A scream carried to his right, gunshots to his left.

He looked both ways.

“Gunshots, I guess… because I hate myself,” Abe groaned and turned left.

Several more shots echoed in the distance and he picked up his pace.

A bald man in a trenchcoat pointed a revolver and fired between two rows of hedges. Between him and the hedges was a frozen fountain, snow heaped up at its sides.

“Where’d you go, ye’ freak?” he fired again. “I’ve got plenty of blessed bullets to send you back to hell.”

Abe felt the grenade in his pocket and grinned.

He held it for a second, gazing up at the man as he fired again, reloading one revolver as he brought another up to aim.

“What the?” Abe narrowed his gaze as he realized the man had a second set of hands poking out from his jacket. “I probably shouldn’t have expected anyone to be normal,” he muttered under his breath as he pulled the pin and lobbed the grenade toward the four-armed man.

It thudded down in the snow, only a foot or so away from the man. Oblivious, he continued shooting.

Abe crouched back behind the manor wall and covered his ears, a muffled blast sounded a moment later.

Gunpowder lingered in the air as he turned back towards the man.

Groaning and cursing, the bald man was grasping at his mutilated leg. A deep wound wrapping around his calf cut down to the bone and stained the snow red.

He looked up at Abe as he approached, then to his revolver a foot away and dove for it.

Sprinting forward, Abe reached the man as he attempted to shuffle around, revolver in hand, and slashed his sword down, embedding it into the top of the man’s bald head.

The man grunted, spitting blood—his stare stiffening into the distance. Twitches continued to reverberate through his body as the gun-wielding hand fell back against the snow.

Pressing a boot against the man’s head, Abe gripped his sword tightly and pulled it—releasing a mist of blood as he freed it.

“Sorry,” he grimaced, stepping back to avoid the blood.

Glancing down at the blood staining his sword, Abe sighed.

I killed him. Whatever the fuck he was. He wasn’t even attacking me either. And… I don’t care.

Abe searched for a feeling of remorse, chasing the disturbing realization when he didn’t find anything.

I’m not a monster, no. He tightened his fists and shook his head. I’m not, killing is wrong. I know it is. This man had a life, and people he cared for…

His thoughts felt hollow, forced. He didn’t care, he knew he didn’t.

He looked down. The man’s head was too large, not like a five-head, more like a six. And he was entirely hairless from what Abe could see.

Well, he is an alien. Who feels empathy for a dead alien?

He took a step back, reassuring himself that he was normal.

An explosion rocked the ground, echoing from the distance.

Abe swung around, thankful for the distraction from his thoughts, and charged toward it.

Another explosion shook the ground as Abe passed by the front entrance.

In the gardens. There’s a bunch of them, closing in on something.

Burnt patches of flowers lay wilted, and green hedges were visible where the grenades had blown the snow from them.

Following the trail of destruction, he passed several garden beds and turned into a hedge maze.

“Of course, they’ve got one of these,” he shook his head and ran into it, meeting a crossroads within a few meters. Not that it mattered, his mind’s eyes had already mapped a path to action.

Turning left he followed the sounds, scents of humans, and… whatever those four-armed things were. They smelled different. A scent he had now locked away in his vault not to be mistaken.

Inhaling as he ran, his mind’s eyes painted an increasingly detailed picture.

There are four of them. A human… woman, two of those four-armed aliens, and something else…. Something disgustingly clean.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

He sniffed again. A hint of something stung, almost like it was antibacterial.

That’s the captain, isn’t it? Narrowing his gaze on the maze corridors ahead, he increased his speed.

Within seconds the shouting voices ahead grew loud and close enough that even a human would have made them out.

“She went down there,” shouted a stern, feminine voice.

“Flanking right,” a man said.

“Egal, you take left.”

“Aye, captain.”

Lowering his head, Abe slowed, approached the edge of the hedge, and peered around.

“I know you’re there, undead fiend,” said a tall, red-beared man. His bald head glimmered in the hazy light and a dark gray coat hung loosely from his barrel frame. He turned toward the maze, a firey brow arched, “Can the three of you handle her?”

“Aye, captain” the trio echoed, already taking chase.

“Perfect, that means you’re mine,” the huge, red-beared man said and bent his head—his shoulder muscles looked like they connected directly to his neckless head.

He extended a giant claymore and waved it above his head—it must have been almost as tall as Abe. “She loves the taste of undead,” he added, stopping to point it toward Abe before he ran a hand down the flat end of the blade.

Abe looked down at his considerably smaller sword and grimaced.

