I stood under the hot spray of the shower and let myself imagine a lie. In my lie, the world wasn’t irrevocably changed. The steaming water raining down on me wasn’t due to the solar panels on the roof but the work of a perfectly functioning utility grid. And, at any moment now, my sister would pound on the door to demand that I stop hogging the bathroom and the hot water.
I could almost hear her yelling, “Hannah,” as she drew out the last syllable of my name.
Pain pierced my middle. The world I’d once known was gone, and I struggled to endure the reality that persisted. There was no reliable utility grid. There was no sister. The dregs of humanity that remained huddled in fear of the black dogs with glowing red eyes and the infected that wanted to eat us alive. Fear was just part of life now, and yesterday had proved that death always waited just two heartbeats away.
Lovely reality.
I turned off the water and went through the motions of getting ready for the day as if I had somewhere to go. Jeans paired with a cute top. It was an outfit I would have loved wearing before the earthquakes. Now, along with most everything else, I hated it. None of what I put on was mine. Like all the people in Tolerance, I wore what had been collected from the homes the fey searched for supplies. Remnants and reminders from those already claimed by this new reality of fear and death.
And sacrifice.
So much sacrifice. How much more would we need to give before the infected and the hounds were dead?
With a bitter tilt forming at the corner of my mouth, I recalled the tiny ember of hope that had flared to life the moment the fey had appeared. That hope had begun to fade when I realized a simple truth. There were too many hounds and infected out there. And those creatures that craved human flesh would continue to return, day after day, relentless in their determination to kill us all. Yesterday’s breach had proved that. It had also extinguished any remaining hint of hope.
I already knew the end of humanity’s story, and it wasn’t pretty. It would be filled with fear, blood, and death. What then was the point of the continual struggle to exist?
With trembling fingers, I combed through my drying blonde curls then left the bathroom. Downstairs, Emily moved around in the kitchen.
“You look like you didn’t sleep well,” she said, noticing me. “Me neither. I couldn’t stop seeing yesterday.” She lifted the bowl of mush she was stirring. “I’m making dog food meatloaf for Merdon as a thank you. Want to help?”
With a shuddering look at the pinkish mash, I shook my head and fetched my morning glass. The cupboard above the stove didn’t have much of a selection anymore. I was down to vodka. Not my drink of choice, but it would do. The last three fingers from the bottle looked pathetic in my cup. More so after I took a large swallow.
“I still can’t believe how Merdon came out of nowhere like that,” Emily continued. “I mean, I know the fey move fast, but he was almost a blur. Without him there...” She shook her head and flipped the mush into a pan.
I tipped back the rest of the vodka, trying to drown out the memories. It didn’t work. Images from the day before, breach day, flooded my mind.
Hordes of infected had gotten in and stormed the streets of our supposed safe haven. A woman with a huge chunk of her cheek missing had run straight toward Emily and me. Had it not been for Merdon, Emily and I wouldn’t be in the kitchen now. We’d be a headless mass of decaying corpses tossed out in the trees somewhere.
The thought didn’t upset me. After all, that was where we’d end up at some point. What did upset me was another day of the struggle to exist. If not for Merdon, I’d already be at peace.
Another sharp pang of regret and loss pierced me, and I set the empty glass on the counter to double-check the cupboards.
“This is going to take a while to bake,” Emily said, sliding the dogloaf into the oven. “Want to go check on James and Mary with me? They’d probably appreciate the company after yesterday.”
“They’re going to want to recap what happened. I’ll pass.” Frustrated with the lack of alcohol, I closed the cupboard door and faced Emily.
“I think we should have another get-together. To celebrate the lives of those we lost,” I added so I wouldn’t sound insensitive.
She tipped her head, studying me.
“I’ve been with you for months now, Hannah. I know you better than anyone else. I see the way your hand is shaking. You’re not okay. Is it because of yesterday, or did you have another bad night?”
I fisted my hands and sat on the kitchen stool.
“Both,” I admitted. “Last night was the worst yet.” My gaze darted to the cupboards. I needed to keep better track of our alcohol stock. How had we run so low?
“And what happened yesterday didn’t help,” Emily said in soft understanding.
Of all the people who’d been in that RV with me, she’d been the only one who hadn’t found another roommate when we’d arrived here. James and Mary, the older couple who’d been in the RV with us, had a reason to need their own place. Oldness. While our group had been together, the couple hadn’t complained about my nightmares or my screaming, which made them okay. Just not today.
