We stayed like that for a moment, merely staring at each other, then I inched forward. Jimmy followed suit. Together, the two of us approached, stepping along the railway’s wooden slats to avoid disturbing the gravel. I recognized all our sneaking around would make little difference if the zombie guard decided to raise the alarm, but so far he hadn’t seemed inclined to give us up. So—at least until I suspected otherwise—we were going to keep pretending this would work.
The Redcoat tracked us with his eyes but said nothing, not even as we passed by him. Jimmy, prepared for a fight, walked sideways as we continued on, keeping an eye on both the zombie and the boy. But there was no need. The Redcoat merely turned and continued watching us. It was eerie and made no sense. But I wasn’t complaining.
Not yet.
It wasn’t until we stood not four feet from the boy, holding our breaths, that I realized I had no idea what to do next. Put him in a chokehold, maybe? But what if I accidentally snapped his neck? I’d been training in martial arts since I was a kid, but I’d always picked bigger, stronger opponents to fight. It’s what set me apart from most fighters; I always anticipated being the underdog. But even a simple rear naked choke could do all sorts of damage if you weren’t careful. Still, it seemed like the best option; I wasn’t about to clout the kid over the head and have to explain why he had permanent brain damage. I started to step forward.
“I figured you’d come,” Lukas said, spinning around, hands in his pockets.
I shuffled back, heart pounding. It made me feel ridiculous, being startled by a little kid. In fact, I had to stop myself from punching the little fucker in the nose on principle. Instead, I gritted my teeth. “Sorry, boyo, but we can’t let ye keep doin’ whatever ye like. This has to end.”
“I don’t think so,” Lukas said. He flicked his hand, and the Redcoat was suddenly there, arms wrapped around Jimmy’s torso, lifting the man in the air with inhuman strength. Jimmy struggled and squirmed, striking the zombie’s face with his elbows, the zombie’s legs with savage kicks. But nothing worked.
“Put him down,” I demanded.
“I cannot,” the Redcoat replied. “I am bound to serve.” He looked past Jimmy’s flailing body, meeting my eyes, and I saw the same sadness I’d seen reflected in them earlier. But there was something else there, too. Hope.
But why? Why look at me with hope?
“He saw through what you were trying to do,” Lukas said, his voice petulant. Spoiled. “And now you’re mine, too. Unless you want us to kill him.” He pointed at Jimmy, whose struggles were quickly diminishing. He wasn’t being drained, I realized, but he was being squeezed to death, his lungs crushed by the strength in those monstrous arms.
“Don’t do it,” I hissed, glaring at the zombie.
“I must, for the child is my Master,” the Redcoat replied. “I am bound to him.”
I frowned. There was that word again. Bound. Suddenly, I realized what the zombie was trying to tell me. What he’d been trying to tell me from the very start. I stared into those dead eyes and knew exactly what he wanted me to do.
I reached out, past Jimmy, and pressed a single finger between the Redcoat’s furrowed brows. He sighed, the sound emerging from his throat like a death rattle, then collapsed into so much liquid. Jimmy fell to the ground, gasping for air like a drowning man plucked from still waters.
“No!” Lukas screamed. He reached out, and that eerie green light spread across the ground, but the liquid remained just that—a black ichor that stained Jimmy’s backside like tar. “No! How? How could you?!” Lukas shrieked.
I didn’t bother telling Lukas the truth: that the Redcoat had known this would happen. That he’d mentioned it purposefully in my presence the first time we met, hoping I would use my ability to free him and his brethren. That I’d simply been too dumb to realize I could stop them, could remove the bonds Lukas had so wantonly constructed. Instead, I reached out and crushed the boy to me, pinning his face against my shoulder as he sobbed.
“Deep breaths,” I murmured. I felt the boy’s power snap the instant I held him to me, like taut strings being snipped in two. The tendrils of power that connected him to the other zombies fell away like torn strands of a spider’s web. The boy shuddered, then passed out, too exhausted by the abrupt departure of his power to stay upright a moment longer.
