Bite Me (London Undead)

by PJ Schnyder

  Seth bared his teeth.

  “Well, you’ve made it clear you’re going to go see her again. What excuse are you going to have ready?”

  “I don’t need an excuse.” Seth paused, then shook his head. Did he? “One night, Danny, one night and I can’t get her out of my head. Every part of me wants to head back over to her place, catch her up and bring her back here. I want her in my den, where I can keep her safe, mark her with my scent.”

  “Whoa there.” The medic’s brows were raised in surprise. “Never thought to see you bitten this way.”

  Neither had he. The wolf in him could identify a mate—the mate for him—far sooner than the man in him. He’d thought the woman for him had died years ago, yet the last twenty-four hours had set him on his arse.

  “While I’d dearly enjoy pressing you for more details on this very special lady friend, we’ve got an interesting report in from one of the patrols.” Jerking his head in the direction of the door, Danny gave him an apologetic grimace. “Pretty certain you’ll be interested in light of the observation you just made.”

  “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

  “Not used to you all warm and fuzzy, wanted to be sure to get a feel for what was on your mind before setting this issue in your lap.”

  Seth considered the situation. These new developments with the zombies might require in-depth investigation. Normally he let his seconds handle reports, but if Danny had brought this one to his attention...

  He began pulling the weights off the bar and placed them back on the racks. “Let me finish setting these to rights and I’ll meet you in the ‘wreck’ room.”

  Danny nodded and gave him a moment of peace. The “wreck” room was actually more of a sort of telly and entertainment room at pack headquarters. Informal. Most of the junior pack members spent time relaxing, watching shows on the vid or playing cards. The bonds of the pack were built as much on quality social time as in combat.

  If the report had come during the day, it was probably from one of the junior pack members and the pup would give a clearer report in a setting more familiar and less of a strain for him.

  Finished setting the plates back on their rack, Seth used his towel to give the bench a quick wipe down. Then he headed out of the gym and down the hall.

  As he’d thought, the patrol waiting was composed of three young Weres. One had been with them for more than a decade, the other two were more junior, having only made the change in the past five years. The younger pups fidgeted despite the casual environment.

  Seth nodded to each of them, then Danny, who waited off to one side. He chose a big armchair and sat, keeping his body language relaxed. The others sat as well, staying even with the level of his head in a gesture of respect.

  “Something unusual in today’s report?” Calm voice, soothing.

  The two pups kept their eyes glued to the floor but their shoulders relaxed. The older werewolf kept his eyes on Seth’s shoulder, still not making eye contact but not staring at Seth’s throat the way some of the others did, hungry to advance in the pack hierarchy. He did the talking.

  “We were out on a standard patrol route, sir. And the normals were all stirred up about an apartment complex. Lots of bodies—in pieces, all rotted or tainted.” Sentence structure broke down as he reacted to the memory associated with the report. Werewolves remembered everything in a cascade of sights, scents, sounds, touch and taste. Humans might experience some particularly strong memories that way, but not always. The wolf might be older than his two pack mates, but he still had a long way to go before he had the control the senior wolves had.

  “Go on.” Seth didn’t need to prompt for details. The wolf would have trouble not giving every detail. The trick was only sharing the key points.

  “The dead, all normals. Zombie stink everywhere. Trails all around the building, like they came from every direction. The humans in the building had no escape route.”

  Danny gave Seth a worried look.

  Zombies usually hunted in the open, preying on the stray humans wandering out in the night. One might find its way into a building, but only if the doors were wide open or if it were directly following live meat.

  “Any survivors?” Not his favorite question. The way the situation sounded, they might have to go put survivors out of their misery. The hospital wouldn’t do what needed to be done—not until it was too late. By then more innocent people would be infected.

  And wouldn’t that be fodder for the news-hounds?

  The reporting wolf shook his head. The action seemed to clear his head some. “There were ambulances, sir, but no survivors loaded up or taken back to the hospice. Mostly police on the scene, investigating, and standard gawkers.”

  Seth cocked his head. Something off, there. “Rubber necking, but no one upset? Crying?”

  A pause. One of the very junior pups answered. “No, sir. No crying. All the humans smelled of fear, but no one grieving. None of the gathered crowd were friends or family.”

  Smart pup.

  Friends and family would have been summoned to the scene if the news hit the telly. Still, even if it hadn’t aired yet, someone in the crowd should have known the residents, suffered for the loss.

  “Have the three of you gotten sleep? Fed?”

  “Fed before the patrol, sir,” the original reporting wolf assured him.

  Good. It was standard procedure to send out well-fed patrols, but never hurt to confirm. Wouldn’t do for a younger wolf to lose control and start feeding on a dead body. None of them would be tempted by one of the rotting zombies, but a fresh human kill before it made the transition? It could happen and the humans would turn on the shape-shifters in a fear-driven monster hunt. Too easy to lump all the supernatural under the “things that need to be destroyed” category.

  “Rest up, feed again, then I want you to go back and scout the scene a second time. I want to know if any friends or family show up.”

  Something. There was something odd about that building and the change in the zombie attack pattern.

  Nods all around.

