Bad Blood (Battle of the Undead Book 1) (9 page)

I saw Green first. If I hadn’t just fed
, I’d have taken a few pints from him. After all, he had spilled my blood first. It was easy to get behind him. He had a self-righteous attitude that made him think he was invulnerable. Who knew? Maybe he was. He reminded me too much of Nicholas…who about now would be wondering where I was—crap, maybe I should have said something to someone before taking off. I really was not good at this whole teamwork thing.

I slipped my hand around Green’s waist and turned him to face me. I yanked his gun off him, the gun that had shot the bullet that ruined my vintage Sex Pistols tee. A look of shock fell over his face like nausea.

“I know what you are,” he whispered.

I snorted and raised an eyebrow
. This would be good.

His eyes were wild and wide. “You’re a
…werewolf.”

I stifled a moan and head butted him into unconsciousness. His body slumped against me, and I carried him back to the shop. The children had been busy-bees, scooping up chocolate and crisps. They acknowledged my appearance with the sleeping
private then continued with their scavenging.

I found the third solider curled up by the entrance. He was comatose and very much infected. Bite marks littered his arms. I broke his neck and carried on to find Langdon.

Fate is a fickle mistress. All this time I’d looked for him, ever since he’d been killed, murdered by Nicholas in an unfair duel. The supernatural odds had been stacked against my love. He’d been killed to ensure he wouldn’t come for me, to free me before Nicholas had had his fill of my captivity. In all those centuries, I had never found him. Not until now, at the worst possible time. No, Fate wasn’t a fickle mistress, she was a bitch.

The museum was running a special exhibit on The British Civil War. Roundheads and Cavaliers, their various weapons and clothing scattered to gather dust in glass cabinets. Langdon stood staring at the display in his generic, blood-spattered khakis. I smelled the air. Thankfully, none of the blood was his, so I knew he wasn’t infected. I edged a little too close, stepped from the shadows too soon
, and found myself on the business end of his gun.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

His gun arm was surprisingly steady.

I was no fool. I’d been around for centuries. I knew he’d have forgotten me. How many incarnations had he had since our love? To me, it was all still so fresh. I’d kept his memories alive all this time. He’d not had that advantage. His soul had been Swiss-rolled into at least six bodies in the meantime—until he had landed in this one.

I put my hands up.

“Shoot me if you wish. It’ll do me no harm to me, but will lose you a precious bullet,” I whispered.
I deliberately kept my voice low to appear calm and make him strain to hear what I was saying, to make him concentrate and edge closer. The giddy scent of his sweat-slicked skin tickled my senses, and I felt my expression soften with an easy smile.

“Are you one of them?”

“No, of course not. I don’t look like a zombie, and I can talk.”

“Yeah, well, I saw one of them talk, too.”

“What?” Now he had my full attention.

“There was one earlier. He seemed to be
…in charge.”

A low growl from down the corridor made him turn. Langdon’s back was to me now. He aimed his gun into the darkened museum.

I didn’t move any closer to him. I certainly didn’t want to startle a man with a loaded gun.

“We need to leave, now,” I whispered.

The growl got louder and was joined by another chorus of zombie moans. They’d gotten in. Of course they had—British museums were free to get into, even for the undead.

“The others!” he yelled
, and turned to run with me back to the shop.

Green was still unconscious, and the children had done a bang-up job of looting the shop. I briefly stopped to pick up a British history book. I kicked Green awake then turned to see a zombie shuffle in behind us.

I sprinted to the door, running up the side of the nearest wall. I kicked the zombie’s head off, then forward rolled over its falling back to end up crouching in front of a second intruder. I threw an upper-cut, taking the second zombie’s head off its rotten neck. There were only two, but if they’d gotten in, others would too.

“We need to move now,” I said.

“Move to where? The whole of England’s gone to hell.” Langdon put his hand out to me to help me up. His grip was warm and strong and I had to force myself to let go.

I noticed the name on his uniform was J. Rollins. I mentally chided myself for calling him Langdon
. It was rude, even if it was just in my head.

“I have a safe house,” I said.

Green looked skeptical. The kids looked happy, and Langdon—I mean Rollins—looked relieved.

“What about Lewis?” Rollins asked.

“He was infected. He’s gone. We need to move now!”

“I’m trusting you,” he whispered to me.

“I won’t let you down.”

We carefully made our way through the streets. I kept an eye out on all sides of us. I was fed and fuelled, and not even a zombie army was going to stop me from holding Langdon’s hand again.

We reached the Dead Hare, and I knocked.

“Brit?” asked Tracy.

“It’s me. Open up.”

The shutters slid back, and the door opened. I pushed everyone in then stepped in behind them. I saw Nicholas’ face go from relief to anger, and I could smell blood.

“What the fuck—” Nicholas started.

“You shouldn’t drop the F-bomb,” Rose sang as she jumped at me.

I caught her in mid-air and gave her the book I’d picked up. She kissed my cheek and ran off to read it with the other kids and Danny, who looked so much worse than before.

“Tracy, why do I smell blood?” I asked, pulling her to the side.

“I fed Nicholas,” she replied.

She moved her collar aside to show a perfect set of gentle bite marks.

Well, no hiding what we are now
, I thought.

She must have seen the look on my face.
“I won’t tell, I promised,” she said. “We thought you’d been… Well, anyway, I did it to keep him strong. We need him, but”—she grabbed me in a tight hug—“we need you more. Don’t leave without telling us again.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Please?” she added.

