Into The Fire: Age Of Madness - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (The Caitlin Chronicles Book 2)

by Daniel Willcocks

  “But that’s not important, nor why I’m here. Come with me. It’s time.” Andrews walked to the door, opened it, and waited for Mary-Anne and Caitlin to follow. Caitlin instructed Jaxon to stay, told Jamie to keep an eye on him, and closed the door behind her.

  As they walked through town, their number grew. At first, it was simply Caitlin, Mary-Anne—dressed head-to-toe in Mabel’s outfit as the sun was high in the sky—and the pastor. But then Caitlin noticed others joining them.

  “Firestarters?” Caitlin whispered.

  Mary-Anne nodded.

  One-by-one, their number swelled until, by the time they’d reached their destination, there were at least fifteen men and women. All were dressed in black, each with their own tattoos.

  “Reckon we can send a complaint to their stylist?” Caitlin said. “All black? Very unoriginal.”

  “What would you recommend?” Mary-Anne replied.

  “I don’t know. Rainbows? Colors? Anything so that they don’t look so bland. They look like a shadow has shit all over them.”

  Mary-Anne stifled a laugh.

  They walked on in silence, the pastor leading the way out of town, past smoking remains of buildings, across a stretch of fields, and to a house the likes of which Caitlin hadn’t seen before.

  It looked to have once been a farmhouse that could have housed a family of thirty. The roof had caved in, and the glass in the windows was nothing more than a memory.

  “Talk about your fixer-uppers,” Caitlin said, eliciting a small giggle from Mary-Anne as they walked on in. The vampire took her hood down as they entered the shade.

  “What a shithole,” Mary-Anne confirmed.

  “Did you see your place?” Caitlin asked, poking out her tongue.

  They continued inside, the pastor leading them all to a large room filled with candles. The furniture at the edge of the rooms was thick with dust, but the table and chairs in the center looked to have been used recently.

  Perhaps this is a regular occurrence for the Firestarters? Headfirst into their HQ, we go.

  Her heart fluttered. Is this where the governor is hiding?

  The Firestarters each took a seat around the table. Caitlin caught Christy’s eyes and looked away quickly. There was a gap on the pastor’s right where, presumably, Clob would have sat. A few of the Firestarters looked curious, an unspoken question in their minds though no one had the guts to ask.

  Just where is the big guy?

  “Praise be unto the flame,” Andrews said, bowing his head and clasping his hands in prayer.

  “Praise be unto the flame,” the Firestarters chorused.

  “Praise be unto the fire.”

  “Praise be unto the fire.”

  “From the ashes shall rise a new dawn.”

  And so it went. With every proclamation and every sentence, the Firestarters chorused the words. Caitlin and Mary-Anne followed suit, afraid that any minor indiscretion would arouse suspicion.

  Not that it really mattered. Every Firestarter had their eyes firmly closed. Their devotion seemed whole and unwavering. The hairs on the back of Caitlin’s neck pricked up as she realized the truth. These people are all completely in Pastor Andrews’ control.

  At last, they finished with a round of “Amen.”

  “Thank you, brothers,” Andrews said, lacing his fingers on the table in front of him. “And welcome to us all on this glorious occasion.

  “As you may have noticed, we have some new blood with us today. Please welcome Miss Moxie Curtis and Miss Detta Slystock. Visitors from afar. Defenders, warriors and, soon to be…Firestarters.”

  Caitlin and Mary-Anne jumped slightly as every Firestarter beat the table and cried “Into the flame!” The pastor flicked his wrist towards a candle in the center of the table. A sprinkle of something dark found its way into the flame, and it ballooned in a flash of light before shrinking back to regular size.

  “Let us take a moment to celebrate our new blood and revel in joining others to our cause, fighters of freedom and protectors of Ashdale. Those who would lay down their lives for a better tomorrow, as is the mission of the Firestarters.”

  Another flash of light initiated another beat on the table.

