Page 52 of Shadow

“You have an appointment with Boot, if I’m not mistaken.”

I groaned and dropped my head dramatically. “Please don’t remind me.”

“Working the alcohol out of your system with a little sweat won’t hurt.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying,” I replied, shaking my head. “It’s not the alcohol that will hurt. It’s my face when it lands on the mat. This mug wasn’t built for squishing.”

He laughed, and despite my misery, I couldn’t help smiling. I took his advice and ate quickly. The fresh fruit was just what I needed, even better than the coffee for settling my stomach. If it weren’t for the steady pounding in my head, I might have even felt halfway human again.

Axel grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to me as we headed down yet another hallway. “Finish this before you train,” he said.

I liked him. He was the first Shadow Warrior who had shown me kindness from the start. He would definitely be one of the reasons my father thought so highly of them. “Did you know my father?” I asked as we walked.

“I did. He was a good man. You look like him.”

Most people who had known my mother used to say I looked like her. No one had ever compared me to my father. Axel’s expression was sincere, and his honesty warmed me. I had always thought I had my father’s smile. Maybe that was what he saw.

Axel led me into a suite of rooms clearly designed for medical care. The outer office had a bed against one wall, a table and chairs on the other, and cabinets lining the upper walls with counter space below. “Take a seat,” he said, opening a cabinet and retrieving a bottle of pills.

I sat at the table, glancing around while sipping my water. One of the inner doors was slightly ajar, and I could see someone lying on a medical bed inside. From the size of the figure beneath the blanket, it looked like a man. I couldn’t be certain, though. Who knew what their women looked like?

“Shadow Warriors get sick like everyone else?” I asked, nodding toward the occupied bed.

“Only the dumb ones,” Axel replied with a wry grin as he shook a few pills into his hand.

Axel’s emphatic tone made me laugh. “Did the rum make its way around last night, or was it just me?”

“You for the rum, hellhounds for the Warriors,” he replied dryly.

“Did they kill the two you have?”

He crossed his arms and studied me. “King told you about the two we hold?”

“King did more than tell me, he showed me. Alcohol didn’t numb the sight or the smell.” A shiver ran through me, the revulsion tangible on my skin.

Axel steepled his fingers, lightly tapping them together as if deep in thought. “Did he explain what they are?”

His careful tone wasn’t lost on me. He was testing the waters, gauging how much I knew. Perhaps he realized that knowing too much might seal my fate. How ridiculous, yet how true.

“Yes,” I said carefully. “I know we’re really fighting hellhumans, not hounds.”

He exhaled, a hint of relief in his expression. “We still call them hounds. It’s easier than thinking of them as what they used to be.”

I got it. I felt the same. But something had been nagging at me since King revealed what they’d learned, something I had been too scared to ask at the time.

“I never saw my father’s body. Is he one of those things now?”

I dreaded the answer. Even thinking in those terms about my mother was too much to bear, though deep down, I already knew the probability of an endless death was not in her favor.

Axel shook his head, and a thread of relief loosened the tight knot in my chest. I pushed thoughts of my parents aside for now.

“We’re not sure how long it takes for them to transform,” he said, “but no, your father will not become one of them.”

I had no idea what they did to assure it, and I wouldn’t ask. My father wouldn’t have wanted to become something that killed mindlessly.

“Do you know why they don’t eat us?” I asked, latching onto the question to avoid spiraling into darker thoughts. Hollywood zombies were my only frame of reference, andaccording to them, these creatures should have been devouring our flesh and organs.

Axel shrugged. “They don’t need sustenance to survive. That’s the best explanation we’ve got. They don’t get skinny or fat, they don’t digest food, and they don’t expel waste. Their brains show some activity. It’s a kind of misfire rather than a functional current, but for all intents and purposes, they’re dead.”

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