Dangerous Nights (Book 3): Edge of Night Page 4

  “My pleasure, Sir.”

  “You can bring the first course in ten minutes time,” he ordered.

  “Yes, Sir.” The woman dipped her head and walked away with the tray while Jay took the opportunity to pour each of them a glass of wine.

  “I hope you drink wine. It’s a dry red from the early eighties. A good year, if I remember correctly,” he said, breathing it in before taking a small sip which he swished around in his mouth like a true connoisseur.

  She followed his lead and tipped her glass to her lips, allowing the dark red to wash over her tongue in an explosion of earthy notes. It was strong and too dry for her taste. “Since we agreed on honesty, I’ll confess. I’ve never been much of a wine drinker, and my wine usually comes out of a box. The cheaper, the better.”

  Jay burst out laughing. “To be honest, I’m not an expert either. That was more my brother’s style. I was just trying to impress you. I even had Mary pick out the bottle.”

  “Impress me?” Cat frowned at Jay, surprised at his candor.

  “Yes, you look like the kind of girl who appreciates the finer things in life. Good food, good wine, good style…manners, and education.” He shrugged. “I guess I wanted to show you I was more than just a brute and a Ravager.”

  Cat sighed. “Look Jay. I think you’ve got me all wrong. I’m not some snobbish chick with hoity-toity airs who likes to wear fancy clothes and dance at balls.”

  “No,” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Then who are you? Tell me.”

  “You really want to know?” she said.

  “Of course. That’s what this dinner is all about. The chance to get to know one another without outside interference.”

  “All right. Be prepared to be underwhelmed,” she said with a small laugh.

  He smirked. “Well, at least you’ve got a sense of humor. How bad can the rest be?”

  “You’d be surprised.” Her mouth quirked in an involuntary smile. “I had a very normal upbringing. My dad abandoned us when I was young, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

  Jay frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me anymore. My mother more than made up for his absence by loving me more than life itself. We were a team. Me and her against the world.” Cat twirled the butter knife between her fingers, a sad smile hovering on her lips. “We never had much, and sometimes my mom struggled to put food on the table, but it didn’t matter because we had each other. That’s why I had to find her again, no matter what.”

  “I see. You have a strong bond,” Jay said.

  “Yes, we do,” Cat replied. “She taught me everything I know. Love, honesty, and family. It was important to her that I had good schooling and a proper upbringing. She’d ground me if I were disrespectful to my elders.”

  “See? What did I tell you? Manners and education. I got that part right, at least,” Jay said.

  “Yes, but when it comes to fancy clothes and wine, I’m more of a yoga pants and beer kind of girl. Don’t get me wrong, I can enjoy the occasional dress-up party. Wearing a pretty dress such as this feels nice. I’m a girl after all, but it doesn’t feel quite real, you know?”

  “I get it. Paul and I came from a broken home. My dad was a deadbeat and an alcoholic. My mom was too scared to defy him. He’d beat her to a pulp over a cold plate of food. He’d beat us too if we showed weakness. We had to be tough all the time,” Jay said, swallowing the rest of his wine in one gulp before refilling his glass.

  Cat dropped her gaze. She didn’t want to get to know him. She didn’t want to feel even a shred of sympathy or pity for him, but Joan’s advice still rang in her head. It reminded her of her mission. Soften the Beast and bring out his humanity.

  “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard for you,” Cat said.

  “Maybe, but it prepared us for the apocalypse. When the zombies rose, we were ready unlike so many others who’d had it easy,” Jay replied. “You know what I mean. The soft ones died first.”

  “Is that why you created the Ravagers with your rules of fighting in the Ring?” Cat asked.

  “Yeah, I guess so. It was entertainment at first, but then it became a way to tell the newbies apart. To sort the strong ones from the weak.”

  Cat opened her mouth to ask one of the million questions brewing inside when Mary entered with another tray. She served the first course, a light crab soup and departed. Hungry despite herself, Cat lifted her spoon and sipped the flavorful broth. “Wow. This is excellent.”

