Read Online Bad Blood (Battle of the Undead Book 1) by Nicky Peacock - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nicky Peacock
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we were destined lovers?
“No offen se, love, but I’d prefer to repopulate the world with a slightly more grounded supermodel type.” He snorted again.
Holy shit! Was this guy for real?
“You’re knee-deep in zombies, and the idea that I’m a vampire is beyond your capabilities?”
“Read too many Twilight books, eh?” He chucked me under the chin.
I saw red. My fangs flared, and I pinned him back against the side of the phone box. I bit into his neck, and the taste of fresh, pumping blood slammed into my mouth. He screamed like a little princess who’d been rescued by a monster. I didn’t kill him. I should have, but I didn’t. We didn’t need to kill to get enough blood. Then again, lions d idn’t need to eat a whole zebra, but they had to take it down all the same.
After I’d calmed down, I pulled his tie upward and wrapped it around his jagged neck wound. He was shaking and had turned glassy and white.
“Be more careful who you insult next time,” I whispered.
“Am I going to be like you now?” he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful.
“God, no!” I shook my head.
I’d always known how to create another vampire. I’d been very much awake when Nicholas had done it to me. In all my time, though, I’d promised myself two things: that I’d never make another like me, and that I’d kill Nicholas for what he had done. One promise I had still kept, the other was just beyond my reach—but, hey, the zombie apocalypse was still in its early days yet.
I left him in the phone box , a compromise to keep him alive. If I took him back, he’d tell everyone. I doubted he’d last long in the city, though. London housed millions of people, and even if only eighty percent were zombies, we were all in a bucket full of flesh-eating crap.
With a new sense of hope, I started to stroll back toward the pub. I was sated and re- energized, secure in the knowledge it would be a while before I’d have to feed again. In the streets, I saw a lone zombie that had been cut in half. It was reaching toward me, groaning, and its entrails straggling behind it like a frayed bloody blanket. It could barely move, so I left it be. I was in a good mood, until I heard the gunshots.
Chapter Seven
Most people run away when they hear a gun . I decided to run toward it. Where there are guns, there are people. I thought I should at least try to rescue someone while I was out. A heavily armed someone would be a bonus.
I ran down a street that led toward the Natural History Museum. I scaled the nearest building then took in the scene blow. A small group of three men and two children were cornered outside the museum, crammed into the corner of the building. The men were all in army clothes. They had the guns. The two children, no, they were teenagers—one boy, one girl—huddled behind the men’s backs, their eyes closed and their mouths open and screaming. A wave of zombies was crawling up the museum’s steps, over a hundred of them. And it was becoming evident that the men’s ammo was dwindling.
I jumped off the building and propelled myself into the zombies. As I landed, my scythes sliced off limbs that fell to the steps. I forward rolled, knocking over the nearby undead. I flipped myself upright between the zombies and the people.
I briefly turned to the men. “Don’t shoot me,” I said.
I didn’t dwell on whether they understood or what their reaction was to my appearance. I simply started kicking and slicing every dead thing that tried to cross the imaginary line I’d drawn between them and the humans. My deliberate actions got faster and faster until I was astride a massive mountain of twitching body parts. I decapitated the last zombie, turned, and was shot straight through the heart. The force of the bullet sent me reeling back and knocked me on my ass. I tumbled back down the museum’s steps.
I managed to grumble a string of swear words before I blacked out...
I awoke to the sounds of an argument. Two
“No offen se, love, but I’d prefer to repopulate the world with a slightly more grounded supermodel type.” He snorted again.
Holy shit! Was this guy for real?
“You’re knee-deep in zombies, and the idea that I’m a vampire is beyond your capabilities?”
“Read too many Twilight books, eh?” He chucked me under the chin.
I saw red. My fangs flared, and I pinned him back against the side of the phone box. I bit into his neck, and the taste of fresh, pumping blood slammed into my mouth. He screamed like a little princess who’d been rescued by a monster. I didn’t kill him. I should have, but I didn’t. We didn’t need to kill to get enough blood. Then again, lions d idn’t need to eat a whole zebra, but they had to take it down all the same.
After I’d calmed down, I pulled his tie upward and wrapped it around his jagged neck wound. He was shaking and had turned glassy and white.
“Be more careful who you insult next time,” I whispered.
“Am I going to be like you now?” he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful.
“God, no!” I shook my head.
I’d always known how to create another vampire. I’d been very much awake when Nicholas had done it to me. In all my time, though, I’d promised myself two things: that I’d never make another like me, and that I’d kill Nicholas for what he had done. One promise I had still kept, the other was just beyond my reach—but, hey, the zombie apocalypse was still in its early days yet.
I left him in the phone box , a compromise to keep him alive. If I took him back, he’d tell everyone. I doubted he’d last long in the city, though. London housed millions of people, and even if only eighty percent were zombies, we were all in a bucket full of flesh-eating crap.
With a new sense of hope, I started to stroll back toward the pub. I was sated and re- energized, secure in the knowledge it would be a while before I’d have to feed again. In the streets, I saw a lone zombie that had been cut in half. It was reaching toward me, groaning, and its entrails straggling behind it like a frayed bloody blanket. It could barely move, so I left it be. I was in a good mood, until I heard the gunshots.
Chapter Seven
Most people run away when they hear a gun . I decided to run toward it. Where there are guns, there are people. I thought I should at least try to rescue someone while I was out. A heavily armed someone would be a bonus.
I ran down a street that led toward the Natural History Museum. I scaled the nearest building then took in the scene blow. A small group of three men and two children were cornered outside the museum, crammed into the corner of the building. The men were all in army clothes. They had the guns. The two children, no, they were teenagers—one boy, one girl—huddled behind the men’s backs, their eyes closed and their mouths open and screaming. A wave of zombies was crawling up the museum’s steps, over a hundred of them. And it was becoming evident that the men’s ammo was dwindling.
I jumped off the building and propelled myself into the zombies. As I landed, my scythes sliced off limbs that fell to the steps. I forward rolled, knocking over the nearby undead. I flipped myself upright between the zombies and the people.
I briefly turned to the men. “Don’t shoot me,” I said.
I didn’t dwell on whether they understood or what their reaction was to my appearance. I simply started kicking and slicing every dead thing that tried to cross the imaginary line I’d drawn between them and the humans. My deliberate actions got faster and faster until I was astride a massive mountain of twitching body parts. I decapitated the last zombie, turned, and was shot straight through the heart. The force of the bullet sent me reeling back and knocked me on my ass. I tumbled back down the museum’s steps.
I managed to grumble a string of swear words before I blacked out...
I awoke to the sounds of an argument. Two
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