Vicky vs Blackthorn

By Arthur King

what do you do, when the monster is human?
Bree, her once friend, is now the "mother of demons," and is making an army of spriggans to curb the human plague and bring us back to nature. Vicky is torn, on one hand bree is killing people, on the other hand so is asthma. Bree needs to be stopped but she'd rather get her committed than put her down with a gun.

and this time here guardian won't help.

The voice in her head and the strength in her arms is revealed as a real to life warrior angel and while it will gladly help dispatch a Spriggan, she has strict rules regarding free will and hurting humans. Even crazy ones. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: julius schenk
• Release date: May 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393146223

Book preview

Chapter: Bree – Before

BREE STOOD UP, SWAYING on her feet like she was on the deck of a ship. She’d taken the seed into her mouth and swallowed it down. It was the last tiny piece of the Spriggan’s power and she’d just gulped it down like a large disgusting Panadol with no water. It tasted like dirt and power, tingling in her mouth and warming her throat. She already felt it growing inside of her, and it felt like a second chance. It filled her body with a glowing energy and purpose, and she felt humanity’s opportunity to be better growing in her. She would be the one who saved the world from itself.

Vicky had ruined everything. Bree had watched her from the trees as she used a chainsaw to hack apart all of the fallen housemates and workers. Worst of all Vicky had killed him: the Spriggan, one of the last of his kind. It didn’t make sense... How could a normal girl kill a glorious being of nature? Bree didn’t understand, but Vicky had done it. She’d walked out of the forest alive and the Spriggan dead.

Bree was filled with sadness as she walked to a fire that was still burning and looked at it. It was a crackling pyre of bodies and cut up wooden arms, heads and torsos. It smelled of a weird mix of tree and flesh. It was a nightmare to look at and she couldn’t believe Vicky had done it. It was one thing to kill a monster, as Vicky thought the Spriggan was... but this was just butchery. She wanted to be heartbroken, but the seed wouldn’t let her.

The moment Bree killed Jim, she knew she was different. She didn’t have to live by the rules of society: she would take the power and bring the world back to what it should have been. The seed, like the world, was something ancient and dangerous. It was the power of nature, unrestrained. It had no rule but to grow and spread.

Bree left the burning pile of bodies and her fallen friend and started to walk towards the house. It was a hot morning, the sun was starting to rise, her dress was ripped up to the knee and she’d been happy for the first time in a long time. She should have expected this. Nothing good ever happened to her. Of course her only friend would hurt her the worst. Of course her one chance at a good life would get shit on. Then the Spriggan had been her friend and Vicky killed him. Vicky wasn’t her friend. Bree would show that bitch. Vicky had left her alive and that was a mistake. Bree would kill her and everyone else that had ever laughed at her.

As she walked she felt a pang of pain, then a deep rip inside of her. She crouched over in pain as the vine began growing through her body and screamed in agony. Still she breathed in and out, until the discomfort eased and she managed to stand again. Bree started to walk, slower, the pain coming in waves of relief and sharpness.

Bree had no idea what she would become... maybe a Spriggan, maybe something else. She wasn’t dead yet, at least. She had power, she felt that. She felt a strange rage as well: she wanted to kill Vicky, but she was happy in a very weird way. The world would be saved and it was all going to be ok. She would build the world they dreamed of. The human plague would be curbed. She’d be more than just the Spriggan’s sidekick now. She would be the hero of this story. People would follow her for a change. Bree would be the one to have priestesses following her; she would be a Goddess of nature.

Bree walked on for at least an hour before she found herself back at the house. As she walked she’d heard what sounded like a helicopter, but it was so still and silent now. She didn’t know how long she had before the cops arrived but assumed they’d be coming in force. With the sun continuing to rise, she saw far off in the sky a helicopter. She could hear the slight sound of its blades. Vicky, she assumed. Turning away, she saw a figure on the ground and walked to it. It was another Spriggan, but she didn’t know who it had been. It was dead now, with two blasts in its knee caps and its head severed.

It dripped red and sappy blood out onto the ground.

How can she do this? Bree asked herself incredulously. It wasn’t just one Spriggan, or luck; Vicky had killed this one as well.

Bree stepped over it and went via the back door into the house. It was odd walking around the place again. It was still and empty, though she saw the scenes of carnage. The Italian’s room had a broken window and she knew the doorway to the back room was broken. There was blood everywhere and drag marks on the floors. Bree went to her room and quickly packed her things. Her passport, clothes and all traces of her life there. She put on her socks and shoes, put some sunscreen on and finally tucked a knife into the back of her pants. It was a small kitchen one, but it would do.