I moved to the door and slipped into my coat and boots as I spoke.
“You should go check on James and Mary. I’ll walk around and see who might be interested in coming over.”
“Okay, but stress that we’re asking for more than just alcohol. And spread the word that anyone without food should arrive after dark. I’ll see if any of the other girls want to join us.”
I waved in acknowledgment and quickly left.
Outside, evidence of the day before painted the trampled snow red in places. The few swallows of vodka sitting in my stomach hadn’t even come close to dulling my senses enough to unsee the reminder of the devastation. The screams echoed in my head.
Don’t think about it. I plastered a happy smile on my face and started making my way around the neighborhood. Just make it through today, and you’ll be fine.
Keeping my eyes off the bloodied ground, I waved to the fey I knew, which were most of them, and paused to talk to the ones who’d provided what I needed in the past.
“Hey, Fyllo. Any chance you still have some of that scotch left? We’re having another get-together tonight.”
“I gave you the last one. But there is another bottle like it that I could bring. It’s new.”
Since the fey couldn’t read, the bottle could be anything from fancy cooking oil to sparkling grape juice.
“Nope. Nothing new unless it’s tested ahead of time,” I said, pretending to look upset by the news. “If you have a roast or something, that could work, too. Emily wants someone to bring something edible. But only one person. We don’t want to waste food by making too much.”
He blinked at me, a common quirk the fey all seemed to share when they were deciding how to respond.
“I have no meat. I do have cheese toes.”
“We’ll pass on the junk food. Maybe you’ll find something that meets the requirements before tonight,” I hinted. “You know what I like.”
He nodded thoughtfully then took off at a jog toward the wall.
What I liked and what Emily liked were two different things. We’d agreed to set food and booze as the price of an invitation to our little gatherings. She thought the fey brought mostly booze because they knew I liked it, which I did, not because it was the sole item I encouraged.
Watching Fyllo go, I exhaled slowly and kept my smile in place. Hopefully, he’d find a bottle of something good and not a stupid roast.
I continued along the sidewalk until I saw Tor and waved for him to join me. He was always good for something liquid.
“Just the fey I wanted to see,” I said with a smile that hurt my face.
He smiled in return, showing his pointed teeth.
“Hello, Hannah. Why did you want to see me?”
“Emily and I are having a get-together tonight, and I sure could use some of that brandy you found.”
He nodded.
“I’ve been saving it for this,” he said. “We can play your games, and I will win a kiss.”
“You got it, big guy.” I winked and waved goodbye.
The moment I turned my back to him, my well-known, thousand-watt smile dimmed. There was no way I was going to kiss anyone tonight. “Stage five clinger” didn’t even come close to describing the level of clingy, needy infatuation mouth to mouth contact could elicit from a fey. I’d long ago drawn the line at hair touching and friendly hugs. Even that tended to create cleedy fey.
Mentally cringing away from the memory of the one time I’d offered more to one of the fey, I looked around for my next target. Movement to the side caught my attention, and I met Merdon’s steady gaze as he emerged from between two houses.
Unlike the rest of the fey, I didn’t know this one well and had no interest in changing that. I didn’t care that he’d been shunned by the rest of his kind or that he and his friend, Thallirin, had killed more hellhounds between them than the rest of the fey put together. My apathy toward this fey lay in my inability to read him.
Merdon never smiled. Ever. No matter what wattage I threw his way.
He stopped moving and just…watched me. Something he’d been doing a lot since he’d witnessed the one time I’d suggested more than a friendly hug. Hearing me offer to have Shax’s baby and Shax’s rejection had probably given Merdon ideas that I was up for grabs. Not now. Not ever again.
I sighed at the tiny bubble of regret that welled up at the thought of what I’d lost. Shax would have brought me anything for just a touch. Granted, he was also why I had the no kissing rule. Just one stupid kiss, and he’d been annoyingly obsessed with me. In hindsight, I wished I would have appreciated his willingness to do anything for me while I’d had his attention. When his interest had turned to someone else, I’d lost my most reliable source of alcohol. I didn’t begrudge him Angel, though. If people could be happy in this shit-show of a world, more power to them.
That level of blind ignorance wasn’t for me. And neither was acquiring another love-struck fool.
