Blood Memory: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5) by Perrin Briar Read Free Book Online

happy.”
    “Why don’t you tell him you know?”
    “I don’t think he’d enjoy it as much if he knew we know.”
    Jordan smiled. “I think you might be right.”
    Heavy jaunty footsteps came down the stairwell at the end of the room. Joel had a big smile on his face.
    “ How were the Revels?” Anne asked.
    “ Delicious. Shall we press on?”
    They left the suitcases, picked up their weapons and headed down the stairs.

13.
    They heard the water before they saw it. Half a dozen faint drips splashed in unseen puddles, invisible through the pitch darkness that begrudgingly gave way to their flashlights. The engine bay’s air tasted damp, salty and metallic. It reminded Jordan of a subterranean cave more than the interior of a ferry. Their flashlights reflected back at them from a dozen puddles, a thin layer of oil on their surfaces giving birth to a spray of rainbows.
    Distant footsteps answered their own from the depths of the darkness like African drummers transmitting messages, until it became clear it was their own footsteps echoing back to them, bouncing off the wall at the end of the long corridor. Dented metal plate doors sprouted off on either side like portals to other kingdoms.
    “Looks like we found where the water’s coming in.” Anne flashed her light up at the w ater running freely down the walls, their source a series of missing rivets. “These steel sheets look like they could give way at any moment.”
    “Sh-sh ,” Joel said, his eyes fixed upon an indeterminate point in the darkness. “Do you hear that?”
    They listened. To Jordan’s ears there was only silence. He shook his head. “I don’t hear anything.”
    “There.”
    Then Jordan heard it.
    It was the final sound someone made on their deathbed, the gasp of relief, pain, anger, and acceptance, all rolled into one wheeze, as if the pain they were in was manifesting itself. Joel and Anne became hyper-alert, the hair standing up on the back of their necks, weapons raised on rock solid arms that did not shake.
    “Sounds like it’s coming from down the corridor,” Anne said, voice low.
    “Let’s check these rooms first,” Joel said , not removing his eyes from the origin of the sound. “We don’t want a stray Lurcher coming up behind us.”
    Joel pushed the first door open on squeaky hinges. Their flashlights revealed a small room crammed full of cleaning utensils. Dirty discarded mop heads lay strewn like wild mushrooms. An industrial vacuum cleaner lounged in the corner. Shelves of disinfectant and polish made for a potent mix. The next room contained large toolboxes. Unlike the cleaning room, it was well organised. A battered welding kit with stickers such as ‘Hot Stuff’ and a pair of stick figures in a compromising position with ‘Merge’ written across the top, sat on the table with a pair of matching visors. They made their way from room to room, the gasping groan of the damned getting louder.
    Anne froze, her flashlight fix ed on something ahead. “Joel,” she said, her voice hollow.
    The corridor widened at the end to reveal a large wall covered by a series of interwoven pipes that ran through out the ferry like a series of arteries and veins. In the centre of the wall was an eight feet tall, five feet wide monstrosity of a door. It had iron straps that wrapped around it like a straightjacket, thick dead bolts holding them in place. It had a large red metal wheel lock on its front, about the size of a sixteen ton lorry’s steering wheel.
    But what had so grabbed Anne’s attention wasn’t th e door, but what sat before it.
    The man had pale skin and was covered in red sores that had got infected and oozed yellow pus. His brow jutted forward, dark shadows veiling his eyes. He didn’t flinch under the torch’s intense beam, his watery blue irises unreactive. His right leg was crushed beneath a large fuel drum, withered and small, black from lack of blood circulation. He opened his mouth, a death rattle creaked from