“Promise,” I said. It was odd that I meant it.

Satan nudged my hand and smelled me. I stroked him as he jumped up. He was then lured away by the smell of museum sweets and crisps.

Introductions aside, I couldn’t help the smugness slipping off my smile like icing off a cake as Nicholas
recognized Rollins, whose first name turned out to be Josh. They shook hands, and Nicholas threw me a warning glance. I caught it and threw him back a satisfied grin.

“A word,” Nicholas said to me.

I followed him down into the red velvet underground room.

“Nice shirt.” He motioned to the
Union Jack stretched across my bosom.

“You fed off the mother?”

“She seemed the most trustworthy.”

“I’m surprised half the children weren’t gone.”

“I’m surprised you left them with me then, seeing as how you don’t trust me.”

Damn his logical arguments.

“You wouldn’t have killed any of them,” I said it reluctantly. It was true, but annoying.

“I’m glad you
realize that. In that vein, we need a plan to get them out of here.”

“Why? Here’s defendable.”

“But for how long? We need to get them to Scotland, like we were told to.”

“Okay. There’s also something else.”

“You mean apart from the spitting image of your dead love in the next room?”

“You touch him, and I’ll
—”

Too quickly
, he was on top of me, knocking me over and pinning me to the floor. He’d fed and was strong. “You’ll what?”

I wriggled uncomfortably. His breath still smelled of Tracy’s blood.
I pushed and dislodged his body weight long enough to flip upright. He fell backward then regained his composure.

“I’m not your enemy. I never have been, Bria
…Britannia.”

“Tell it to someone who gives a crap!”
I waved my hands around in an over-exaggerated shrug

“What were you going to tell me?”

“What?” What had we been talking about? Oh, yeah. “Langdon says that he saw a zombie that looked like it was in charge.”

“Josh saw an alpha zombie?”

I chided myself again. “Yes, Josh did.”

“I’ll speak with him.”

I leapt forward and pinned Nicholas against the wall, my eyes radiating molten anger and my arm firmly across Nicholas’ throat.

“They’ll be nice words,” he added.

I let him go along with a breath. Stupid lungs and their unnecessary reflexes.

I stormed back up to the pub and sat by Danny. I could smell that he was getting worse. I saw the looks that all the other wards were giving him. If he couldn’t get the medicine he needed, then his life expectancy was short at best. At worst, he was a liability to the rest
, yet another problem to lump into the undead cocktail of crap that my life was fast becoming. I put my arm around him and hugged him. For the first time in a long time, I felt that everything was spinning out of my control. Like I was some angry character in a supernatural novel lurching from one disaster to another—all at the whim of a twisted author out to titillate her readers at my expense.

“You okay?” Danny looked up at me.

“I should be asking you that,” I replied.

He strained to smile at me. He was exhausted
. Being chased by ravenous animated corpses will do that to you. I was conscious that if I hugged him too tight I could break his bones, so I settled for resting my chin on the top of his smooth head.

“I know what you are,” he whispered.

“You do?” Here we go again.

“I won’t tell.”

“What do you think I am?”

He looked up at me, grinned, and then whispered, “You’re an angel.”

Thankfully, my hair was still loose, so I could cover my face and hide the stray tear that dribbled down my cheek.

We slept. Tracy kept guard over me and Nicholas. Although we stayed with everyone else, our sleep was more like a coma. We had to do our nine hours before we set off. It was a long time to leave them all to their own devices, but I trusted them. Well, not Green
. He kept giving me sly looks of condemnation. But I trusted Langdon. He’d watch over me and mine.

Chapter Eight

Everyone was still asleep when I awoke, even Nicholas. I carefully laid Danny on his side. His breathing was shallow, and his sweat smelled faintly of rotten chemicals.

“What’s wrong with him?” Josh was still lying near me, his beautiful hazel eyes now open.

“
Leukemia,” I replied.

“Green wants to put him out of his misery. He says he’ll slow us down.”

I looked over at the sleeping Green, who was now sporting a fresh black eye.

“I didn’t agree with him.” Josh sat up.

I wanted to crawl over to him, to push myself into his embrace, drag my lips across his neck, and kiss his thrumming pulse beneath. I didn’t. Instead, I moved to sit next to him. We were so close that the tiny hairs on our bare arms were standing up and dancing with each other. I looked down. His arms were strong, tanned, and with just enough muscle. Mine were thin and pale and could have crushed a block of marble.

“I thought Iraq was bad,” he said.

“Are there zombies in the US?”

“Don’t know. We came back to a base here. We were on leave, doing the tourist thing in London.”

“Saw more than you bargained for, eh?”

“Definitely.”

“Any contact with your unit? I mean, after the undead crap hit the fan?”

“No. Not before or after undead crap.” He smiled a little then turned to me.
“The way you move, how fast you are.” He shook his head.

“I’m a friend. Can we leave it there?”

“Nicholas, he’s…?”

“Like me. He’s not as pretty as me
, though,” I laughed.

Way to fish for a compliment, Brit!

“No, he isn’t.”

He smiled at me. Even the dimples were as I remembered. I wanted to kiss him
, to spill every secret I’d ever known to him, make sure nothing could ever come between us again. But I didn’t. Josh had enough problems right now—a million miles from home, unsure whether his friends and family were in danger too. I glanced at his left hand—phew, no wedding ring!

“What’s the plan?” he asked.

“We need a vehicle to be able to transport everyone safely. There’s a more permanent safe house up north.”