Page 61 of Bloodhunter

“Awesome,” I muttered and turned away from both of them.

But before I could leave them to their fates and head backto the road, where Angus would be waiting, the woman gave a horrified scream.

And suddenly, we were surrounded by something much, much worsethan mere vampires.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Infecteds,”she screamed. “Run!”

But even as Silverlight attached to my arm, some of theinfected vampires fell upon the woman and the male human, and the rest turnedtoward me.

The infecteds. These were the diseased vampires Amias wantedme to end. These were the vampires spreading the virus that caused them toattack humans in clusters.

I didn’t want Silverlight to touch those diseased bodies,but the only other choice was to run. I could have outrun them, I was prettysure. They were sick and starving and a little slower.

But there were two humans there, and I was a hunter. I was avampire killer.

And hunters didn’t run away.

“Sorry about this,” I muttered to the sword, and ran herthrough the disgusting body of an infected as he leaned over the woman. Anotherinfected ran at me, his mouth wide, screaming his rage to the world. Death,hunger, rage. That was all they felt. All they were.

One of his fangs was broken, and the other was long anddiscolored, jagged and sharp. I felt a little sorry for him for about twoseconds.

Silverlight slid through his neck like it was a thick loafof bread, and before the head listed to the side and began to fall, I turned tobeat away the vampires throwing themselves at the humans.

Usually I lost my fear during a battle, but this was not anormal battle. I didn’t want those diseased creatures to touch me, but itwasn’t just that. They were carrying the disease that Amias had carried whenhe’d attacked me and my family, and those memories had begun resurfacing at analarming rate.

The viciousness of those memories caught me off guard. Theytook my breath, sent me back to that house, to that street, to that time.

“No, no, no,” I muttered. I tried to shake them away, butthey were stubborn, those memories, and they would do as they pleased.

Since the attack, I’d tried not to think about what hadhappened. I didn’t see the point in allowing myself to dwell on that horriblenight. The loss was too great, the pain too severe. But sometimes, the memoriesgrew tired of being suppressed and they exploded free and began beating me withclubs and bricks and hammers, taking advantage of their momentary freedom tohurt me.

Amias had been in the early stages when he’d attacked myfamily, and though he’d had the rage, hunger, and confusion running through him,he was able to speak and to think. Somewhat. And he’d been a master. Old.Powerful.

Still, they had the samefeelto them. And I thinkthat was what set me off.

Silverlight did what she needed to do, but she did itwithout me, at least for a few fuzzy minutes. Because for a little while, Iwasn’t even there. I was at my sister’s house on Thanksgiving, with Amias.

“Shall I live, or shall I die?”

“Trinity, get in the house. Get in the house!”

“I made a mistake.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Pain ripping through me, Children screaming, death,blood, flesh tearing and bones crunching and horror. Just horror.

But then I was back, surrounded by the infecteds, and I was…

Angry.

Vicious.

I no longer cared that their filth might get on me, thattheir blood might splash on my skin, that I might somehow contract theirdisease.

Again.