Looking away from Merdon, I continued walking. He’d wander away again. He always did. He probably stared because he’d never seen a blonde with my level of curls before. Yet, his behavior yesterday niggled at my mind for half a second before I dismissed it. Any fey would have rushed to save us. They were all girl-hungry like that. I told myself that Merdon’s conveniently close proximity and his timely intervention weren’t an indication of another saran-man in the making.
He was just another protective fey trying to get close. Like Shax.
I forced away my regret at losing Shax and fixed my signature happy-Hannah expression on my face while I looked for my next target.
Several other fey stopped to talk to me as I made a slow loop around Tolerance. I let them know the price of admission to that night’s party, stressing we only needed one roast for the evening. It seemed that word had already spread because there were far too many offers to bring food. The last thing I wanted was all meat and no booze.
After having spoken to a dozen fey, I knew news of the party would continue to spread, and by nightfall, we’d have a decent showing. Tired of pretending to be happy, I headed home before the sun even reached its zenith.
Emily was still gone when I let myself in. No surprise there, given who she’d gone to visit. I kicked off my shoes and looked around the house for something to do. There was far too much time until the party, and idleness was my worst enemy.
A fey passed by one of the side windows on his way through our yard.
The image of the first infected I’d ever seen clouded my mind, pulling me under, drowning me in a memory. Like the fey just now, the infected had shuffled past the window. I could vividly recall his whiskered profile and the way the light had glinted oddly in his eye, making it look milky white.
I tried not to remember the moment the familiar face turned, and I’d seen the flap of scalp dangling over the bloody patch that should have been his ear. He’d looked in the window, but after a beat, he’d turned and continued his shamble through our yard.
That was the last time I’d seen my father. He’d gone outside to see whose dog was running loose. In hindsight, I now knew it hadn’t been a dog but a hellhound.
Releasing a shuddering breath, I moved away from the windows and went to search the cupboards again, hoping I’d overlooked a bottle. I wasn’t that lucky. I never was.
Hands shaking, I fluffed my hair and started for the door. Some fey out there had to have something. A knock sounded before I reached the front entrance. I hurried to answer and smiled at Fyllo as he held up two bottles. As I’d guessed, one was garlic and rosemary-infused oil. The other bottle, though, had me extending a hand.
He surrendered the sherry and watched me open it and take a long drink.
“Will that work for tonight?” he asked.
“It sure will. You’re officially in, but Emily said no one should come before dark. I’ll just hold onto it until then, okay?”
He nodded and smiled. I gave a quick smile in return, closed the door on him, then did my best to drown the memories in sherry.
The door opened, pulling me from my semi-stupor.
“Hey, Hannah,” Emily called. “I brought goodies from Mary.”
I sat up from my comfortably prone position on the couch and dutifully looked at Emily, who was holding up a plate of baked goods.
Merdon closed the door behind her and met my gaze.
“A stray followed you in,” I said, not paying any attention to the food she carried.
“Be nice,” she said with a laugh. “I told you I was making dinner for Merdon.” She glanced back at the fey. “Shoes off at the door, please. You can hang your jacket on the hooks there.”
While she instructed him, I resumed my relaxed recline and let my world continue to drift. The sherry was gone, and the buzz from it was starting to fade. But I wasn’t worried. It was almost dark, and people would start showing up soon enough.
“Hannah, come join us,” Emily called.
“No, thank you. I’m not hungry for dogloaf.”
“Good, because that’s just for Merdon. Get your butt over here and eat something, or I’m turning everyone away tonight.”
Sitting up again, I narrowed my eyes at her then got up to help her set the table. Sometimes Emily’s mothering stifled me to the point I wanted to tell her to lay off. In the end, I could never bring myself to say the words. She put up with a lot from me. Putting up with a little from her was the least I could do.
“Mary said you should come over tomorrow,” Emily said, placing the dogloaf on the table. “She said she has something special set aside for you.”
I hoped “special” was code for aged Cognac. She and James had gifted me with a nice bottle once before. That stuff had kicked my ass hard.
“I’ll try to stop by tomorrow,” I said, not committing.
Emily pulled something else from the oven. Wrapped in foil, the food was a mystery until she removed the covering and revealed a stir fry looking jumble of veggies and chicken.
“You’re welcome to try this, too, Merdon,” she said, “But I know most of you don’t enjoy your veggies.”
She took the seat nearest the kitchen and gestured to the chair to her right. Merdon sat and glanced at me. Suppressing my sigh, I sat across from Emily, to his right. Hopefully, the position would make it harder for him to stare at me throughout the meal.
