The Caitlin Chronicles Boxed Set

by Michael Anderle

  As the night wore on and the next watch came out to take their turn, nobody left the fireside. Talk turned to plans and tactics. Under Caitlin’s instructions, they were to divide into smaller sub-groups of Revolutionaries, each led by those whom she had formed a bond with and trusted. There were twenty-three of them in total, which meant that Alice was assigned six people to lead, Ash was given six, and Mary-Anne was given seven.

  She figured Mary-Anne would appreciate Kain’s company.

  Well, from the disdainful look Kain gave Mary-Anne as she dished out instructions, she thought it wouldn’t be long before they visited the land of bumping uglies.

  Hate leads to love, right?

  They sketched out the lay of the land on an old piece of parchment someone had found on board the ship. It was dry and cracked, and they needed to be careful not to tear the paper as Mary-Anne sketched a rough outline of the forest and the way back to Silver Creek.

  “So, if we were to walk a straight line, we’d reach the Creek within two hours. But we’re not walking a straight line, so it will take a little longer. If you’re planning on going tonight, Cat, I’d advise against it.” Mary-Anne looked up at the sky which was already beginning to turn the light purples of dawn. “The sun will be out before long, and as much as I’d love to join you in its light, I’ve left my sunscreen at home.”

  There was a chorus of laughter at that.

  Caitlin looked fondly around at those gathered by the fire. All but a few had awoken now and sat around its dying embers.

  Alice said, “I think you’d look great with a tan, Ma.”

  “Don’t tell me that name is catching,” Mary-Anne said, glaring at Caitlin.

  She shrugged in response and smiled. “What can I say, the people want what the people want. If you’re set on giving nicknames, be ready to get your own back.”

  “Yeah, sweet-fangs. Lighten up,” Kain said as another rumble of laughter rippled around the circle.

  Mary-Anne furrowed her brow.

  “Besides, we’re still not ready yet,” Caitlin said. She addressed the whole group. “Though everyone here has shown a capability with a weapon beyond what I could have already imagined, there is still work to be done. Techniques to be refined. In three days’ time, we will be marching on Silver Creek, ready to overthrow the governor and begin to build the old ways of the world. Hundreds of years ago, there were cities, great colonies of people who lived together in harmony. Technology we can only dream of now. But even they had to have started somewhere, right? Some small group of Revolutionaries who paved the way and removed any dictators who stood in their way. That is who we must become. That is what we will now share with the world, and work together to liberate those oppressed by others, so that we can have a brighter tomorrow.”

  “Yeah!” Ash and Alice said, standing up.

  “Together, we can take our heads out of the sand, and we can build the world we want to see. Together, we can claim back the cities and tear those down who don’t share our vision of a world where folks can walk free and live their lives without fear of punishment, without fear of the Mad.”

  One-by-one, eyes widened and gleamed as all attention turned to Caitlin.

  “Do you swear this oath, my Revolutionaries, to stand beside me and join me on this mission? Never faltering. Forever loyal. For a future of hope, love, and life?”

  To their surprise, Caitlin drew her sword and sliced it across her palm. She walked to the center of the fire, aware that Mary-Anne’s eyes were now fixed on her hand, her nostrils flaring as she smelled the blood, and squeezed her palm. Several globs of red dripped into the fire, landing with an audible hiss as they did.

  Mary-Anne gulped.

  “Maybe you should make yourself scarce for this next bit,” Caitlin said quietly for Mary-Anne. “Unfortunately, I’m not making a mini buffet for you.”

  “Such a waste,” Mary-Anne said, her hands gripping so tightly to the floor beneath her that they dug deep into the soil.

  “So…who’s with me?” Caitlin cried.

  One by one, the Revolutionaries joined Caitlin in the middle of the circle. They each took a blade to their palm, wincing as the metal parted the skin, and dripped their contribution onto the fire. The old man who Caitlin had rescued earlier that day ran back onto the ship and emerged with linen which he handed out to the others to stem the bleeding and keep the wounds clean.

