The Caitlin Chronicles Boxed Set

by Michael Anderle

  “And if the town burns? If the forest and the world catch fire?”

  “We’ll build the whole damn thing up again,” Ash replied.

  Tom nodded his head and took a big gulp of his drink. He held the goblet in towards the center of the table, and the other two clinked their drinks. “Cheers.”

  “Only one question, though.” Tom wiped away the froth that had collected in the hairs on his upper lip. “Why are you leaving all the fighting to a girl?”

  Dylan and Ash exchanged glances and smiled.

  “Because we have a plan,” Dylan said.

  “And because she’s one bitch who you don’t want to get on the wrong side of,” Ash added, chuckling into his drink.

  Ashdale Pond, Old Ontario

  Pastor Andrews had never felt so alive.

  The church was so warm that he found himself sweating. He moved animatedly, the candlelight flickering and casting dramatic shadows as he preached, the body heat of nearly two hundred Ashdale folks making the church feel more like home than he’d ever experienced.

  Nearly two hundred pairs of attentive eyes and not one of them seemed to blink.

  This was what it was all for, and he couldn’t thank the governor enough. He was a shepherd, and this was his flock. His word in this sacred room of light was law. With the power Trisk had granted him, he would never be at the bottom of the ladder again. He’d never be without a soul to love or to listen.

  And it had been so damn easy. He wondered why he’d never thought of it before.

  A few times during the ceremony, he took questions, impressed with the speed of his lies and how easily people bought them. When asked, “What day will the reckoning come?” or “What will happen on that fateful day that will deliver us from evil?” Pastor Andrews shared some bullshit about a holy crew with guns and holy water who would take down the Mad one-by-one until the world was cleaner than it had ever been.

  A sacred trio. A Holy Trinity.

  And Ashdale would be Eden reborn.

  Still, he wasn’t entirely convinced that the church was as full as it could’ve been. Not every single person in the town had yielded to his cause. His Firestarters had been tasked with the duty to convert everyone.

  Every. Single. Person.

  Yet, though he couldn’t name names, he was certain that goal was yet to be achieved. It was a feeling in his stomach, like when you knew you were being watched but couldn’t find the eyes. You just…knew.

  They stood at the back now, his sacred guardians of light. A row of a dozen of his men and women, dressed in black cloth. Each now had their sigil emblazoned in black ink on their arms, the sign of a church in flames.

  He smiled, sweeping his arms in enthusiastic showmanship as he looked to the back and nodded at a man in the middle. He resembled a Neanderthal character with no hair, a thick frown line on his head, and tattoos which bled up the entirety of the left side of his body—as far as the pastor could see, anyway. A guy affectionately called “the Clobberer,” or Clob for short. His mountainous arms were barely contained by his dark sleeves. His reputation, far from savory, made him the perfect enforcer.

  The bells were a simple construction, really. A large wooden pole embedded in the ground with a thick coil of wire wrapped around its beam like a snake poised and ready to constrict. These had been dotted around Ashdale, and all anyone had to do to grab attention was pull and leave.

  Yet somehow, Kain had caught his wrist around the rope. He could tug, but he could not go.

  “Come on,” Caitlin roared, rolling her eyes as she slashed at the rope and freed the Were. Kain rubbed his wrist, then looked back at the swollen horde of Mad, their numbers now closer to fifty than the two dozen they had been when they started running. There was no telling where they had come from. And, to be honest, that wasn’t at the front of anyone’s mind.

  They raced across the remaining distance towards the church, the lights spilling from the broken windows now a beacon to guide them to the others. The clanging bells pealed a melody for their flight.

  Caitlin felt a pang of guilt, knowing that she had brought the threat to the masses. But if there was one way to make an entrance, this was it. Even heroes had to know when they were outnumbered.

  When the doors to the church opened, it was with a bang so hard they nearly fell off their hinges. Silhouetted in the doorway was what Caitlin could only describe as a gargoyle. A giant. A mammoth of a man who looked like he’d been hewn from the thickest branch of the forest’s oldest tree.

