Roaring Blood (Demon-Hearted Book 2) by Ambrose Ibsen Read Free Book Online

for the vacancy of her gaze and the grey color of her skin, I might've been fooled. Then there was the half-skeletal abomination with the missing lower jaw and the eye sockets teeming with worms. That one shouldn't have even been able to walk, but some sinister force acting over it incited it to move. The sounds of the dead filled the air; croaks, wheezes and dry rattling sounds.
    I prepared for the swarm, doing a quick stretch routine to limber up. “Hope you've got some extra lighter fluid in there,” I said, eyeing Joe nervously. “I think we're going to need it.”

SEVEN

    You wouldn't know it just by looking at them, but zombies are damn strong. It isn't really human tissue that they draw their power from. That much was clear to me from the first time I crossed fists with them. No, these undead pricks were getting their strength from another source, were drinking deep from some dark well of power that their master had given them access to.
    Also, they tend to smell like shit.
    Their bodies, broken and bloated, released the most noxious scents imaginable. It was all I could do to keep from heaving right then and there, which gave the bastards an edge. While I tried to keep myself from barfing, they bum-rushed the two of us.
    I dispatched one of them with a kick. Got him square in the jaw and knocked his head off of his shoulders like I was kicking a winning field goal. The others, though, came up from the sides. The creatures worked with perfect synergy, as though they shared one mind. One of them might be destroyed, but the others could react in real time to shore up their defenses or find new openings. Both of my arms were caught up in the bony grasps of two snarling undead, and I had more trouble than I expected in shaking lose. By the time I'd forced the two of them to let go, four more were charging towards me.
    Joe kept his distance, nurturing the fire that roared from his lighter and allowing it to grow into a large semicircle. This arc of flame fanned out before him in long, even swoops, like a pendulum, and sheared apart the approaching zombies one by one. Trouble was, they still kept coming. It didn't matter if he dashed off their arms or legs with the impressive flames; they'd continue to shriek and crawl towards us all the same. One of them, with no arms, inched through the grass like a caterpillar.
    “You've got to get the head,” I reminded him. “Either that, or just burn them like you did the last one. Don't get too fancy with it, for Christ's sake!” A zombie swiped at me the moment the words left my lips. I barely managed to take hold of his arm and pull him close. With my other hand I grasped his neck and began to squeeze for everything I was worth. Gadreel's strength turned my fist into a vise, and it wasn't long before I'd crushed the thing's neck and lifted his head off. His rotten noggin rolled to the ground and I swiftly kicked it into one of his oncoming compatriots.
    Unless I was mistaken, there were more coming. For every one we killed, two more were showing up in their place.
    “Where are they coming from?” I asked, pausing in my bashing of heads just long enough to see one of the savages knock Joe's lighter out of his hand. That wasn't good.
    Joe dropped to the ground and scrambled for the Zippo, but the zombie that'd come up on his flank was too quick. The thing punched him in the side, then the head, and not a second later two more were upon him.
    It was time to turn things up a notch.
    Racing for Joe, I knocked away the throng of attackers and positioned myself to take the brunt of the attack. I could handle whatever they dished out; Gadreel wouldn't go down easily. Joe, though, being human and all, had definite limits to his endurance.
    From behind came a series of pounding footfalls. I half-expected to find more zombies closing in but was relieved to find a group of four commandos rushing to provide support. One of them was armed with the meaty-looking flamethrower, apparently a