The Caitlin Chronicles Boxed Set

by Michael Anderle

  She picked up a rock, tossed it with deadly speed and aim, and the guard fell instantly to the floor.

  “School’s out for summer,” Mary-Anne muttered as the first guard leapt at her and she side-stepped elegantly, giving him a helpful shove away from her while she knocked another guard’s sword aside and socked him with a right hook.

  She tugged his own sword from his hand, then drove it down into his leg and through the floor.

  An arrow whistled through the air and landed an inch or so from her feet. She looked up at the guard on the parapets who had fired, his hands now shaking and eyes wide. Clearly, he couldn’t quite believe that he had just shot at a freakin’ vampire.

  Mary-Anne darted up the stairs at vampire speed, leaving a guy behind her to swing and strike at nothing but air. His sword swung through where she had been, and instead of his intended target, found a new home in the flesh of his own comrade’s bicep.

  There was already a wet patch around the archer’s lower half. Mary-Anne could smell it a mile off. She stopped in front of him, took his bow, and set an arrow. “It’s more like this,” she said, drawing the string and firing at a guard below. The arrow sang and found its target in the guard’s eye socket. There was an audible pop, and blood splurged into the air.

  “See? It’s all in the breathing. Steady breaths equal steady fire,” Mary-Anne instructed in soothing tones and handed the bow back to the guard. He was young with freckles on his cheeks. One day he might grow up to actually be a useful tool in war.

  Not today, though.

  She left him standing there, frozen, with tears streaming down his face.

  Mary-Anne ran, dodging several more arrows with ease, then turned to look out at the darkness of the trees below. It was a hell of a view from up there, but it was about to get prettier.

  She put her fingers to her lips and whistled.

  A whistle echoed back from the trees. A second later and Ash emerged, a Silver Creek guard atop Shitallion. The rest of the Revolutionaries sprinted behind, their weapons raised. Cries and shouts. A line of rebels at the back dropped to one knee with their own bows and dispatched the rest of the guards on top of the walls.

  “Took your sweet fucking time,” Mary-Anne called down as Ash and Shitallion made it through the gate.

  “Barely heard you. You whistle like a girl,” Ash said, looking up and winking before jumping in and clashing swords with one of Hank’s new recruits. He was a large man who by no means had traditional sword skills, but he did have a hell of a weight behind him and flaunted it to his advantage.

  “Shut up and focus on tub-tubs,” Mary-Anne shouted, then dashed down the stairs and re-joined the battle.

  The Revolutionaries filed in, and before long, the area around the gateway was a mash of steel and cries.

  Alice sprinted into the fray and found herself locked in a scrap with a guard who, in other circumstances, she might have considered handsome. Though with the blood on his face, his gritted teeth, and his sword trained on destroying her, that kind of took the edge off.

  He swung down, and she crossed her two daggers to catch the blade. She grunted at the impact, then looked through and pursed her lips. “C’mon sweetie, it doesn’t have to be like this,” she said, watching him instantly grow red.

  In that distracted second, she threw her left arm right to bat the sword away, then brought her right arm round to drive the dagger into his neck.

  “Bitch,” the guard said as he fell—or something like that. It was hard to hear with all the bubbling in his throat.

  “Some men just can’t take the heat,” Belle said from behind her. “The blood rushes to the wrong place and…—”

  “Shut the fuck up!” the man Belle was fighting shouted. Where Belle was a little under five foot, this man was a mammoth. He stood tall at well over six feet, and Alice couldn’t help but be reminded of Big Bill.

  Her brow furrowed and the two of them paired up against the asshole.

  On the other side of the battle, Ash and Mary-Anne became a well-oiled machine, keeping their backs to each other. Mary-Anne stuck guards with their own swords, drew her claws out to scratch those who came near, and chomped into necks like a homeless guy at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  Ash, on the other hand, fought like a pro. Knowing all the guard’s usual tricks of the trade when it came to battle, he was able to predict their moves ahead of time, taking those who approached him down with ease. At one point, it had crossed Mary-Anne’s mind that maybe Ash wouldn’t actually be able to take down his former comrades, that maybe he’d grow sentimental and switch sides, but he was certainly proving his worth.