“This smells amazing,” Emily said, scooping a large portion of stir fry onto her plate. She was obviously hungry.
“Here,” she said, handing the plate to Merdon. “Pass that to Hannah. Hannah, I’ll take your plate.”
My stomach twisted as I stared at the mound of food. If I ate it all, I’d have no room for dessert of the liquid variety.
Disgruntled, but knowing better than to argue, I surrendered my empty plate to Merdon in exchange for the full one.
Emily did her typical hostess shtick where she made conversation.
“What’s it like outside the wall today? I haven’t heard a single moan,” she said to Merdon.
I zoned out and focused on the food.
Methodically, I chewed, swallowed, and scooped up some more, working my way around the plate and shrinking the pile. I didn’t taste the meal. Food had lost its flavor long ago. When I’d eaten at least half, I pushed my plate away.
“I can’t eat more. If I do, I’ll throw up.”
“Hannah—”
“I’m serious, Emily. That was a lot. Big meals are a relic from before the quakes. My stomach can’t handle all of that at once. I’ll save what’s left for later.”
She glanced at my plate then at Merdon’s. The dogloaf pan was empty, and his plate was clean.
My stomach gave a threatening heave.
“I’m not a starving fey, so don’t even try to compare us,” I said in annoyance.
The first knock of the night echoed on the front door, and I sprang up to answer it.
Behind me, Emily explained to Merdon that we were having a get-together to remember the people who’d died. Then, she invited him to stay.
I rolled my eyes. Of course she’d invite him; he hadn’t been following her around all morning.
Fyllo smiled at me from outside and held up another bottle of sherry.
“I had more,” he said.
“That’s great! Come on in. Just set the bottle on the counter.”
As interested as I was in another drink, I knew there’d be better options.
Behind him, more fey emerged from the dark. A good number of them carried bottles. I chose not to notice how many held some kind of dish. Leaving the door open, I selected one of the mellower vinyls from our collection and went to the turntable. In no time, smooth music filled the air.
While Emily welcomed guests, I began pouring drinks in the kitchen. Generally, the fey didn’t care for the burn of alcohol, which meant more liquor for those who did like to drink it.
Greedily eyeing the few extra inches of alcohol that I’d given myself, I lifted my cup to my lips and took a large swallow. It didn’t burn on the way down, but it did warm my stomach. The mellowness I needed would soon follow, and I settled a hip against the counter to patiently wait for it.
As I drank some more, I looked around the room. Fey outnumbered the few human females brave enough to attend. No surprise there. Of the human survivors, fewer than half were females. And fewer than half of those lived in our fey-friendly community of Tolerance. Emily had done her job well, though, and there were new female faces in the crowd. Most of them hung out around the food table, sampling what the fey had procured, as the fey tried to make conversation with them.
I wondered how many of these new girls wished they hadn’t agreed to stay here after yesterday’s blood bath. Given they were alive and being fed, probably none of them. We lived in a “take what you can get” kind of world after all.
I snorted into my cup and continued to look around.
Green and gold eyes locked onto mine from across the room. Merdon was watching me again. I flashed him my bright smile since it always paid to be welcoming to the fey, no matter how annoying they were, then turned my back on him and tipped my glass.
“Hannah,” Emily said, coming to me with a new girl in tow. “This is Cheri. She’s new here.”
Someone caught Emily’s eye, or at least that’s what she pretended happened, and she excused herself. Pawning off guests was a skill Emily had probably perfected before the quakes. She was a social queen like that. After all, if she let one person monopolize her time, how would she ever get to talk to everyone?
“Hi, Cheri,” I said brightly as I handed her a drink. “Sorry, I don’t remember seeing your face with the Whiteman people. Are you liking living in Tolerance so far?”
She gave me a strained smile.
“It’s an adjustment.”
I gave a humorless laugh. “It’s the apocalypse. Of course it’s an adjustment.”
“You’re right. Sorry. I shouldn’t complain.”
“Nah. Complain away. I’m all ears.”
She shot me a confused look, obviously trying to figure out if I was being sarcastic or sincere. I kept my Hannah-loves-everyone smile firmly in place and waited.
“I appreciate the food and the safety. I really do. But the attention’s a little overwhelming. My roommate stands outside the bathroom door when I’m in there.” She flushed and glanced across the room at one of the fey.