  Seth stood, allowing the rest of them to stand and leave the room. It didn’t surprise him when Danny remained.

  “You’re hunting.” And Danny wasn’t talking about fat bunnies in Hyde Park.

  Seth shook his head once. “I’ve got a gut feeling, still no real trail to follow, yet. Something’s not right about the changes we’re seeing in the zombies. You see anything different in those samples we got for you?”

  “Tests can take more than a single night.” Danny grimaced, sitting on the arm of a sofa. “Based on my initial findings though, the virus is still active in the tissue samples we’ve seen and looks to be the same with the limited equipment I’ve got. It hasn’t mutated. Whatever the source is for this new behavior, it doesn’t seem to be the virus itself. I’ll ask the boys to bring in samples on the next patrols just to be sure.”

  Seth made a mental note to track down some of the new ones—the faster corpses.

  “It’s not the virus and it’s not the hosts, because the humans aren’t evolving or some of them would be developing an immunity to the virus.” Seth had done his time in university not once, but several times over the decades he’d been a werewolf. “There’s some external factor, something we’re missing.”

  Magic.

  Rage simmered, but Seth couldn’t ignore it any longer, couldn’t let his hate blind him to the potential threat.

  “And why?” Danny was right there with him in worrying.

  “It’s not likely to be the were-cats, but keep alert next time you go see them.” Territorial aggression or no, they’d all been upfront with each other thus far. No. If there was a bid for power, it was some of the other supernaturals. Vampires, for example, loved cities as hunting grounds, and the chaos of the epidemic gave them freedom to prey on humans amidst the confusion. And there were fae who fed on those emotions. “If one of the other groups fishes for information, I want to be sure t
hey know we’re aware of an issue, but I want all cards on the table. We all share what we know and I want to be there if there’s anything to be said.”

  A nod from Danny was all he needed. The medic would be careful.

  “Let’s see what this next patrol turns up.” He walked past Danny, dropping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “And keep an ear to the ground for any other occurrences like this one.”

  “I’ll check in with our contacts. Our patrol stumbled on this by coincidence. Could be one of the others saw something similar.”

  Seth curled his lip. “I hope not. If a pattern does come up, let me know.”

  “This smells like magic, Seth. There’s no natural causes, not from the virus. If one of the other groups confirms it, we’re going to have to be prepared to deal with it.”

  Danny wouldn’t flush the game out in front of the junior pack members. He knew what it did to Seth.

  Anger churned in his belly, a familiar burn. He’d lived in a state of almost constant temper since he’d lost Sarah—dead because the witch couldn’t resist the call of power. She’d brought the consequences to their doorstep, their home, when he hadn’t been there to protect her.

  Damn magic users and their hunger, their need for more and more power. Nothing but evil.

  “Sarah didn’t share the spell with others.” Seth choked on the name of his deceased lover.

  “No. What she did was find a way to control zombies. If she could, so could others. She was good, but she wasn’t singular.” Head down, shoulders hunched, Danny was obviously prepared in case Seth lashed out. The medic had big balls to put the truth out there for discussion.

  He was indispensable to the pack, and to Seth, because of it.

  “The price won’t change for a different magic user. Spells, power, always require a price.” Seth wanted to spit in disgust, get the bitter taste out of his mouth.

  Sure, Sarah had figured out how to control zombies, but she hadn’t considered the cost. When her endurance ran out, her spell had back-lashed. The “controlled” zombies had been drawn to her and attacked her where she rested—in his home. He’d lost everything he’d held dear in one night, unable to get there in time. All because his lover couldn’t resist the temptation to solve things with magic and had gone back on her promise not to.

  She’d broken her word to him and he hadn’t been able to save her.

  “Magic can be harnessed for good things.” Danny meant well, but Seth didn’t want to hear it.

  “Yeah. The idjits who try to use it go mad with the power, or else they’re too daft to control it properly to begin with.” Seth struggled to untangle the roiling emotions in his belly. He needed to get out, run, find some clean violence. “The magic might be a cure for the zombie virus, but only sometimes and only in the hands of a user in his right mind. It’s never a consistent thing. And at what price? All power requires a price, Danny. You’ve seen it. The magic that makes us what we are takes its price from us every day. The magic this would take, it’d cause chaos.”

  Sarah had said the same thing as Danny. She’d wanted to help clear the city of the zombies, use the zombies under her power to contain the epidemic without risking infection to normals. Good intentions, bad decisions and a broken promise had left him mourning her.

  No.

  He would put his faith in himself and the pack, and destroy the walking dead.

  “Where are you going?”

  Seth snarled, his anger a living thing inside of him. “Out on patrol to burn some of this off until we have more information.”

  Chapter Six

  Seth halted on the landing of the pack’s headquarters—a terraced house built in the 1780s identical to its neighbors in every regard save for the reinforced, sound-proofed cellars meant to keep newly changed werewolves safely confined. He imagined he looked like any other man, about to go off on an errand.

  A man dressed in naught but a trench coat and denims. He’d left off a shirt again.

  Broad daylight as it was, would Maisie mind?

  Was he going to see her?

