Revenant's Kiss (Chronicles of the Afterlife) by Joyce Robles Read Free Book Online

But
her and Manson were hardly normal people. The M60 weighed 23 pounds, you weren’t likely to catch
her carrying the thing around. And last other than the identical blades like hers that he carried he had an
M72A2. It was a fucking anti-tank weapon with a caliber of 66mm, she’d said to him more then once
that he was over doing it with that one. His only response had been that it was just a light anti-tank
weapon, like it being light made any real difference. He’d been doing all of this longer than she had, but
she prayed that she never felt that it would get bad enough to carry around an M72 with her.
                 She understood her weaknesses better then most, she had them thrown in her face continuously
in her line of work. She was lacking she understood that, her enemy would always be stronger, faster,
and a hundred times more resilient than she could ever hope to be no matter how much strength or
endurance she built, no matter how much pain she trained her body to ignore. That was why they
carried so many weapons, that was why Manny packed so many high caliber weapons, and the truth
was she might too if she weren’t so damn small. But the sad truth was that at the end of the day not
even everything they carried around would manage to level the playing field. She wished that it weren’t
so, but the reality was that they’re enemy was consistently more agile and too fast to even hit with a
bullet, and even when they did you practically had to rend them limb from limb before they were down.
Jennifer reached up and rested her fingers against the silver cross that rested against her collar bone.
This was the real defense, her faith, the cross around her neck was a reminder that there was something
else to protect her. And as ridiculous as it sounded to believe that God was protecting her, she had
been raised with the knowledge that if all else failed this couldn’t be taken from her. She gave a silent
prayer that all would go as it should knowing that it would do little good, she may have faith in a higher
power, but she had born witness to what blind faith without action resulted in. Dropping her hand away
from the crucifix she let her hand rest down by the 9mm at her hip. The cross was a last resort, usually
if her target was close enough for the cross to come of use it was probably because she was about to
die.
                 She thought of the few occasions that she could recall that it had happened, remembered the
irritation and fear that crossed the faces of the enemy coming for her. She tried not to put a name to
them, hated thinking of them as anything but the enemy, but in the end she knew what they were.
Walking dead, soulless, feeding off the blood of the living, vampire, there would have been a time once
when the term would have suited them, revealing them for the monsters that they were. But now
people heard the word and thought only of romance, brooding figures struggling with their own nature,
struggling to preserve human life, vampires that sparkled, for the love of god. There were times when
she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs just thinking about it, seeing what she had seen she knew
vampires for what they were. Brooding perhaps that was true but each and every one of them was
covered in blood, dripping with it, and she could only be glad that if one of the suckers did step into the
sun they would burn. What was so romantic about the notion of a monster who feed off the life force of
others so they could live forever Jennifer would never know. She knew from experience that forever
could only lead to one thing for a person, and it was madness, to add the deaths of hundreds to ones
conscience just to accomplish that would only make that come faster.
                 Let people make love stories out of them if they liked, Jennifer would just have to remain
satisfied with the knowledge that while most people were being idiots there were others like her