  He was a goddamn Revolutionary now, and it was kill or be killed.

  “You know this is going to hurt in the morning, right?” Mary-Anne said between stabbing a guy in the chest and fending off a blow to her right.

  “What the fuck do you care? You’ll be fast asleep in your bed. We’ll be the ones cleaning up your mess.”

  “Always nice to have the roles reversed. For years, it’s been vamps cleaning up your goddamn mess.” Mary-Anne smiled.

  It was dark by the time they emerged from Monica’s hidden chamber.

  Caitlin looked out the window and at the sky. “Shit, how long were we down there?”

  “I don’t know, but I want to go back,” Kain said. “Plug in an Xbox, a TV, and a mini-bar, and you’ve got yourself a proper little man cave, Chapman. Be just like the good ol’ days.”

  Caitlin didn’t even entertain that comment, though wondered what the hell he was talking about. Why would he want egg-boxes down there? Was that an old-world target practice thing?

  She couldn’t imagine what TV stood for.

  They gathered their stuff while Monica quickly knocked up a drink and some food. Caitlin had been open with her intentions for the town and her plan with the Revolutionaries, and in true ‘oh, mother’ fashion, Monica had demanded they eat and get their strength up.

  Caitlin had rushed her bread and water down. Kain swallowed all in practically one go.

  “You can breathe between mouthfuls, you know,” Monica said.

  “I thought people loved folks who swallow,” Kain replied with a cheeky grin on his face.

  When Kain, Caitlin, and Jaxon left Monica’s house, it was so dark outside that hiding was easy. Their cloaks were dark, and the shadows were dense. Even when several guards sprinted past them with their swords drawn and disappeared around the corner, they weren’t noticed in the slightest.

  “I wonder where they’re going?” Caitlin said with a knowing look. The plan would be in full throw by now, the cover of darkness Mary-Anne’s ally.

  “Sarcasm?” Kain replied.

  Caitlin rolled her eyes. “You’re getting better at that, eh?”

  Navigating the streets was easy for Caitlin, even more so now, knowing that she had a Were on her side. They rounded a corner and slipped down through the network of side streets between houses, ducking low as they passed windows where they could hear citizens going about their nightly business—preparing for bed, shouting, or fucking.

  She had to drag Kain away from those windows.

  Little known to them both, though, they soon came to the exact same spot where just that morning, Sullivan had hidden with Carl and Sykes, plotting their takedown of the frontrunners of the prison’s guards.

  Only this time, there were three guards.

  Caitlin smiled. She liked those odds.

  She motioned for Jaxon to stay low.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said, approaching with a sultry swagger that caught their attention. The closer she got, the funnier she found it that they all looked so alike, as if they could’ve been triplets from the same womb. “I don’t suppose you’d mind helping a little lady like myself out at all? I’ve dropped the contents of my purse back there, and I can’t find the stuff that fell on the ground.”

  She bundled her cloak in her hands to give an impression of nervousness while actual
ly showing the guards the lower part of her calves.

  Their eyes practically dropped out, and they elbowed each other as they argued over who would help her.

  “We can’t,” the one on the left said, clearly wanting to be the one to go. “We’ve got orders.”

  “Oh, Sam. Can’t you see this lady needs help?” The guard on the right winked and nudged him in her direction.

  “I’ll help, miss!” the guard in the center said, running to Caitlin’s side.

  She gave him a swift kick to the groin and brought him to his knees. The other two charged in an instant, their weapons still in their sheaths as they reached for Caitlin with their hands.

  “You little slut,” the first guard shouted, grabbing Caitlin’s arm. “Wait until you see what we’re going to do with you.”