Jimmy was almost instantly beside me, wincing, but alive. “So,” he weazed, “you use maternal magic. That’s a surprise.”
I reached out and punched him in the stomach.
“Never could take a joke,” Jimmy gasped, clutching his gut.
But I didn’t get a chance to respond.
Because that’s when the screams began.
Chapter 19
I handed Lukas off to Jimmy. “Take him,” I insisted, then rose. The screams were coming from down the tunnel, where Bernie had been taking on the zombies. I took off at a dead sprint, drawing my gun in the process. My heart hammered in my chest, and a bad feeling churned in my gut. Something was wrong. Lukas, the necromancer, was unconscious. The danger should have passed. And yet, somehow, I knew it hadn’t. If anything, it felt like things had gotten worse.
I raced through the darkness, trying to see what was happening around the bend, but couldn’t. The clamor grew louder, and I realized they were more like howls—the sounds crazy people make when they’re throwing their own shit against the walls, or breaking everything in sight. The instant I turned the corner, I realized what I was hearing: the zombies had gone insane.
No longer tied to Lukas, they had reverted to something ghoulish and awful—too animalistic, too vicious to have ever been considered human. Many had taken to wrestling with each other, tearing at their companions with wild abandon. I froze and scoured the scene for Bernie, praying I wouldn’t find his limbs being used as clubs. When I finally found him, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
He was holding what I assumed was another vial, although this one had a more familiar shape, dodging the zombies as best he could. As I watched, he poured a thick yellow liquid onto two zombies tearing into each other with their teeth. He jostled the vial. No, not a vial, I realized. A can. Gasoline. He was pouring gasoline on the zombies. Now that I knew what it was he was carrying, the stench was obvious. Acrid and bitter, it filled the tunnel with a sickly sweet odor which clung to the back of my throat. A quick glance around revealed the remaining zombies had been similarly doused.
He tossed the can to the side and caught me looking. He waved, then winked, and suddenly I knew what he was planning to do. But before I could stop him, he began beating his foot against a rail. It echoed through the tunnel, loud enough to draw the attention of the remaining zombies. Their wild eyes spun to the man, and they began slinking towards him like feral cats. “That’s right,” Bernie yelled. “Come on then!”
“What the fuck d’ye t’ink you’re doin’?!” I screamed.
Bernie kept slamming his foot down on the rail, but he spoke to me. “I thought this might happen. The boy gave them too much power. Now that they have no one to tell them what to do, they’ll be like beasts. Flesh-sucking beasts.” He chuckled to himself. “You know, if I was a better wizard, I could just burn them all to ashes and be done with it.” He shrugged. “But this’ll have to do.”
I raised my gun, aiming for one of the corpses. “Get the hell out of there and we’ll burn ‘em the old fashioned way,” I called. I wasn’t sure if they’d catch right away, but at least none of us would have to be bait.
Bernie shook his head and stomped once more. Nearly all of the zombies were within striking distance now, a seething mass of flesh encircling the older man. I doubted he’d be able to make it out, even if he wanted to. “Normal fire won’t work. They’d survive it. If even one of them makes it out of these tunnels, the whole world will know the truth.” He met my eyes, and I knew in that moment he was ready to go. Ready to give up his life if it meant saving others. That, perhaps, he’d been waiting to do someth
ing like this for a long time. “They aren’t ready, Quinn. Not yet. One day, maybe, but not yet.”
Jimmy came puffing up beside me, the boy cradled in his arms. Bernie saw them approach and smiled wide. “I’m glad you saved him. You did the right thing. Now it’s my turn.”
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but it was too late. The closest zombie reached out and wound a hand around Bernie’s arm, dragging him to one knee. The old man grunted, and I saw the big vein in his forehead pulse as his cheeks went red. His power surged, and the zombie’s hand erupted in green flame. But it didn’t draw back. Instead, the zombies crowded closer, like moths drawn to the light.
