter. You and Guy…I’m so happy for you. And angry that it had to happen at such a time.”

  Cindy shrugged. “There will always be chaos and darkness. We find light in between. And over the last few years, I’ve found a lot of light…”

  Cindy seemed to stare past me, as her eyes became watery. Shiny. She rubbed them and laughed, as if embarrassed.

  “Oh! Look at me getting all sentimental…”

  I reached out and held her hand. She stopped chattering and smiled. There was sadness in that smile. An immeasurable sadness. But, more than that, like fresh water rising above the muck, was joy.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, Kat, but I think of you as a sister. It’s been a wonderful experience watching you grow. And it’s been painful seeing you get hurt. But, every time, you rise above it. I think it’s made me stronger. No, it definitely has. You’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know.”

  I scoffed, embarrassed, but she squeezed my hand, silencing me.

  “You know that I don’t have any biological family? Not for a long time. I call them biological because the word real doesn’t really fit them. They never really cared about me, and I struggle to miss them even though I sometimes think I should. But they aren’t my real family. Never were. I found my real family. It’s you. It’s Brett. It’s the Crusaders. And it’s Guy.”

  Her smile wilted. “I love him, Kat. Never have I been as terrified of losing someone as I am of losing him. And it’s changed me. Once, I was willing to sacrifice myself to banish Satan back to Hell. Now, I don’t want to die without him knowing how much he means to me.”

  “I’m sure he knows, Cins. He’s a smart guy.”

  I looked to Treth. He was frowning. We were both out of our depth.


  “I know,” Cindy continued, sounding mournful. Despite the happiness she had discussed, I could sense the emotional fatigue. It was the grand irony of love that it enabled you to lose. And that was terrifying. “I know he loves me. But he’s still so afraid. So tentative. He grapples with his past. With his traditions. He doesn’t believe he deserves me. Or love. And with the Children coming, it’s…it has been hard.”

  Cindy had started this discussion being happy. But, if this was her happiness…

  I suddenly felt great sorrow for my friend.

  I had heard a bit about Guy’s problems from Brett and pieced some of it together. Guy was Xhosa and was meant to go through an initiation ritual when he was young. But the ritual was disrupted, and he had never finished his initiation and gone down the path to manhood.

  I suspected it wasn’t just that, though. Guy was calm. Rational. Not cold, but definitely icily professional. But, there was something behind those eyes. Something far deeper than the hunter’s stare.

  For some reason, the thought of Guy’s trepidation brought up Jane’s point. The need for levity. For joy. If anyone deserved and needed joy, it was Guy and Cindy. Their engagement party had been interrupted by the Necro Lord killing one of our friend’s after all.

  They deserved happiness. Together.

  That’s when my brain awoke with a thousand sparks.

  “You should have the wedding soon. No, now! Not now, everything is closed. But really soon. Next week!”

  “Wait, what?” Cindy asked, confused.

  I realised I was beaming. This was what Jane had been suggesting. Joy. The binding of two people who loved each other together. Even the most boring wedding was still happy. We needed this. They needed this.

  “You guys said you wanted something small anyway, so it won’t need much planning. You and Guy should have your wedding. Before everything gets out of hand.”

  Treth processed what I was saying before Cindy did.

  “Are you mad?!” he exclaimed. “This isn’t the time for parties and ceremony. We’re at war!”