Pestilence: The Calling Series

by Faulks, Kim

  “This way. We’ll wash, and the others can clean up the rest. There’s very few perks of being a hunter, but not having to do the inside chores is one of them. Besides, I sucked at cleaning.”

  I followed her into the kitchen and grabbed the towel from the counter. “What is it you search for?”

  “Other than the necessities? Fuel, medical supplies, drugs, stuff like that. Chuck’s a medical practitioner, and he needs everything he can get his hands on. Scalpels, sutures, antibiotics of every kind. So I go through the hospitals, doctors’ and vets’ clinics, and any drug stores I can find, even the looted ones. The hard drugs might be gone, but you never know what’s left.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  She wiped her hands on a spare towel and looked me in the eye. “Tomorrow I see the Lost Boys. They got a problem with one of their crew, so I’m taking the drugs to him. If it’s something that needs hands on, they come here. Otherwise, I go to them. You won’t be harmed, not from them—not while you’re with me.”

  My thoughts were slow, and sluggish as I gave a nod. “Okay.”

  Kenya gave a nod, and turned away. A drop of blood fell as she moved and smacked her forearm. She looked down at the mess as it soaked into the sleeve of her jacket. “Oh, shit…sorry.”

  I couldn’t turn away as she fumbled for her pocket. The ripped fabric was stained and stiff from dried blood.

  “That happen often?”

  Kenya jerked her head high, fingers pinching her nose as she waved her pinkie. Her eyes widened, a nerve twitched before she answered. “You mean this? Sometimes. Part of the perks Chuck tells me, the clouds, the acid rain. It’s in our system. We’ll be okay. It’ll pass...”

  Her mouth moved, words spilled. But I didn’t believe a damn word. And by the desperation in her gaze, she didn’t believe it either.

  “How long?”

  Her lips trembled as they parted. A darting glance toward the doorway behind me said more than her lies ever could. “I dunno, a few days…a week maybe.”

  A week, all of a sudden in a week they were sick? “And you’ve been looking for a cure since the beginning?”

  She gave a nod. Three years. Three long years to search and search. I couldn’t begin to understand the battle they fought, basic chemistry at school gave me little to go on.

  But I could imagine the fight, the daily grind, day after day…I could imagine the hope, and the need. My hand went for my face, fingers skimmed the underside of my nose. Her damn smile was pathetic, curling and crimping full lips, but it was the yellow tinge to her cocoa skin that squeezed my chest. She was sick. Just like Damon was sick…red, bloodshot eyes, all three were jaundiced. I glanced at the doorway. I hadn’t been able to get a good look at Kris. Beady, dark eyes and a cruel sneer filled my mind. I was betting he looked just the same.

  The disease I carried was a heart-pain, a soul-pain. There was no cure for that kind of loneliness, no end to that eternal war. But I wasn’t jaundiced, I wasn’t sick…not like them. How do you know? When’s the last time you had a good look in the mirror? “Three years.”

  “Three years, what?” Kenya asked.

  “Since I looked at myself in the mirror,” I stepped close. “Three years since I even thought about that at all.”

  She sniffed, pulled the bloody cloth away and stared at the mess. “Kinda puts things into perspective, doesn’t it? Manicures, nights out with the girls. God, I can still taste the damn mojitos. We should do that, you know, have a girls’ night—you, me, and the damn dog. Kris is going to win, you know…you just watch. He’s tireless, and he’s a—”

  “—genius, yeah, I know.”

  She gave a nod, dropped her hand from her nose. Blood coated the tips of her fingers. And there was that haunted look again, the one that whispered, please don’t go…don’t leave me…Her lips quivered, hand dancing across her mouth as she smothered a yawn. She took a step past me, heading for the door. “Right now, I need sleep. Come on, let’s get you settled.”

  “The locks?”

  “Are automatic, but Chuck will still check every one. Don’t worry. He’s obsessive, and they’re damn strong. Nothing’s getting in here, and, even if they did, they wouldn’t get past the glass doors to the lab. You’re safe, Harlow. Safe as any place in this goddamn world.”