As each corpse touched Bernie, the flames spread. They licked up arms, along torsos, and across faces. The resulting heat was intense and immediate—a scalding wave that made me take a step back. Bernie knelt in the middle of it all, a furnace in truth now, emotions warring across his face. Anger, resentment, sorrow, and—finally—peace. The fire began to spread, spilling beyond the circle of the zombies, and soon he was lost to sight within the inferno.
“We have to go,” Jimmy said. “If this continues, this whole section of tunnel could go up.” He hiked Lukas up a bit, then took off down the tunnel. I watched the flames rise a moment longer, then turned and followed, never looking back.
Chapter 20
I avoided jail time, but it was a close thing. Detective Maria Machado was practically frothing at the mouth by the time Sloan escorted me out of the precinct for the second time that night, but she didn’t have a leg to stand on; both Dawes and Cassidy had corroborated Jimmy’s story: I’d followed the cops down into the tunnel because I was worried about Jimmy. It made me look dumb and girly, but I could handle that if it meant sleeping in my own bed. When she’d asked what we’d found down there, I’d been surprised to discover Jimmy was a very capable liar when he felt so inclined.
A man of many talents.
“Drug users,” Jimmy had said. “High as hell on meth. We barely made it out alive before their lab blew up.”
The rest of us had gone along with it, especially since no one would believe us if we told the truth. Besides which, the tunnels had been cordoned off by HazMat units; the fire Bernie started had spread much further than it should have, filling the whole subterranean infrastructure with smoke. I wondered how much evidence would be left over when things were said and done. My guess: this one would leave the cops scratching their heads forever.
Still, I doubt I’d have ever gotten out of the interrogation room were it not for the fact that we’d saved the kid. Cops had died in the process, but no one could pin that on me. They couldn’t pin it on Jimmy, either. What they could pin on him was a fucking medal; he’d managed to drag out a few survivors, a well-meaning civilian, and a kidnapped child.
The media was already dubbing it Boston P.D.’s finest hour.
When I left the precinct, the other uniforms were already whispering things like “key to the city” and “detective material.” Personally, I was happy for him. He deserved the praise, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. Sloan left me outside the precinct with a cool goodbye, making me promise not to get into any more trouble before dawn, at the earliest. I solemnly swore and caught a ride to the Plaza.
Breaking into Bernie’s car was a little harder than I would have liked. I’d have smashed the window, but the cops were still swarming the area, and I meant to keep my promise to Sloan. Instead, I managed to force the lock; Bernie’s ride was one of those older models, the kind car thieves practice on. I fetched my tote from the floorboards, then briskly wiped the interior down. Everyone who’d been in the tunnels had agreed to leave Bernie out of our statements. He’d sacrificed himself to save us and to keep our worlds separate, and it would have been harder to explain away the presence of a second civilian. Besides, somehow I knew they wouldn’t find him down there. He’d used every ounce of power he had to destroy the zombies, and that much power would have consumed him completely.
Before I left, I fished through the car, making sure not to touch anything with my bare hands. After less than a minute of searching, I found what I was looking for in the middle console: his wallet. In it, I found a picture of Bernie and his wife, Betty, smiling. Happy. I slid the photo into my pocket. The wallet I’d chuck in the nearest trash bin before returning home. Let the world wonder what happened to Bernie Wakowski, the low-level wizard who’d stepped up for his kind when nobody was looking.
He’d probably prefer it that way.
Jimmy met me the next night, at a bar. He bought the first round. I bought the second. He told me Lukas Reynolds had been moved to a hospital in Philadelphia. I wondered if the mysterious Academy had anything to do with it, but then decided it didn’t matter. If the kid went nuts again, it’d be someone else’s problem. I was done hunting zombies, and told Jimmy as much. I also told him about the seedy underworld I inhabited. He didn’t believe most of it, but he made me promise to stay in touch, in case he ran into any more weird shit on the job. I promised him I would.
Truth is, once you know the monsters are out there, they’re all you see.
