by S T Branton
“What’s with you?” My eyes flicked to the clearing path. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”
He gave me sort of a wounded look, wiped the sweat from his brow, and spit into the leaves. “You better come quick. They found another body.”
Chapter Eleven
A truck door slammed behind me. A moment later, Deacon appeared beside Frank. “What’s going on?” he asked, glancing between the vampire mobster and me.
The man seemed to shrink a little in the agent’s presence. “There’s another body,” he repeated, hanging his head. “People are really starting to get wind of this stuff. I think it’s put ʼem all on edge.”
“Can’t say I blame them,” I said. “Deacon, can you go check it out? I want to drop in on our resident militia and see how they’re doing. Something tells me we’ll want them ready sooner rather than later.”
“Sure.” The agent turned to Frank. “Lead the way. I’m right behind you.”
The two of them headed toward camp, and I stuck my head back into the truck cab to talk to Luis. “Can you start moving these supplies in? Jules will help.”
He nodded. “Aye aye, captain.”
“Thanks, man,” I said.
Jules gave me a thumbs-up on her way past, and I took off at a brisk jog toward the modest encampment where Dan housed his men. Some rowdiness was to be expected in a soldiers’ camp, but my heart sank when I heard only vitriolic arguing from the other side of the tents.
“You don’t get it,” Dan said, his patience undercut by a hefty dose of exasperation. “Send these guys in to fight in melee range, and you’re sending them in to die. This sets us up for needless casualties. I don’t see what’s so hard to understand about that.”
Brax’s answering laugh was harsh and mirthless. “Are your men too weak to fight their foes face to face? You would rather have your men fall back like cowards, unprepared for the inevitable ambush? Don’t come crawling to me after the enemy rushes in and rips them limb from limb.”
The soldier heaved a deep, long-suffering sigh. “Vic must have a real good reason to trust you because you’ve got some serious fucking problems, my friend. I believe we’re on the same side here, but you’ve got to trust me, too. Range is always the better option as long as you have guns. We don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell if they get to us, no matter what you think you can teach these people.”
“As always, your kind underestimates me,” the demon replied. “And as always, you’re wrong. I hate to admit it, but the gods are too smart for your sneaky sniper bullshit. They’ll close the distance the second they spot you, and they will spot you. Then it’s a clusterfuck of friendly fire until everyone’s dead. The end.”
Suppressing a groan, I turned on my heel and got out of there. Clearly, things weren’t going well on the militia front, and I wouldn’t do much good if I turned up without some way for them to make peace. Luckily, I thought I had something—or a few things—that might do the trick.
“What’s up, Vic?” Jules was coming back for another load as I reached the second truck. “Need something?”
“The troops are bickering,” I told her, hopping up onto the open tailgate to find what I needed. “I’ll get my head chewed off if I don’t bring in an olive branch.” The guns and ammo from the outdoor supply store went into a crate, which I then hefted down from the truck bed. Hooray, nectar strength. “I hope these new toys will settle those children down.”
Jules pursed her lips. “Make sure they don’t play too rough with them.” She picked up another armful of groceries. “When you’re done over there, I think they want to see you at the murder scene. I heard someone asking for you.”
“And here I thought the zombie attack would be the worst part of my day.” Lifting the crate to my shoulder, I set off toward Dan’s encampment again. “Let them know I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
When I reached the front of the wall of dirty canvas tents, the disagreement between the soldiers was no longer verbal, but it wasn’t over, either. Tension sizzled in the air as the two adversaries stood on opposite ends of the camp with their backs to each other. The demon had his arms folded across his chest. Dan’s head was practically in his hands.
Obviously, things were going well.
“Am I interrupting a brooding contest?” I asked half-jokingly. “Let me know if now’s a bad time.”
Brax grunted but didn’t even turn around. The soldier lifted his head and struggled to force his facial expression into something other than extreme irritation. “Good to see you, Vic,” he muttered. “We’re…working on it.”
