The Caitlin Chronicles Boxed Set

by Michael Anderle

  “Darling?” the voice replied.

  Mary-Anne moved quickly, and a second later, the man joined the woman on the floor. They both looked at Mary-Anne with wide eyes which went even wider when she revealed her fangs and placed a finger over her lips.

  “Try screaming for help. See where that gets you,” she said. The man stopped wriggling. “Now, who wants to spill all the beans and tell me what’s going on in there?”

  Caitlin looked at Kain in disgust as he picked his teeth clean with the stub of a stick he had found on the floor.

  “Do you have any idea where that’s been?”

  Kain looked confused. “On the floor. Duh.”

  Caitlin rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but grin. Sure, he didn’t have table manners. But with the strength and the powers that he did have, she’d choose Kain over a weak-willed minion any day of the weak.

  “Do you remember packs of playing cards?” Kain asked.

  Caitlin raised an eyebrow and gave Kain a look as if to say, “Are you kidding me?”

  “Ah. Yeah. You’re probably too young.” Kain sat back and looked at the sky. “My old man used to have a deck. Found them in a dilapidated house a few years before I was born. Used to play games with them. Matching colors. Matching numbers. Blackjack. Poker. Used to make some good money from doing tricks, too.”

  Caitlin couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Kain shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess sometimes, it’s nice to remember the way the world once was. The simpler things that made people happy. Before life became about hunting or being hunted. My old man never had a zombie break into his house and try to rip off his face. He just smoked, shit, and played cards.”

  “Not all at once, I hope.”

  Kain shrugged. “Who knows?”

  Caitlin thought this over. That life sounded quaint. Peaceful. Nice. Sure, it seemed Kain had grown up in the days after the world went to shit and had to live in a post-apocalyptic world, but at least it had been before the Madness. At least he’d had a chance to see the world wiped clean.

  “C’mon then, Kitty-Cat,” Kain said, jumping to his feet. He scanned the ground nearby and found two moderate-sized sticks.

  Caitlin laughed. “What are you doing?”

  “Let’s not just waste time, eh? Show us what you got.” He tossed a stick to Caitlin.

  She raised her eyebrows. “You think you’ve got what it takes to beat me?”

  Kain smiled playfully. “She’s a cocky one. The cute little village girl thinks she can outdo an experienced werewolf? You might be good against the zombs and the naughty humans, but let’s see if we can’t teach you a trick or two.”

  Caitlin lunged in for the strike. Immediately, Kain batted her stick, knocking it to the floor. She looked down at her stick, stunned.

  Kain grinned. “Not so easy, huh? I meant it. Don’t get cocky, kid.” He winked.

  Caitlin bent down, picked up her stick, and went in for round two.

  The two hostages blabbed almost instantly. Well, maybe one spewed words a little bit faster than the other.

  The man simply froze and forgot to breathe for a few seconds.

  “If you’re hoping to get mouth to mouth, I don’t see that working out too well for you,” Mary-Anne had said before his eyes refocused and he told her everything.

  Now, Mary-Anne stood next to the doorway and listened. The sermon, led by Pastor Andrews, Mary-Anne had been told, was the town’s weekly congregation in honor of the Lord, their God, and the governor who had supposedly been sent down to Earth from the stars to save them all in the time of the Mad.

  Mary-Anne raised the corner of her lip in a mixture of confusion and anger. They had literally just deposed the governor from one town, and they’d made their way to a town in which he was virtually worshiped as some kind of higher being.

  When Mary-Anne had taken refuge in her manor, she had figured that hibernation would be enough to sleep through the worst of the Madness. Of course, she hadn’t taken into account that lack of real human blood for the best part of sixty years would have had such detrimental effect on her . But she figured that perhaps she’d wake up, and the worst would be over. Someone would maybe have fixed it all, and the nightmare would be gone.

  But shit like this…

  There came a chorus of “Amen” from the crowd. Mary-Anne let her curiosity get the better of her and took a seat beside an old woman cloaked in a shawl at the back of the church.

