Cannot Unite by Jackie Ivie

Author:Jackie Ivie
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: paranormal romance, barbarian, vampire romance, vampire series, vampire short story, vampire assassin

CHAPTER SEVEN

Smack. Slap. Slap.

Smack. Slap. Slap.

The sound assailed her first, coming from somewhere in the murky haze, rhythmically, not unlike a really slow waltz tempo. One, two, three. One, two, three. Smells reached her next. Some familiar. Some not. Damp earth. Rusting iron. Old wood. Some type of meat roasting over a coal-fired brazier. A wafting bit of incense. And then she got a whiff of sweat. Unwashed bodies. Blood.

Fear.

Jeannette wrinkled her nose and squinted, trying to see down the corridor she found herself in. Light percolated in dust-filled sunbeams, streaming down in waves that radiated heat. She looked up, taking in several slits high in what looked like stone walls. She ran her eyes down the wall, and then reached a hand out, watched her fingers until they touched. Grazed. Her fingertips slid along the wall, getting chaffed by the emery-board type surface. Not stone…or if it was, it was rough-hewn. It felt more like brick. Looked like it, too. Dull color, too. Mostly beige.

Jeannette followed the wall downward, evaluating. Deciding. The floor matched the same shade as the walls. She lifted her skirt hem. Oh, look. She was still barefoot. She wondered momentarily what sorts of viruses and funguses she might be toying with by running around barefoot in a strange place. Atop a strange floor. Wait. She skimmed one foot along the floor, lifting a fine layer of silt. That was wrong, too. This wasn’t floor. It looked more like packed sand. Damp from some sort of water source.

She dared open her senses more, pulling in the scent of animals…grains. Dung. The smells got added to – now carrying the aroma of strong perfumes, vying with each other for mastery. She caught a whiff of spices – perhaps cinnamon and sandalwood. And somewhere she thought she detected a floral undertone, not unlike rose petal. The air grew humid. Hot. Sapping at her will. Taking her strength. Sending a slight sheen of perspiration to coat her entire body, sticking the t-shirt and cotton skirt to her.

She walked deeper into the abyss. Losing what daylight she’d had, but gaining flickering torchlight in its stead. It gave her patches of light to see with. And even that had little flecks of sand reflecting in it.

This is the future?

Oh, dear. Look, Jeannette. Looks like someone had finally done it. They’d flipped the switch. All the proselytizing and negotiating and political rhetoric had been for naught. They’d unleashed a bomb. Annihilated. Destroyed. Humankind had lost electricity. And with it, they’d lost technology.

Jeannette frowned. Wait. Something didn’t feel right. Anything nuclear would have worse consequences than sending the world back to what looked like the dark ages. Wouldn’t it?

Smack. Slap. Slap.

The odd three sounds continued apace, now growing louder and interspersed with a groan. And that became a low continuum of them. Lots of groans. From lots of throats.

Jeannette rounded a corner. The stone gave way to bars. Old, iron bars, rusting from the ground up with the damp. And behind them were men.

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