  “Yes, apparently Neil enjoyed good food,” Jay replied. “I found a huge pantry overflowing with stuff including canned crab when I took over. Mary was his cook, and now she’s mine.”

  “I see,” Cat replied, trying to hide her expression of disdain.

  Jay saw through her efforts, though, because he said, “Surprised? You shouldn’t be. Leaders are all the same, including the pleasant and affable Neil.”

  “I don’t see why it should be that way,” Cat said with a shake of her head. “Why can’t they lead by example? Why must they live better than the rest?”

  Jay shrugged. “I see you disapprove, but think about it. People follow power. They respect those who are stronger than themselves, those who can take command, and with that position comes certain perks. Neil understood this which is why he chose this place as his home.”

  “Maybe, but the people of the community lived well too. Not just him. He shared what he had with them.”

  “And you’re saying I do not?” Jay said. “But I do. My Ravagers want for nothing. They might not live in mansions or eat crab soup, but they have everything they need and more.”

  “Perhaps,” Cat muttered when Mary entered once more. This time it was a garden salad the woman served on a bed of fresh lettuce courtesy of the mansion’s expansive vegetable gardens.

  “Say what you mean, Cat,” Jay said once Mary had left. “We agreed on honesty tonight, didn’t we?”

  Cat hesitated, afraid to anger the so far relaxed Jay. The last thing she wanted was to see the Beast again. “I know you take care of your Ravagers. They’re your people. But what about the people of Queenstown? How are you treating them? Some of them died the night you took control, others were hurt, and many are now slaves. How many will have died of hunger by the time your ring is finished?”

  Jay’s eyes narrowed. “Has someone been talking to you? Joan, perhaps?”

  “No,” Cat said, shaking her head. “I was there that night, Jay. I saw what happened. You broke my mother’s nose. You killed Nadia, and you’re holding Lisa hostage against my good behavior. I spent a day in your old stockades, remember, and I still suffer from the injury your ex, Lena, gave me. As for Joan, she refuses to talk to me, but I’ve noticed how thin she’s become. Are you even feeding your new slaves, or are you starving them?”

  Once she began talking, Cat found it impossible to stop, the words spilling forth like bile until at last, she halted, aghast at her tirade. Oh, God. He’s going to kill me. Mom. Lisa. What have I done?

  Chapter 7 - Nadia

  Run, little rabbit. Run. The taunting voice followed her through the long grass. She panicked and darted in the opposite direction only to stop when the same words mocked her from the front. Her heart banged a rapid beat in her chest, and her lungs ached for more air. Run, little rabbit. Run. I’m coming for you.

  Nadia jerked upright with a gasp, the nightmare slow to release its hold on her. Pain tore through her side at the sudden movement, and she pressed a hand against her wound while waiting for the worst to pass. Once it did, she looked around the cabin, taking stock.

  Her mouth was dry and her stomach empty. Luckily, the coffee and peaches she’d prepared before passing out still waited for her. She gulped down the peaches with greedy fingers, fishing them from the syrup before drinking that too. The coffee was cold and tasted awful, but she finished it. Anything to get a bit of strength back into her body.

  The fire had gone out, and she shivered when she realize
d it was cold and dark inside the cabin. With slow, stiff movements, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she stumbled toward the small kitchen and clung to the counter until it passed.

  With great effort, Nadia managed to get the fire going once more. With the kettle on to boil, she peered through the slats on the window. It was day. That much she could tell, though it was hard to judge the time as the sky was overcast and grey. Rain, maybe?

  Once the water had boiled, she stripped off her clothes and sponged the sweat and dirt from her skin. Her torn and bloodied vest she discarded, donning a spare shirt from the previous owner’s footlocker instead. It was too big and hung down to her knees. Clad in only that, she washed her jeans, socks, and undies before hanging them up to dry by the fire.

  Once she set out again, it wouldn’t do to smell like blood. It would only draw in the zombies and make her a target. While she worked, it began to rain. A soft drizzle at first, but it soon turned into a downpour. Once again, Nadia was grateful for the cabin and its shelter.

