“No. We were preoccupied with the Mad. By the time we’d seen to them, the bear had gone.”
“Nasty fuckers.”
“Indeed.”
The governor seemed lost in thought a moment. “And the other ranger?”
Dylan took a deep breath, but it was Caitlin who spoke. “Kiera Crane, a good friend of mine, and a damned brave woman. She fought against the Mad, finding her way into a manor out there in the woods. She fought tooth and nail until the end when the Mad overpowered her. There was nothing she could do.”
She felt Dylan’s elbow in her side as his eyes flicked from her to Trisk.
Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Sir.”
“Right…” For a moment, their leader sat in silence. Caitlin wasn’t even sure he’d heard what she had said. Again, the giggles and moans of women were heard through the door to the bedroom. From where they stood, they could barely make out a sliver of the room itself, and Caitlin could count at least three women rolling around naked on the bed. Their bodies looked oiled and slick from what she hoped was their own sweat and not the governor’s fluids.
He took a deep breath. “And the vampire?”
Ice ran through Caitlin’s body.
“I’m sorry?” Caitlin asked.
“What about the vampire? You saw her, no?”
“Excuse me, sir?” Dylan asked. “Did I just hear you right?”
The man stood, his calm, mirthful demeanor fading to be replaced with steel-like cold. “You heard me perfectly well. Caitlin, what about the vampire?”
Realization dawned.
She had been worried, at first, that no one would believe her. In fact, she hadn’t even mentioned the vampire to Dylan through fear that he would call her crazy and think she couldn’t handle being out on ranger duty. After all, who in their right mind would believe someone when they said they’d seen a real-life vampire?
No one. That’s who.
Or at least Caitlin had thought so.
“You knew there was a vampire there?” she said. “You knew about the manor?”
“Of course I knew,” Trisk said, slurping his wine. “You think I’d blindly send my men to explore an area without reason? You think I haven’t already sent people out there the moment I caught wind of that place? I’ve already lost three of my best men to that fucking blood drainer.”
Dylan stepped forward. “Sir, you told us to go and explore Mossy Hollow. You didn’t say anything about this”—he paused, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to say—“ this…vampire.”
“Of course I didn’t. If I’d told you to go out and track a Werebear, a hell-hound—hell, even a deer armed with super speed and brute strength—do you think you’d have gone willingly? It took enough convincing to get Murphy to go last week, and even then, the bastard never came back.”
He shook his head in disappointment.
Caitlin couldn’t believe what she’d heard. What she had thought had been a gesture of good will from the governor—allowing women to become rangers—had been nothing more than…what? A trap? A trick?
Clearly, Dylan was struggling with this information too.
“You sent us in there to die?” he asked, his lips barely moving around the words.
Trisk’s face turned from disappointment to one of concern. He topped up his wine. “Oh, no, my dear boy. Not at all. The last thing I’d want is for any of my people to die.”
His voice turned sickly sweet, and Caitlin knew he was lying.
“Then why send Dylan?” Caitlin asked, finding it harder to keep her anger hidden. “Why send me? Why send Kiera? Couldn’t you simply mass an army of your people to march in there and get her?” Caitlin fought at the tears in her eyes and reached instinctively to her hip for a sword that wasn’t there, noting that her brother noticed it too. “What kind of coward sends two innocent girls to a suspected slaughterhouse?”
And it was there that the governor smiled, a despicable grin which crept up his face. “Because, my dear, war is all about the long game. About poking at the weak points of your opponent’s defense until you find the sweet spot to attack. Clearly, my men weren’t getting anywhere with this bitch, so I thought, if we sent a couple of women in there, maybe the outcome would be different. Maybe you’d end up chatting and forming a sisterhood, able to later convince her to come back and join us here in Silver Creek. It was merely one variation of a carefully laid-out plan.”
He swept his hand to a dresser at the side of his room where yellowing leaves of parchment were stacked precariously high.
