The Caitlin Chronicles Boxed Set

by Michael Anderle

  Something strange was in the air, the smell of something foul. No guards stood above the gates. No men or women whatsoever, she realized. She listened intently and was surprised at the lack of the usual sounds of townsfolk going about their daily business.

  A warning flashed in her mind as another wave of the scent of decay filled her nostrils.

  “This doesn’t seem good,” Mary-Anne mused as she pushed against the gate and it resisted her strength. She examined the wall quickly and found several small holes large enough to provide purchase and began to climb.

  When she reached the top, she paused to look out over the town. Silver Creek was still there as far as she could tell. The same houses, the same buildings, and the same layout presented a familiar picture. There was, however, one thing missing.

  “Where are all the people?” she asked aloud and glanced into the orange hues of the sunset through the black material that shielded her face. “The town should be busy with people scurrying back to their homes for an evening of rest.”

  Mary-Anne scanned for any sign of movement once more before she worked her way down the guards’ stairs. She chose a random direction and set off, and a chill shivered down her spine as she heard what was unmistakably the cry of a Mad from somewhere on the far side of the town.

  The Broken City, Old Ontario

  “Do you want to run that by me again?” Triston’s face changed in a heartbeat from the soft, warm, Grecian-like hero he had been to something resembling a gargoyle.

  Caitlin sighed. “I know where your mother is and—”

  He rose angrily.

  “Before you say anything, I want you to know that this is all for the good of the city.”

  “For the good of the city? Oh, well, in that case, go ahead and keep my mother captive. Keep her chained up and tortured if you must. As long as it’s all for the good of the city.”

  Caitlin stood as well, unsure whether to move closer to him or farther away. “Your mother is safe. She’s being protected and is a part of this. Alicia has agreed to keep out of it all until a truce is made.”

  “A truce can never be made with the Weres—”

  “I’ve told you. There are good Weres out there. I’ve journeyed with one for the better part of six months. It’s actually him you need to thank for ensuring that your mother is safe and that she isn’t still chained up in the sewers.”

  “Where is she?” Triston asked darkly and moved a hand to his pistol. She reached for Moxie.

  “What will you do? Shoot me?”

  “If that’s what it takes.” He drew the pistol and aimed it squarely between her eyes.

  Caitlin chuckled. “Try it. If I die, ain’t no one telling you where she is.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I can get your friends to talk.”

  “I guarantee that you won’t.”

  They stared at each other for a long time while Triston’s finger stroked the trigger. Eventually, he lowered the gun, slid it back into its holster, and turned to punch a nearby tree. He roared into the sky. Birds that were hiding in the small park took flight.

  She moved her hand away from her sword and spoke softly, conscious of the need to defuse the situation. “Triston, please. Listen to me. I know you don’t like what I’m saying, but this is the only way to bring peace to the city without starting an all-out war. There are Weres working their asses off in the sewers for the same outcome. They are trying to persuade the others to the idea of a truce. Weres and humans can live side by side. It’s happened before, and it can happen again. You simply have to…trust me.”

  Triston breathed heavily. Blood ran down his knuckles, and his eyes were dark as he weighed her words.

  Eventually, he growled, “How can I trust a woman who kidnaps my mother and holds her for ransom? You want my trust? You give my mother back. Then we’ll talk.”

  And with that, he turned and disappeared into the brush. A moment later, a rustle indicated Jaxon’s return. He poked his nose out, cocked his head at Caitlin, and sat beside her.

  She sat in silence for a while with her fingers nested in the dog’s fur and wondered whether she had made the right decision to open up to Triston.

  The Sewers, The Broken City, Old Ontario

  Cynthia led Kain down a route he had never used before. There, the tunnels twisted like a great serpent.

  Voices and growls of Weres sounded from all around, but whether it was the luck of the gods or Cynthia’s careful planning, they miraculously found their way to a dimly lit room which was larger than any Kain had ever seen.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “My office.” She smirked. “After you left and Geralt went all maniacal crazy, he gave me a new job.”

  “Cynthia!” a squeaky voice exclaimed from a doorway off to the side.

  He looked in disbelief at the tiny child standing there. His eyes were bluer than any Kain had seen, and his smile reached from ear to ear.

  “Hi, Evan.” She beamed.

  “Cynthia’s here?” another voice cried from behind. At least a dozen children ran toward them. Kain took a step back to avoid the swarm that seemed to swallow Cynthia’s legs. She knelt and embraced them each in turn.

  “How are we all today?”

  “Damien hit me,” a small boy with dark skin whined.

  “Did not!”

  “Did too.”

  The two boys touched noses, then foreheads. Cynthia rolled her eyes and held their collars to break them apart, much to the amusement of the other children.

  “Serena, I can always trust you to tell the truth. Did Damien hit Lewis?”

  A girl of around nine years of age stepped forward solemnly. Compared to the spritely demeanor of the other children, she appeared rather glum.

  Serena shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. Damien has hit a lot of the children while you were away.”

  “Have not!”

  “Have too.”

  “All right now, children. We know it’s not good to hit, don’t we?”

  “Sometimes it feels real good,” Damien said darkly and grinned until he saw Kain’s glare.

