Love in the Time of Zombies (11 page)

“Then
send more.”

Edgar
hesitated.  “We have to face the fact that your greatest enemy is most likely
dead, sire.  Why are we still looking for her?”

Darcy
wasn’t dead.  He’d know if she was dead.

“Just
find her.”  He ordered flatly.

“But
sire…”

“The
woman is like a flea.  A small irritant that’s impossible to get rid of.  She’s
alive and well.  Believe me.”

At
least, she’d
better
be.  Without her, there was no sense in even
fighting.

Whenever
Darcy’s name came up in his company, Joseff could see people wondering why he
hadn’t annihilated her long ago, the way he had his other enemies.  For six
hundred years, Joseff had won every battle he’d ever fought through ruthless
cunning and ice cold logic.  He’d worked his way up from a soldier to a king,
because he never lost.  No matter what he had to do, Joseff remained unconquered.

His
plots were legendary.  He foresaw all eventualities.  Destroying the rightful
heir to the crown seemed like such an obvious move that Joseff’s failure to
behead Darcy caused most of the vampires to wonder if they’d missed some deeper
plan.

Which
they had.

Joseff
always
had a deeper plan.

“We’ve
had some reports on her.”  Edgar said swiftly, trying to make up for his
staggering and unsurprising failure.  Most of Joseff’s best soldiers had
perished fighting the zombies or had long since fled the city.  All he had left
were the ones too stupid to run and too incompetent to die.  “Caleb was looking
for her.  She could be with him or Ezekiel, by now.”

Joseff’s
mouth twisted.  “Those two mutts are her favorites.”

Still,
they were at least semi-competent.  For shape shifters, anyway.  He hoped that Darcy
was
with them, since they were two extra bodies for the zombies to get
through before they ate her.  Darcy had been raised with those morons, so they were
protective of her.  She saw them as her brothers.  She was safer with them
alive.

It
was why Caleb and Zeke were the only two shifters he
didn’t
plan to
kill.

Joseff
gazed out at the ruined city.  Buildings were burning. Cars were abandoned.  Madness
reigned.  He’d managed to cordon off Fremont with a combination of strategic
skill, stacks of automobile tires, and a total disregard for how many people
died in the building process.  Fremont was the best place in Vegas for a temporary
vampire stronghold.  The gigantic TV screens arching overhead provided cover
from the sun and the cross streets were easy to barricade.

Joseff
had no idea how long the defenses would hold, though.  Hopefully, until
nightfall, but he wasn’t counting on it.  More importantly, he had no idea how
his species was going to survive without blood.  Vampires could only feed from
humans.

…And
from their mates.

Pleasure
me, Joseff.

His
teeth ground together.  “Bring in Brewer.”  He snarled, moving to sit behind
his desk.  A laminated note on its surface assured him that it was an exact
replica of the table the Declaration of Independence had been signed on.  He
should’ve commandeered a different hotel.  The Liberty Hall Casino annoyed him,
from its patriotic wallpaper to its framed portraits of presidents in the
bathrooms.  Joseff had lived through the Colonial era and saw no reason to
revisit it in its tackiest form.

He
leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, as Edgar dashed off to do
his bidding.  Caleb was in line to be the next Alpha of the pack, but until he
came of age, Brewer Macready was technically in charge.  Not that anyone ever
listened to that lack-wit.  Torturing Brew would be a profound pleasure in the
middle of an otherwise stressful day.

Questioning
the shifters he’d captured was a total waste of time, but he couldn’t just kill
them outright.  Darcy would never forgive him.  She might be a vampire, but she
self-identified as a shifter.  He had to at least give a pretense of honorable
conduct.  Joseff had never cared about anyone else’s feelings or opinions
before.  It was annoying to have to stay his hand to appease a girl centuries
younger than himself.

What
could anyone in the pack possibly tell him that Joseff didn’t already know? 
The pink fog had been released by the vampires’ enemies to eliminate the
humans.  Without the humans, the vampires would die, and the shifters would be
at the top of the supernatural food chain.  Logic said it was all an incredibly
complicated plot to destroy Joseff’s realm.