“And, in truth, though I’d rather you’d not die, I think I’d rather lose the expendables than waste the blood of any more good, strong men. Wouldn’t you?”
“You can’t be serious—” Dylan began.
Caitlin shouted in frustration, ran forward, and punched the governor in the face. Her fist met with his doughy skin and dug deep until she felt the hardness of his cheekbone.
He stumbled backwards in shock. Then, as Caitlin raised her other hand for another beating, he grabbed her wrist with a speed that was frightening and shoved her away.
Whether it was his weight or his strength, Caitlin was thrown back into the arms of her brother.
Trisk brought his hand to his face, wiping away a small trail of blood from where his cheek had split. His face was red with rage, and as he spoke, spittle flew from between his lips.
“You dumb whore,” he said, advancing on them both now.
A door creaked loudly behind them. He turned and saw one of his ladies waiting in the doorway, her naked body glistening in the morning light. “We heard noises,” she said, her voice sickly sweet. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, come back. We’re looonely,” another voice added.
The man’s anger dampened at that. “Just one moment and I’ll be with you.”
The girl winked, giggled, then returned to the bedroom.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” the governor said, his voice flooded with command. “Tonight, at sundown, you two will go back to that manor and get me that vampire.”
Caitlin opened her mouth to speak. Dylan trod on her foot.
“And if you don’t return with her by morning—alive—I’ll kill you both myself. Have you got that?”
Dylan nodded. Caitlin simply stared at the man, the urge to sock another mean one to his cheek almost too great to rein back.
“Good.”
Trisk called for his guards to escort them out into the bustling street.
Chapter Three
Silver Creek
Jaxon, a young German Shepherd with dark patches round each eye, began barking the minute Caitlin entered the front door with Dylan a few steps behind.
“And good morning to you, too,” Caitlin said, falling to her knees and scratching Jaxon behind the ears.
Compared to the luxury of the governor’s home, her own space was little more than a stable out in the Wolds—a barn for the animals to be kept in. She thought back to Trisk’s house and the luxuries it held and found herself angry again. Every house she had ever entered in Silver Creek had been bare, little more than plain walls with only the necessities which people needed to survive. What gave the man the right to hoard it all for his own comfort?
Dylan removed his traveling cloak, laid his sword down at the door, and took a seat. He rubbed his forehead with his fingers.
“Are you okay?” Caitlin asked, unable to remember the last time her brother had ever looked so tired.
Dylan nodded. “You’ve got a mean hook, you know? Where did you learn to punch like that?”
Caitlin blushed. “Oh, you know. Whenever you’re off doing your rangerly duties, I run off to Mother Wendy’s, buy the biggest dude there a drink, and then throw it in his face to start a fight.”
Dylan chuckled, obviously imagining it in his head. Mother Wendy’s was the town’s only tavern. Simple and homely, it provided a quaint place where any man or woman could pop in and find someone to
talk to, a quiet corner to hide in, or a cup of wine or mead to fall to the bottom of.
“If that was true, I’m sure I would have heard something by now,” Dylan said. He cleared his throat and held his hand to his chest. “You think the governor’s the only person with spies out there?”
They laughed. Dylan’s impression of their leader was actually pretty spot on, aside from the fact that he lacked the colossal gut and overpowering man odor.
When the laughter subsided and Jaxon settled down on Dylan’s lap, he said. “I’m sorry that you and Kiera were…well…y’know. She deserved more than that. You both did.”
“It’s not your fault.” Caitlin sat herself down and whistled for Jaxon to come on to her lap. The dog hopped down obediently, crossed the room, and jumped up. His fur was soft between Caitlin’s fingers as she kneaded and petted him.
They sat for a while and discussed their visit with Trisk, making jokes about his size and what horrors the whores he kept in the bedroom had been exposed to.
It seemed like an easier thing to do than to dwell on the memories of Kiera as she was chewed and spat on by Mad. Or the fact that they were almost certainly being sent off to their deaths tonight.
