Nazab (Knights of Order #12)

Chapter One

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“I TOLD THEM WE SHOULDN’T go out scavenging tonight, but does anyone ever listen to me?

” Monica Yamil complained quietly. “Of course not,” she replied to herself with an eyeroll.

She could sense ten mercenaries prowling around nearby.

They were moving closer to her location by the second.

Thanks to her freaky senses, she could hear what they were saying.

“This area has already been searched,” one of the militants said. “Why are we being sent to a neighborhood in the middle of the night that’s already been picked clean?”

“I don’t ask questions,” someone responded. “I just follow my orders. I have a better chance of not being sent out to one of the farms or factories if I keep my mouth shut.”

The others muttered in agreement.

Hiding behind a row of empty shelves in a convenience store, Monica took a quick peek at her companion. Rashell was crouched behind the counter, clutching a handgun to her chest and looking panicked. “She’s going to do something stupid,” Monica predicted in a whisper.

Right on cue, the young woman made the mistake of bolting for the open door. She was spotted as soon as she darted outside.

“We’ve got a runner!” a merc shouted and the entire patrol raced after the fleeing survivor.

“What an idiot!” Monica hissed, wondering yet again why she stuck with this bunch of fools. She knew she would struggle if she was on her own, which was why she hadn’t left them yet.

Leaving the store through the back door, she limped slightly as she hurried to keep up with the militants. She caught up to them just as they cornered her companion. Taking shelter in a dark alley, she watched the goon squad surround the female.

“Drop your weapon!” a mercenary barked.

Screaming defiantly, Rashell pulled her trigger rapidly. She shot three of the troopers before a few of them gunned her down.

Monica slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle her horrified noise at the scene she’d just witnessed. She pressed her back against the wall, willing herself not to throw up.

“What a waste,” a mercenary said. “She wasn’t bad looking. We could have taken her to one of our whorehouses.” The men snickered in agreement.

“She doesn’t have any food on her,” one of the other guys said. “But at least we can take her gun.”

“I’ll call this in so they can send a crew to dispose of the bodies,” the leader of the unit said, then spoke into his walky-talky.

Monica had always been able to sense people who were within range of her mental radar. She knew both Rashell and one of the militants were still alive, even if just barely. Waiting until the unit left, she hurried over to her companion.

Rashell had been shot four times, proving what lousy aim her attackers had, since they’d fired at least ten bullets at her. One had hit her in the chest. The others were in her arms and side. She was breathing so shallowly that it was obvious she wasn’t going to last much longer.

Monica had to try to help her even though she knew it was a waste of time.

She crossed to the merc who was lying on his side and dragged him closer.

He’d been hit in the chest as well and was bleeding out.

Kneeling on the road, she placed her hands on the male and female and concentrated hard.

Magic welled up and delved into the militant.

Coaxing his energy out of his body, she transferred it into her wounded friend.

The life went out of the man and Rashell sucked in a breath.

“What the hell?” someone muttered behind Monica. She’d been so focused on her task that she hadn’t sensed the rest of her group arriving. They must have heard the gunshots and had come to investigate.

“What just happened?” a female asked in shock. “Why does that merc look so shriveled up now?”

Mouth going dry, Monica knew she couldn’t explain it to them and sound believable. She didn’t even get a chance to speak.

“She’s a freak!” one of her friends exclaimed, fumbling for her gun. “She stole that guy’s soul and forced it into Rashell’s body!”

“No, I didn’t!” Monica said defensively, then she threw herself sideways when the young woman shot at her.

“Don’t kill her!” Wallace, their unofficial leader said, shoving the woman’s gun downward. “We should capture her and take her to Governor Giamano. I bet we can trade her for a reward.”

The others nodded their agreement and Monica’s trust in people withered and died.

Rashell’s wounds were mortal and there were no longer any doctors left in the city to operate on her.

Even as she watched, the female expired and faded from Monica’s senses.

It had been futile to try to save her life, but she’d stupidly tried anyway.

Now she was going to pay the price for it with her freedom.

Gold light suddenly lit up the dark sky, blazing overhead and bathing the entire city in a dazzlingly beautiful display. Everyone tilted their heads back and Monica took the opportunity to flee. She took off down the alley she’d hidden in as shouts came from behind her.

“She can’t outrun us with a gimpy leg!” Wallace shouted as her former friends went in pursuit.

“Watch me, you creeper,” Monica muttered. She could run pretty damn fast when she had to even with her disadvantage.

The comet fell somewhere ahead of her and she distantly heard a gigantic splashing noise, but she didn’t feel the impact.

Her hand went to the back of her head, which felt strangely fuzzy, as if something had just changed.

She glanced at her watch to see it was just after midnight.

All of the gold and red comets had appeared at around the same time.

This one had landed far closer to her than the others.

Instinct guided Monica towards the area where the meteor had landed.

She sent her senses out behind her and picked up on Wallace and the others.

Their souls had already been a darker shade of gray than she’d liked when she’d joined their group.

That had been three months after the Rapture.

During the seven months she’d spent with them, their souls had become even darker.

Thanks to the plan they’d just cooked up, they were all verging on having black souls now.

Monica had lived in Hell’s Kitchen with three other housemates before the world had changed so drastically.

Two of the women had been raptured. The third one had gone out to search for food one day and never returned.

Monica had fled from Manhattan when she’d sensed the evil aliens the Mad Prophet talked about.

They’d been systematically searching the buildings.

She’d ended up in the Bronx, but even that was too close to the city.

She’d convinced Wallace and the others to move just before the aliens and mercs had expanded their search a couple of months ago.

“But we were running low on supplies and they insisted on searching the Bronx again,” she muttered as she ran. “I told them the militants had stripped all the stores bare. Now my former friends are hunting me down like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

Snickering at her own joke despite how dire her situation was, Monica tripped over a bag of trash when she turned the corner. She crashed into a parked car so hard that she knocked the wind out of herself.

“We’ve almost got her!” Wallace shouted in triumph, hearing the noise she’d made.

Cursing her clumsiness, Monica took off again. She had no idea where she was going, but her mind seemed to be carrying her to a specific location.

Picking up her pace, she sensed people coming out of their homes, presumably to investigate the gold comet.

It was depressing just how few survivors were left now.

Monica was just as starving and desperate as everyone else.

She knew what they were going through and how low some people had fallen.

Wallace and the others had talked about the possibility of cooking and eating freshly dead people.

Monica would never be hungry enough to dine on human flesh.

Sadly, she was pretty sure the rest of the group would turn into cannibals soon.

“I guess I should be glad they’ll turn me in instead of killing me and eating me,” Monica said, then snickered again.

Her sense of humor had gotten her into trouble too many times for her to count.

This time, it could end up with her being captured if she didn’t snap out of it and focus on escaping.