Read Scenes from an Unholy War for Free Online Page B

“It wasn’t me. See for yourself.”
    Lyra squatted down beside the shocking remains of the corpse. The stink of blood was incomparably worse than before, assailing her stomach right through her nose, putrid enough to make a strong man vomit.
    “He’s been cut to ribbons. And his head’s been lopped off, too.”
    “It sure as hell has,” Rust replied in a muffled tone.
    “I’ll check into this,” Lyra said. “You’d better keep your distance.”
    “Okay.”
    Going behind a tree about thirty feet away, Rust leaned back against its massive trunk. Both hands covered his face, as if it were melting. He shook violently from the spasms racing through every inch of his body, the result of his maddening hunger and thirst. His teeth chattered. Jamming his fist between them, he fought the urge.
    When he’d finally overcome it, he heard Lyra say beside him, “Rust?”
    Though she’d approached with completely silent footsteps, Rust must’ve been used to her ways, because he didn’t seem at all surprised as he asked, “What’d you find?” He was still panting.
    “The murder weapon wasn’t a sword.”
    “What was it?”
    “A butcher knife. And a big, heavy one at that. Depending on the user, it could do worse damage than a sword.”
    “Any clues?”
    “Nope. You didn’t see anyone?”
    “I didn’t even hear anyone running off.”
    “That’s the guy who attacked D,” she said, referring to the victim.
    “You sure?”
    “In his shirt, he had a ton of dried blood cake—bat food.”
    “If he was killed, then, as unlikely as it seems, it might’ve been a falling-out between coconspirators. If not, there wouldn’t have been any need for the person who did this to run off,” Rust said, his voice carrying a secret fear.
    A fiend who could control mutated vampire bats had been slain in a matter of seconds. It didn’t seem likely that he and his killer had met by chance in the forest at this hour. The bat master’s death had been sudden—an ambush by one of his cohorts. That still left the cause of the falling-out a mystery, but he and Lyra would look into that next.
    Rust continued, “The deceased—”
    “He was one of the travelers camped out on the edge of town. His killer probably hasn’t had a chance to take off yet. I’ll ride on ahead.”
    “No, I’ll go,” the sheriff said.
    “But you’re . . .”
    “I’ve got to get used to this, Lyra. I need to if I’m going to live here.”
    Nothing from the warrior woman.
    “Besides, I’m the sheriff.”
    A few seconds passed, but to the two of them, it seemed like an eternity.
    “Okay,” Lyra said, walking back the way she’d come.
    About ten minutes later, Rust’s vehicle sped off, leaving just as the warrior woman was beginning a more thorough investigation of the area around the corpse.
    —
    When he came to the sheriff’s office, Rust hit the brakes. The heavy tires kicked up dirt, almost coming to a stop—and then they sped up.
    “I’d hate to ask that of a sick man,” Rust said, grinning as he fought something in his turbulent heart. His smirk was directed at himself and his own weakness, which was forcing him to rely on D.
    On the western edge of the village were three vacant lots of about four hundred square yards each, where travelers looking to economize on their lodgings had set up camp. There was a little campfire burning on the nearest lot. The smell of roasting meat drifted through the air. Rust thought back on the bustling dining room and saloon he’d passed on his way out there. This village would probably be raised to the rank of a full-fledged town soon.
    There were seven figures around the campfire. They were all sucking down coffee, wine, or nutrient drinks. Having taken a horse instead of the skeleton vehicle, Rust hitched it to a post by the road and headed over to the campfire with his right hand still tucked in his coat.
    “One of the guys who was out here has been arrested.” Looking over the faces that