  “Brothers and sisters!” Andrews said, rising with his arms wide. “It is time to bring these strangers into our midst, to mark them with the mark, and to set them loose upon their journey into salvation. Do you all accept these women to our brotherhood? Do you all accept their bloodline into our sanction of purity? Do you all…” He paused, and his face grew dark. “Take responsibility for their life, their death, and all that is known, so that the Firestarters rule eternal?”

  “Into the fire!” they roared as one. Animalistic cries mirrored faces creased with primal emotion.

  Caitlin smiled weakly and turned to Mary-Anne, who mirrored her exactly.

  “What have we gotten ourselves into?” Caitlin side-mouthed.

  “At least Pooch isn’t here. Imagine how he’d cope with this,” Mary-Anne replied.

  “But first!” Pastor Andrews said, cutting off the rallying cry so silence dropped into the room. “Let us pay tribute to our fallen comrades. Those who have fallen into the darkness where no flame can light.”

  “No…” one of the Firestarters whispered, their bottom lip trembling as they looked at Clob’s empty seat.

  “That’s right,” the pastor said, his eyes flicking momentarily to Caitlin and Mary-Anne.

  He didn’t detail their deaths, only acknowledged their passing. Several of the Firestarters held back tears, while others remained straight-faced, as if no such news could, in any way, affect their emotions.

  Then they were led outside. Each Firestarter held a candle—except for Mary-Anne and Caitlin—it seemed this was an honor only given to those who had been officiated into the group—and Christy, who dragged a chair. Mary-Anne pulled her hood back over her face. They moved in single file, heading through the back door and into a wide garden with high fences and overgrown shrubbery on all sides. The sun was thinly masked by cloud. In the center of the garden stood two man-sized and man-shaped holes.

  And beside each…

  “Oh shit,” Caitlin said, catching Mary-Anne’s arm.

  “No.”

  Beside each pit was a charred corpse, one considerably larger than the other.

  “If they’ve searched the house for the bodies, then they’ll have seen that there aren’t as many bodies as we said there’d be,” Caitlin whispered hurriedly into Mary-Anne’s ear.

  The vampire counted on her fingers. “There should be five.”

  “And there’s only two.”

  The Firestarters lined up around the edge of the pits.

  “We’re fucked,” Mary-Anne said.

  “I guess that depends,” Caitlin responded, hurrying now as each Firestarter took their place. “Surely, if we were fucked, they’d have killed us by now. Also, the counting completely depends on who the search party was. If it was Christy, we’re in luck. If it was anyone with scrambled brains, we’re fine.”

  “So the odds are in our favor?” Mary-Anne grinned.

  They both looked quickly around the group, trying to gauge how smart the Firestarters were from their looks. Even if they were a bunch of brainwashed fuckheads with an affinity for setting everything they could aflame, that didn’t mean they were all dimwitted and dull.

  The girls took their place in a gap in the middle of the line.

  The pastor gave a rousing eulogy for each victim of the fire—Clob’s considerably more heartfelt than Yusuf’s. After he finished, two Firestarters with thick jaws and green eyes—twins by the looks of them—moved to stand beside each body.

  As Andrews uttered the final farewells, each brother turned to the bodies and kicked them into the holes. They landed carelessly with a thud before the brothers each took a shovel and began piling dirt over them.

  “May the afterlife be ever kind, and may they find their way…”

  “Into the f
ire,” those gathered chorused, their voices more gentle this time.

  “Now, with death comes life. And with life comes beauty,” Pastor Andrews said, his attention shifting to Caitlin and Mary-Anne. “And, boy, do we have some beauties joining us today. Moxie. Detta. It’s time. Are you ready to join our band of brothers in the sacred flames of eternal life?”

  He clapped his hands, and the fire roared into life. A neat circle, running the perimeter of the garden, appeared. Despite her best efforts, Caitlin jumped. She looked to either side of the garden where the brothers stood with torches pressed to the ground.

  They stood up in perfect unison.

  Pretty fucking creepy, really.

  “Yes,” Caitlin said. “I am ready.”

  Mary-Anne hesitated a moment. Shrugged. “Sure. Me too.”

  “Then let us begin.” Pastor Andrews seemed delighted with their response.

  He invited them both to the center of the circle. Christy stepped forward and placed the chair down. Caitlin took a seat.