  Caitlin kept an eye on Mary-Anne, aware that this would be difficult for her. The vampire’s eyes pulsed with a dull red glow the entire time, though she did well to stay put. It was only when Alice stepped up that she let a moan escape her lips.

  Linen was passed to Alice, but she refused, instead choosing to sit next to Mary-Anne.

  “I’ll trade. You have a sip, you heal me.”

  Mary-Anne bit her lip. “No…I can’t.”

  “Honestly, it’s fine. We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t have helped in New Leaf. It’s fine. Go.”

  A gentle wash of relief fell across Mary-Anne. She nodded, drew out her fangs, and sucked gently on Alice’s palm—much to the disgust of Ash and several others sitting nearby. When she was done, she popped a hole into her wrist with one fang and offered it to Alice.

  “What are you doing?” Alice said.

  “Drink. Yours will heal faster.”

  Alice hesitated, then drank a mouthful of the warm vamp’s blood. She closed her eyes, then opened them wide as, within seconds, the gash on her hand healed.

  A few Revolutionaries now looked at their own hands, bandaged in blood-soaked linen, then back at Alice and Mary-Anne with a hint of jealousy.

  They looked away when Mary-Anne’s red eyes caught them.

  “I’m not a reservoir for you to drink from,” she muttered.

  They remained by the fire until the embers died. As sunlight hit the horizon, Mary-Anne made herself scarce, finding refuge in her dark cabin beneath the deck of the ship. It occurred to her that just over a hundred years ago, a group of vampires, Weres, and humans might have done exactly the same.

  Caitlin left Ash and Alice to train their groups, finding that Kain was also a fair hand with a sword. While Mary-Anne’s group waited for the vampire to rise when the moon did, Kain took position as her number two without question, teaching techniques which Caitlin watched and learned for her own practice in her cabin.

  Caitlin retired to her bedroom at some point before midday. What with Mary-Anne working on a nocturnal schedule, she had begun to feel her body begging to do the same.

  Not for the first time, she imagined what life must be like as a vampire. How fun it would be to be so damn kickass that no other creature could stop you in a fight.

  Speed, strength, heightened senses, prolonged life—was there even a downside?

  Then why the hell was Mary-Anne following Caitlin’s orders? She wasn’t quite sure, but even the mere fact that she was gave her confidence a boost. If she had to get used to a vampire’s sleeping schedule, then so be it. She would do whatever it took to get the best results.

  And, as far as she knew, no one in Silver Creek had a vampire fighting beside them.

  When Caitlin’s head hit the pillows, she dreamed of pirates. The abandoned ship she slept on was soaring high in the sky. She captained the helm in clothes so lavish that they seemed impossible to create. A purple leather jacket fell to her knees, and a large-brimmed tricorn hat shone black in the sunlight.

  And on the deck in front of her, an ensemble of twenty-two of the best damn pirates the world had ever seen had gathered. They weren’t fighting for gold, nor coin.

  They were fighting for fucking justice.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Prison District, Silver Creek

  Sullivan adjusted the collar of his shirt and poked his head around the corner of the building he stood beside. He could see the stairway up to the parapets which would lead onwards to the jailhouse. Stationed at the bottom of the stairs was a set of guards standing to attention, looking like nothing m
ore than statues as people milled on by.

  “What’s the situation?” Sykes, a short ranger with a ginger beard asked. He stood behind Sullivan, trying eagerly to catch a glimpse ahead. “Have they gone yet? Have they moved?”

  Behind Sykes, a man with a grim face and a wide brow remained silent, his arms folded. Sullivan already knew that Carl wasn’t happy to be there with them. But after three days of watching over guard patterns and trying to figure out how the fuck he could free Dylan, they were in far too deep now to pull back.

  “Not yet.” Sullivan spoke in a hushed tone, elbowing behind him.

  Sykes hopped around impatiently. “Why not? It’s time, right?”

  Sullivan glanced at the sun. “Not quite. Almost, though. Take your positions.”

