Dark Vengeance

By Shelley Russell Nolan

Victory comes at a cost.

In the aftermath of the battle to free Brimfield from the control of a madman, Jackson Kyle, Captain of the Ward, is focused on protecting the humans under his charge. But not all his enemies have been vanquished.

Forced to flee, Jackson and his wardens seek a safe place to create more of the cure for the freak virus. But not everyone wants to see an end to all freaks. As hidden agendas surface, Jackson is ripped from those he trusts, putting the future of humankind at stake.

With his allies scattered, and his own kind turning against him, it will take everything Jackson has to win this fight. But if he loses his life … the cure dies with him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Odyssey Books
• Release date: Apr 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781922311122

Shelley Russell Nolan

Shelley Russell Nolan is an avid reader who began writing her own stories at sixteen. Her first completed manuscript featured brain eating aliens and a butt kicking teenage heroine. Since then she has spent her time creating fantasy worlds where death is only the beginning and even freaks can fall in love.Shelley is a speculative fiction author with two paranormal fantasy series currently published, as well as the first book in a post-apocalyptic urban fantasy series that was released September 2019 with the second book to be released in 2020 and is both traditionally and independently published.Born in New Zealand, moving to Australia with her family when she was seven, Shelley currently lives in Central Queensland, Australia, with her husband and two young children. They share their home with two wrecking ball kitties, a deformed budgerigar and a big lug of a dog.

Book preview

One

‘Jackson Kyle, you are under arrest. You will accompany me to council chambers to await sentencing for your crimes.’ Sweat beaded the brow of the council official as he stood in the street outside the headquarters of the Brimfield Ward.

Jackson lowered the hammer he’d been using while making repairs to the front gates, his gaze skimming over the official to land on the twelve members of the council’s security forces providing backup. Silence fell, and Jackson signalled for the wardens and half-breeds he’d been labouring alongside to get back to work. They ignored him, grips tightening on their tools, gathering at his back as he faced the group tasked with arresting him.

The official glanced behind him, no doubt making sure his back-up was still there. The guards were armed, eyes narrowed, each of them with a hand resting on the grip of the pistols stashed in their side holsters. All the official had was a clipboard clasped to his chest, and a nervous expression that suggested he’d known the futility of this course of action long before he’d uttered a word.

After a long and drawn out moment, Jackson said, ‘I believe a trial comes before sentencing. And what, exactly, are the crimes I’m supposed to have committed?’

The official’s shoulders quivered, fingers whitening as he clutched his clipboard even tighter. ‘You are charged with breaking the Ward Charter, as well as twenty-seven counts of murder, including the attempted murders of every Brimfield citizen. You are also charged with being complicit in a plot to overthrow the rightful council and undermine the integrity of this town by way of hallucinogenic drugs and mass hypnosis.’

Jackson stifled a wince at the tally of citizens who had lost their lives two nights earlier. Twenty-seven innocent humans he and his wardens were sworn to protect had died. He’d had to bury more than twice that number of his own people, after ordering his wardens to use non-lethal force while fighting the townspeople turned into freaks by Callaghan. The death toll among the humans would have been much higher, Jackson’s losses fewer, if it were not for that order. Not that he’d expected the council to see it that way. But this other charge? Hallucinogenic drugs and mass hypnosis? What was up with that?

‘Are you freaking serious?’ Hanson appeared at Jackson’s side, feet set wide, chin jutting out. ‘You want to arrest the guy who saved your arses? You’d still be a freak if it wasn’t for him.’

A tremble went through the official’s body, face reddening, eyes blazing. ‘I was never a freak. That was an illusion created by the wardens in an attempt to take over Brimfield.’ Shoulders back, he glared at the young half-breed.

‘Hanson Forsythe, you are also under arrest. For the murder of Cole Dillon. You and Jackson Kyle will immediately be taken into custody by these guards and locked away until such time as your executions can be arranged.’ He stepped aside and waved the security guards forward. ‘Any warden or half-breed who attempts to pervert the course of justice will also be arrested and executed, by order of the Brimfield Council.’

The guards drew their pistols as they moved to surround Jackson and Hanson.

The wardens at their backs surged forward, tools raised.

