* * *
With one hand, Thomas caressed the Mainlander’s head. His fingers came away red. The soldier grabbed his rifle, but Thomas ripped it off its strap and snapped it in half, still staring at the human’s blood on his hand.
He licked it.
It was good.
Dimly, Thomas knew the Mainlander had slipped out of his grip, but that didn’t matter: Thomas was blocking the doorway. There was no escape.
Bright light flooded the room. The others, who had been playing contentedly in its centre, leapt out of the way. Three of them pulled the Mainlander away from the curtain and pinned him to the wall. The others disappeared into the ceiling.
Only Thomas remained, basking in the sunlight and grinning. He drew the curtain across and the others hesitantly returned.
“What shall we do with the human, sire?” asked Adonis.
“I’ve a few ideas,” said Thomas.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” shouted one of the girls, storming toward her father. “Is this because of me and James?”
“You have been warned before, Clytemnestra.”
“He should have had an accident, like all the others,” said Leander. His skin was all lobstery, like Richard’s when he’d fallen asleep in the sun a few years back.
“And risk his mother’s ire?” Adonis asked his son. “I think not.”
“He stole the Book of Three!” shouted Leander.
“I can’t believe you were going to let me die!” yelled Clytemnestra.
“Quiet!” roared the duke. For a moment, there was silence. “When Thomas rejoins his brothers tonight, Detective Paddington shall be remade however the Three-God chooses and I shan’t hear another word about it.”
Far behind him, Thomas heard the human tiptoe for the doorway and faced him. The Mainlander’s heart beat faster, the blood racing in his veins. Thomas could see it; it made him want to feed.
“Why?” the human asked. “Why do this?”
“To reveal the beauty of the Three-God,” said Adonis, “and spread humanity’s pure forms among the nations. To return the earth to her former glory.”
“Because it’s fun,” said Thomas.
The Andrastes exchanged worried glances; Thomas would deal with them later. If they couldn’t accept their places in the new world, he’d remove them.
“Glad that’s sorted,” the human said. His pistol cleared its holster and pressed to his temple, but Thomas had snatched it away before he could fire.
“None of that, now,” he said. Thomas pointed at the loud daughter, still in her nightdress. “I have a gift for you. To teach you proper respect and responsibilityness.” He ran his finger along the human’s blood. “A delicious new pet.”
Bovicide, Zombie Diaries, and the Legend of the Brothers Brown Page 56