  Caitlin didn’t bother to look scared. She merely smiled. It was enough to distract them away from the sight of a cloaked figure with dull orange eyes dashing out of the alleyway. He launched through the air like a puma pouncing its prey and knocked one of the guards off his feet.

  Kain kept his own weapon sheathed, obviously enjoying the thrill of old-fashioned fisticuffs as he dished out blow, after blow, after blow.

  Caitlin drew her sword and swung at the guard. The blade knocked against the armor, sending a shockwave up her arm. He threw back her hood and grabbed her hair.

  He gasped. “You?”

  “Sorry, no autographs today,” she said, spitting in his eyes. He wiped his face but kept her hair in his fist. “Er, a little help?”

  Kain sent a mean sucker punch to the guy’s cheek, then pivoted and ran for Caitlin. “Dear Lord, and I thought guys were impatient. Just a second, sweet-cheeks,” he said, leaping into the air again and round-housing the guy in the face.

  Caitlin couldn’t believe how agile he was. A skinny guy with little mass, he darted around between them all like he was made of lightning. She’d seen his practice drills in training, but to see him perform his magic in the heat of a real battle…she was in awe.

  The guard released Caitlin’s hair as he fell to the ground. She marched up to the beaming Kain and held the sword an inch from his face. “Thanks for the save, but call me sweet-cheeks one more time and I’ll put your collar back on and leave your corpse in the doghouse.”

  “You hear that, Jax?” Kain asked, teasing the sword down cautiously with his fingers. “Looks like it’s you and me tonight. Fair warning—I hog the covers.”

  Jaxon sprinted into the open, accompanying the two. He turned and began growling as a voice came from behind.

  “You sons-of-bitches,” guard number three growled. In their little parley, they’d completely forgotten about him. “I’m going to teach you the meaning of…argh!”

  Jaxon barked and launched himself at the guard. The man fell onto his back and the dog immediately tucked into his throat, ripping his head back and forth as his teeth caught on tendons and cartilage.

  “Pain?” Caitlin asked nonchalantly. She turned to Kain, whose eyebrows were raised. “How does it feel to know a common mongrel has more bite than you?”

  Kain whistled, clearly impressed. “You’ve trained him well.”

  “He just knows who his boss is,” Caitlin said, making her way up the stairs. “And soon, the governor will know, too.”

  Kain whistled again, though when Caitlin turned, she saw it was because he was staring at her ass. She turned away and spoke without looking. “Yes, I know it’s nice. But let’s not waste time on something you can’t have, okay?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Hank’s Quarters, Silver Creek

  Hank couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “I’m sorry, repeat that again,” he said, no longer caring that his face reflected a thunderous concoction of color.

  The guard standing at his bedside looked around sheepishly. His eyes went everywhere but to Hank’s, clearly not happy about being the one to give the captain the news.

  He told Hank that the gates had been stormed and that a group of rebels were making their way inside Silver Creek, led by a vampire. He thought his leader would pass out when he told him that one of the rebels was Ash Collins, the same guard who had been missing since being set free by Caitlin in New Leaf.

  Hank rose out of bed. He had only been asleep for an hour and it clearly wasn’t enough. His rage erupted. He crossed the room to the guard, raised his fist, and took a swing at the wall beside where the man stood.

  He turned, breathing hard through clenched teeth. “How, in the name of Sam Bastard’s fucking child, did a group of nobodies smash through the front gates?”

  He knew the answer before the guard gave it to him. “They have the vampire woman. Her strength is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Men ran from her at the sight of the hell within her red eyes.”

  “Men like you?” Hank snapped, and the guard instantly shut up and blushed. “What of the girl? Is she with them?”

  The guard shook his head. “No sign of the ranger master’s sister.”

  “You’re sure?”

  The guard shook his head again. “No, sir.”

  A cold shiver ran down Hank’s spine. If Caitlin wasn’t with the rest of the rebels, then where the hell was she? She didn’t seem the type to send others to fight on her behalf—not like the governor did, anyway. In many ways, she was the complete opposite.

