Katarina Kills Part IV
Those of you not into chronological juxtaposition will be pleased to know that Kat Kills IV does, in fact, follow the events written in Kat Kills II. As the faithful 32 know, Kat Kills III was an outlyer. Those new to this series of excerpts need to know this that they are taken from my semi-soon to be released novel, Retribution, the sequel to World at War: Revelation. On to the words.
1
Mike Hudson lived
in a world of impossibility. He was fighting the Third World War, a war that
the soldiers from both sides thought was improbable. His woman was a 400-year
old vampire who protected him from vicious werewolves and made love to him on
blood-soaked sheets. He had found a magical stone. A magical-freaking-stone,
just like something out of The Sword of
Shannara. But this, this…
“What’s the
matter, Mike? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Hudson shook his
head. This wasn’t possible, but it was in front of him. Seated on the troop
carrier’s right hand seat was his friend, their savior from the Aurich school,
the dude that had taken at least three 7.62mm rounds to the chest. It was
Brains, and in his hands was the stone, glowing softly, strangely. His chest
was a pulpy mess. It didn’t seem to bother Brains.
He smiled and
stood, bending slightly at the waist to avoid striking his head on the low
ceiling, and gestured to the door. Blood from his wounds dripped steadily. “Let’s
talk outside. I’m sure it would make your vampire friend feel better.”
Hudson backed
away, his hands clammy on the rifle, his heart racing. Vampire friend? How did Brains know what Kat was?
“Mike?” Kat stood
about five meters to the side. A question in her voice, her pistol aimed at the
M-113’s hatch.
Hudson shrugged,
and Brains stepped through the hatch.
Mike Hudson had
seen Kat laugh, Kat angry, Kat aroused, and Kat soaked in blood. He had never,
ever, seen Kat uncertain. She glanced to Mike and then to Brains pulpy chest,
lowering the 9mm. “Who?”
Brains smiled,
his face almost beatific, and then the face fuzzed, shimmered, shifted, the
entire body unfocused, a TV image ruined by poor reception. For an instant the
checkered, scratchy image of Brains stood, smiling, the glowing rock in hand,
and then he was gone, but not gone. Replaced. A stunning woman, as tall as Hudson,
with long, red curls, and the coldest green eyes Mike had ever seen. She stood
next to the hatch, dressed in blue jean shorts, torn black nylons and a dark
sweat shirt ripped at the neck, the glowing rock cupped in both hands.
“Hello, Katarina.
Been a long time, no?”
“Bitch.” The
growl was back in Kat’s voice as she whipped the pistol up and fired.
“Addenso!” The
word flew from the woman’s mouth, and the unseeable became seen. The bullet
appeared before him, moving quickly toward the woman, but slowing by the
microsecond. Slower still, no faster than a man would run, no faster than a
walk, a crawl, and finally the red head snatched it from the air. And then she
too was gone, evaporated in a twisting cloud of red smoke. One blink and the
red cloud coalesced behind Kat, arm tight around the vampire’s neck, the
ethereal stone still grasped in its hand. The other hand held an eight-inch
blade, glowing with the same blueness as the stone.
“Drop the pistol
Katarina or I’ll give you a scar to match the first.”
Hudson’s eyes
flicked to the scar on Kat’s jaw. Kat’s eyes burned blue fire and she held her
shooter’s stance.
“Now, Katarina,”
the woman hissed. “And tell your boy toy to do the same.”
Katarina sighed
as she clicked the safety and dropped her pistol. She looked at Hudson, the
fire gone from her eyes. “Do as she says.”
“But,” Hudson
began.
“Just do it,
Mike.” Kat’s voice was soft, resigned. “She won’t hurt us, we have a…” Kat
hesitated, “history.”
Hudson bent,
placing the AK on the black asphalt.
The woman nodded.
“Nice” She pushed Kat forward and stepped back, pointing a casual finger at
first Hudson and then Kat.
“Ground rules you
two.” “She smiled. “It’s simple, really. Don’t get aggressive and I won’t have
to make you regret it.”
“What the hell?”
Mike’s eyes shot from one to the other, his heart pounding.
Kat shook her
head. “Mike, meet Üdvöske, the Witch of Budapest.”
2
Üdvöske shrugged,
the gesture shifting the red hair on her shoulders. “The title is somewhat
pretentious.”
Hudson noticed
the knife was gone, but didn’t remember its disappearance, nor could he spot a
sheath on Üdvöske’s hip or legs. What the hell? But that question would
need to queue up behind a long line of others, the first of which he voiced
now.
“Where’s Brains?”
Üdvöske’s head
turned slowly to Hudson. “Dead.”
“Did you kill
him?”
Üdvöske smiled.
“Bitch,” Hudson
spat the word.
Üdvöske nodded.
“That seems to be the general consensus.”
“Why did you kill
him?”
“That’s an
interesting question,” she responded.
“Stop playing, Üdvöske.”
Kat’s voice was hard in the quiet night.
She turned to
Mike. “She didn’t kill Brains. The Lycan did. She shifted to his shape so you
wouldn’t shoot her on sight. You were
a bit tense when you opened that hatch.”
“Sharp as ever, I
see,” Üdvöske responded.
“Why are you even
here?” Hudson queried.
Üdvöske looked at
the gently glowing stone in her hand. “I thought that would be obvious.”
“But why wait for
us?”
Üdvöske shook her
head. “I wasn’t. I was waiting for them.”
Headlights
flashed on the trees where the road turned, changing their dark leaves to silver.
Certainly not a military vehicle, thought Hudson. Not with headlights shining, but who?
The vehicle
rolled slowly towards them, tires crunching the small debris littering the
asphalt, the engine a throaty purr. A
jeep analogy, Hudson guessed by the wide spacing of the headlights. Ten meters
distant, it stopped moving. Doors opened, the clicking locks clear in the
night. Two figures stepped to the pavement. The headlights continued to blaze, their
glare making the figures nothing more than shadows.
“Mike Hudson?
Corporal Mike Hudson?” The accent was light, but definitely German.
Hudson could
think of no reason why a pair of Germans would be looking for him, yet alone
looking for him out here, in the middle of nowhere, amid the charred remains of
an ambushed American column.
“Who wants to
know?” It sounded like dialogue from a bad cop movie, but it was all he could
think of.
The voice
answered immediately. “Hauptman Karl Holtzer and Oberleutenant Marc Ackerman of
the Bundeswehr.”
The proclamation
surprised Hudson. In bad cop movies the antagonists always said something like,
‘Who we are doesn’t matter, it’s what we want that counts.’ The next three
sentences surprised him even more.
“They’re
vampires,” whispered Kat.
A chill crept
down Hudson’s spine.
“Corporal, if
that is you, we need to talk. What we have to say might change the course of
this war.”
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