Nomad Mortis – Snippet 2
Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 8
By Craig Martelle and Michael Anderle
“Uncle Joe!” Cory yelled. Terry didn’t know why, but it still got under his skin. Not because Cory was called the Forsaken “Uncle Joe,” but because he had told Joseph that he would never allow it.
That had been a long time ago. Twenty-five years. He wondered if Joseph even remembered his dictates.
His daughter surely did not. Still, he could ask for no better. She was enhanced, but not enhanced. She effortlessly crossed easily from the Unknown World to the world of humans, despite her wolf ears and glowing blue eyes.
She watched her father to make sure he rolled his eyes, and she was not disappointed.
Joseph appeared under the overhang of the new FDG barracks. The warriors hadn’t moved in yet, but a few of the regulars hung out there. Joseph found he liked the new digs. There was a basement without windows that he’d made into a home away from home.
Joseph was a daywalker, but preferred to be inside when the sun was out. He was prone to sunburns, even though he wasn’t a ginger. He smiled at his own joke, before stepping into the daylight, grimacing from the effect.
Cory impatiently waved at him.
When he reached them, he dipped his head slightly in greeting. “How may I be of assistance?”
“Uncle Joe. I was thinking that we need a two-pronged assault on the Forsaken. One is the hammer. The other needs to be the carrot. What would a propaganda campaign look like to get them to come out into the world, find peace with the FDG?” she asked pointedly.
Terry had already asked that question, and they hadn’t been able to find an acceptable answer. In all cases, the Forsaken would want to feed on humans. Once they’d gotten a taste for it, very few would be able to step away from the addiction that was human blood. Joseph had been able to, but he was the exception to the rule and they accommodated him with cattle when the normal way of eating wasn’t doing it.
“I really don’t know. I’ve tried to woo them with my winning personality, but they don’t seem to be buying it. ‘Repent and live,’ I tell them, but they think they are invincible. It’s an impossible mountain to climb,” Joseph replied.
“What won you over?” she pressed.
“I wanted to live more than I wanted human blood,” he replied simply.
“And they don’t? That doesn’t make sense to me.” Cordelia shook her head, throwing her black hair away from one ear. The fur caught a few strands, keeping them from joining their fellows lying flat behind her ear. Joseph’s eyes darted to it and back, but she caught him.
“Will you people ever stop looking at my ears?” Terry and Joseph both froze in place, wondering if the wrath of the T-Rex had been unleashed.
“Overwhelming force?” she continued. Terry and Joseph both started breathing again and tried to look casual.
“We tried that in LA, but they wanted to play fart games,” Terry answered.
“The snipers shot them with silver bullets first,” Cory pointed out.
“It changes the dynamic. At that point, I suspect my brethren were convinced that they were going to die anyway.” Joseph tipped his hat to Cordelia.
“Thanks, Uncle Joe,” she said, looking at her father.
He rolled his eyes yet again and shook his head.
Find out more about Craig Martell’s books and his life in Alaska: http://www.craigmartelle.com