  The man gritted his teeth, held a thick club in the air, and charged like a raging bull. He lowered his head, gathered speed, and streamed straight past Caitlin, Kain, and Mary-Anne towards the horde. With a single swing of his club, he caved in a skull. Another swing sent someone flying back into three of their comrades.

  Caitlin watched in fascination, only mildly aware that several Mad were coming for her now.

  “Kitty-Cat, eyes up front,” Kain bellowed, drawing his own blade and standing firm. Caitlin searched for Mary-Anne, seeing then that she, too, was already in the throes of the attack. With her usual dexterity and strength, she dealt with several Mad in succession and eliminated them with a mere twist of their heads.

  Caitlin couldn’t help but notice her eyes weren’t glowing.

  Probably for the best. The last thing we need is to alert the town that we’ve got a vampire, too.

  When she heard growls to her right, she drew her sword and went on the offensive. Her blade connected with an old man’s face—blister-covered and raw, looking like the skin had been held to a flame—making its way first through one cheek, then out the other. The man gurgled and screamed with the metal between his teeth before Caitlin booted him in the chest, knocking him to the floor, and delivered the final blow.

  Jaxon barked. Caitlin ordered him back, not knowing what exactly might happen to a dog who ingested the Madness.

  A mixture of panic and alarm sounded inside the church. Above the growls, grunts, and screeches of the Mad, they could hear Pastor Andrews’ voice bellowing, roaring instructions, and summoning the town together for the attack.

  Like ants spilling from a hole filled with boiling water, the residents of Ashdale came, some faster than others. Each person carried some form of weapon, be it a stick, a shoe, a pan, or a knife. Their cries were deafening. Their herd mentality filled Caitlin with a sense of empowerment.

  This was what the world should be—a banded force of people fighting for the same cause. Ready and willing to come together to protect the world they knew, not cowering behind walls, relying on distance and cover to keep them safe.

  They were everywhere in seconds. Each zombie now battled with at least three men and women. There were cries, screams, calls, tears, and blood.

  Lots of blood.

  Caitlin crippled several Mad as she ran through the field, taking out their hamstrings and sending them to the ground where they crawled and chomped, aiming for legs, ankles, and anything they could grab in their frenzy. She watched Kain use a Mad’s back to launch himself high into the air, coming back down with his blade in another Mad’s head. She saw Mary-Anne trip and stab several Mad before they were bludgeoned by townsfolk.

  But when she heard a small girl’s scream, her blood ran cold.

  She turned her head in all directions, searching the melee in silent desperation. Finally, she identified two zombies reaching and clawing at the underside of the remains of an abandoned car. Its tires sagged, the rubber shredded and much of the metal carcass had melted into the ground. The scream came again, and Caitlin ran without hesitation.

  “Jaxon, get!” Caitlin called. The dog sprinted past them all, ducking under the car and taking a position in front of the girl, a furry bodyguard.

  The Mad were so focused on the girl that they didn’t see her coming. Caitlin stomped on the back of one of their necks, forcing it to the ground. When it raised itself back up, she’d already yanked open the car door and now slammed it shut agai
nst the side of its face. There was a delicious squelching sound of a melon dropped from a height. Skin stripped from the cheek to reveal bone before the zombie collapsed.

  The other was already halfway under the car, now. A heavy woman, she scratched and clawed at the earth like an animal digging.

  Caitlin looked down at the bare flesh of the Mad’s leg. She wrapped her sleeve around her hand to avoid skin-to-skin contact and pulled it back into the open. The woman half-rolled onto her back and screeched in her direction.

  “Not today,” Caitlin muttered through gritted teeth, oblivious now to the battle behind her as the townspeople started to decimate the horde’s numbers.

  The Mad woman reached for her, sitting up with impressive speed. Caitlin stumbled backward, found her footing, and stabbed forward, wounding the woman in the gut. As she pulled her sword back, thick blood pooled in the woman’s lap.

  With another well-placed stab, Caitlin found the heart and thrust her blade home. The woman choked, the light fading from her eyes, then lay back, her hand stretching out underneath the car where the young girl cowered.