  “Captain? What are your orders? They’re small in number, but they’re well trained. We’re no match as we are.”

  When Hank raised his head, his face was deliberately shadowed to hide the clear menace he knew was in his eyes. He calmed his breathing by sheer force of will.

  The Governor’s Quarters, Silver Creek

  Hank had seen Trisk pissed off before on several occasions.

  The first had been several years ago, when a duo of town brewers managed to refine the process of making wine. In the collapse of the world, many secrets of alcohol and food had been lost, gone missing or destroyed. So when the day came that a vat of Silver Creek’s finest vino was distributed to the governor, they had celebrated in true style.

  Food was laid out for all of his closest men. Drink flowed endlessly. Spirits were high, and bellies were full.

  Until the morning came, and the governor had been ready for another round of the hair of the dog that bit him, only to discover that all the wine was gone. It had been drunk and devoured by a group of lowly new guard recruits.

  Hank had been by his side as Trisk hauled their bodies up with surprising strength, screamed in their faces until his throat was raw, then sentenced them each to one hundred lashes of the whip.

  The governor didn’t distribute the punishment himself, of course. But he watched every snap and coil of the whip with a disturbingly eager eye. Blood had sprayed in streaks. The men stopped moaning after the count of the first thirty.

  The second time had been had been for nothing more than a disturbance. Trisk had been beyond the realms of the common drunk—years of overindulgence often did that to a person—and Hank, alongside two other men, had had to deliver the news that there’d been another case of the Madness in the town.

  Their leader had been in the middle of one of his panty parties at the time and had stumbled to the door with his boxers teepeed around his excitement. He pulled Hank’s former right-hand man, Claude, into the room and beat him senseless. Hank had the sense to disappear out the door before the governor could realize what had happened.

  He barely remembered in the morning.

  The worst part, Hank remembered thinking, was that it was under the man’s own orders that he had been disturbed in the first place. He had given express orders to be informed should any case of the Madness break out. Sometimes, even Hank wondered if his master might have had a little bit of the Madness inside him.

  But this…this was something Hank hadn’t come across before.

  When he had finished his sentence, explaining that a group of rebels had breached the town, he’d said nothing
at first. He merely looked at the floor, his expression blank.

  The governor wandered around the room with his hands behind his back, obviously considering his response. Once again, Hank found him hardly decent for company. He wore striped shorts of the finest cotton weave, with stains and tears that left little to the imagination. The folds of his stomach made his skin look like a bulbous candle had melted, and the actual candlelight caught and shimmered off the grease of his skin.

  “Sir?” Hank said, feeling himself get irritated at the lack of response.

  Trisk paused at the side of the room where there was a small hole in the wall that Hank had never noticed before. A length of string disappeared through the hole. Trisk hovered his hand over it, seemed to debate his move, then pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, gripping it on the fourth try. He pulled it tight. The string went taught.

  A moment later, a bell began ringing loudly, one Hank had never heard rung before.

  “Sir?” Hank repeated.

  Trisk was on him in a second, moving in a way that Hank couldn’t believe possible. He clutched Hank by the scruff of his neck and pulled their faces together. His breath was rank, his teeth all but falling to pieces in his mouth.

  Yet, even now, he did not shout. His voice was dark and controlled. There was a fear in his face that his wrath failed to mask.

  “You lied to me, Newman,” Trisk growled.

  The next thing Hank knew, he was across the room. His back smacked into the walls, and he slid down.

  He scrambled back to his feet. “Sir… I—”

  The governor flushed red and stomped toward Hank like a great bear. “You think my town doesn’t have spies, you shit-eating bird-piss pie. You think that you are exempt from the truth? How long did you think it’d be before I found out that you’ve been keeping secrets from me? How long did you think it’d be before I found out that the girl who helped the vampire escape is now leading a rebellion against my fucking town?”