  “Now, this may sting a little,” Andrews said as a young woman with muscles which many men would envy stepped forward. In her hand was a pot of dark ink, and in the other, a needle.

  “Are you sure that’s sterile?” Caitlin asked as the woman knelt down and took Caitlin’s arm in her hands. “If I come out in a rash I’ll be sending you the doctor’s bill.”

  “Of course. We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Pastor Andrews replied.

  “What do you sterilize it with?” Mary-Anne asked.

  The woman nodded at the flames.

  “Ah. Of course.”

  It hurt a little, at first. Caitlin gritted her teeth to hold back the sounds of pain. But as the woman set to work, dipping the needle expertly between the pot of ink and her flesh, she soon grew numb to it. Small beads of blood joined the ink, and occasionally, the woman would dab at her skin with a cloth.

  When it was finished, Caitlin twisted her arm to look at it properly. It was actually a fine piece of art. She had never even considered the idea of a tattoo before. Tattoos in Silver Creek were less than sanitary, often leading to infection and gangrene as back-alley artists failed to keep their conditions free from dirt and dust.

  Nor had she ever really wanted one. But, as much as the conditions in which this tattoo was acquired were less than ideal, she took it as a sign that she was one step closer to her goal. One step closer to the inner sanctum where Trisk was hiding, and she could end his reign.

  Besides, she looked pretty badass.

  “Okay, you’re up,” the woman said, wandering back over to the ring of fire to heat and clean the needle.

  Caitlin admired her tattoo, then turned to Mary-Anne. In an instant, her face dropped.

  Mary-Anne was outside. In the daytime.

  A vampire out in the fucking sun. Now what?

  What the fuck would happen when the Firestarters pulled her sleeves up and started tattooing?

  “Detta, are you ready?” Pastor Andrews asked.

  Beneath her hood, Mary-Anne shook her head.

  “No need to be scared. It’s not as bad as it looks.” He guided Mary-Anne by her shoulders and sat her in the chair. Caitlin’s gaze was fixed on her friend, her mind working in overdrive to see what she could do to try to get out of this.

  The woman returned, dipped the needle in the ink, and went to grab Mary-Anne’s sleeve.

  Mary-Anne pulled away.

  Pastor Andrews pressed on her shoulders. The woman grabbed again, more forceful this time, and managed to expose a small square of dark skin to the sunlight. As she leaned forward to begin tattooing, Mary-Anne screamed.

  “What?” Pastor Andrews uttered. “What the fuck is going on?”

  Mary-Anne’s skin began to burn, and a small feather of smoke filtered into the air as the skin began to blister and bubble.

  “Ma. No!” Caitlin urged.

  But it was too late. Beneath the black of Mary-Anne’s hood, she could see the red of her eyes shining through. Murmurs rippled through the gathered Firestarters. Mary-Anne ripped her arm out of the tattooist’s grasp, dragging the needle across her skin which ripped more of the material.

  “The devil! The devil has come!” the pastor cried, stepping backward in shock. “Burn her. Burn her now!”

  The Firestarters were ready, diving in as one unit. They charged, jumped, and bounded towards Mary-Anne, their fears pushed to the backs of their mind as years of pack mentality kicked in.

  All except Christy, who held back, letting the others lead the charge. She seemed too afraid to attack the people who had saved her parents and too afraid not to.

  But she needn’t have worried. Mary-Anne had already moved.

  Using all her speed and strength, she hurtled forwards, shoving the tattooist so far backward that she fell into the ring of fire. The woman’s hair caught fire and she screamed, patting and fanning to quell the flames on her head.

  Mary-Anne sped towards her, grabbed her wrist and dragged her beyond the fire and into the house.

  “Don’t let her get away,” Andrews shouted, then saw Caitlin at his side. “And her. Get them both. Moxie has delivered the devil to Ashdale!”

  His face was white, clearly panicked. He stumbled backward, almost tripping over his own garb as he stepped away from Caitlin.

  Several Firestarters peeled off and gave chase to Mary-Anne, while at least half a dozen went for Caitlin. She pulled back her cloak and drew her sword—the gleaming beacon of hope which filled her heart with confidence. Compared to their shitty weapons, her blade was queen.