  And wasn’t that the truth. No matter how strong the welds, no matter how greased the hinges. No matter how many bullets in the chamber, or how savage your companion was—there was no place safe. I followed her into the bunkroom, with its beds hugging the walls, and slowed at my stuff.

  “You can have one of my blankets, it gets extra cool here at night,” she bent and grasped the plush folded covering from the foot of the bunk. “If you plan on staying longer, I can hunt down some more pillows. They have a room stuffed with them, you know? And clothes, Damon’s organized the Hell out of them, first it was sizes, and then colors and sizes…I gave up watching him after that.”

  The question wore at me like a pebble in my shoe. I glanced at the open door, keeping my words low. “And Kris, what’s up with him?”

  She stiffened with the question, and turned to glance over her shoulder. “He’s a genius. There’s no doubt about that…but the guy’s a little prickly. Best stay away.”

  Oh, I planned on it. There was no arguing there.

  Kenya stepped close, throwing out a blanket on top of the sheets. New people, new place, new clothes.

  My heart thundered in my ears. I could feel the shudder in my chest…racing…racing... Everything was changing. So. Damn. Fast. I couldn’t keep up—not with the world—not with myself. This wasn’t me, this…wanderer, and yet, here I was, ready to risk my own damn life for what? For a feeling in the pit of my stomach, one that pulled me toward this place and these people.

  The faint click…click…click of nails on the floor rang out. Pitt limped, gravitating toward me as I held out my hand. Her cold, wet nose hit my palm, and a tired lick followed before she crumpled to the ground at the foot of my bed with a hard moan.

  Two seconds later the room was filled with the sound of her snores. I slid under the sheets and listened to her breaths. The place was quiet, too damn quiet. I missed the groan of my building as it settled for the night. I missed the faint calls of owls in the distance and the wolves out hunting…living. I missed the reminder that I was living too. But in here, in the closed, controlled environment, I felt like a fish in a bowl, swimming, swimming, unable to get out.

  “Night, Harlow,” Kenya murmured. “I’m glad we found each other.”

  “Night,” I answered as silence filled the room.

  The night settled hard around me. I wanted to stay awake. I wanted to curl my hand around the gun under the edge of my pillow and stare into this unknown darkness. But my belly was full, and the smile still lingered from dinner and, as the emptiness rushed toward me, so did the dream.

  You’ve already lost.

  The words drifted to the surface. His words. That rider astride a pale horse. My thought conjured him, and shadows and pale reflections filled my mind. I could almost see him. Pestilence. His name filled me like an aftershock, and the tremor raced.

  Harlow?

  I clenched my eyes tight and shifted my hips. There was a sigh in the room as bedsprings howled, and then silence.

  Harlow…

  I let myself sink, past the memories and the pain—down to where Nirvana waited—down to where the emerald glinted like a light to guide the way.

  Come, he whispered. We’re waiting for you.

  Four shadows hovered in the distance. The faint clip-clop of hooves echoed, but there were no towering shadows. No swish of a tail. No disease-ridden flesh to give me nightmares.

  They stood on their own, four men hidden in long robes that swept the ground as they moved.

  “Don’t you come any closer,” shaky words slipped from my lips.

  Shaky voice. Shaky ground. The earth trembled as they took a step.

  My heart gave a
jolt as I threw out my hand, and slid my feet wider.

  You’re safe here. The soft growl echoed. Nothing will hurt you. Not any one. Not any thing. We won’t allow it.

  You are ours, another whispered and lifted his hand. Red glinted on his finger. We’ve been waiting.

  I lifted my head to the darkness, waiting for that bright light to come. But there was no God. No savior. There was only silence. Only them, and they surged toward me like a dawning sun.

  “Who the Hell are you?”

  Green jewel flashed as he spoke. You know who we are.

  My lips parted. Hate raged, until a soft caress across my lips stole my breath. Not a finger…I licked where the unseen touch had been, and felt the pressure once more.

  Just like a kiss, soft, gentle.

  My hands dropped to my sides as the kiss came again, taking my mouth slowly, forcefully. Hands went around my waist, bowing my spine, pulling me against him. But there was no him against me. There was nothing but darkness—nothing but the phantom feel of a kiss.