  The woman flashed a toothless grin.

  The pastor’s voice droned on. “And it is from the darkness of the days that the light shall arise. Sent forth from Him above through the prophet, our governor, to deliver us through these times of trial and grant us our redemption.”

  When everyone repeated, “Amen,” Mary-Anne noticed the old woman still staring at her with that same smile on her face.

  “You’re new to town, dear?” the old woman asked. Her skin was so wrinkled that Mary-Anne wondered what kind of treasures could be found in the folds of her flesh.

  “Just arrived,” she responded, doing her best not to engage. She faced away and pretended to devote her attention to the pastor.

  “For when the Madness fell, it was He who said, ‘and ’lo, for your sins the blessed shall suffer, until all that is righteous is equal—’”

  “I’m ninety-six, you know.”

  That caught Mary-Anne’s attention. “Excuse me?”

  “Gary Nimbler was a friend of mine. Great sport. It’s a shame he has to work on Wednesdays.” The old woman’s eyes turned dark as she turned her gaze to the floor in obvious confusion. “Nobody’s got time for Mabel anymore.”

  A man with dark, slicked-back hair turned from the row in front and shushed them.

  To Mary-Anne’s horror, Mabel stood up and clobbered the man around the ear.

  “Hey,” he complained.

  All heads turned to the back.

  “Mabel, now, now. There’s no need for violence in the Lord’s house.” The pastor spread his arms wide, his face a picture of kindness as he addressed the congregation. “That kind of behavior can wait until after.” He stretched that last bit and chuckled the falsest laugh Mary-Anne had ever heard.

  “But seriously,” he continued. “Mabel, dearest, let’s all get along now, shall we? What would the governor think if he were to see this kind of behavior in our church?”

  Mabel’s face melted from anger to regret. She shrank into her chair. “I’m awfully sorry, Pastor, I…I meant no offense to the governor.” She crossed her hands over her chest. “Long may he live.”

  The congregation all crossed their chests and repeated, “Long may he live.”

  What the… Mary-Anne watched everyone’s attention return to the front.

  The pastor continued his sermon as if he hadn’t been interrupted. Mary-Anne sat as long as she could, genuinely intrigued by the whole thing. The pastor was quite the entertainer, reeling off stories and proverbs that she had never heard before in her life, and which no one in the room—bar Mabel, maybe—would know held no relevance or truth in the real world. He was certainly a showman, and the people sitting with eager eyes drank it all up as though they’d been dying of thirst in the desert and he was a nice cool milkshake.

  Mabel mumbled and tried to keep talking to Mary-Anne. It was actually as the sermon began to wrap up and she began to panic that she turned to leave, only to find that Mabel had grabbed her hand.

  “Where are you going, dear?” Mabel said, a lot too loudly for her liking.

  Once again, the congregation turned toward the disturbance.

  Mary-Anne swallowed uncomfortably.

  “What’s the hurry?” the pastor added. Mary-Anne didn’t like the way that he looked at her. Though outwardly, his face was kind, his eyes looked like he was scanning her. She felt him reading her, trying to work out what she was. “I assure you, we’re near the end now, sister. There’s no need to dash off into the night, especially for n
ewcomers such as yourself. Please, stay awhile.” He gave a fake chuckle which made Mary-Anne’s skin crawl. “What are you? A vampire?”

  The congregation burst into laughter. Mary-Anne froze, then joined in.

  “No, no,” Mary-Anne said, doing her best to shrug off the pastor’s comment. “I just needed to stretch my legs. Sorry for the disturbance.”

  She sat back down. Mabel shuffled along the seat until her legs were touching Mary-Anne’s. “The secret ingredient is cinnamon. Just a dash, mind. No more, no less. That’s how you end up giving people the chicken pox.”

  What the hell is this woman taking? Mary-Anne looked down her nose at the grinning old bat.

  “What are you—” Mary-Anne began, but the question cut off as she snatched a breath.