At that, his partner in conflict scoffed. “No, we’re not. We’d be working on it if this guy would get his head out of his asshole.”
Dan bristled, his fingers curling halfway to fists. He closed his eyes, and I could almost hear him counting to ten. “My head is right where it’s supposed to be. Thinking strategically. And I’d love to meet you halfway. I really would. But you’re not listening to reason.” The man gave me a beseeching look. “Help me out here, Vic. Hand-to-hand combat would be insanity. Like throwing lambs to the slaughter.” He shook his head. “There are only about thirty volunteers, to begin with, tops. I can’t expect them to get in close and survive.”
“Even a small contingent has the potential to be mighty if it is suitably trained,” Brax retorted. “But thirty inexperienced gunmen taking potshots into a raging horde is asking to have our asses whooped. The gods won’t even think about slowing down. Close quarters combat is inevitable.” He kept his back to us as he talked. To him, the conversation was already over.
“I’m not picking sides,” I told them firmly. “You two are the best we’ve got in this department. I’m trusting you to make this decision for the good of the group. Everyone depends on us to come up with a stable defense solution, and I need you to figure your shit out soon. Stop fighting each other and worry about fighting the damn Forgotten. Understood?”
Dan saluted resolutely. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do my best to find some common ground.”
“Hear that, Brax?” I asked. “Trust me. I know it’s not exactly your strong suit, but cooperation is the name of the game. The only way we’ll make it through the apocalypse is by working together. The militia won’t follow you if you aren’t united. We have to make this work.” I walked between them and set down my box of arms with a decisive thump. “I brought you some new toys to get you started.”
“I take it the supply run was a success?” Dan asked.
“As successful as anything these days.” The memory of the gaunt, nameless god surfaced in my head. I doubted telling him about the zombie horde would lift his spirits, so I didn’t mention it. “The bad guys are still in motion out there. They won’t wait for us to be ready for the next attack. We have to scramble.”
“Agreed,” he replied.
Somewhat grudgingly, Brax moved to the weapons crate and began to poke through its contents. “Not bad,” he allowed finally. “I can make this work.”
“You and me both,” Dan interjected. Although the demon remained thoroughly unimpressed, he did not lash out, which I took as a sign of improvement. I sidled in the direction of the main camp. “And that’s my cue to beat it. I’m counting on both of you.”
It took all my self-restraint not to simply turn and run the hell out of there. I had enough bullshit in my life without getting involved in theirs. Brax wasn’t the only one adjusting to being part of a team.
It is unrealistic to expect better from the Marked, Marcus remarked dourly. The demon is a petty, contradictory figure. He knows nothing of leadership or teamwork.
“We’re all learning new skills,” I said, angling toward the central teepee. “It’s sink or swim now. Either they work it out, or we’re screwed, and as much as they hate each other, neither of them wants to lose. Or die.”
Perhaps a modicum of the soldier’s integrity will rub off on Abraxzael. I confess, my hopes are not high.
“You kno
w,” I said. “You do have at least one thing in common with him.”
Perish the thought. I demand to know where such commonality lies.
I smirked. “You both talk a whole lot of shit.”
Chapter Twelve
As I reached the teepee, with Marcus blustering indignantly in my ear, Deacon emerged from the nearby woods. He made an immediate beeline for me.
“You’ll want to see this for yourself,” he said the moment he came within earshot. I tuned Marcus out and fell into step beside him. He seemed like he had something else to say, and after a minute of thoughtful silence, he turned to me. “Find out what that kid’s deal is?”
“Luis? Yeah, we talked in the car. He’s good. I think he’s trustworthy. He’s tough too, and he’s keeping an eye on you.”
The man looked surprised and slightly affronted. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing to keep an eye on.”
I shrugged. “He doesn’t like that you’re a cop. And I think he caught you checking out my ass once or twice.”
Deacon protested. “I’m not a cop!”