  “It must be tiring work to smell and look that bad,” Caitlin muttered.

  Cautiously, she kneeled between the corpses. The girl was sweet, her dark hair spilling over her face as she shivered and shuddered beneath the car.

  “It’s okay,” Caitlin said. “They’re gone now. Come with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

  Behind her, a Mad-infected man began to charge, alerting her with a bloodcurdling yell. Caitlin scrambled aside, caught on the defensive and unable to gain her feet. Not a second later, Kain appeared, knocked the man sideways, and cut furiously into his body. “You ought to watch your six, Kitty Cat. No telling what kind of freaks will take you from behind.”

  Caitlin raised her eyebrows.

  “Tell me you’re not tempted.” Kain winked before throwing himself at another Mad.

  Jaxon licked the young girl’s face, circling behind her and nudging her with his nose. The girl giggled, wiped her eyes, and crawled out, never taking her eyes off the zombies lying on the floor.

  “That’s it,” Caitlin said, scooping her up.

  “Clarissa…Clara! Oh, my dear baby,” a woman called, running from the throng towards them both, her tunic splattered with blood. Behind her, Caitlin could see the battle winding down as the town dealt with the few remaining Mad.

  “Safe and sound,” Caitlin said, handing Clarissa over. “Not a bump or scratch to be seen.”

  Clarissa burst into tears in her mother’s arms. A man ran over, his eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. His fingers tugged at the wiry mutton chops on his face. “You saved her?”

  Caitlin blushed, then felt Jaxon rubbing his face on her leg. “It was a team effort, really.”

  Led by Clarissa’s parents, Caitlin made her way back to the others. After the last Mad had stopped moving, the congregation began to collect together, marveling at the gore on the field. A few of them noticed the new arrivals in their midst. Caitlin did her best to avoid their stares but could feel them everywhere. When they all turned to head back to the church, she felt her blood boil.

  Standing in the doorway of the church, without a drop of blood on his person, was who Caitlin could only assume to be Pastor Andrews. A Cheshire Cat grin split his face.

  “Welcome to Ashdale, newcomers,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “Seems you’ve made quite the entrance.” He looked at Mary-Anne. “And you. Welcome back.”

  Caitlin and Kain turned to Mary-Anne, hiding their grins.

  Mary-Anne shrugged.

  “The saviors,” a woman called from the back. “The sacred trio,” another woman added. “They’ve come.”

  A ripple of murmuring exploded into the silence, gaining volume.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ashdale Pond, Old Ontario

  They were suddenly swallowed by the crowd as people fought to get closer to them from all sides. Caitlin felt a little overwhelmed but laughed at it all.

  “Not every day you get celebrated by a bunch of gullible simpletons, eh?” Kain whispered.

  “Hush,” Caitlin said as, a second later, a gap opened in the crowd. People moved out of the way as the brute with the club who had taken charge earlier pushed people aside and moved toward the trio.

  “Inside. Pastor’s orders,” the man said.

  “Hard to argue with that,” Kain added.

  They followed him—the one the others called “Clob”—and immediately felt the warmth of the church as they entered the doors.

  There was an atmosphere of excitement as they walked the aisle to take a seat at the front next to the lectern where Pastor Andrews took his place. Townsfolk filed in to sit quietly on the long wooden benches. From the growing sense of discomfort, Caitlin guessed all eyes were fixed on the three companions up front.

  She saw Jamie and Mabel seated at the back. The old woman waved, her hand quickly batted down by her grandson as he did his best to avoid attracting attention to them both. A couple of rows in front of them, Caitlin saw Clarissa snuggling into her mother’s bosom.

  “Well, that was a bit of excitement, wasn’t it?” Pastor Andrews said, motioning to the trio. There was a rumble of laughter. “You think you’re strapped in for a quiet evening of congregation and prayer and then, the next thing you know, you’re out there fighting the Madness. Slaying a horde of the Devil’s critters and stopping them from digesting and spewing your town in one whole gulp.”

  Pastor Andrews paused then, as if unsure how to carry on.