At least, she assumed that was what Dylan was thinking. Caitlin’s encounter with the vampire had been considerably different to that of the governor’s men. She hadn’t seen any harm in the creature’s eyes.
“What do you think he meant about getting the vampire to join Silver Creek?” Caitlin said, pretending to rub tiredness from her eyes as she thought of Kiera and another fresh wave of sadness passed. “Why would the governor of a small town want a vampire here? It’s not like he’s not living in luxury, is it?”
“I don’t know.” Dylan stroked his chin. “I still can’t believe we’re talking about a real vampire here. Y’know, fangs and bat wings.” He flapped his arms, looking ridiculous. “Is that really what you saw in there?”
Caitlin nodded. Jaxon shifted and nestled into her lap, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.
She told him all about her encounter with the vampire. About how she had almost been caught off-guard by the Mad until the vamp had wrestled it to the ground and ripped its head off. About how the vampire had given her the sword to combat the remainder of the group and fight her way out.
“She gave you the sword?” Caitlin almost laughed at the expression on her brother’s face. “Am I in a weird dream or something? Did I wake up in looney world? Not only are vampires actually real, but this one decided to save your life and give you a sword?” Dylan cast a look down at his poor excuse for a blade by the door. “No fair…”
“No fair? I almost died. Kiera did die! And now that man is sending us back there to…what, hunt and trap a vampire? Take her hostage and bring her back?” Caitlin stood, forcing Jaxon to leap off in surprise and bark loudly. “We can’t do it, Dylan. I won’t do it. She saved my life. How can I possibly go back there and thank her by capturing her and dragging her back to Silver Creek?”
“We have to, Cat.” Dylan stood and took Caitlin by the shoulders. “If we don’t, we’re as good as dead. You know Trisk. He’s true to his promises. He won’t think twice about it.”
Caitlin’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“We run away?”
“Cat…”
“No, Dylan. Think about it. We leave here now. Grab our things and head out from Silver Creek. What is there here that’s really holding us back, anyway? Life is here is obeying orders and living the same day on repeat. Nothing changes. People are too scared of being out there in the wild, but if we were to go together, maybe we could find somewhere…better.”
“And then what?” Dylan replied, a pitiful look on his face. “Cat, the world outside has changed. It’s not safe anymore.”
“But how do we know? When was the last time anyone went beyond our borders? It can’t only be us left, surely. We’re not the only humans left in the world.”
“What if we are?” Dylan asked.
At first, Caitlin thought Dylan must be joking until she saw the expression on his face.
The truth was that no one they knew of had been beyond the patrol borders in decades. There was no need. Life was self-sustaining in Silver Creek, and those who were born there would go on to die there. All they knew of the forest was the Mad, and was it really worth braving hordes of zombies for the sake of discovering new life?
For Dylan, that was a definite no.
For Caitlin, she was starting to think that maybe it was a yes. If a vampire’s manor had been discovered out there, what else was there to find? Villages? Towns? Cities?
“And what if the governor catches us? How are we supposed to sneak out of the walls without being seen before tonight’s mission? Remember what happened to Monica?”
Caitlin suddenly deflated. The story of Monica Chapman was almost legendary amongst Silver Creek residents.
It had happened years ago. On a drizzly morning when the skies were gray and spirits were already low, Trisk had taken to the podium for the weekly Gabble accompanied by the thick mass of muscle that was Hank Newman.
And it was on that rainy morning that their leader had decided a public display of civilian negligence was in order.
After a booming speech met by a forced round of applause, Hank had dragged a bedraggled-looking woman with hair which hung in dirty strands and clothes which were tattered and torn to the front of the raised platform. She screamed behind her gag, and the residents of the town did their best to tune out her cries, tears burning hot in the corners of the eyes of many.