  A woman jumped at her from her left. Caitlin took a step back and watched her hit the floor. A swift kick to the head put her out for the count.

  “One down,” Caitlin said, maybe a little too cocky because she felt a searing pain across her wrist. She followed the thin black line of the whip to where one of the brothers stood with a sickening grin on his face.

  Another lightning strike of pain seared through her as a second whip wrapped around her other wrist.

  “Son of a bitch,” she cried, dropping her sword to the ground.

  The brothers leered. Somewhere behind her, she heard the pastor cry, “Now, no need for blaspheming, harlot.”

  Caitlin used all her strength and pulled. Her muscles ached, and sweat peppered her brow. Christy and two other Firestarters stood around her now, each holding their weapon menacingly. The woman on the floor moaned and rolled onto her back.

  Caitlin struggled again, but it was no use. She fell to her knees.

  “See?” Andrews crooned, approaching only once he saw that Caitlin was secure. He circled in front of her, bent down, and picked up Caitlin’s blade.

  “Fuck face!” Caitlin cried.

  Pastor Andrews turned the blade over in his hand, examining every inch. “A delicious specimen. Where did you pick up this treasure?”

  “I plucked it from your mom’s vagina,” Caitlin retorted.

  He winced. “I imagine it’s quite effective cutting through heads?”

  “Why don’t you set me free and we can find out.”

  Andrews began to laugh. Quietly at first, but it grew louder until he was in a fit of hysterics. He turned to the other Firestarters who joined in, guffawing along with their leader.

  A scream of pain from inside the house made them fall quiet.

  “It’s a shame, really, Moxie. It would have been nice to have someone with your talent and…looks on the team.” The pastor stroked the tip of the sword down Caitlin’s chest, revealing a large part of her cleavage. “Still. I’m sure you won’t be missed. No tears spared for wanderers and vagabonds.”

  Holding the sword with both hands, he stretched back. He brought the sword down hard, stopping inches from Caitlin’s neck as a loud crack shot through the circle.

  “Huh?” he cried, looking in bewilderment at the whip around his wrist. The leather tugged sharply, and his hand flew backward, dropping the sword once more to the ground.


  Christy picked it up in a heartbeat, pulling the pastor so hard he fell. In one smooth motion, she hacked at the brothers’ whips, slicing through them to release Caitlin before tossing the sword back to her.

  Surprisingly calm, Christy flicked her hair out of her face. “Let’s get you out of here,” she said, dragging Caitlin by the hand through the fire before the reality of what had just happened could sink in.

  As they leaped across the flame and into the house, they heard the pastor shouting. “After them, morons. Cut off their tits and leave them in a jar.” The mob surged forward, oblivious to the brothers who brought their torches to the corners of the house and watched the flames grow.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ashdale Pond, Old Ontario

  They found Mary-Anne in a large room at the back of the house.

  Her eyes were bright in the shadows. Her hood was down, and her face beaded with blood as she held the woman firmly in her grasp. She hadn’t killed her, but she’d definitely used her as a sippy straw.

  All the other Firestarters were either dead or standing paralyzed in the corner.

  “Ma,” Caitlin said, catching her breath. “Is now really the time for a snack?”

  “Why not?” Mary-Anne replied.

  Caitlin nodded at the other Firestarters.

  “Oh. Them? They’re cool, aren’t you guys?” The Firestarters nodded enthusiastically. “I showed them what I’m capable of and they stopped in their tracks. Pleading like little girls, weren’t you?”

  “What was the scream we heard?”

  Mary-Anne looked down at the tattooist. “That was this one. Tastes delicious, but she doesn’t half make a noise.”

  Rushing footsteps sounded behind them. Caitlin and Christy leaped across the room to Mary-Anne’s side. She held the woman’s hair in her fist threateningly.

  The Firestarters who had chased Caitlin and Christy stopped in their tracks the minute they saw Mary-Anne. She was certainly fearsome to behold, all fangs, blood, and red eyes. Caitlin grinned, feeling the tide turning.