  He’d thought to ring her up, not look in on her so soon. Was it too soon? It bloody well would be if he’d no reason to be bothering her in the middle of her day. She was likely busy. He’d no way of knowing.

  Stand around much longer and Danny was going to pop his head out to ask what all was going on.

  Cursing, Seth yanked his mobile out of his pocket and dialed a number.

  It took half a dozen rings before a tart voice answered. “Clinic.”

  The tension melted away at the sound of her voice.

  “Maisie.”

  “And who’s ringing me up, then?” Suspicion and spunk—that was his girl being cautious. Good.

  “It’s Seth.” Well, what else was he going to say? He didn’t really know why he’d called other than to hear her voice. “Wanted to see that you got a good night’s rest.”

  Awkward. She was going to think he was mad.

  “Oh.” Actually, pleasure seemed to infuse the one word, or maybe he was just hopeful. “I...um...I did. Thank you. And you?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess.” Damn, man, find your balls. “I had a bit on my mind and it might’ve made sleep a little frustrating.”

  She laughed. “I might remind you, you’re the one who put a stop to it.” A pause. “Though I appreciate why you said you did.”

  “And did you give some thought to it too?” The idea of her in his bed heated his blood in a completely different way.

  “I might have.” There was an answering heat in her tone, more encouraging than her light words.

  He wanted to see her, enjoy the color that must be rising up in her cheeks. Her scent would be turning musky about now and drive him out of his right mind.

  Ah hell, he was doing a good job of it all on his own.

  “I’d like to take you out for dinner again.” He’d like to lay a plump bunny at her feet and know she’d accepted him as a provider, but he’d settle for taking her to a nice restaurant. He’d convince her to accept him over time.

  “You don’t have to.” Maisie sounded distressed and his chest tightened. “I mean, it’d be nice to see you, either way. No need to buy me dinner. You’d be welcome to stop in at the clinic even.”

  He grinned. He might stop by sooner than she thought.

  Could be she wasn’t used to anyone spending money on her, his girl.

  She’d have to get used to it.

  He planned to spoil her silly. But telling her so might put her off, so he settled for a baby step. “I’m a big bad wolf, Maisie, and I eat a lot. If you wouldn’t mind watching me shovel a mountain of food into my gullet, your company would make a meal time more pleasant. I enjoyed talking to you over dinner last night.”

  “Oh. Well then, I enjoyed your company too.” She sounded flustered and pleased.

  Warmth spread through his chest.

  “I...uh...I have to go, Seth. We’ve got a patient in the waiting room.”

  Seth jolted out of his thoughts. “Oh. Course. I’ll be talking to you later, then.” Maybe dropping by the clinic, as in now, would be too soon.

  He seemed to be worrying a lot about what was “too soon.”

  He ended the call and cursed himself for acting like a wet puppy. It hadn’t been so long. How did men manage to court a lady with stupid mobiles limiting them to only sound? Conversation wasn’t so awkward in person and he could get a better feel for her moods and reactions, watch her expressions change across her face, her body language.

  He’d go see her after all. Besides, she seemed to like him near her right fine.

  Since he planned to take her out to dinner, he needed a different reason to stop by. Flowers? Nah. Surely he could think of something more personal, something she’d really want. Maybe something would come to mind while he was out on patrol. If all else failed, he could always get her extra ammunition. Ammunition for that 38 super of hers wasn’t easy to come by.

  Best get he
r full metal jacket rounds. If she ever decided to shoot him again, he’d rather her not have the cheaper hollow points.

  He shook his head. When had any man ever grinned over the prospect of being shot?

  The grin didn’t leave his face as he started off down the road. He set a path at random, foregoing the normal patrol routes as they were already covered by his wolves. He preferred to be the wild card for those times when chaos could bugger even the best laid schedules.

  The sun was high, and most of the fog had burned away this late in the morning. More people walked the streets, rushing from place to place on their errands. They might dawdle some to have a word with a friend here and there, but there was an edge to every exchange.

  “Another building. Horrible, it was,” a woman said to one of the ration distributors.

  He didn’t turn his head toward the speaker but he slowed his pace to catch more of the conversation. “The zombie hunters are going in with the police. They say they want to try to track the zombies back to where they came from, maybe find a nest of them. Clean ’em out like rats.”

  Not a bad idea, that. If the police mustered a decent force to go in and clean out the parks in a coordinated effort, Seth would be willing to support the effort. But he wouldn’t offer his wolves up to be fodder or bait. He’d wait to see whether the police approached him with a decent plan.

  He headed up Savile Row, past shops boasting the latest in survival and hunting gear where once they were the finest tailors in London. What businesses remained open had evolved to cater to the clientele with the money to spend.

  A pair of constables, apparently on patrol as well, paused near him. They never went out alone anymore—smart move. These two slowed to eye him up and down for a long moment before the older of the two gave him a nod.

  In a good mood, Seth nodded in return. He paused to see if they’d say something to him. Dealings between police and werewolves were tentative thus far. He didn’t remember meeting these two, but a man walking about in a trench coat and no shirt probably tipped them off to him being a werewolf. Or, one of them might be observant enough to see the difference in the way he moved.