“We get down there,” Gideon replied, “and find out what’s going on.”
“I was afraid he was going to say that.” Garrick’s wry tone jerked a grim, breathless bark of laughter from Seth.
Ten minutes later, the group had made their way into the village, keeping to the shadows to avoid detection, though they knew it was only a matter of time before the Death-Walkers scented their presence. As Deschanel, the Grangers could mask their scent, but it was going to be easy for the bastards to pick up on Seth, Garrick and Quinn. As they made their way down a side alley, drawing closer to the place where they’d seen the villagers, Seth caught his first whiff of the Death-Walkers’ rotting flesh and almost gagged. He wasn’t weak stomached, but their stench was like something left to rot in the bright sun.
“Keep your flasks at the ready.” Quinn spoke from Seth’s left, while Garrick had taken up position on his right, the vampires having gone around to the other side of the road, so that they could trap the group between them.
“You think they’ve made us?” Garrick asked in a low voice, and a second later, he had his answer.
“Mmm. I smell company,” one of the creatures lisped, lifting its flattened nose to the air.
“Three, at least.” The other one’s yellow gaze burned with malice as it peered into the shadows that lined the road.
“Have you come to see our handiwork, then?” the first one called out, motioning for the villagers to come to a stop.
Though he knew it wouldn’t do any good against the Death-Walkers, Seth moved the flask to his left hand and drew his gun, not certain what to expect from the grim-looking villagers who clearly had something wrong with them.
“Be ready,” Quinn muttered, and in the next instant, the Death-Walkers attacked. Moving more quickly than Seth would have thought possible, they dashed into the alley. Wind rushed against Seth’s face as a blurred shape sped past and left his thigh burning from the razor-sharp claws that had slashed clear through his jeans.
“Son of a bitch,” he hissed under his breath, tossing the contents of the flask when he felt another blast of wind rushing toward him. He knew he’d hit one of the Death-Walkers when an enraged screech rang out through the darkness and the smell of burned flesh filled his nose. Quinn and Garrick were close by, cursing and snarling as the Death-Walkers kept coming at them, all three working to make their way into the moonlit street, where they could get the creatures into the open. As he moved toward the road, Seth tossed his empty flask aside, switched his gun to his left hand, and used his right to punch one of the creatures in the face as it sped toward him, the moonlight glinting off its pale skin. Satisfaction burned in his veins as his fist connected, cracking its nose, and a thick, black liquid poured down its face.
When the Watchmen had first faced off against the Death-Walkers back in December, they’d said it’d been like striking a gooey mist, their punches and kicks having little effect. But the bastards had substance now, even though they were still able to speed through the air like a vapor, and Seth intended to inflict as much damage as he could.
The Death-Walker he’d hit was still coming after him, probably figuring that as a human, he’d be one of the weakest links in the group. With its jagged fangs bared, it swiped at him with its long claws. Arching backward, Seth managed to narrowly avoid the deadly claws, quickly twisting and bringing his right leg around in a bone-cracking roundhouse that slammed against the Death-Walker’s jaw. Both of the vampires had joined the fight, and the creature staggered toward Gideon, who had already released his talons. The vamp swiped at its chest, pulling a thick spray of black mist that covered Gideon’s front. While it was still reeling from the blow, Seth tucked his gun into the back of his jeans and whipped out his handcuffs. Wrenching the Death-Walker’s arms behind its back, he slapped the cuffs on its wrists and slammed it against the nearest building.
“The other one just took off,” Ashe muttered, using his sleeve to wipe away a spray of black slime that had caught him in the face during the fight. “I don’t think they were expecting us to be able to hurt them.”
“Make sure the villagers don’t move,” Quinn said to Garrick, who still had his weapon drawn, before moving closer to the Death-Walker Seth had captured. “What’s up with the changes in your bodies?” he demanded harshly.
“We’ve been feeding,” it growled, struggling against Seth’s grip as he held the creature pinned against the front of the village church, his long fingers clenching its throat. “Every time we’ve made a kill, we’ve gotten stronger.”