“Yeah, he’s probably picturing you naked. Or hoping you’ll walk out naked. Don’t overthink it. The fey are harmless. I promise. Drink up and relax.”
She nodded, took the first sip of her drink, and coughed.
“What is this?”
I glanced at the bottles on the counter.
“It’s either brandy or whiskey.”
“Straight?”
True humor lifted my lips.
“The end of the world isn’t watered down; why should the drinks be?”
She gave a tentative smile and lifted her cup to her lips again. I glanced across the room at Farco and winked. He flashed his teeth at me, knowing he’d be carrying his newly acquired roommate home. Oh, I had no concerns about Cheri’s safety. He’d carry her home, remove her shoes, and tuck her into bed like a good fey. They never took more than what was offered. It wasn’t their way. Just holding her in his arms would be enough for him.
The fey hadn’t yet lost their hope. Not like I had.
An ache started in my chest, and I drank deeply again, hating that feelings from the past kept trying to surface. It was time to drown them completely.
“Who’s ready for some games?” I called over the soft music.
While the fey hurriedly started rearranging the furniture, I locked my arm through Cheri’s and led her to the table.
“The games are fun,” I said. “And a great way to get to know the fey. They love betting small things like holding your hand or touching your hair, in exchange for pretty much whatever you want.” I leaned in closer to her. “Just don’t bet kisses unless you’re willing to have another fey standing outside the bathroom door.”
She gave me a worried look then nodded.
The next hour passed in a blur of laughter and betting. Cheri couldn’t hold her liquor and ended up in Farco’s arms as I’d predicted. At the door, Emily gave him a stern talk to only remove Cheri’s shoes, stating that anything else without consent would ruin his chances with the girl. He looked down at the girl, complete adoration in his eyes, and I snorted softly. He wouldn’t have the balls to do anything that would jeopardize his chances with her. Come morning, not only would he likely apologize for touching her feet while she was passed out, but he’d also be running all over Tolerance to find her pain reliever for the bitch of a headache she’d have. If she was smart, she’d realize she had the key to whatever she wants.
I turned and almost ran into a fey.
“Sorry,” I said, lifting my head to offer a smile.
Merdon looked down at me, his expression inscrutable.
“Are you having a good time?” I asked, trying to be pleasant while also attempting to recall if he’d joined the games.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring slightly before his gaze flicked to the cup I held. My smile slipped a little at the feeling I was being judged.
“If you need anything, let Emily know,” I said, stepping around him.
In the kitchen, the dregs of the brandy went into my glass, and I turned the remaining bottles so all the labels were facing forward. The fey had done their jobs well and supplied enough alcohol to last a while. They were also providing a nice distraction.
Rejoining the games, I bet a walk around Tolerance (with hand-holding) against a container of “just add water” waffle mix, a package of breakfast sausages, and a canister of dried eggs. Emily rooted for me as I let the quarter roll off my nose into the cup, knocked back the contents, then slammed the empty cup on the table. I grinned as the fey’s cup hit the surface a second later than mine. They might have mad skills at running and killing shit, but they couldn’t stand the burn of liquor.
“We’re eating a real breakfast tomorrow,” Emily crowed.
I laughed and moved out of the way so the next person could bet. My limbs and face felt pleasantly numb as the room tilted and wobbled around me.
A hand wrapped around my upper arm.
“You look unsteady.”
Tipping my head back with my smile still lingering on my lips, I met Merdon’s gaze.
“I’ve never been steadier. Would you like something to drink?”
He didn’t answer.
Rolling my eyes, I tugged my arm from his hold.
“Suit yourself.”
I shuffled to the kitchen and looked at my pretty line up of bottles.
“Tempting little hussies,” I whispered to them then giggled.
Taking the open one, I sloshed some of the contents into my cup. A hand reached around me and plucked the bottle from my grasp before I was finished.
“Hey.”
“You’ve had enough.”
Bleary-eyed, I squinted at Merdon.
“Is my speech impaired?”
“No.”
I touched my finger to my nose.
“Did I miss my nose when trying to touch it?”
He didn’t answer.
“Exactly,” I said. “I’m fine. Please focus your attention elsewhere for the evening unless you want to bet something at the table.”
His gaze flicked from my face to the bottle he held. Instead of taking up my challenge, he set the booze on the counter and walked away.
“That’s what I thought,” I mumbled.
Fluffing my hair and noting my steady hand, I grinned and rejoined the games.