Vampire's Hunger (4 page)

Kimber snorted. “I don’t think we’re there just yet.” She took a sip and stared into her cup. Only a few swallows left. She looked at Natalie. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Natalie gave a bark of laughter. Her eyes widened and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbled around her fingers.

Kimber went still, too, listening carefully, but didn’t hear any movement from the hallway. There were several other survivors living in the building, a few on this floor, and most had settled into small groups of three or four in order to pool their resources. Some, though, stayed alone. She was pretty sure that the guy who lived at the end of the hall hadn’t left his apartment since the Outbreak first hit the news. He could be dead for all she knew. She wasn’t going to check up on him, because for one thing, she’d seen enough dead bodies and, for another, he could have wandered out and gotten bitten. She wasn’t going to take a chance.

She and Natalie could be relatively certain they were secure here because they checked frequently to make sure none of the living dead made it into the safe harbors established inside this wing of the apartment building. But nothing was completely impregnable.

The bathroom door opened and their other roommate came down the hallway. Aodhán was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt that showed off his muscled arms and torso. His damp hair evidenced his recent shower. His big feet were bare and soundless as he padded past them into the living room. Except for the threat of zombies outside and the fact that Aodhán was fey and held a sword in one hand, it seemed a normal tableau.

But she knew nothing was normal, not anymore. Not for the past six months. Food was scarcer, for one thing. And so far the water supply was holding out, but it was only a matter of time before the unattended infrastructure completely broke down. While she could survive without coffee—though she wasn’t sure those around her would—no human being could live long without food and water.

Electricity was a thing of the past. They used candles indoors and, if they had to travel after dark, flashlights. Batteries weren’t easy to come by, so they did their best not to be out at night. They had rope ladders at every window so that if they were overrun they could get out.

They kept warm with the wood burning stove they’d rigged up. They had multiple wood stacks in the vacant apartment next door. The venting ran up through the ceiling and into an unused apartment on the fourth floor. The windows were open there so the smoke had a place to escape. This past winter they’d all bedded down in the living room around the stove. In another month when spring moved into summer, they should be able to start using the bedrooms again.

And that was the other thing that had changed. The two-bedroom apartment where she used to live with Natalie now housed four people from time to time—two humans, one fey warrior and a vampire who was thankfully absent for the moment. With only half a cup of coffee she wasn’t sure she’d be able to put up with bossy-pants Duncan MacDonnough.

Even if his bossiness made her want to roll over and do whatever he wanted.

She’d thought about suggesting they all get a place of their own. It wasn’t as if there weren’t plenty of empty apartments available. And she’d sure as hell thought plenty about telling Duncan to stay at his own place at Maddalene’s complex. But while having people living with her was aggravating at times, she could still recognize that there was safety in numbers. If for no other reason, she and Natalie could sleep while Aodhán or Duncan kept watch, and vice versa.

From where he sat on the sofa, Aodhán said, “I know I don’t need to remind you to keep your voices down.” The lovely Irish lilt did nothing to mask the slight ring of condescension in his deep voice.

“No, you don’t,” Kimber muttered. She finished her coffee and placed the mug on the table. “Although it does sound quite lovely when you
don’t
remind us.”

He turned his head and looked at her. She only knew it because the light from the candles on the table glinted in his eyes.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” She picked up one of the candles and carried it carefully into the living room. She set it on the coffee table and sat down on the other end of the sofa. “I can’t even see you from in there.” Curling her legs beneath her, she rested her head against the back of the sofa and stared at him. He picked up a soft cloth and stroked it along the sword blade. She frowned. “You cleaned that thing yesterday, and you haven’t used it since.”

“A sharp, clean sword is a warrior’s best friend.” He lifted a brow. “It also makes it much easier to lop off heads. Or, if you’d prefer, I can let it get dirty and dull and then hack away at the hordes when we face them. Take five minutes to do a job that should only take a few seconds.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Natalie asked as she walked over to them. “Or do you just like fondling your sword?”

Kimber pressed her lips together, her gaze going from Natalie to Aodhán. These two had struck sparks from the moment they’d met, and it had only gotten worse with their close living quarters. She wasn’t sure if she should fix some popcorn or take cover.

“Oh, I’m like any other man, lass,” he rejoined with a smirk. “I’m not averse to fondling my mighty sword. Of course, I’m also highly inclined to allow those of the feminine persuasion the opportunity to wrap their hands around it, to stroke along the hard shaft all the way to the tip.” He gave a lecherous waggle of his brows.

Natalie rolled her eyes and shook her head. Kimber snorted back a laugh.

Without taking his gaze off Natalie, he asked, “Do you have something against fondling a man’s sword, then?” He stretched his long legs out under the coffee table.

“I like fondling plenty. With the right weapon,” Natalie added without missing a beat. “But that’s something you’ll only find out in your dreams, fairy boy.”

Rather than be incensed by her derogatory name calling, Aodhán grinned, his teeth flashing white in the dim room.

Natalie propped her hands on her hips, clearly done with the conversation. “Are you finished in the bathroom?”

“Aye.”

She looked at Kimber. “I’m going to take a shower. Assuming he and his mighty sword left some hot water.” Without waiting for a response, she stalked down the hallway.

Kimber waited until the door closed behind her friend before she said, “You know, you shouldn’t tease her like that. Things are difficult enough as it is.”

“She started it.” When she opened her mouth to reply he held up one hand and forestalled her. “I know, I sound like a wee lad in knee britches, don’t I? I’m sorry. I’ll do better. At least,” he flashed another charming grin, “I’ll try.”