  After drinking more water, she sat down and peeled the covering off her wound. The cut looked ugly. Its ragged edges were charred, and a few blisters had formed after her attempted cauterizing. It didn’t look infected, though, which was a bonus, and a scab was beginning to develop.

  She cleaned it with more hot water and put on antiseptic ointment before covering it with a fresh plaster. A couple of paracetamol painkillers took the edge off the pain, and she lay back onto the mattress with a groan of relief. In no time at all, she fell asleep again, her meager reserves strained by her efforts.

  Throughout the day, she drifted in and out, waking only to slake her thirst. The thin light that stole in through the cracks in the shutter covering the window waned as night fell, and she woke once more. This time with a bladder full to bursting.

  Nadia got up, wondering if she dared go outside, but there was nothing inside the cabin she could relieve herself in. Armed with the ax, she cracked open the door and peered outside. All was quiet, the rain reduced to a fine mist. The last light of day receded over the horizon, and she hurried to the far side of the porch where she relieved her aching need. It was an awkward position with her butt hanging over the edge, one hand holding the pole and the other gripping the ax, but it beat leaving the safety of the house.

  Squatting like that was painful, but even worse was the sensation of imminent danger. Every sound sent flurries of panic rushing through her veins, and her head swiveled as she stared into the bushes that surrounded the clearing. As she prepared to finish, a clump of leaves not far from the porch shook.

  Nadia swallowed hard on the sudden lump in her throat and slowly straightened up. Her palms were sweaty as they gripped the handle of the ax, and she wondered if she’d be able to take down a zombie in her current state.

  The bushes shook again, scattering drops of water in all directions. Nadia took a few steps back toward the door of the cabin, prepared to flee. “I can’t do this. Not now.”

  Still, she stayed put. What would it help barricading herself inside the hut for? If it were a zombie, it would simply bang on the door until doomsday. She’d be stuck with no other way out. Soon, her water would run out. Her fuel too.

  Nadia looked down at her bare legs and socked feet. Let’s hope it’s not a crowd of zombies. If I have to run away in this get-up, I’m doomed!

  Whatever it was, she had to face it here. Now. She squinted at the shivering bush and said. “Whatever you are, just come out already.”

  A twig snapped and a dark form burst through the dark green leaves running straight for the porch. Nadia gasped and stumbled backward as a blur of fur rushed toward her in the shape of a dog. “What the hell?”

  It pattered up the porch steps on nimble paws and crouched at her feet, staring up at her with golden-brown eyes. There it sat, whining softly as its tail thumped the wooden boards in a rhythmic beat.

  “Oh, my God. A dog. What am I supposed to do with you?” Nadia said.

  The dog’s tail wagging sped up in response to her question. She sighed and stared over its head at the surrounding area, looking for zombies that might have followed the animal. Nothing stirred, and she quickly made her mind up.

  “All right then. Come inside.” She moved aside, and the dog ran into the cabin like its tail was on fire. Smothering a smile, she added, “Stay off the bed with your muddy paws!”

  The dog headed straight for the fire, its skinny frame shivering from the wet and cold. Nadia felt pity well up inside her breast. Poor thing.

  Despite her feelings, however, the beast represented a problem. A big one. Injured as she was, how could she look after a dog? She could barely care for herself, let alone an animal. “And what about zombies? What if you bark at them? I can’t have you making a racket. That would never do.”

  The dog looked at her over his shoulder, his gaze earnest as if aware of her thoughts. The thought of tossing him out again was more than she could bear. Her heart melted, and with a sigh, she closed and barred the door behind her. “Guess you’re here to stay, but first, I need to clean you up a bit.”

  The poor thing looked so scared though, she decided to let it be for a while so it could get used to her first. After setting aside the ax, she hobbled over to the kitchen, her movements slow and painful. After rummaging through the cupboard, she found a bowl and poured some water into it. “Here you go. Drink up.”