Still…
since when did the shifters concoct “complicated plots?”

Those
imbeciles were hardly anyone’s idea of
thinkers
.  They’d always been far
more likely to attack with fists and guns than with a zombie mist.  How would
those idiots even create such a thing?

So,
Joseff would keep his captives alive until he deduced what was really going
on.  Even Darcy would see that he’d acted rightly.  If the shifters had done
this, maybe there was a way to reverse it.  And if they
hadn’t
done it,
maybe they had information on who
did.

As
an added bonus, having members of the pack who’d raised Darcy guaranteed that
she’d show up to retrieve them.  Sooner or later --if she survived out there--
she’d try and rescue Brewer and the others.  It was in her nature to do
ridiculous, reckless, emotionally driven things.

Pleasure
me, Joseff.

His
eyes squeezed shut, his body hardening.  He should be used to it by now.  It
had been a year since that day and still she haunted him.  The taste of her was
emblazed on his tongue; her soft sounds of pleasure screaming his brain.

For
better or worse, he was bound to that woman.

Mostly
for worse.

Darcy
had manipulated the whole thing so he’d give himself to her.  He
knew
that and he’d still never regretted piercing her flesh and drinking deep. 
Gods, she’d been sweet.  All other blood tasted like ash compared to hers.  All
other women were boring and pale.  The exiled princess was the only one he
wanted.  Meanwhile, her entire life was dedicated to fucking with his head.

She
tormented
him.

Joseff
had overthrown the vampire kingdom and seized control with heartless
efficiency.  But, that woman was forever slipping through his fingers.  Deep
down, Joseff knew he’d never really catch her.  Not in any way that truly mattered. 
It was why he hadn’t just laid a trap and captured her long ago.  What he
wanted from Darcy she had to give willingly.

It
would never happen.

All
in all, everything would be so much easier if he just let the girl die.  He’d
certainly considered it.  Unfortunately, Joseff wasn’t a man who surrendered
what belonged to him.  Ever.  The image of Darcy being devoured by zombies was
lovely, but he couldn’t allow it.

The
woman was
his
.

So,
Joseff was going to find his spiteful, beautiful, shape shifter groupie before
she died out there in the anarchy.  He’d save Darcy’s wasted life and then he’d
chain her pretty little ass to his bed and finish what she’d started.  Her
teeth sinking into his neck, marking him as he had her.  His body pounding into
hers.  Darcy panting his name, as he touched the place where he’d bitten her
and…

The
door to his office opened, interrupting his hourly daydream about the troublesome
brat he’d tied himself to for all eternity.

However
much longer eternity lasted.

Edgar
and another minion, whose name Joseff couldn’t be bothered to remember, dragged
in the shifter.

Brewer
was huge, with a bush gray bread and lavender eyes.  Dressed in an obscene
t-shirt of a woman copulating with a donkey and a camouflaged trucker cap, he
looked like a refugee from a trailer park with low standards.

“You
got nothin’ better to do today, ya ugly son-of-a-bitch?”  Brew demanded,
shaking off Edgar’s hold.  “Like maybe fighting some fucking zombies?”

Joseff
didn’t bother to rise to the bait.  He knew what he looked like.  Sadly,
vampires did indeed have reflections.  Unlike most of his kind, Joseff wasn’t
attractive.  At all.  He saw that every day.  His face was too rough, his
features too harsh.  He kept his dark hair long, trying to obscure the cruel
angles of his jaw, but it didn’t do much good.  Brewer was right.  He
was
ugly.  A woman who looked like Darcy could never really be attracted to him.

The
thought did nothing to improve his mood.

“I’d
rather discuss how the zombies
got
here.”  He snarled.

“How
they got here?”  Brew repeated with a typical show of intelligence.  “Fuckers
came from outer space, is my bet.”  He gave a wise nod.  “All the freaky shit
comes from the aliens.”