  Suddenly, Mabel’s eyes snapped into focus. She looked around as though waking from a dream. She grabbed Mary-Anne’s thigh and looked into her eyes as though seeing her for the first time. “The sun will be rising soon, my dear,” she said in a voice so quiet that Mary-Anne now had to lean in to listen. “You’ll need some rest. Some sleep. There’s a room at my place. It’s dark in the daylight. It’s yours if you require it.”

  The pastor’s voice droned on as he paced toward the end of his sermon. Mary-Anne looked Mabel in the face, their eyes now locked onto each other.

  “You…know?” she began, thinking how stupid it would be to say what she was out loud. That was not the kind of thing a room full of brainwashed, gullible individuals needed—to discover that a creature they believed extinct and reputedly drank blood currently sat in their midst. “You know?”

  Mabel nodded, though with great effort.

  “Meet me outside when the pastor is done,” she instructed.

  She turned her attention back to the preacher. Mary-Anne followed suit, her mind speeding at 120 miles per hour. Though she was eager to find out more about this woman and what she might or might not already know, she couldn’t help but worry slightly that she had left two guards hogtied and dumped in the graveyard. Should someone find them, or should they free themselves, they would likely blab in an instant.

  But who would believe that a vampire had appeared and taken them hostage?

  No one, maybe.

  Or perhaps everyone.

  Mary-Anne knew she’d have to play this very carefully if she didn’t want to arouse the town’s suspicions and pave the way for Caitlin to pursue Trisk without resistance.

  The congregation was already batshit crazy. What would they say when a vampire and a werewolf appeared?

  When the meeting finished, Mary-Anne was the first to leave. She moved fast—not as fast as she could have, but definitely faster than everyone else—and raced out the door to untie the man and woman she had left hidden behind a tombstone.

  Her eyes blazed as red as she could manage. “Here’s the deal,” she began as they rubbed their wrists and watched her in fear. “You are free…for now. You haven’t seen a vampire. No one will believe that you’ve seen a vampire. If you tell anyone what you saw, I will know. A vampire’s hearing is tenfold what a human’s is, and I will know. And if I know, I will hunt you down in seconds. You won’t see me coming. You won’t hear me coming. One minute you’ll be breathing, the next, you’ll know nothing but eternal darkness. Got it?”

  They both nodded.

  “Good. Because I’m going to be sticking around for a little while, and I’d like to not have to kill anyone in that time if I can help it.”

  When she was satisfied that her words had been heard, she made her way back to the front of the church. The grass was long, and the night was cold. She found Mabel waiting outside, looking around in confusion. The rest of the congregation filed out behind her, holding torches and walking in single file.

  Creepy fuckers.

  “Shall we?” Mary-Anne asked Mabel.

  “Shall we what?” Mabel said, confused. “Oh!” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a turnip. “Here’s my spare. Did you want it?”

  Mary-Anne couldn’t help but grin. The woman might be batshit insane, but there was something endearing about her for all that.

  Besides, she was the only person Mary-Anne had met in years who even came close to her own age.

  Other than Kain, maybe.

  But Weres didn’t count.

  “You were going to show me to your house,” she said, gently encouraging a revival of memory.

  “Oh,” Mabel said, though the word brought no further dawn of recognition on her face. “Of course. Very well. Very well.” As they began to walk down the slope and towards a collection of houses, she added. “It’s just as well really. The roaches are becoming too much for me to handle by myself. I just didn’t think exterminators existed anymore.”

  Mary-Anne laughed and followed Mabel home. She only looked back for a second, her thoughts turning to Caitlin and Kain. She’d come back for them shortly—after she’d found out what she could from Mabel.

  The sun was starting to come up, after all.

  Caitlin grew restless, the wait wearing on her patience.

  Kain had lain back, now, his hands laced behind his head as he stared at the stars. The same piece of grass stuck out of his mouth as he chewed upon it.

  He was a handsome man beneath all the scars. When Kain wasn’t looking, Caitlin would sneak a peek and wonder at each and every line and scar across his face. He was world-worn. His body told a story of the struggles and survival that it took simply to make it through each day in the wild.