  “Let us all take a moment to thank the Lord for our victory and to bless the passing of those who laid down their lives today.” He cast his head down and closed his eyes.

  “And for the arrival of the Trinity,” a man called. “The Lord has blessed us with our saviors. The day of the reckoning has come.”

  “Has come,” a voice repeated.

  The pastor looked up, his eyes flashing with an anger which disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared. He ran a hand through his hair and said, “And under whose proclamation do we make such a hyperbolic statement?”

  Caitlin sensed it now—an unease that settled in the man’s mind. This was not his plan at all. If what Jamie had told them was true, this was the last thing Pastor Andrews would have wanted, for someone else to steal the limelight.

  “You did!” the woman called again. “You said a trio of heroes would come, and here they are. Straight from the nothingness of night to deliver us from evil.”

  Pastor Andrews grew red in the face. “They delivered evil. Straight to our doorstep. A half-hundred Mad straight out of the—”

  “Please!” Caitlin said, pushing to her feet. The voices quietened immediately. “Your pastor is right, we’re not heroes. We’re not even a three.” She pointed at Jaxon, who now sat with his tongue out in front of Kain. “We merely came from afar and were looking for somewhere safe to reside. That’s all. Nothing more. Nothing less.” She noticed a few heads drop with disappointment. “Please, no more of this “trinity” talk. You’re in the safe hands of your pastor.” She cast a glance over and saw the man’s face soften. “He is your hero.”

  The smile found its way back onto Andrews’ face. “There. See? Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  “What are your names, great ones?” someone called from the crowd.

  Caitlin froze, looking to Mary-Anne and Kain for reassurance. If the governor in found out they were there in the same town that he supposedly was in, it would ruin any chance of surprise they might have.

  Mary-Anne saved Caitlin the trouble of answering. “I am Detta Slystock. This man on my right is Arthur Cornswaggle, and this woman is Moxie Curtis. We thank you for your warm welcome.”

  After a warm round of greetings, Pastor Andrews took back the reins. For a few minutes, his delivery of the final parts of his sermon was clunky and unbalanced, though once his enthusiasm was up and running, he delighted and entertained the congregation as though the
re had been no interruption.

  When he had finished and those gathered uttered their final prayers, the townspeople began to file out. The sun looked to soon be crowning, and Mary-Anne looked eager to leave.

  “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one evening without revealing I’m a vampire by watching me turn to ash in a heap on the floor,” she said, pitching her voice low.

  “After you, Miss Slystock,” Caitlin teased.

  “Cornswaggle?” Kain grumbled. “You couldn’t think of anything better than Cornswagggle?”

  “It was either that or Nobgobbling,” Mary-Anne winked.

  “Why was it just between those two?”

  Before they could reach the doorway, Pastor Andrews called to them. He was stood in the center of the aisle, then walked toward them so smoothly it looked like he was floating.

  “Miss Slystock. Miss Curtis. Mr. Cornswaggle,” he crooned, his voice as slick as his hair. “A moment before you leave?”

  Caitlin fought back a chuckle as Kain’s face dropped. Mary-Anne looked longingly out at the town, clearly wanting nothing more than to find the darkest corner of Mabel’s house and lie down.

  “What is it, Pastor?” Caitlin said in the most innocent tone she could manage. The man gave her the creeps. He was what she had imagined vampires looked like before she met Mary-Anne—pale skin and piercing eyes.

  “I saw what you did out there,” Pastor Andrews said. “You three fought bravely. Better than most I’ve seen. It must’ve required some skill and talent for the three of you to make it so far in the wilderness on your own.”

  “We do all right,” Kain chirped.

  If Pastor Andrews found any humor in that, he showed none. “I wouldn’t usually suggest this to newcomers, but times are a-changing, and we need all hands on deck to ensure that change is managed.”

  “What are you suggesting,” Caitlin asked.

  Pastor Andrews nodded at Clob, who pulled the sleeve of his top up to reveal the tattoo Caitlin and company had seen on Yusuf and Christy upon their arrival. On Clob, it could only be differentiated from his other tattoos by the depth of its color, which indicated the freshness of the ink.