  “You can’t give in to everything that feels good,” Kain said.

  “Well, there’s some advice you should take for yourself.” Cynthia winked.

  “Oh, hush. I’m not the one who kept my legs open enough to have a dozen kids. Talk about self-restraint.”

  “I can open my legs super wide!” Lewis, a boy who looked like Serena but younger said cheerfully. He held the crotch of his filthy trousers and spread his legs into a wide V.

  “That’s nothing. I can do better than that,” Damien said but barely managed half the distance.

  “Serena, how far can you go?”

  Serena rolled her eyes. “I don’t really want to play.”

  “Pleeeeease, sis?”

  She sighed and in one fluid movement dropped to the ground in a perfect split.

  There was an intake of breath as many of the young boys recoiled and held their private parts.

  “You know, if they’re all mine, then they’ll mostly be yours, too?” Cynthia whispered to Kain while the kids were distracted.

  He gulped.

  “And that’s not even the lot of them.”

  She put her fingers to her mouth and whistled loudly. A moment later, more figures emerged from the bedrooms, only these ran on all fours, their tongues hanging from their mouth as they ran excitedly toward Cynthia.

  Kain watched them with a strange feeling in his stomach. Bear cubs, wolf cubs, panther cubs—they were all here. These were children who must have already undergone Geralt’s experimentation.

  “The bastard,” he breathed.

  “Cynthia! He said a naughty word.”

  She nodded. “Trust me, kids. Given this man’s history, that word could have been a lot worse.”

  The adults exchanged a glance, and she instantly recognized what was in Kain’s mind. She nodded toward another room, rallied the children together, and soon had them aro
und a large table with a mixture of mismatched chairs. After she’d served each of the children a bowlful of food, she stood with Kain near the door and watched them with sadness in their eyes.

  “So Geralt actually managed it?”

  Cynthia nodded. “A few months back. I had no idea what was going on until one day, I was dragged from my room and put in charge of the little ones. He was kind to them, really, considering how evil his plan was and allowed me to come and go as I pleased as long as they were taken care of. He insisted they be looked after well enough to become the first wave of new Weres the world had seen in years.”

  Kain looked at the cubs who lapped greedily at bowls in the corner.

  “I’m guessing it didn’t exactly go to plan?”

  She shook her head slowly.

  “When they were given the transfusion, there was a mixture of those who were terrified and those who were actually excited at the prospect of becoming a Were. The change went one of two ways. Either the children would be so overwhelmed with emotion that they would shift back and forth between human and Were with surprising speed. This happened over and over until they exhausted the change and became stuck as a cub or a human—essentially a speeded-up version of what happened to the rest of us.”

  “Or?”

  “Or they were stuck midway and released into the wilds by Leena. Geralt had no use for a baby Lycanthrope in these chambers.”

  Kain imagined it now. He had seen the horrors that the change could bring if one were to get stuck midway. It was the same horror he had felt the day he had changed into a wolf for Caitlin and struggled in his attempt to revert into a human afterward. To think of tiny little versions of these tormented creatures running around outside the city limits brought sadness to his stomach.

  “We really do live in interesting times, don’t we?” was all he managed to say.

  “Do you know what I find interesting?” a small girl with bright green eyes and dark hair said when she caught his words. She slurped noisily from a cup and placed it back on the table.

  “What’s that, Ashley?” Cynthia smiled warmly.

  “Worms.”

  Kain and Cynthia looked at each other.

  “They wiggle and move, but they have no legs. They don’t have eyes, so they can’t see, and they don’t even have mouths.”

  “Yes, they do,” Damien called across the table.

  “No, they don’t,” Ashley protested. “I’ve seen them up close, and they don’t have them anywhere. They don’t even smile. How do they eat? How do they laugh?”

  As they kids erupted into a heated debate about the affairs and biological makeup of worms, Cynthia spoke to Kain beneath her breath.

  “They’re always like this.”

  “They’re kids. What do you expect?” Kain moved closer to her. “But why did you bring me here?”

  She dragged him into the main room by the arm and entered the children’s sleeping quarters.

  “I’m not being funny, but I think I’m a bit too big for these beds.”

  Cynthia ignored him and moved to a blank area of the wall. There, she looked over her shoulder, then slipped her fingers into a gap beneath the stone. She tugged hard, and the panel opened in the shape of a door.

  Kain gasped. “You’ve got some surprises up your sleeve, huh?”

  She took a torch from the wall and carried it into the hidden chamber. There was nothing special about it other than the bed which sat in the corner.

  “I found this completely by accident one day when I tried to sort the kids out. One of them had locked himself inside here, and I heard his cries from the other side. It must’ve been a hidden bunker at some point in the past. Whatever the occasion was, somebody wanted to hide.”

  “Whatever the occasion was, it’s perfect for now.”

  She nodded.

  “You know they’ll come for you the minute that bitch in the cell wakes up, right? She’ll blab everything to Bryce.”

  “I think I’ve done enough to earn Bryce’s trust.” She grabbed his cheeks and gave him a firm kiss. “Leave it to me. I’ve got this. You stay quiet and stay safe. I’ll gather the troops and bring them to us to plot our escape.”