The woman, Monica Chapman, had been well-loved by the town. Over the years, she had made a name for herself as something of an inventor. By day, she paid her due diligence, joining the other women in their daily duties, but by night, she tinkered.
At first, it had been simple stuff. Wooden constructions with hidden compartments made of nothing more than discarded boards and homemade glue. Over time, she had become friendly with the local smithy, requesting small pieces of metal she could use for sturdier frames, hinges, and the like.
Her creations were distinctly unique, her mind working similarly to the minds of those who lived some two hundred years before, when the world was vibrant and humanity thrived. People paid her handsomely—or as handsomely as they could afford—for her creations, and soon, her name rang through the town with the same sort of timbre that had once been assigned to heroes and legends.
Yet, like Icarus, Monica flew too close to the sun. Her husband, a ranger by the name of Zach Chapman, stumbled across a relic from the old world on one of his midnight patrols. An old revolver, rusting and filthy, lay half-buried in the dirt.
Zach had picked the gun up instinctively, hiding it inside his jacket, and continued on his way. He had gifted it to Monica who reveled in the challenge of repairing something so ornate and well-crafted. There were still three bullets in the chamber, and the writing on the side had faded. It read S_it_ & ___son. She referred to it affectionately as her ‘Sitson.’
Many nights were spent cleaning the barrels and experimenting with different powders and parts in order to make it work again. She understood the dangers of toying with explosives and that she would have to lose a bullet or two during the repairs and tests.
But one night, the gun fired, creating a large hole in her floor, and the shot was like a thunderclap across the town.
A thunderclap which reached the ears of Governor Halrod Trisk.
In a turn of cruel irony, on that miserable Friday morning, the governor had instructed a young Hank Newman to point Monica’s gun at her own husband’s head. Without hesitation, Hank placed his hands over hers and pulled the trigger, sending a spray of blood across the platform.
No one had seen a gun fired in years. Even the eldest of the town had only heard the sound of bullets, never seen the effects. Hands clapped to ears and many fell to their knees.
Monica was le
ft to live, though she was never the same again. And that final bullet in the Sitson? Well, that still nestled in the chamber, locked up tight in Hank’s quarters in the bedside table he had purchased a year earlier from none other than Monica herself.
“Well?” Dylan asked, his face set. He sat back down and placed his head in his hand. “I rest my case.”
Jaxon whined, clearly disgruntled at having to stand and wait for his masters to sit down again.
Caitlin’s nostrils flared. She paused a moment, toying between a reply and a reaction. She scanned the room, her eyes falling on Dylan’s sword by the door. An idea struck her.
She turned and disappeared into her bedroom.
Caitlin’s heart thumped as she sprinted through the door and flipped the mattress.
Please say Sullivan did as he was told. Please say that he can follow simple instructions—Ha!
She let out a sigh of relief as she saw the silver of the sword gleaming in a ray of sunlight that had entered through her window. In the dark, the sword had been beautiful, but now, in the golden beams of the sun, it was absolutely stunning.
There were markings on the blade in a language she couldn’t comprehend.
Holding the sword, she marveled once again at how light the damned thing was and how clean and flawless the blade looked. Glistening in the light, it was a true relic of beauty, something more mystical than she had never seen before in her life.
She nodded a silent affirmation, ran back into the front room, and stood before her brother, the sword raised and ready for battle.
“Fight me.”
Dylan eyes grew wide. “Put. That. Back.” He ran around the room, pulling the curtains to close all gaps where someone might see in. “Are you out of your mind? We’re already in Trisk’s worse-than-bad books, and you’re bringing that out?”
Caitlin considered this a moment.
“Fine,” she said, returning to the bedroom. A moment later, she emerged with two bo staffs. “Here.” She threw one at Dylan, who caught it instinctively.
“What are you doing?”
“You heard me. Fight me. If the governor is going to send me to possible doom, I need to learn some kickass shit to defend myself.”
The Caitlin Chronicles Boxed Set Page 3