  Soft lips smashed mine against my teeth, bruising, hurting. I wrenched my head to the side, breaking free, and sucked in the deep, masculine scent of his body.

  My fingers trembled as I reached for my mouth. My lips pulsed, swelling from the assault.

  Have you ever been touched? He whispered and those words were liquid lightning in my veins. Really touched, not just with your hands, and your lips…but with your mind.

  Green sparkled on his finger as the horseman surged forward.

  Have you, Harlow? Have you ever been bruised and broken and put together all at the same time? Have you ever been stripped…of your clothes…of your dignity, of everything you’ve ever known? And have you ever begged for more?

  The brush of my lips. A touch of my neck. I flinched and stared into the dark, but the gloom held no answers. The touch came again, soft, seductive, leaving me weak and wanting.

  Have you ever been needed the way a breath is needed? Have you ever been consumed—the way you consume me?

  I stilled, closed my eyes as heat raced. My lips parted. A hard breath, urgent now…tearing from lungs, only to be stolen once more as lips brushed the corner of my mouth. Gentle, slow. A ghostly touch against my breast speared lightning through my body to settle between my thighs.

  You make me feel, he whispered. You make me feel…no one does that, no one has ever done that.

  The kiss again. My lips parted, warm breath snatched from my mouth. Fingers brushed my arms, my breasts, my thighs, a kiss at my neck that trailed along my shoulder…more than one, the thought tore free.

  There was more than one touching me. Each one was different, one teasing, tickling, skimming the tips of his fingers along my arm. Another touched low—at my abdomen, lifting my shirt to kiss my navel. I knew what he wanted as his hands gripped my hips.

  I knew what they all wanted.

  Their ghostly hands explored, a finger trailed my cheek, others speared through the hair at the nape of my neck. Lips followed, skimming the base of my throat. Another kissed the rise of my breast over my heart.

  Their touch is like…heaven. Taking, giving…making my knees shudder—making my will weak. Hard hands, soft hands, desperate, slow, all melted together. I was lost in their touch, consumed by their need.

  Heat and desire collided in the dark.

  It’s just a dream, my own words float to the surface. Just some crazy dream.

  Open your eyes, Harlow, Pestilence whispered. See us…know us.

  My lids cracked open, and the dream rushed in. A dull red light shone overhead. I was in the train station bathroom. I took a step backwards and kicked something small. It clattered, turning end over end until it came to rest against the toilet stall.

  A needle…

  A syringe.

  But I wasn’t alone. They were with me. Shadows crammed the edges of the bathroom, and they moved, growing solid—taking form. They wanted me back there to the desperation and the desire. Back to where they could control me.

  See us, Pestilence whispered and stepped out of the corner and into the light. The red light bathed him, washing his wide shoulders in the color of blood.

  I can’t see his face, even when he stepped closer.

  “What the Hell do you want from me?” The question filled the room and bounced from the tiled walls.

  Protect you, love you. Use you, and be used by you.

  The ring on his finger was murky and brown under the red emergency light. I knew my colors, knew the man that strode forward to cross the bathroom floor. I stumbled backwards, bare feet kicked the wall. My head smacked backwards, hitting the tiles with a hard thud.

  Pain flared, tearing across my head like the jagged bolt of lightning. But he didn’t slow, lifting one arm to bar my escape. I was cornered, pushed against the wall. Four against one.

  “Please, God,” I closed my eyes and whispered. “Give me a weapon. Help me fight.”

  His breath was warm against my ear as he leaned in. You don’t need a weapon when you are one, Harlow.

  I wanted to shut out his voice, his words…the hard feel of his body against mine.

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” isn’t that how it goes? Panicked thoughts raced.

  For thou art with me, Pestilence murmured. His voice tickled my ear, sending my heart racing. Those are the next words you’re looking for, I believe.