  Sykes made a funny little squee and stepped out from the shadows. Carl rolled his eyes and followed. Sullivan watched and waited as Sykes moved to the center of the thoroughfare and waited, seemingly at ease and adjusting his boots. Carl held back slightly, busying himself with a fruit cart that had stopped at the side of the path.

  They had all dressed in casual clothes. While most people knew everyone and would instantly recognize a couple of rangers after seeing their faces, it was worth the attempt to try and blend in. At least then, they wouldn’t be so conspicuous.

  The time came. Two men in armor approached the guards, waved a greeting, and changed places with them. Carl and Sykes watched as the two guards who had been relieved began marching away. Sullivan followed them both, trying to pick his target.

  When one of the guards split off and headed down a side street, Sullivan pursued. After another turn, the guard was alone and out of sight.

  Sucks to be him!

  Sullivan pounced from behind and smacked him on the back of the head with a rock, and the guard fell unconscious. Not two minutes later, he emerged into the square, clad in the guard’s armor. It was a clumsy fit. He felt sick wearing it. The smell inside was cloying and nauseating.

  What would the rangers think of me if they saw me now?

  He nodded to Carl and Sykes who understood their cue and rolled into position.

  When Sykes was a few feet away from the guards, Carl sprinted at him, lowering his shoulder and knocking him to the floor. The two began to scrap, throwing blows left and right as rehearsed. Neither made any real effort to hurt the other as they knew what was coming.

  They rolled around on the floor, moving closer to the guards. One of Carl’s legs kicked out and booted the guard in the shin.

  “Hey! Watch it,” the guard said.

  Carl rose. “Or what? What’s an itty-bitty guard man going to do about it? Go suck on the governor’s titty or whatever it is you guys do when you want some action.”

  That was all it took.

  The guard moved towards Carl who turned and moved off. The guard gave chase.

  The second guard was so distracted by it all that he wasn’t aware that Sykes had moved behind him. He reached towards the guard’s hip and removed the sword out of its sheath.

  “I always did like a long prick,” Sykes said, holding it high where the guard could see it.

  “Oi, give that back!” the man said, suddenly torn between remaining at his station or giving chase to the weed who had stolen his sword.

  He decided on the latter. What good was he without his weapon? He was like a porcupine without its quills.

  Sullivan grinned from the sidelines. The whole thing had gone so much better than planned. He’d have to buy Sykes and Carl a drink or something to say thank you after this was over.

  If none of them ended up in jail before then.

  With a final look over his shoulder, Sullivan headed up the stairs, navigating the parapets as best he could in the leather armor he now wore. No one batted an eyelid.

  This is crazy, he thought, feeling his hands shaking from the adrenaline. He had never dreamed it would be so easy to distract and take down a guard. Now, though, came the real challenge. He could only study so much of the route before realizing he would have to do the rest of it blind. No one, neither ranger nor citizen, ever saw the dark corridors that led to the jails unless they were stupid enough to get caught.

  Two more guards were stationed further along the wall, a set of stairs leading down just beyond them.

  Sullivan’s heart thudded as he approached. They could have been statues, but for the gentle rise and fall of their chest.

  “Halt, who goes there?” one of the guards said, stepping forward.

  A sudden stroke of inspiration hit Sullivan. “Step down, maggot. I’ve got direct orders from Captain Hank Newman to deliver a message to the prisoners.” The guards looked at each other nervously.

  “We can pass on your message,” the guards said.

  “Afraid not. The Captain has instructed that I deliver the message directly.”

  The men seemed to contemplate this, eyeing Sullivan with suspicion until he added, “Do I need to report to the captain that I have been delayed in my task?”

  To his delight, they stepped back into position and shook their heads. “Of course not. Go ahead now. Give our regards to the captain.”

  Sullivan passed them by, not daring to look them in the eye.

  God, this was so easy. How did I not think of this before? Even the guards are so scared of the governor that they won’t question his orders.

