Prologue
HUNTER
Months Ago
I am a killer.
And no, the apocalypse didn’t make me one.
Long before the dead rose, I reveled in my victim’s blood. It’s actually how I’d found out that the rumor of the dead rising was true. I’d snuck away from CP duty to finish off my latest victim. They were in a bathtub and my hand was around their throat, holding them under water.
Don’t judge me for the method I used. I prefer making a big, splashy scene, painting the walls with my victim’s blood, but I didn’t want to get my CP gear dirty.
I enjoyed their struggles, watching the air bubbles come up through the water, feeling their body still.
Afterward, I kept my hand on their throat for several minutes, watching the light go out from their eyes, seeing them turn to human marble.
Then, something unexpected happened. Just as I’d released them, they lunged upward, their eyes wild.
Confused, I’d assumed I’d been sloppy and moved to finish the job.
But something wasn’t right.
A crushed windpipe did nothing to abate them, and the longer they remained in their after-drowning state, the more I realized they weren’t necessarily alive or dead. They were somewhere in-between.
There’d been whispers flying around the Keep of such creatures, but that was the first time I’d ever seen one. I’d wondered if perhaps I hadn’t survived the encounter, and instead of going to heaven, I was in hell. But that wasn’t the case. There was a reason Saber saved me from the pen, and that was because he knew people like me thrived in chaos.
Red light pours down from second floor balconies to the street below. It’s no surprise that one of the first areas to rebuild would be a red-light district. Humans are base creatures, giving into darkness rather than basking in light.
I should know.
I enter a building and am immediately greeted by a woman in her mid-50s. She’s dressed well, her hair perfectly styled in a tight bun atop her head.
I pull off my hood, because discretion is no longer necessary.
“Do I smell gasoline?” she says, taking a long pull from the fancy pipe she’s holding.
I hold up the gas can. “There’s a carton of cigarettes in my bag as well. And a bottle of whisky.”
“Sounds like you want a tumble with our finest.”
“Actually, I was looking for something different.”
“How different?”
“I want to snuff the life out of the sweetest, most innocent girl you have.”
Her eyes grow round as she regards my request.
“And if this helps my cause, it’s yours.” I lift my handgun from the bag so she can see it.
“You know, a girl like that is worth an awful lot during times like these.”
“I also know she’s a liability to you. A man falls too hard in love, feels too bad for her, and he might turn into some kind of white knight. You could end up dead or find yourself replaced.”
That struck a chord.
“Well, Fiona does give me hassle. Follow me.” She starts up a staircase, pausing a few steps up. “By the way, my name is Madam Levy.”