  “Not real, not real. Just a dream. Come on, Harlow. Wake up. Wake up! It’s just a dream. Just a…”

  His hand slipped from my neck to my shoulders, and then settled at the small of my back. I wrenched my eyes open as he moved against me, powerful and demanding, rocking his hips. An image surfaced…him…them, fingers touching, legs entwining. Flashes of blood and screams surfaced. Bloody screams, cruel screams—filled with anger and pain as Pestilence leaned closer. Soft lips skimmed mine, kissing in a line down the crest of my chin to the underside of my neck.

  Heat bloomed, tearing through me like thunder.

  My will shook, and the ground followed. In my head those perfect lips trailed along my body…while the others…

  A dream, not a dream, does it matter? He whispered, and lifted his head. Let it go, open yourself to us. While the others…while the others…what?

  A scream tore through the air—but it wasn’t filled with pain or torture. It was desire trapped, and ecstasy found. It was me…me, lips, fingers…hard bodies, legs entwined, hands searching, lips sucking…my breasts, my mouth…it was their eyes—their gaze, intent, focused on me.

  While the others, Pestilence murmured, and rocked his hips harder while the vision raged.

  Shadows of his hood slipped from his chin, and there were those lips—those perfect lips. He lowered his head, and this time the touch was real, warm, soft, demanding, taking my mouth, taking his time. His hard chest crushed mine. Hands drifted, skimming my arm, touching the groove of my elbow—finding the tracks I tried to hide.

  But I couldn’t hide from him.

  I couldn’t hide from any of them.

  I wrenched my head to the side. Rage burned, carving a river to my soul. “Don’t…” the word was raw, and husky, seeped with sex and desire… “Don’t you dare fucking touch me. I’m coming for all of you. I have a Calling…a Calling from God.”

  Those perfect lips curled, and I was drawn to the red smudge in the corner—the heat—the marks left from my lips on his. His hand slipped from the nape of my neck, as he took a step away.

  I had him then. I had all of them. “You brought me here because you think I’m weak, to show me what I was. Just a druggie, right? Just a user…that’s what you meant, isn’t it? To use and be used? You think you can break me? Think I’m not strong enough to hunt you down like the fucking demons you are!”

  My lips ached. My body ached. Nipples hardened with rage, I wanted to tell myself. But the heat from my anger travelled, slipping like a lover’s touch between my thighs.

  They stood in
silence as Pestilence shook his head.

  “I know why I’m here now…why God brought me to these people. It’s to help them…to find a cure.” Kenya’s face filled my mind. The lab, the Calling. The more real these people felt, the surer I became.

  Harlow…the beast in front of me murmured and the vision waned, blending darkness into reality. The red emergency light faded, as did the filthy bathroom stall.

  I didn’t want to hear from him. Not from any of them. I wanted out of this dream—out of this world. Warm tears slipped along my cheeks.

  Could you feel things like that in a dream?

  Harlow, he whispered as the soft brush on my lips came again. Don’t leave…don’t…

  Bedsprings creaked. The sound pulled me into the present. Panic thundered with the faint sound of galloping horses as the creak came again. The day came to me in a rush…the harbor…the church…the Calling, and Kenya.

  I cracked my eyes open to stare into the night and sucked in a hard breath. Feet hit the floor from the direction of Kenya’s bunk and soft footsteps echoed, but not heading to the bathroom—heading out to the hall.

  Follow her, the thought filled me. Follow her now.

  I lifted my head, to stare into the gloom. The weak lights from the hallway spilled in, barely lightening the darkness. But I could make her out as she slipped along the hallway, heading towards the front door, and the lab.

  I eased a foot over the side. I rose from the pillow, stomach muscles quivering as the bed gave a groan. Cold kissed my toes as I hit the floor and rose. Instinct screamed at me to follow. I wanted to lie down. I wanted to trust. But wanting something in this world and it happening is two very different beasts.

  A soft snore stilled across the room as I stepped away from the bed and headed for the door. I gripped the edge and pushed. I clenched my jaw, waiting for the howl of a hinge, and stepped out into the weak overhead lights. The hallway was quiet, too quiet.

  There were no calls from the owls, no howl of a wolf, nothing but an insulated emptiness as I stared into the gloom. The door. I turned right and headed for the door. Was she meeting someone? Was she hiding something?