Holding my hands up, I said, “Don’t look at me. I told him that. It didn’t seem to matter much.” I paused. The smirk from before crept back onto my lips. “What about the part where you were checking out my ass?”
He coughed. “I plead the Fifth.”
“Afraid of self-incrimination, huh?” Still smiling, I pulled ahead of him. The river babbled beyond the next curtain of trees, offset by a few hushed voices. I saw the outline of the body before we emerged onto the bank. A sense of foreboding gathered in the pit of my stomach. It only intensified when I drew close enough to view the corpse’s face and see that whoever this person had been, they were nearly unrecognizable now.
The small cluster of onlookers migrated away from me as I stared down at the second victim. Deacon directed them toward the settlement, and their reluctant footsteps rustled into the distance. Then he was at my side, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, taking in the ghastly sight for the second time.
“Looks like the same killer to me,” I mused out loud, mostly to myself.
The upper torso was speckled with deep, bloodless puncture wounds that had left the skin waxy and paper white—at least, the parts of it that weren’t mottled by vicious bruising. It was all too maddeningly familiar, including the marks on either side of the throat.
“Manual strangulation,” I mumbled. “Again.”
“Yeah.” Deacon exhaled slowly. “You know what this means. We’re dealing with a serial killer.”
Long blonde hair sprouted above the victim’s pale, bloodless face. I searched my memory for the poor woman’s identity, but I came up empty. She was merely one person among the hundreds I’d seen on my way out of New York. I felt bad for not knowing, but maybe it was better that way. Easier.
“Zombie gods and serial killers,” I said. “And people used to think that New York was dangerous.” I shook my head. “Okay, do we have any idea who’s behind this godawful scene?”
“It’s definitely a god, right?” Deacon asked. “It has to be. We’ve never seen anything like this before.”
I nodded, observing the punctures one more time. “If not a god, at least a Forgotten. Something we haven’t run into before. What pisses me off is we don’t know where it’s coming from or how it’s getting so close. You’d think we would have seen some sign of a god by now.” My thoughts flew instantly to Tahn with her serpent’s fangs and flickering tongue, but the brutality of the killing didn’t seem like her style. She had been cunning, wily, and dangerous in her intelligence. She had not been a vessel of such barbaric force.
This is not the work of Tahn, Marcus confirmed. She would never kill so sloppily.
I crossed the serpent goddess off my mental list. Beleza was the only other god I’d encountered recently, but he was almost certainly still in the city. That bronze prick craved worship, and for that, he needed people around. Plus, the bruises on the victim’s neck were of normal proportions.
“Could be someone in the camp,” Deacon theorized. “Someone like a vamp or Were hiding their monstrous nature behind a normal human exterior.”
I frowned. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing, so to speak. While we’re looking for an outside threat, the killer strikes from inside the camp.”
“That would explain how it’s happened twice on our watch,” he said. His face darkened.
I sighed. “So, the best-case scenario is that some shitty monster we can find and kill is prowling the woods? The worst-case scenario is a killer hiding among us.”
Deacon chuckled grimly. “Pretty much.”
“We’ll have to keep this to ourselves for now,” I said. “If people think the killer is one of us, they’ll turn on each other left and right. We need to get out of these damn woods, pronto. I’m talking yesterday. And if the killings continue after that, we’ll have one answer, at least.”
He nodded. “True. Still, it might be worth sending out a hunting party in case it turns out to be a local pest.”
“Maybe when Maya gets back, I’ll ask her to do some more recon. If she finds something lurking around, she can take it out.” Standing close to the bank of the river, I looked into the trees, half expecting my favorite werewolf veterinarian to pop out at the sound of her name. Of course, she didn’t. “I hope she’s on her way back.”
“She’ll show up soon,” Deacon said. “That girl’s one of the most reliable people I’ve ever met.” He glanced down at the body. “I’ll get a shovel so we can take care of this before anyone else comes by.”