“We saw the bodies of your victims on our way into the village,” Gideon said, standing beside his brother. “Thought you assholes were only meant to be hunting the Watchmen.”
“Oops,” it lisped, its lips spreading in a wide, maniacal smile. “I guess when we explained our purpose to your friends we left out a few important details.”
“Ya think?” Gideon snapped, jerking his head toward the tethered humans.
“You might be getting stronger,” Seth growled, tightening his grip on the creature’s throat, “but now we can get a hold on you.”
“True,” it laughed, its yellow eyes bright with madness. “But you still can’t kill me.”
Seth squeezed until he felt something snap. “Tell us what the hell this is about.”
“Fuck you,” it wheezed, though it didn’t seem to be struggling for air. Hell, for all they knew, the Death-Walkers didn’t even need to breathe.
“What did you want with this village?” Ashe demanded in a deep, guttural snarl of words, coming a little closer. “Why bother with the humans, when you’re meant to be coming after the Watchmen?”
“Our bites only work on humanity.” The Death-Walker grinned, which made it even uglier. “But first we needed to get a little meat on our bones. You can’t give new life to something until you have some substance yourself.”
“New life?” Quinn grunted, pointing toward the villagers. “You’ve killed those people!”
“No. Just borrowed them, really.”
“You mean destroyed them.”
Humor danced in the yellow depths of its eyes. “Would it help if I said we had no choice?” it asked with a rusty laugh.
Seth slammed the back of its head against the building, and it laughed even louder. “Okay. All right. The plain and simple truth is that your side is just taking too long. The Merrick are moving too slowly against the Casus, and there’s too few of us to do what needs to be done. So we had no choice but to start building ourselves a little army.”
Seth considered pointing out the fact that things were only going to move slower if these assholes kept killing off the Watchmen, but before he could say anything, Quinn came a little closer, his tall, muscled form shaking with rage. “What the hell did you do to them?”
“We bit them. Our bites, while ineffective against the clans, have an interesting effect on humans.”
“So you’ve what? Turned them into your own little zombie soldiers?”
“What are they meant to do, anyway?” Seth demanded. “They can barely move, much less fight.”
“Their name is the Infettato, or the Infected, and they’re not meant to fight. They’re meant to eat. And like their makers, the more they eat, the stronger they’ll become,” it explained in that grating, lyrical voice. “It’s genius, really. Just imagine the kind of chaos an army of flesh-eating humans will cause!”
“You’re even worse than the Casus,” Ashe said, enraged. “They might be a group of sadistic assholes, but at least they have something they’re fighting for. You…you’re just outta your fucking mind.”
“Oh, yeah?” it snapped. “Try spending an eternity in hell, vamp, and see what it does for your mental stability.”
“Where are the women and children?” Quinn’s question drew the Death-Walker’s attention. “The bodies out on the road are all males.”
“That’s because this village, while human, has ties to the Shaevan clan through a marriage.
They keep a constant lookout for things that prowl the night. When they saw we were coming, it was the men who came to fight. But most were too weak for our needs. The strongest…well, you can see for yourself.” It sent a pointed look toward the villagers.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Quinn snarled, forcing the words through his clenched teeth. “Where are the children?”
With wide eyes, it asked, “Is that a rhetorical question?”
“Oh, hell no,” Gideon growled, while the rest of them cursed.
“Where are they?”
It laughed, the moonlight glinting off its bald, misshapen skull. “Why would we want baby soldiers?”
“You murdered them?” Quinn seethed, sounding ready to kill—and Seth knew exactly how the Watchman felt.
In response to the question, the Death-Walker’s jagged teeth flashed in a taunting smile.
“That’s it. Talk time’s over,” Ashe muttered, pulling a small vial from the front pocket of his jeans. “Everybody move back. I’m done with this fuckhead.”
“What is that thing?” Seth asked, releasing his hold on its neck and stepping away with the others.