Kimber gave him a slight smile. She wished things were different and she could let these two people snipe at each other without curtailment. It was their way of flirting, she figured. But life was short, and dangerous, and the last thing any of them needed was for Natalie or Aodhán to be carrying on like that when zombies came.

She stared down at her hands. Life had gotten complicated but at the same time it was so simple. Complicated because there was a full-fledged zombie apocalypse going on and many people, most people, thought it was her fault.

She
thought it was her fault.

But life was simple because there was no room to be concerned about possessions or wealth or fame. Life consisted of worrying about where the next meal was coming from, wondering whether there would be enough water, hoping they’d be able to find more propane for the cooking equipment and gasoline for the generator that powered the water heater, planning the garden they’d plant come summer, and fearing that zombies would get inside the safe zones of the building and break down their door. The anxiety was endless.

One on one she could defeat any zombie that came at her. But the living dead’s strength was in their numbers. At some point even the strongest fighter could simply be overwhelmed by a horde.

And it wasn’t as if they had anywhere else to go. One of the last news broadcasts before TV and radio stations went dark revealed the infection, or whatever it was, had spread worldwide.

“What are you thinking?” Aodhán set his sword on the table and rested one brawny forearm along the back of the couch.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out a breath. “What I’m always thinking about,” she whispered. “Them. And that it’s all my fault.”

“Do I have to tell you again what I’ve been telling you for six months,
mo chara
?” He leaned toward her and took her hands in his. His callused palms were warm against her skin. Aodhán had become her confidant, in spite of the fact he was buddies with a certain irritating vampire, and had taken to calling her “little friend” in his lovely lilting Irish Gaelic. Usually it served as a balm to her battered nerves. But tonight…not so much.

She didn’t need him to repeat the meaningless words. “No, because it
didn’t
happen to another necromancer, Aodhán,” she said. “It happened to
me
.” She pulled her hands away from his and stood up. She started to pace. “And I should’ve known…”

When she didn’t go on, he prompted, “You should have known what?”

She pressed her lips together and plopped sideways into the oversized recliner, letting her legs dangle over the padded arm. “There was something different about the Unseen that night. It seemed to…
reach
for me.” She met his bright blue eyes. “It’s never done that before. Maybe if I’d stopped, if I’d aborted the ritual…” She huffed a sigh and shook her head. “I dunno. I should’ve done
anything
different than what I did, which was just plow right ahead because I had a job to do. A reputation to maintain.”

He rested his ankle across the opposite knee and stretched both arms along the back of the sofa. “Hindsight is always the clearest. You had no way of knowing what would happen.” He leaned forward, his gaze somber. “And all the coulda-shoulda-wouldas in the world won’t change what happened.”

A smile caught her by surprise. She hadn’t felt like smiling in…forever, it seemed.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You are.” When he frowned, she held up one hand, palm up. “I just mean you’re centuries old, you’re a warrior—with a mighty sword, for crying out loud—and to hear you say ‘coulda-shoulda-woulda’ struck my funny bone. That’s all.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Knowing,” she said with a finger tapping her forehead, “and
knowing,
” she went on with two fingers over her heart, “are two different things.”

“Can’t argue with you on that one.” He reached for his sword and the sharpening stone he always left on the end table.

The key turned in the front door. Kimber and Aodhán both jumped up, he with his sword gripped tight in his right hand, instantly ready for battle.

Duncan walked in. He closed and locked the door behind him and quirked a brow at them. “You think zombies are going to have a key?”

“Shut up.” Aodhán sat back down and started sharpening his sword.

“Kimber,” Duncan said in greeting. He walked over and dropped down onto the end of the sofa. His dark hair was mussed, slight curls flopping onto his forehead. A tire iron hung from his belt loop.

Whatever the infection was that turned humans into zombies, it didn’t work on vampires, at least not from the aspect of turning them into shuffling undead. But it was just as deadly to vampires as it was to humankind, causing the infected vamp to die a horrible and agonizing true death. So they couldn’t use their teeth as a weapon like they would under other circumstances. They’d had to improvise, just like everyone else.

She glanced at Aodhán. He’d been pretty close-mouthed about whether the fey could get infected. She had a feeling they could, or maybe they didn’t know yet. When the Outbreak happened, most fey returned to their own realm, refusing entry to anyone not fey, leaving humans to deal with the problem or be overtaken by it.

At least vampires hadn’t completely abandoned them. Of course, that was probably because humans were their preferred food source. She turned her attention to Duncan and tried to ignore how delicious
he
looked. And realized that since he was here it meant it was dark outside. Already?
Damn it.

“I hate this.” Kimber folded her arms across her chest. “Damned windows all taped up. We don’t know what freaking time it is anymore. We only know that it’s dark because you show up.” Her voice cracked. She cupped her hands around her elbows, not sure how much more of this she could take. It felt like the least little thing would shatter her beyond repair. She needed a good scream. Which she couldn’t have.

The next best thing would be a good cry. Which she wouldn’t do, especially in front of Duncan. She didn’t want him thinking she was weak. And immediately she grew irritated at herself for caring one way or the other what he thought. She didn’t base her choices on what Duncan would think. This wasn’t a What-Would-Duncan-Do world. She let loose a growl of frustration.

“Easy,” Duncan murmured.

She took a deep breath and held it several seconds. “I’m all right,” she finally said. She sat back down and looked at him. “Did you have any trouble getting here?”