Quinn MacKenna returns in October 2018 with MOSCOW MULE…
Part III
BEERLYMPIAN
Beerlympian—Nate Temple #5.5
There comes a moment in every man’s life when he chooses to settle down with the love of his life. To put all those childish games and hobbies away to focus on building the rock-solid foundations of a true, everlasting, committed relationship—marriage.
Gunnar Randulf, the Alpha werewolf of St. Louis and Nate Temple’s best friend is ready to make that plunge. But before the wedding bells chime…
It’s bachelor party time.
Join Nate, Alucard, Achilles, and the Minotaur as they rip through New Orleans on a last-ditch effort to ruin Gunnar’s life—erm, remind him why he loves his fiancée so much—with a Stag Night scavenger hunt marathon that introduces them to ungodly amounts of alcohol, mermaids, major felonies, Nicolas Flamel, ridiculous drinking rules, Valkyries, and a slew of other local supernaturals. And you thought you knew just how crazy the boys could get when left unattended.
It’s cute, really, your naivety...
Chapter 1
My unicorn gang stalked through the woods like malevolent ghosts, the twilight masking our approach. A campfire flared in the near distance, filling the woods with the pungent scent of burning wood—which was good because it meant we were downwind. Still, we kept our profiles low as we crept closer to our target, slowly easing branches out of our way and paying meticulous attention to where we placed our feet. Our target was hyper aware of his surroundings at all times, and even the slightest disturbance could alert him.
My unicorn gang was bound by blood—united in our undertaking, dedicated to our descent into destruction, satisfied to sacrifice what little remained of our stained souls in order to succeed in this sinister, singular moment. We weren’t just a gang. We were unicorn demons, and we’d toiled away our allotted slice of eternity waiting for this exact moment—but now we finally had the chance to break the chains of morality that bound us. Nothing would stop—
“Fucking ridiculous!” I heard a deep basso voice curse in an annoyed whisper, but Asterion’s whisper could have been mistaken for a passing locomotive.
I turned to hiss at him, whipping my finger to my lips in the universal shut the fuck up before I skin you alive gesture every child learns from the first near-retirement, grade-school teacher they encounter on their long perilous journey through the public education system. But my finger hit the long snout of the rubber mask covering my face, knocking the eyeholes out of alignment. I quickly readjusted it to cast my glare at the Minotaur—only to find him also struggling with his own XXXL rubber unicorn mask. Since it had been designed for a human, his massive bull-head was simply too large for it; we’d been forced to cut relief slits into the neck so he could even put it on, and we’d had to extend those slits all the way u
p past his temples to accommodate his huge horns. Essentially, Asterion looked like a newly proposed dinosaur concept for the next Jurassic Park movie—the Tricera-corn.
He finally got it situated properly and noticed my intent glare. Below the mask, he was a giant, hairy, humanoid figure, wearing massive leather boots, a leather warrior’s kilt, and a heavy set of prayer beads that hung below his muscular chest. He was a self-proclaimed Buddhist but wasn’t too pushy about it. The first time I’d met him, I’d cow-tipped him because I thought it was a unique way to introduce myself to an immortal, legendary, human-eating monster. Our friendship had blossomed since, so I’d considered writing a book about my relationship-building tactics. I doubted he would give me a blurb, though.
I scowled at him one last time for good measure and then pointed at the campfire ahead, lifting my fingers—more carefully this time—to my lips to remind him silence was paramount.
The other half of my gang—Alucard and Achilles—fanned out on my other side so that we made a crescent-shaped arc as we continued towards the campfire.
Achilles needed no introduction—the legendary Greek warrior who had helped take down the city of Troy in his glory days. These days he owned a bar in St. Louis called Achilles’ Heel and was somewhat of a new friend to my crew. He was buff in a natural-looking way, sported long blonde hair, and was covered in scars from his life as a brawler. His bar was also known for its dangerous patrons who spilled blood more often than they did their beer.
We’d had a rocky start to our relationship, too—trying to beat the hell out of each other a few times—but I’d done him a solid by helping him out of a pretty intricate legal contract, so tonight was kind of an olive branch between us.
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