“After going up against these bastards in the Wasteland, I decided to try something new. This is a modified sparkler—a weapon that can be used to kill rogue Deschanel.” Sliding a wry smile toward Seth, the vampire added, “One we’ve made sure the Collective never learned about. It won’t harm any of us, but I’m hoping that the combination of the blast and the salted holy water will be enough to kill this asshole.”
“You really think it’ll work?” Quinn asked him, casting a doubtful look at the innocuous glass vial.
Ashe rolled his shoulder. “Nah, but it’s worth a shot. Until we discover a way to kill ’em, we’ve got to keep trying new things.”
Raising his clenched fist high in the air, the vamp hurled the vial against the ground, and to Seth’s surprise, it detonated in a massive explosion of power and sound, and what had to be close to fifty gallons of salted holy water slammed against them with enough force to knock them all on their asses. Wiping the water from his eyes, Seth watched as the Death-Walker writhed against the wall, violent screams pouring from its throat, its skin melting like rivers of wax trailing down the sides of a candle. The handcuffs slid off its wrists, dropping to the ground, and it bent forward, curling its arms over its head, fragments of skull showing where the skin had been burned away.
“This isn’t over!” it screamed, and in the next instant, it shot straight into the air, disappearing into the starry night with a furious burst of speed.
Scraping his wet hair from his face, Gideon was the first to break the shocked silence that followed with an eloquent, “Shit.”
“I guess it pisses them off,” Quinn said. “But it doesn’t kill them.”
Standing up, Seth walked over and scooped his handcuffs off the ground. “Might not have killed it, but it won’t be coming after us anytime soon. Should give us enough time to get to where we’re heading without any trouble.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Quinn murmured, pushing himself to his feet.
“Yeah?” they all grunted in unison.
“This plan the Death-Walkers have to create chaos among the clans…” The Watchman rubbed at the back of his neck. “If that bastard wasn’t lying when he said this village has ties to the Shaevan, then that means the clan is going to be protective of those who live here. And the Death-Walkers have made it look like those corpses out on the road were Deschanel kills.”
Ashe cursed. “If the Shaevan find out, they’re going to be looking for revenge.”
Quinn nodded. “Which is exactly what the Death-Walkers have been after all along. They want to turn the clans against one another, and with the Watchmen busy fighting a war, we’re not going to be able to keep the peace. The conflicts are going to escalate. Especially now that they’re targeting humans, as well.”
Seth shoved his hands into his pockets, saying, “And if that happens, things are going to become harder to contain. If we’re not careful, there’s a damn good chance the media’s gonna catch wind of something it shouldn’t.”
“Not to mention what could happen if the Death-Walkers keep making their gruesome little army of human zombies.”
“There’s no telling how bad this could get.” Gideon’s voice was rough. “The world’s not ready to know about the clans. Jesus, they can’t even handle different belief systems. What do you think they’d do if they knew there were nonhumans walking among them? We’re talking a war of biblical proportions.”
“We need to get word out, warning the others of what’s coming,” Quinn said. “Not all of them will listen, but we need to do what we can.”
“Not to change the subject,” Garrick called out, “but we still have the Dawn of the Dead crew over here.”
Scrubbing his hands over his face, Quinn asked, “Got any ideas?”
Seth shook his head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Ashe, you got anything?” the Watchman asked.
“A headache,” the vampire muttered. “But that’s about it.”
They spent the next few minutes discussing what to do with the “infected” villagers, and finally agreed that they should learn more about what had been done to the men before trying to kill them, in case there was a way for the victims to regain their humanity. Quinn made a call to a nearby Watchmen unit that agreed to guard the so-called Infettato as well as take care of the bodies out on the road. When the last of the zombies had been herded into one of the village barns, Garrick barred the door, locking them inside. Then everyone stood silent and still beneath the heavy weight of the chilling darkness, listening for any sounds from inside, but all they could hear was a low, eerie groaning noise that made Seth’s skin crawl.