  He took a left and found his way down a set of stairs. Immediately, darkness closed in, and he could guess from the smell that he was in the right place. A mixture of urine, hay, and desperation greeted him with a vengeance. Instinctively, he clapped a hand over his nose and mouth until he adjusted to the stench.

  His footsteps echoed as he descended. At the bottom of the stairs, he found a corridor lit by torches. At the end of the corridor were two more guards.

  Wow, the animals really did come in two by two, hurrah… Sullivan thought back to the children’s stories he had read as a child, tatty tomes with crusted yellow pages.

  This time, he had an inkling that the guards wouldn’t let him pass so easily. He was in the right place. Lining the walls were iron bars, and beyond the guards was total darkness.

  The smaller of the guards called a challenge, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  Sullivan tried repeating what he had said to the guards above. Twice was the charm, right?

  “And I’ve got direct orders not to allow anyone through without the governor present. Do you have a signed order, or maybe you’ve got the governor there behind you?” the smaller guard replied.

  “I doubt the fat lard-ass could hide behind anyone,” the other guard mumbled.

  “Hey, now, that’s the kind of talk that could land you on the other side of the bars.” The smaller guard paused, then said under his breath, “If the bubble butt ever finds out.”

  Interesting…

  “You best watch your tone, soldier. I’ll hightail it up those stairs right now and tell Trisk what you said, word-for-word, without even looking back. That what you want?” Sullivan tried his best to put on an intimidating voice but wasn’t sure it was really effective. He actually had quite a soft voice for a grown man.

  The smaller guard immediately stood at attention at that, a look of curiosity dancing across his eyes. “And what is it that you want?”

  Sullivan stepped forward. The two guards stepped towards him.

  “Ah, what the hell,” Sullivan said, removing his helmet and throwing it on the ground. “I want to knock your asses to Kingdom come and rescue my captain.”

  He moved before the guards had a chance to think. Dashing ahead, he reached forward, grasped a handful of each guard’s hair in his hands, and smashed them together like two coconuts. There was a hollow noise, followed by their grunts, then they both folded to the floor.

  “I guess Mama was right. Actions do speak louder than words,” he said, running into the dark.

  Silver Creek, Silver Creek Forest

  Hank looked down at his new r
ecruits with a look of disgust he found hard to conceal. A room full of nearly forty men all lined up and looking at him.

  It was a sad display. Since the establishment of Silver Creek as a settlement, there had been strict guidelines and regimes in place to identify the best of the best from the boys who grew into men. Under Hank’s careful scrutiny, only the strongest and most fearsome men had ever made it onto his guard force.

  But this…

  This was utterly humiliating.

  Nearly half of the new recruits were still a summer or two out of reaching manhood. Several of the men were overweight, with a beer gut protruding so far out that he wondered what kind of armor would ever fit. And then there were those on the opposite side of the scale, who were so skinny that their arms looked like he could break them with a flick.

  Still, desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Hank addressed the room and gave everyone their orders. He wasn’t the master wordsmith that the governor was known to be, but he could strike fear into those whom he wished to do his bidding.

  He didn’t mention the vampire.

  He didn’t even mention Caitlin.

  What he did talk about was increasing security and ensuring that Silver Creek remained the safe haven that it had always been in a world gone Mad. This was their chance to bring honor to their families and future children.

  As they filed out of the room, Hank dished out their orders and gave them their weapons. These were as sad as the folks themselves. Though their smithy had worked his ass off to produce a horde of weapons on short notice, half the swords weren’t even straight, and those that he did make were too short to stab anyone from a distance. Half of them looked like they might snap at any moment, much less cut through a person.

  “You really think they’re going to help our cause?” Hendrick asked, looking down his nose as the last new recruit filed out the room. “I’ve seen dead folks who look more useful.”

  “We need more numbers, Hendrick,” Hank replied. He looked more tired than he had in months. Dark patches shadowed his eyes, and his stubble had grown into a thick carpet of gray and white hairs. “And, in case you’ve forgotten, there’s a bitch, a vampire, and half a village heading our way that we need to be prepared for.”