Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“You’re done tormenting and raping magickind, tearing apart families,” Bram vows. “You’ll never get your hands on the Doomsday Diary.”
“You overestimate your ragtag band, Rion.” With a wave of his wand, the wall behind Duke vanishes, revealing a sea of Anarki zombies. Not dozens or hundreds, but thousands—all with grave-white faces and vacant expressions.
“So many. How?” Bram gasps.
Clutching his bleeding gut, Mathias smiles. “You have your secret weapon; I have mine.”
The Anarki lurch forward as one. Over their heads, I see a U.S. Marine fighting two wizards. They overpower him, strapping him to a slanted dais. As a round object passes over his skull, he lets out a spine-chilling yell of pain. Moments later, he’s an Anarki zombie, eyes vacant as he joins the attacking horde.
Fuck. If I had a wand, maybe I could have freed him.
The object is yanked away and moved to the next victim. He was strong and vital only moments ago. That man is gone now. In his place is an Anarki zombie, like all the others coming toward me, a puppet whose flesh is already rotting. The eyes staring back are devoid of life as he melts into the attacking crowd.
At least fifty more soldiers await the same fate, lined up one after the other against the warehouse’s back wall. The two wizards are passing the round object over one head at a time, all to horrific screams. A few moments later, they leave behind corpses, alive only by Mathias’s magic and will.
Time to save who we can, detonate the C4, and blow this joint—literally.
With Mathias’s attentions engaged by the others, I race to complete my mission, darting to the first visible support beam and applying the explosive putty.
Marrok steps toward the crowd of Anarki zombies, sword drawn. He swings, cutting several in half. Black blood spurts in every direction. With a fist pump, I dodge my way to the next support beam—stopping to slice and dice any Anarki intent on stopping me. Duke joins me, shooting down several zombies in his way.
While I bend to secure the next explosive, Mathias snarls, eyes narrowed at Bram as he closes in on one side. Ice approaches from the front, Tynan from his opposite side.
“Your Anarki can’t stop us. We’re not going to rest until you’re back in exile,” Bram says. “You’re surrounded. Give up.”
Mathias snorts, the sound abrasive and amused. “You may have Merlin’s blood in your veins, but I will still decimate you and your worthless bunch.”
He summons the Anarki. The frigid zombies crush in, forming a protective circle around their master. Marrok and Duke cut through them. Bram dodges his would-be killers with a blade here and an elbow there. Tynan follows, determined to get his pound of flesh.
Sydney, still by the door, grabs an aerosol can and lighter from her bag. “Duck!” she screams, unleashing a fireball that singes the first row of zombies. The second row pauses their catatonic march, either tripping over their dead cohorts or falling victim to the fire.
Then the spray sputters out, and the horde surges forward again.
A zombie reaches Sydney, pinning her to the wall. She grabs her handbag and tries to twist away. Blood spreads across her white sleeve as she gasps in pain. My protective instincts explode. I leap over zombies, shooting and knifing my way to her.
Suddenly, I’m in front of another, this one wearing fatigues. Evil pours from his eyes. With my bullets running low, I clutch my knife, then look back up at the zombie. Recognition shocks me.
“Brian?”
My marine buddy’s face, now pasty white with vacant eyes, stares back at me. I swallow, unable to move.
Kill him! Shock’s voice roars in my head.
How is this possible?
Kill him before he tears you to pieces, Shock demands.
“Brian?” I try one last time.
Nothing but a creepy smile and a shivery death grip that reaches ever closer.
Sydney’s scream snaps me back to the moment. With an anguished curse, I plunge the knife into Brian’s neck, nearly decapitating him. He crumples to the ground, dead, but still no longer human.
Guilt, grief, and relief war inside me as I step over his body and scramble to Sydney. I compartmentalize what just happened into a box for later and slam the zombie choking her into the wall. But another drags her along the floor, blood spreading across her torn shirt.
I grab that zombie holding Sydney and push him face first into the concrete wall. It’s still fighting after the first blow, so I deliver two more. The undead soldier goes limp.
Panic burns through me as I realize another zombie has Sydney by the neck and I won’t reach her in time. A swell of energy bounds inside me, tingling in my fingertips. Suddenly, I picture the broken glass on the floor flying toward the Anarki. My arms raise, seemingly of their own volition, and hurtle forward.