“Warren?”
He tracked Naomi’s voice. She stood just beyond the reach of the zombies nearest her. She looked worried. And mad. He almost smiled at that. Like she could do anything to him that the demons hadn’t already tried to do.
Beyond her, a handful of the villagers shifted and pulled their guns into ready positions. The trust department is bankrupt, he thought. Looking at all the human bodies scattered around him, he couldn’t blame them.
“Warren? Can you hear me?”
“Yes.” Warren lurched to his knees. His back and leg muscles screamed in protest. When he smelled himself, the gore that covered him, sickness twisted in his stomach. He swallowed with difficulty. “Is there any water?”
Naomi tried to pass him a canteen, but a zombie flailed at her. Cursing the undead thing, she stepped back.
Warren forced himself to his feet and stood swaying for a moment. His senses swirled. Then he stepped through the zombies and took the canteen. He removed the cap and drank.
“Don’t go so fast,” Naomi said. “You’re going to get sick.”
He couldn’t stop, though. It felt as if someone had gripped him in a hard fist and squeezed him dry. He barely had time to take the canteen away from his mouth before he threw up.
Real impressive for the locals, he thought bitterly as he wiped his mouth with the back of his coat sleeve.
The second time he tried to drink, he went more slowly. As he sipped, he gazed around the field of carnage and tried to spot Lilith.
“What’s wrong?” Naomi asked.
“I was looking for someone.”
Naomi looked around and spoke quietly. “Most of the men that were with us last night died. They took the bodies back to the village to get them ready for burial. They couldn’t reach some of them because of the demons and zombies.”
Warren felt the wave of resentment and fear that boiled off the men in the brush. If they thought they could kill him with impunity, he knew they would.
“We’re not going to win any popularity contests,” he said. “But that’s all right. I wasn’t looking for a country home anyway.”
“It would be better if we could go.”
“I know.” Warren passed her canteen back and walked toward the nearest villager.
Gray streaked his hair and beard. He held a large-bore pistol naked in his fist and kept it between them. Despite the zombies at Warren’s back, the man didn’t back away.
“We need supplies,” Warren said.
“We’ve barely enough to feed ourselves as it is,” the man grumbled.
“Only enough for two people.” Warren refused to beg. He and Naomi needed food and water, and he was powerful enough to take it without asking. They all knew that. “For no more than a week.”
The man looked as though he thought about lifting the pistol and shooting Warren in the face. Warren knew the man wanted to do that because he felt that emotion within the man. But fear won out.
“C’mon with me, then. We’ll see what we can do.”
Warren followed and Naomi joined him. The zombies fell into step around him.
“They’re only giving us the supplies because they want us gone,” Naomi said.
“I want us gone, too,” Warren replied. Without Lilith, though, he didn’t know exactly where to go. He didn’t like feeling lost and not having a plan. His whole life after he’d entered foster care had been planned out. He had never been able to afford the luxury of mistakes.
“They also know that we could take the supplies if we wanted to,” Naomi told him.
Warren remained silent. He counted the zombies shuffling around him. Their numbers had dwindled during last night’s attack. Besides the food, he needed reinforcements. He knew the villagers weren’t going to be happy about that.
While the supplies were arranged, Warren ate homemade bread baked in a small woodstove. The heat circulated through the exhaust pipe, and another pipe allowed the heat to bleed off to bake the bread. To him, the whole system appeared quite ingenious. He also ate a bowl of stew that held a lot of vegetables and a little rabbit meat.
He sat at a table by himself. Naomi supervised the gathering of the supplies, and no one among the villagers ate with him. The zombies hunkered and stood outside the door of the small house. Until the undead arrived, the small town had resembled a rather pastoral setting.
He stared into the glass of tea he sipped from. It was strong and black, and he knew not to drink too much or it would make him sick. He needed to keep the food down to get his strength back. As he stared into the dark depths, he saw Lilith’s eyes, then her face became more clear.
“You must not tarry there long,” she told him.
“I’m not. Where are you?”
“I’ve gone on ahead.” Lilith appeared distracted. “There were things I needed to check on.”
“Did you see any more demons?”
She hesitated.
Warren knew that she would lie to him if she thought she had to. He hadn’t met anyone who wouldn’t lie when they felt it was necessary to get what they needed or wanted.
“I didn’t,” she replied. “But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t more out here.”
“That lot that found us,” Warren said. “Did they come looking for me? Or did they come looking for you?”
“I don’t know.” She maintained eye contact with him from the dark depths of the tea.
Warren knew at once that she lied. He felt good about that. Getting to know how to tell someone was lying was almost as good as keeping them honest.
“I think they came after you,” he said.
“Perhaps. But it doesn’t matter. You and I, we’re after the same thing.”
“I want to be safe. I don’t think that’s anything you have to worry about.”
“No one is safe now that the Hellgate has opened. We’ve all been put at risk. The only thing we can do is grab enough power for ourselves that we can put the demons at risk.” She paused. “I can help you do that.”
Warren let that go without