“Those poor sons of bitches,” he muttered, surprised by how easy it had been to trap the villagers in the barn. They’d been disoriented, their muscles too weak to make them a danger to anyone. But he didn’t doubt they would grow stronger with time, just like the Death-Walker had claimed. “Think they’ll try to fight their way out?”
“Who knows?” Quinn responded, sounding tired. “But to be safe, we’ll wait until the unit’s here before heading out.”
Propping his shoulder against the ancient barn, Garrick asked, “And then what?”
“We keep to the original plan,” Ashe answered, “and meet up with Kierland and the others in the Wasteland.”
“And after that?” the soldier asked.
“We just keep doing what we’ve been doing,” Seth told him, hunching his shoulders against the brutal wind, the cuts in his leg starting to hurt like a bitch.
“And what exactly have you been doing?” Gideon asked, lifting his brows.
With a grim smile, Seth met the vampire’s curious gaze. “Whatever the hell it takes to survive.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Casus/Kraven compound, the Wasteland
Tuesday afternoon
THEIR TIME HAD RUN OUT.
Ever since Raine had told him that Gregory DeKreznick was coming for Westmore, Kellan had been hoping the Casus would hurry up and make his move, so that they could use the attack as a diversion while making their escape. But they couldn’t wait any longer. That morning, Raine had let him know the Casus was finally closing in on the compound…and that he wasn’t alone. According to the psychic, there was a shadowy presence traveling with Gregory that she hadn’t caught before and couldn’t get a clear read on. Kellan didn’t like this new development, uncertain what it meant for Chloe…or how it would affect Raine’s ability to keep a “read” on Gregory, and it had put him even further on edge.
Then there’d been the visit from Westmore.
It’d happened an hour or so after Raine had told him about Gregory. He’d been pacing the floor, trying to work things out in his head, when Westmore himself had suddenly made an appearance. Though Kellan had expected him to be a big brute of a man, the guy was ac
tually quite average in appearance, his build slight, his head not even reaching Kellan’s shoulder. But what the bastard lacked in stature, he more than made up for in sheer, perverse evil. With pale brown hair and ruddy cheeks, Westmore could have passed for any human male walking down the street—but he wasn’t human.
And he wasn’t Casus, either.
Despite his determination to see the monsters freed from Meridian, Westmore wasn’t one of them. He was actually a Kraven, the offspring of a Deschanel female who’d been raped by a Casus many generations ago, before the clan’s imprisonment. Viewed as an abomination by the Deschanel, the Kraven had been kept a secret for centuries, their existence only recently revealed to the Watchmen.
From the moment they’d first learned of his plans, Kellan and his friends had wondered exactly what Westmore hoped to achieve by bringing back the Casus, but his goals remained unclear. The Deschanel had been the Kraven overlords for centuries, and some thought that perhaps the Kraven had decided to trade the “protection” of the vampires for that of the more powerful Casus. It was no secret that the Kraven hated the vampires, who regarded them as little better than slaves. But if that was Westmore’s plan, Kellan had no doubt he was going to be sadly disappointed, considering the Casus cared for no one but themselves.
Of course, if Kellan ever actually got his hands on Ross Westmore, the guy was going to be more than just disappointed; he was going to be dead. And after what he’d heard that morning, Kellan was ready to make the event as slow and as painful as possible.
When the Kraven had first come down to the cellblock, Kellan had feared that Westmore had come up with some new plan to “feed” Chloe. But that hadn’t been the purpose of the bastard’s visit. Westmore had basically come to gloat, and his news had left Kellan chilled to the bone.
Instead of saving Chloe for Anthony Calder upon his escape from Meridian, Westmore had decided to placate the pissed-off Casus leader with an early gift—that gift being Chloe. The Kraven was actually going to try to send her into Meridian during the full moon on Wednesday night. Westmore believed that if he could transport Chloe directly into Meridian, then Calder would be able to use her murder to acquire enough power to fully regenerate, negating his need for a human host once he returned to this world. He would rape her, then consume her flesh, all for a power kick. And the harder she fought him, the more power the sick son of a bitch would take from the feeding.
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