Joseff
stared at him… and realized that this was going to take a while.

Bright side
to the zombie apocalypse:

Twinkies
last forever,

untoasted
Pop Tarts aren’t so bad,

and
Cheetos suddenly count as the base of your food pyramid.

“Shouldn’t
there be more zombies wandering around?”  Scotlyn looked up at Zeke.  “Vegas is
a big city and we’ve seen –What?-- twenty or thirty of them, today?  It seems
odd.”

“Well,
whatever the hell is going on, it’s working in our favor.”  Zeke touched
Scotlyn’s lower back, edging her forward so she was standing with Caleb on one
side and Zeke on the other.  He kept doing that, constantly ensuring that she
was safely ensconced between the two shape shifters.  “Are you sure you can
find this place, Cale?  Because, I’m not seeing it.”

“It
looks different when it’s not the dystopia.”  Caleb scanned the run down strip
clubs and bars, trying to find the Prowl Lounge.  “And I usually have a GPS.”

“Do
you also usually have a tetanus shot?”  Scotlyn adjusted her grip on Pucci’s pet
carrier and frowned at the dismal neighborhood.  No matter what Cale said, even
before the end of the world, it had been a warzone.  “I hate zombies.”  She
reported.  “I even hated them back when they were fake.  I think
Walking
Dead
is
completely
overrated.”

“Well,
the graphic novel’s better than the show.”  Zeke allowed.  “Except for Darryl. 
Darryl’s a badass.”

“You’re
such
a geek.”  Caleb lamented.  “How can a shape shifter grow up to be a
nerdy, dungeons-and-dragon-y, bookworm?  I don’t understand it.”

“You
think Zeke’s a bookworm?”  Scotlyn asked, momentarily distracted by that idea.

“He
is
a bookworm.  He has a doctorate in folklore and mythology.  It’s
embarrassing.”

Scotlyn
turned to look at Zeke.  “You have a
doctorate?
”

He
winced.  “Only from UCLA.  Most people don’t even count that as a real
college.”

She
stared at him in amazement.

“He’s
a dreamer.”  Caleb continued.  “Always has been.  He once dug up the whole
basement of our house looking for buried treasure.”

“I
found twenty bucks and a gold ring.”  Zeke retorted.

Caleb
nodded.  “And broke the sewer line.”

Scotlyn
shook her head and tried to refocus.  She couldn’t afford to be distracted by
anymore mind-blowing revelations.  “My point is, even with my aversion to
zombie movies and TV shows, I know there should be more of them around.  I’m
telling you, something weird is happening.  I think we should get out of here.”

“We’re
almost to Prowl.”  Caleb assured her.

“Darcy
might not even be there.”  Zeke said, looking eager not to discuss his academic
success or archeological digs.  “She’s not an idiot.  She could’ve cleared out of
town at the first sign of zombies.”

“She
wouldn’t leave without us.  She knows we’ll be trying to find her, so she’ll go
to where we’re likely to look.”

“If
she’s not here, we should just get out of Vegas.”  Scotlyn recommended for the tenth
time.

“Once
we find the rest of the pack, we’re clearing out.”  Zeke assured her.  He
helped her over debris from a looted sex shop.  “Of course, the highways are
gridlocked, so we might have to hike it.”

“Through
the desert?”  A flattened inflatable doll got caught on her shoe and Scotlyn
kicked it off.

He
arched an “I’m open to suggestions” kind of brow at her.  “Wanna try
motorcycles?”

She
slowly shook her head.  “I think we need to steal a plane.”

“Can
you fly a plane?”

“Of
course.”

He
and Caleb both turned to look at her.

“One
of my foster fathers was a pilot.  He taught me.”

“That’s
way more useful than a Ph.D.”  Caleb decided.

“Researching
folklore has its uses.”  Zeke’s eyes went back to scanning around for danger,
never resting.  Her lackadaisical boss was so… focused in this environment.  Or
maybe he’d
always
been this focused and he was just no longer bothering
to hide it from her.