  Next, she made herself a cup of coffee before contemplating dinner. Her tummy rumbled at the mere thought of food, having had nothing more than a can of peaches in the space of two days.

  “So, what do you feel like eating? You must be hungry. I sure am.” She scratched through the contents of the cupboard and came up with a pot, sardines, instant noodles, and soup. “Fish stew it is.”

  The dog’s ears perked as she talked to it, its brown eyes following her every move. She couldn’t make out what breed it was. Medium sized, its hair was black and curly with a white spot on the chest and floppy ears.

  “I wonder what you are. Probably a mixed breed,” she mused as she cooked the noodles in a bit of water before adding the soup and canned fish. “Don’t let it bother you. Mixed breeds are usually the best kind. Tough and hardy.”

  The dog whined a bit as it eyed the bubbling mixture of food in the pot, and she grinned. “You are hungry! Well, it’s almost ready. Just let it cool a bit, or you’ll burn your mouth.”

  The dog’s tail thumped in answer.

  She paused and stared at it. “You need a name, you know? How about Spot?”

  The dog’s tail stopped wagging.

  “Yeah, okay. Too obvious. What about Rover?”

  The dog looked annoyed.

  “You’re right. Too pretentious.” She tapped her chin with one finger while she thought about it. “You’re a clever one, I can tell. How about Dexter?”

  The dog’s ear perked up, and its tail wagged.

  “Oh, you like that, do you? Dexter, it is, then.”

  While she waited for the food to cool down, Nadia stripped the blankets off the bed. They were full of dust, and after looking through the window first, she stepped outside to shake off the grit.

  After remaking the bed, she created a spot for the dog next to the fire using an extra blanket. Grabbing two plates, she dished up half of the food for each of them. Dexter wasted no time scoffing his, while she took her time, savoring each bite.

  The hot food and fire were warming up her core, and she sighed with pleasure as her taut muscles relaxed. Finally, she put aside the empty plates and turned to Dexter. “I’m turning in, buddy. As you can probably tell, I’m not well, and I need my rest.”

  She reached out a slow hand and patted the dog on the head. It shied a bit but appeared to enjoy the contact. “There see, that’s not so bad.”

  Nadia crawled into bed and curled into a ball, allowing her exhaustion to take her away from the pain of her injury. This time, it wasn’t
so bad, though. She had a new friend now, after all, and that alone was enough to brighten her mood. It was with a lighter heart that she fell asleep, and the last thing she saw was Dexter curling up in the little nest she’d made for him, his nose tucked into his tail. “Goodnight, Dexter.”

  Chapter 8 - Cat

  Jay carefully laid down his knife and fork, each movement made with extreme care as if he was afraid of losing control. “I will answer your accusations, Catherine, but only because I value your opinion of me. However, never, ever, question me like that in front of others. Understand?”

  Cat swallowed hard. “I understand.”

  “Good.” Jay pinned her to the seat with his gaze, their depths as deep and dark as an ocean abyss. “First of all, of course, I take care of my Ravagers. They are my people, my family, and they earned the right to be there.”

  “Earned?” Cat asked. “How do you earn a place among the Ravagers?”

  “Have you forgotten, my sweet? That’s what the Ring is for. We Ravagers respect the strong and despise the weak. It’s the natural order of things. Just look at animals in the wild, for example. Some are prey, and some are predators. Which would you prefer to be?”

  “I guess,” Cat mumbled, though she was far from convinced.

  “Yes, a few people died when we took over, but that was not my intention. If they had surrendered as ordered, they’d still be alive. Your mother disobeyed me in front of the guards, and that’s why I had to teach her a lesson. As long as people obey me, there’s no need for punishment. Understand?”

  “What about the slaves?”

  “I prefer the term servants.”

  “Servants, then. Why do they get treated differently?” Cat insisted.

  “Because they’re not strong enough to fight in the ring for a place among us Ravagers. As such, they need our protection. Who’ll man the walls? Who will go on raids for supplies? Who will feed them and keep them safe? The Ravagers, that’s who. If they have to serve us in return, that’s a small price to pay.”