  “You don’t understand,” Kain said and held Cynthia’s hands. “We don’t have time. They plan to trigger the war tomorrow night.”

  She closed the door behind her and held his gaze. “Then I suppose we’d better make every second count.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Silver Creek, Silver Creek Forest, Old Ontario

  “Holy fuck.”

  Mary-Anne couldn’t believe the evidence of her own eyes. Everywhere she looked, Mad clawed at her from between the bars as they hungered for her flesh—five in some cells, ten in others, and in some, more than a dozen.

  She looked at the bars and wondered how the force of the Mad’s desperation hadn’t buckled the metal and released them. She supposed it was a credit to the architects who put the whole thing together.

  The vampire walked slowly, almost overwhelmed by the smell. She saw faces of people she recognized. Many had yet to turn completely Mad and smiled weakly as she passed, seemingly already surrendered to their fate.

  “What’s happened in here?” she asked one woman who sat inside a cell with her back to the wall. Her dank hair clung to her face as she struggled to breathe.

  “They’re gone,” she said, simply. “They’re all gone. We’ll all be gone soon, too.”

  She continued her exploration and marveled at the number of Mad as she tried to comprehend how on earth this could have happened. The vampire had seen towns and cities fall to the Madness and had been there on the day it had all fallen to shit, but it had been years since then. A tiny part of her had hoped that Silver Creek would be immune from attack.

  It’s really true. Nowhere is safe these days.

  Mary-Anne prepared to leave, her ears ringing at the cries and shrieks of the Mad, but she picked up the scent of people following her. She turned and saw a man and a woman who stood side by side near the prison’s entrance with a sword aimed directly at her chest.

  “Who goes there?” a shaky voice asked, barely audible over the sound of the Mad.

  Mary-Anne dashed forward and stopped directly in front of the man. The tip of the blade rested against her chest.

  “Someone who could help you. Do you really want to risk it all by spilling my entrails across the floor?”

  The woman recoiled behind him. He tried his best to remain confident, but his facade slipped.

  “No,” he gulped.

  “Good. Then get me out of this pigsty and tell me what the fuck has happened to this town.”

  The Broken City, Old Ontario

  Caitlin took her time on her return journey through the city. Her head felt heavy, and the weight of her burden rested painfully on her chest.

  She strolled through the streets and barely paid attention until she approached a point at which the road was blocked with piles of rusting cars.

  “Eurgh,” Caitlin complained, looked at Jaxon, and wondered if he was agile enough to climb. “Up and over, boy?”

  His eyes seemed to agree. He nudged her with his nose, and she took that as a sign to at least try.

  Despite their advanced age, the cars were relatively stable. Only once did the roof of a vehicle buckle beneath her feet and almost break through into the cabin. Jaxon leaped nimbly along the shells of cars as if it was no obstacle at all.

  As Caitlin climbed, she wondered about Triston. How could a man choose such naivety over a reunion with his mother? How could a town that was so concerned with the safety of its citizens allow a host of water-soaked Mad to sleep on its shores?

  Where was the leader this town needed? Where was the person who should resolve the state of this city’s affairs?

  Caitlin shimmied onto her rear and swiveled on the metal of an old van. Her ears caught the complaints of something from within the mass of cars beneath. Jaxon was already halfway down the othe
r side, but he turned and growled at something.

  “Easy, boy.”

  She moved more swiftly now, made it over the crest, and began her descent. As she lowered a leg onto the window ledge of what had once been a green Vauxhall, the car began to shake. A moan issued from the back seat, and she lowered her head enough to see the shape of a female Mad waking as if from a slumber. Its gaze now fixed on hers.

  Caitlin slid gracefully down several cars. She landed in the flatbed of an old pickup truck and checked over her shoulder.

  Half a dozen now—no, more than that—poked their heads out of the windows of the vehicles. They were ancient, some of the most decrepit she had ever seen. Their skin had taken on a greenish hue and those who had seen her dragged their bodies with great effort. The others who were now rousing looked around dazedly.

  Her heart pounded, and she smiled as she lowered herself to the ground. When her feet found purchase, she spun, drew Moxie, and faced them all.

  “Come at me, bitches,” she said loudly enough for all heads to look her way.

  Caitlin felt the adrenaline course through her veins. She felt good at that moment, as though she were in control. When all else failed, she knew she had the swordsmanship to take them all on. If the politics of the city were moving at a glacial pace, she could always count on herself to rid the world of a few extra Mad.

  The first creature to attack her might once have been considered a woman. Her hair was still held loosely in a greasy ponytail as she lurched forward.

  “Sorry, princess. Your reign is over,” Caitlin said and held Moxie directly in front with both hands so that the Mad impaled its own throat on the blade.

  Caitlin kissed the air a couple of inches from the creature’s face. “I’m sorry. The world has no place for you anymore.”

  She pulled her sword free as the next two approached, followed closely by a third. They seemed to have recovered somewhat and limped with alarming speed. She managed to shove the body of a woman into the one on the left as she twisted and sliced Moxie across the first Mad’s throat.