by Kait Nolan
4.4 out of 5 stars on Amazon
A Novella of the Mirus.
Trouble. That’s what wolf-shifter Mick Guidry thinks when a beautiful woman appears in his New Orleans bar with a hurricane at her back. His first impression is confirmed when Sophie starts asking questions about his missing waitress, Liza. Mick will do anything to rescue a member of the pack he’s made for himself, including forming an unlikely alliance with a woman with a badge.
Something burst out of the wall to Sophie’s left, and her shoulder sank into rotting flesh. Arms came hard around her, a clumsy vice grip. Suppressing a gag at the putrid smell, Sophie slammed her head back against the zombie’s. Her vision went blurry, and she heard a satisfying crunch before the arms fell away. Shoving hard, she stumbled back.
A stream of zombies shambled out of this new breach in the wall, moving fast. So fast. These were the newly dead, flesh still clinging to bone, desperate with hunger. Mick lunged, his massive jaws closing around a neck and shaking hard until it cracked, then dropping it and lunging again. One after another, more peeled away, coming for her.
She drew her Sig Sauer and fired, knowing the special rounds weren’t coded for zombies. The one in the lead stumbled, and fell, so she kept firing, aiming for their heads. But it wasn’t enough. There were too many. Sophie screamed as they converged around her, clawing, pulling, biting. She collapsed under their weight.
Mick roared, and she could hear him fighting his way toward her.
“Stay back!” she shouted. “Mick, get back!”
Lightning exploded out of her. Flesh burned and bones splintered. Chunks of blackened zombie hit the walls with a squishy thud. Sophie scrambled to her feet, looking for Mick who crouched a dozen yards away, ears flattened. He huffed a noise that might have been approval before yipping a warning and tossing his head. She turned in the direction he’d indicated and shot out another volley of lightning. The approaching pair of zombies splattered.
The stench of burned flesh was so strong, she gagged as she tried to shout, “Move! Move!”
They scrambled around a corner and nearly skidded into the wall. In the strobing light of her lightning ball, Sophie could see the door to the vault at the far end of the tunnel.
And between them and it, a veritable army of the dead.
Panic beat a hard tattoo in her chest. Her head ached with the strain of holding back water. Mick pressed so close to her side, she could feel the vibration of his growl. From behind she could hear the grumbling, growling advance of more. Trapped on both sides.
No. No it wasn’t going to end like this.
“Do you trust me?” she asked.