“Yeah, I’ll keep a lookout in case,” I told him. But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, rapid footsteps approached through the underbrush. I braced myself, automatically dropping my hand to the hilt of the Gladius Solis, ready for whatever was about to barrel toward us. If we were lucky, our problem was a few seconds from solving itself.
But instead of a monster or a crazed murderer, it was Jules who burst onto the riverbank. Her periwinkle eyes were wide, and her cheeks were flushed with exertion. “Come quick!” she urged, out of breath.
“Whoa.” Deacon reached out a hand to steady her. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”
“It’s Frank,” she said. “Come on. They want to kill him!” She wheeled and dashed back the way she’d come. Deacon and I followed in hot pursuit.
An angry mob always had a distinct sound—a wild mess of screaming, shouting, cursing, and stomping feet. The howling mass roiled back and forth in front of the central teepee, hungry to destroy the object of their rage. Poor Frank could never catch a break. neither in life nor the afterlife.
He huddled in his shabby, dark suit jacket, trying to make his bulky frame seem as small and non-threatening as possible. The scared expression on his face was one I had seen many times before, although for once, I wasn’t the cause of his fear.
“Frank!” I shouted, diving headlong into the churning crowd. Some of them parted for me, but others required a firm shove.
All kinds of things flew around me, from fists to heavy rocks wrenched up from the damp soil. Some of the words became clearer to me as I forged a path. “It was him. He killed her. He’s one of them. He’s a fucking vamp.”
I clenched my teeth. I should have known.
“I bet he killed that other kid, too,” someone hollered close to my ear. “There were bite marks, weren’t there? Who else coulda done it but him?”
The question was met with a chorus of enraged, bloodthirsty affirmation and another flurry of projectiles. All that was missing from the scene were blazing torches and pitchforks. Poor old Frankie-stein wouldn’t burn tonight. Not if I could help it anyway.
I bent my head and shouldered my way through the last layer of the angry crowd. The hapless victim hunched in the eye of the storm, peering out from beneath his heavy brow. He wasn’t alone. Steph stood over him with her gun out, brandishing the firearm at anyone who got too close. In the couple of seconds it took for me to a
bsorb the whole scene, I saw her trigger finger twitch at least twice.
Desperate to avoid a potentially fatal confrontation, I stuck my fingers in my mouth and let fly with the shrillest, most piercing whistle I could muster. “What the hell is going on here?” I demanded. “Everybody shut the fuck up.” I took position beside Steph, guarding Frank with my body. “Somebody start explaining before I lose my shit.”
My harsh words brought the crowd’s roar down to a dull murmur. A huge, bulging dude in a ripped-up muscle shirt and faded jeans stepped forward and jabbed a finger in Frank’s face.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” he spat, sneering. “Freaks like him aren’t welcome here. None of us are safe with him around. Let’s kill them all.” He turned to the crowd for validation, raising his hands like a rock star hyping up the audience.
The cheering stopped when I decked him in the jaw.
He sprawled on his ass in the mud. I faced the crowd, which had suddenly gone deathly silent. The people in front glanced continually between me and my sword, which I hadn’t needed to draw yet.
“Do you trust me?” I asked. My question was met with silence. “Anyone who doesn’t trust me, come up here and tell me right now.” No one moved. “Okay, good. Now that we’ve established that, let me make one thing clear. Frank is not your enemy. He is not a freak, and he’s not the bad guy here. In fact, he’s one of the only reasons we’re all standing here right now.”
I paused to let that sink in. Angry faces watched me from the crowd, but they remained silent for the moment. At least they were listening.
I pointed into the distance. “Our enemies are out there. And when they come howling for your blood, Frank here defends the front lines while you hide in your tents. How do you repay his courage and his selflessness? You call him a freak. You condemn him, even though he risks his life to keep you alive. Don’t forget that. We’re all in this together. At this point, that’s how we survive. We live together, or we let the gods tear us apart.”