  She found herself curious, wanting to know where he had come from. From what she understood of Weres, during the age following the fall—and maybe even before that—Weres roamed in packs. Groups would band up, led by a single alpha, and that bond would be near unbreakable.

  It was nature.

  “Kain?”

  “Hmm?”

  Caitlin weighed her words. “Your pack…where are they?”

  Kain tensed at that, glancing down at a long red scar on his arm which gleamed brighter than the rest. “What makes you think I had a pack?”

  “It just makes sense. Weres roam in packs, right?”

  “Some do,” Kain said, avoiding her gaze. “Some Weres reject the brutal nature of their pack and go solo. Life is easier on your own.”

  “Is that what happened to you?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned back, looked at the stars, and played with the grass hanging between his lips. “I bet that bitch is getting a stake dinner.”

  Caitlin studied Kain a moment, sensing the need to change the subject. She allowed it. This time.

  “Do vampires eat steak?” she asked.

  “If a sharpened two-by-four is hammered through their hearts, they do.” He laughed. “Not that it ever really works. There’s a lotta people don’t know about how to kill Weres and vamps. Especially these days.”

  Caitlin pondered this, stroking the silver tip of her sword absently.

  “You think she’s okay?” she asked.

  Kain rolled over onto his side and propped his head on his hand. “Sure. She’s a vampire—and a badass one at that. Please don’t tell her I said that. It’s hardly like she’s going to be held captive by some old lady, is it?”

  They both laughed. It felt good to laugh, really. After she had lost Kiera and discovered the governor had imprisoned Dylan, there was a moment when she never thought she would laugh again. But now…

  Caitlin looked at the sky, noting the black of the night beginning to fade. Birds tweeted in the forest behind them, and somewhere, a cockerel crowed.

  “Still…she should be back by now, right?” Caitlin pointed at the church. “Look, the lights are going out.”

  Kain stood up, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. “I can hardly smell her at all, now.” He raised his nose to the sky. “I can smell lots of people, though.”

  “What does that mean?” Caitlin asked.

  “It means we’re standing up-wind,” Kain replied as if it were the mos
t obvious thing in the world. “Come on,” he said, moving forward through the grass. “Enough waiting for sweet-fangs. Let’s go see what crazy fuckery this town has to offer.”

  They both headed towards the church which, only an hour ago, had been packed to the walls. With their dark cloaks pulled close and careful steps, they moved as swiftly as shadows. Caitlin thought of the little red circle she had seen on her map next to Ashdale Pond, and her heart fluttered with excitement as she thought of Trisk and how satisfying it would feel to slide her steel across his neck.

  Chapter Seven

  Silver Creek, Silver Creek Forest, Old Ontario

  The Revolutionaries rounded up those who had arrived over the last few days, and the newcomers didn’t take too kindly to being prodded and probed. Ash had to admit that he didn’t like it too much either.

  Still, when it came down to a choice between forcing folks to get naked so they could be examined for any signs of the Madness, or having the disease spread town-wide in a matter of days, the choice was simple.

  “Here, you’re clean,” Sid, a former high-security prison guard who had watched over Kain during his stay at hotel Iron Bar, said as he threw a pile of clothes back at a man with a scraggly beard and a shaven head.

  “That’s what I told you, fuckwits. I’ve been here three days. You think if I had the Madness I wouldn’t have turned already?”

  Ash placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. He wasn’t going to cut the man, oh no. But even the movement alone was enough to suggest that the guy needed to watch his tone.

  The man backed down instantly. “I meant no offense.”

  “What about on-fence?” Ash asked. Then, when the man only looked confused, added, “Off-fence? On-fence? No? Ah, just forget it.”

  The man skulked away with a scowl.

  “Next,” Sid called.

  Over the following few hours, they made their way through a fair majority of the newcomers. They each filed in slowly, making their way to the inspection room as soon as they had been found and identified.