The Junkyard Druid Box Set 2 by M D Massey

Author:M D Massey [Massey, M D]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Modern Digital Publishing
Published: 2020-04-13T22:00:00+00:00

Better play this one to the hilt—figure out who the leader of the bunch is before I let ’em have it. I stumbled my way deeper into the room, knocking things over indiscriminately and blinking like I was trying to adjust my eyes to the gloom. All the while, the vamps skittered above noiselessly, positioning themselves for the inevitable pre-ambush build up that preceded the typical vampire feeding.

Up until a few months ago, I’d rarely seen vampires feed, and then only the less-advanced nosferatu variant of the species. While nos-types preferred to hunt their prey down and immediately feed with abandon, I’d discovered that higher vamps liked to toy with their prey. It had something to do with the flavor of the blood elicited by the release of certain stress hormones—or so I’d been told. For that reason, I jumped like a startled child when the doors to the warehouse swung shut behind me, even though I’d seen a vamp headed that way just moments before.

A heavy metal shelf then slid across the floor, blocking the exit. It was laden with cartons of clean drinking water and bags of water softener pellets, and way too heavy for any human to move. I dropped into a crouch, ostensibly searching the shadows for whatever dangers lurked there while silently cheering the find.

Thanks for pointing that shelf out for me, folks. Clean drinking water was a luxury in this world, and most in our group had suffered through weeks of diarrhea and vomiting before their stomachs had become accustomed to drinking less-than-potable fluids. I’d definitely be hauling a few cases of that water back to camp.

The chatter started right on cue, voices echoing from all directions. It was all part of the build-up, designed to have me pissing my pants before they pounced.

“What do we have here?”

“A little lost lamb.”

“Lost, and far from home.”

“Far from safety.”

“Nothing is safe anymore, is it, little lamb?”

I pulled a pistol, swinging it around as if blind. “H-h-who’s there? This gun is loaded—I swear I’ll shoot!”

Their sibilant, hissing voices responded in kind.

“Thinks it can hurt us with that toy.”

“It’s not iron nor lead that can hurt us, little lamb.”

“But we can hurt it, yes, we can.”

“Hurt it…”

“Drain it…”

“Just a sip…”

“And then a gulp…”

“And then we drink it dry!”

Good grief, these clowns have been watching too many Peter Jackson films.

Finally, the leader revealed herself. She was a slight wisp of a thing with close-cropped purple hair, who hadn’t been a day older than seventeen when she’d been turned. As the coven leader, she’d reserve the pleasure of taking me down for herself, drinking her fill before allowing her subordinates to feed. She scuttled across the exposed metal joists above, stopping directly overhead.

I quivered and let out a low moan, patiently keeping up my act until she dropped from the ceiling.

Gotcha.

I holstered the pistol and stood in one smooth motion, grabbing the coven leader by the neck in a left-handed death grip as she fell toward me. Over the last

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