She had to leave and fast; the sun was well up now and it cast a yellow light across everything, shining through the windows. Bree loaded some food and a few bottles of water into her bag and slung it up on her back. It was heavy and big, a classic backpacker’s bag that was practically brand new.

As she walked to the front of the house, stepping around the glass and blood smears on the floor her hand stopped as she touched the door. Looking out to the front, she saw three cars pulling up to the house. She was shocked: it wasn’t the police. Three nondescript white vans pulled to a stop in a row on the front lawn: one, two, and then the third. They parked fast and people got out in a hurry. She stepped back and stood to the side of the door so they couldn’t see her.

The people started getting out. They didn’t look at all like the Australia police, with their typical blue uniforms. A woman with a blonde ponytail and an earpiece stepped out of one and opened the side of a van. Four men got out, dressed in black ops clothes. They looked like they had stepped out of a video game. They swept out without a word to the woman. They had automatic weapons and straight away they all turned and went straight into the forest, back to the home tree.

The woman spoke loudly as people came forward from the vans. These weren’t soldiers but people dress in white jumpsuits for cleaning. She said something to them, and a team started moving toward the house. Sensing danger, Bree ran out the back door and went sprinting across the grass, hiding behind the shed.

Who the hell were they? As she watched, she saw a team walk to the body of the Spriggan. One of them dragged a plastic barrel and took the top off it. Then the other two, calm as anything, lifted the Spriggan corpse up and lowered it into the tub. She gasped as she heard a very loud hissing and saw the liquid bubbling around the rim. They lowered the body in more and more as it melted. Bree didn’t know who the hell they were, but they were far from friends. She was certain that they would kill any witnesses— especially one with a vine growing out of her. Bree turned and ran as fast as she could, hoping they wouldn’t see her.

She ran to the tree she and Vicky had hidden in, but she streaked past it instead of stopping. She was soon in a good bit of forest with plenty of cover. She moved swiftly through the trees and made herself march along for what was at least another hour before she was started to worry. There had to be another road, she assumed and she walked onward trying not to be scared. After almost two hours, she finally saw the clearing through the trees and the black of a road; she almost cried. Why hadn't she taken water? She was an idiot for forgetting it. The pain in her gut had been an afterthought but now came back, though she pushed through and went to the road, blessing its appearance.

This was a double roadway but seemed mostly for trucks. She started to walk up next to the asphalt road. Now she had to hope a lot. She had to hope that someone—preferably not the police— would come along. Certainly not those acid dipping nuts... Hopefully someone friendly to hitchhikers. At least with her bag she looked like a backpacker, and with her bare legs was clearly a girl.

She wasn’t very pretty. She was a bit plain actually, but she was a young girl all alone, skinny and tall. She should have been worried: it was Australia and they had once had a truck driving serial killer who preyed on backpackers. She was more worried she’d die of thirst than at the hands of a killer, though. Bree walked up the road, going in the direction of the town— she hoped. It would be a long journey and her feet already hurt, her spirits dim.

She had no idea how long she had before she started to change. If she did die of thirst, maybe she’d wake as a Spriggan. She pushed the thoughts aside and continued onwards. She held her thumb out when she finally saw something coming. It was a battered red ute, as they called their pickups. It drove up, slowing a little and then sped off.

She yelled in frustration, Bastards, come on!

The sun was starting to heat up as it rose in the sky, and beads of sweat rolled down her back as she trudged on. Soon she heard the sounds of a truck coming. She looked back and saw it was a big truck that was pulling some fuel. It looked like a petrol tanker, big, silver and long. Bree didn’t think it would stop but it did. It had begun to slow and pulled in to a sudden stop before her. It skidded in the dust on the side of the road. She felt hope light in her chest as she ran to the cab and opened the door.

She took a moment to look at the man, she tensed, an instant bad feeling forming in her gut. He was fortyish, a truck driver, bit of a fat gut and he was staring right at her tits. A waft of staleness found her: he smelled of sweat.

Hello, love. Guess I get to rescue you? he asked.

She wished she had her gun, but she had nothing. Still it was dealing with him or die on the road. Besides, if he tried anything on her, she’d kill him. Hell, she’d probably kill him either