Why didn’t I look for more grenades? Fuck! That four-armed bastard, he had a gun!

“Scared of hell?” the man chuckled as he stepped toward Abe, both hands wrapped around the hilt of his massive sword.

“Not as much as you might think,” Abe muttered as he tried to spot a weakness on the man.

That scent is different. He’s human, no doubt about it, but there’s something else. It’s that disgustingly clean smell… No, it’s not clean… It’s like disinfectant. It burns my nostrils.

His eyes widened in clarity.

The blessing, of course. But a blessing, really? Saint Micheal? What kind of bullshit exists in this place? And is it any more ridiculous than being an undead monster?

He had to clear his thoughts. The man was closing in.

Okay, so he’s blessed or something. What difference does that make? That woman, she felt pretty confident about this guy. It’d be dumb to take any chances.

He eyed the sword again. He got the feeling that testing the shining pearl against that thing would be a very bad idea.

What am I? Fast, hardy… yeah, probably not hardy enough to survive a hit from that thing. But I’m still fast. Way faster than I was before… or at least I think I am. Thanks, Nia, losing my memories totally isn’t a big deal or anything.

There was a gap to the left of the captain, between the maze exit, that ran along the manor’s wall.

Eyeing it, he bounced to his left and dashed for the gap

“Predictable,” the red-beared man murmured as he moved with inhuman speed, swiping across Abe’s midsection.

He was too fast. Abe bounced back but it wasn’t enough, the blade cut several inches through his stomach, forcing Abe to wrap his free arm across it to stop his guts from spilling out.

Shit, fuck!

Blood splattered along the ground as he ran, the captain chuckling as he watched the pitiful sight.

“Run all you like, fiend. Mary is blessed, and no wound will heal once touched by her blade.”

That didn’t sound good, but it wasn’t about to stop him from running.

Another explosion echoed somewhere ahead—to his right.

In the manor, I’ll lose him in there, Abe nodded, only a dozen or so meters from the rear of the building.

Flying around the corner, he peered back. The captain had broken into a jog but didn’t seem overly bothered about catching up, not yet at least.

Abe looked down at the trail ichor he was leaving behind.

Yeah, I don’t suppose it matters, does it?

Running to the rear he found the metal door the woman had blasted open with her shotgun and rushed inside.

Running straight through the cold rooms, Abe charged into the kitchen, pivoting as he scanned the stainless steel.

“There,” he mouthed, rushing over to some stainless-steel chests and pulling them open one after another.

His eyes widened as he spotted the stacked piles of blood bags. Sliding his sword between his belt, he scooped two bags up and glanced back the way he had come before running further into the house.

Bursting into the corridor, Abe thudded against the wall before finding his footing and running towards the foyer.

“You’re back,” Ricky said, spotting the blood pouring down from his stomach. “That doesn’t look too healthy.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Abe spattered, stopping in the middle of the room and looking up the stairs, and then down toward the Kennels. “He’s coming, not far behind me.”

“Who?” Ricky titled.

“I dunno,” Abe shook his head. “Some blessed guy.”

“Blessed?” Ricky’s eyes burst with bright flames. “That’s not good. No wonder they made it through the walls.”

“What do you mean,” Abe said with increased urgency. “What were the walls meant to do?”

Ricky glanced past Abe down the corridor leading to the kitchen, “Don’t worry about that.”

“Give me some answers, Ricky!”

Ricky’s eyes focused on the blood packs and his eyes brightened with blue flames that continued until they engulfed his entire skull.

Abe didn’t feel a thing, but the packs softened in his grasp—turning to liquid.

“Go upstairs and try to heal yourself,” Ricky said, gaze returning to the kitchen. “Maybe the mindless ones can slow him down a bit.”

Abe nodded and turned up the stairs, “Thanks.” Running, he swung around the stairs, continued up to the third, and flung himself into his room, throwing the blood packs on the bed and locking the door with trembling hands.

Shit!

His guts had begun to slide out as he released his stomach and he hastily scooped them up and held them tightly.

Holding his stomach with renewed concern, he grabbed a blood pack, tore the cap off with his teeth, and spat it away. Blood poured over his face as he shoved the cut end into his mouth and gulped the revitalizing red fluid down. An intoxicating warming sensation filled his veins and tensed his muscles. It wasn’t anywhere near as pleasurable as the fresh blood from Miss Nia’s wrist, but it was divine nonetheless.

His wound was still very much open, but slowly his strength was returning, and the increasingly weak sting of the blessing was quickly deteriorating.