(eng) Karen Chance - Dorina Basarab 0.1 by Zombie's Bite

Author:Zombie's Bite [Bite, Zombie's]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Twenty minutes later, Dory was still shaken, although that could have had something to do with floundering through a mile or more of swamp. The “ground” around here was mostly moss and algae-covered water, with the rest ankle deep mud spiked with trippy little roots. None of which acted like roots should and stayed underground!

But she’d made it. She was currently looking at a little building exactly like the one Dreads had described: tin roof, wooden walls, stilts to keep it out of the muck, and quite possibly the most obnoxious odor she had ever smelled emanating from it. Seriously, there should have been blue clouds hovering over the top, only she didn’t see any. Of course, she couldn’t see much out of seriously watering eyes.

Well, at least she couldn’t miss it, she thought, squatting in a tree and rolling a joint.

It wasn’t likely to cover the smell, but that was okay since her nose had basically shut down in self-defense at this point. It wasn’t likely to help anything else, either, which was more of a problem. A big problem, since her dhampir nature tended to rear its ugly -- and scary, and completely insane -- head, whenever she got a little too upset.

Like after feeding a guy to a bunch of modern dinosaurs, for instance.

Yeah, yeah, she hadn’t had a choice. She knew that. There’s a big difference between feeling sorry for someone and dying for him, and Dory wasn’t a saint. She’d never pretended to be. If he’d taken half a second to talk to her . . . .

But they never talked to her. Vamps freaked out when the bogeyman showed up, and death was usually the only thing on their minds. Hers. And that was when they didn’t blame her for killing one of their family. Conversation had definitely not been on the menu.

Of course, you didn’t try, her conscience murmured.

Yeah, like she’d had a chance!

Sometimes she didn’t know what was wrong with her. She was dhampir. She he wasn’t supposed to worry about things like this. She was supposed to kill everything in a room and walk away, unaffected. Her other half, the one that was squirming away under her skin right now, sure didn’t have a problem with that. She’d woken up in too many rooms full of corpses, after it had decided to come out for a joy ride, to know.

And she’d worried over every one of them.

At least she had for a long time. These days she had a better grip on herself, and had developed tricks to keep the tiger in its cage. So when it did get out, it was usually in the middle of a knock down drag out when she was bleeding and in pain and not thinking clearly enough to tamp it down.

And in those cases, the people she found when she woke up weren’t the kind you grieved over.

But it hadn’t always been that way. There’d been a lot of years when she’d stared

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