Bad Blood (Battle of the Undead Book 1) by Nicky Peacock Page A

our ears ring. I then heard a familiar laugh.
    “Let me in, friends,” said Philippe in the creepiest voice I’d ever heard.
    Nicholas ushered everyone away from the door. “Philippe, I do believe that you’re not quite yourself. Now, be a good chap and bugger off.”
    “I’m more myself than ever now, Nicholas. I’m what we should be , a master of the dead.”
    “Master of the dead? What the hell does that mean?” I whispered.
    “That I’m in control now, Britannia,” Philippe answered me through the door. “If you give us the humans, we’ll let you go.”
    “We?” Nicholas threw me a worried look.
    I wanted to ask where they had parked the bus, but I was afraid of tipping our hand. If Philippe knew about our mode of transport, he’d find a way to disable it.
    I could feel the dull ache in my chest beginning to dissipate and my usual anger replacing it. This thing outside had killed my friend—exchanged him with a monster, a monster who wanted my wards, wanted Josh and Danny, Tracy and her children, and all the others I hadn’t really bothered learning the names of. People whom we’d so far managed to keep safe against the shuffling undead odds.
    “Open the door, Nicholas,” I said.
    Everyone gasped, and I turned to look at them. I hoped I conveyed in a look what I couldn’t say, that I wasn’t giving them up, but going out there to protect them. That it was the quickest way to get us on the road and away from a city overrun with flesh -munchers.
    “You can’t.” Nicholas pulled at my arm.
    I resisted the urge to balk at his touch. Instead, I turned to look at him. I then looked back at our wards. I patted his hand. He nodded and started to open the shutters, just high enough for me to slide under.
    I rolled beneath and heard them crash back down behind me. I had enough time to think maybe this wasn’t such a great idea before I flipped upright and came face to face with a very dead Philippe.
    “I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish our little game of guillotine, Britannia,” he said.
    “Me too . I wonder whose head would have rolled in the end?” I replied.
    I quickly darted my eyes about to count the zombies around us. About forty, all hanging back, waiting for their dinner call. I knew I could take the zombies, but Philippe was strong. He was an unknown variable in my plan. It’s not like I hadn’t killed vampires before—some had even been older than me. I just never imagined I’d be plotting out the steps to take Philippe’s head.
    “Don’t worry, Brit. I don’t want to make you like me. One king of the zombies is enough. I will, however, end your miserable existence. If memory serves, you should thank me.” He smiled, and his broken, jagged teeth crept out from his gums. It was deeply gross and mesmerizing all at the same time.
    I narrowed my eyes then punched him in the face. He reeled more from surprise than the force of the blow. I leapt up and over Philippe and used the momentum to bowl into the horde of waiting zombies behind him. My scythes worked quickly, and before he had turned around, I’d decapitated every single one of them.
    Aggression rolled off him like cartoon stink lines.
    “King of a pile of headless corpses,” I said , then bowed. “My liege.”
    He screamed and ran at me. This time, I was ready for him, so I jumped up onto a nearby car out of his reach.
    “You’ll regret this,” he said, staring up at me.
    “I’ll add it to the list.”
    “I’ll be seeing you,” he said, then shot me an evil look and disappeared into the decaying rubble of London.
    I stayed perched on the car a minute longer to make sure he wasn’t hiding in the shadows waiting to pounce. I heard the rollers clink together, and suddenly , Nicholas was atop the car with me.
    Josh and Green had their guns up and were flanking the people as they formed a crocodile line and began loading supplies onto the Double-Decker.
    Henri was helping Danny, and Tracy was herding the