The Human-Undead War Trilogy (Book 1): Dark Intentions by Jonathan Edwardk Ondrashek Page A

bow. 
    “You really are the patriarch,” Brian said, unable to keep his voice from shaking. Barnaby’s reputation had preceded him, but his powers had never been revealed. He couldn’t imagine the limitless possibilities this discovery could unlock. All of the answers to the Undead could be revealed with this very creature before him. 
    Excited, he stepped forward. “Can you morph, too? Like, change body forms?” 
    Barnaby cocked his head to the side, eyes glinting. “Do you believe everything of folktales? I can attest that shape-shifting is not one of my many powers.” He turned around and pulled open the door. “Come.” 
    They stepped into the next room and Brian gasped. 
    “See, Koltz, I am not all that different from you. I have been experimenting too.” 
    ***
    The cloaked figure huddled above the woman, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. He sniffed her essence through his nostrils, wallowing in her womanly scent. John Ashmore couldn’t recall the last time he’d been alone in the vicinity of a human female, and he wished to capture the moment forever. Her pale, smooth skin. Her bright eyes, soft hair, that wonderful smell. 
    A picture of his late wife flashed in his mind.  Catherine. Sweet Catherine . 
    You must forget about her and kill this woman scientist now, while the Master has the male subdued!  
    John lifted the cloak from his head and shaded his eyes from the sunlight creeping through a split in the curtains across the room. “I can’t. I won’t. They don’t deserve it.” 
    The Master deserves to be outwitted by you.   
    You deserve retribution for his evil ways!  
    He shook his head and whispered, “Not this way.” 
    There is no other way! You must! Do it to atone for the grief that has been wrought upon you by the wicked Master!  
    The Master is not wicked—He saved you.               
    He didn’t save you, he enslaved you! He took away your entire family, murdered them before you got to see them again, destroyed your life with a grin on his bony face!  
    Kill her! Kill her now!  
    “No!” John shouted. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him. He grabbed the nightstand next to her bed and sent it crashing to its side. 
    The woman stirred, then bolted upright in bed.  
    John dashed into the shadows, slapped the stone that opened the hidden door, and scrambled down the stairwell within, batting above his head as if attacked by a horde of flies. Tears streamed down his face as his calloused feet padded down the secret passageways. He turned right, then left, straight, then bounded down a flight of stairs. When he reached the bottom, he rushed to the torture chamber to scream with the dying captured men again, to drown out the buzzing inside him.  
    But when he entered the vast room there was not a sound aside from his labored breathing. 
    And the voices in his head. 
    ***
    “Animals?” Brian surveyed the laboratory in awe. It was a vast room with high-tech equipment, countertops, flasks, liquids, rows of cages containing various animals—A veritable palace of scientific equipment. The smell inside was like that of a hospital, clean yet pungent, not disgusting yet not enticing. The walls and floors were steel, reinforced for sound, light, and air. Barnaby had spared no expense. 
    “Undead live forever. So should our pets.” Barnaby stepped to the nearest wire cage and opened the hatch on it. He reached in and withdrew a Rottweiler puppy.  
    The puppy regarded Brian with solemn eyes. He reached out to pet it. Once he was in range, its eyes glowed bright red and it snapped at his hand. He didn’t react fast enough.  
    “Fuck!” Two pinpricks on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger dripped blood onto the cool steel floor.  
    “My, my, Koltz. Daisy does not take a liking to you.” Barnaby stroked the Rottweiler’s head. 
    “Is it contagious? Is it like other