‘Stand down.’ Jackson slipped the hammer into his belt and faced his wardens. He’d lost too many people as it was to risk losing more in a battle with armed guards when all they had were their tools.

Reluctance on their faces, they obeyed his order, although he had to grab Hanson’s arm to stop him from launching at the guards.

‘This is bullshit,’ Hanson said, green eyes blazing when Jackson hauled him back to his side. ‘They can’t arrest us. We didn’t do anything wrong. Cole Dillon was a psychopath and a freak. He deserved to die.’

‘Hanson, keep quiet.’ Jackson wrenched on his arm again. ‘I’ll handle this.’

He faced the official once more, spine straight, refusing to acknowledge the many pistols pointed at his head. ‘The Brimfield Council does not have the authority to arrest me, let alone pronounce sentencing. Whether I have broken the Ward charter or not is a matter for the Over-Council and the Ward High Command to decide. Councillor Dillon wants me dead—he needs to take it up with them.’

He stepped closer to the official, looming over the much shorter man. ‘As for the rest of those charges, you know as well as I do that they’re baseless accusations. You may choose to hide behind the idea it was some kind of trick, hallucination, or whatever you want to call it, but you know the truth. You were a freak.’

Jackson lifted his head to scan the eyes of the guards as he said, ‘Two nights ago a man named Marcus Callaghan infected every single one of you with the freak virus, and the darkness that resides deep in your soul was let loose. It was my wardens who brought you back to the light. These brave men and women,’ he waved a hand at the wardens assembled behind him, ‘put their lives on the line so you could be cured. We grieve for those who couldn’t be saved, even as we mourn those of us who died so you could live. You want to arrest me, fine, but don’t expect me to come quietly.’

A hush fell over the street after Jackson’s words; some of the guards lowered their weapons, looking downward. The official was the first to recover, face paling as he struggled to regain control of the situation.

‘Councillor Dillon will not rest until those responsible for the death of his son are punished. You must come with me. Both of you.’ Eyes wide, brimming with desperation, he looked from Jackson to Hanson. ‘You murdered Cole Dillon in cold blood. You have to pay for that crime with your lives.’

Jackson cut off Hanson’s angry rebuke, shoving the half-breed behind him. ‘Cole Dillon’s death was not a result of murder. He was a freak. While it is certainly regrettable, his death was an unavoidable consequence of the battle to wrest control of Brimfield from a hostile third party. I have sent a full report on the matter to High Command. As all freaks fall under the jurisdiction of the Ward, it is up to them to determine if my actions, or those of my wardens, contributed in any way to the deaths of the twenty-seven infected civilians.’

None of the pistols still pointed at him wavered, and Jackson steeled himself for what would come next. He meant what he’d said. He would not meekly hand himself over to Dillon. He would go down fighting, no matter the odds.

Muscles tensing, he got ready to tackle the nearest guard and wrest his pistol from him. The tramp of booted feet met his ears moments before Lieutenant Geoff Anderson arrived in the gateway with two patrols at his back, fully suited up in body armour, stun guns at the ready as they eased into position behind Jackson.

The guards who had lowered their weapons swiftly raised them again, but it was clear from their faces they knew they were outnumbered and outmatched. The officer in charge of the security guards ordered his men to holster their weapons and the two groups sized each other up, neither wanting to make the first move.

Jackson took a deep breath to force away the bitterness he felt at being placed in this situation and said, ‘Councillor Dillon is letting grief at the death of his son dictate his actions. As such, I do not recognise the authority of the Brimfield Council in the matter of my arrest, or that of Hanson Forsythe.’

‘But he’s not a warden. He’s a half-breed.’ The official pointed at Hanson, clearly not wanting to return to council chambers empty-handed. ‘Councillor Dillon is well within his rights to order his execution.’

‘Hanson is a valued member of this Ward. There are no half-breeds here anymore, only wardens. You’re not arresting anyone. Not today.’ Jackson turned his back on the official and faced his wardens. ‘What are you lot doing standing around? This gate isn’t going to repair itself.’ He pulled the hammer out of his belt and moved back to the section he’d been working on. With Dillon out for his and Hanson’s blood, they were going to need a secure perimeter more than ever.

Two

Justice scooted to the side of the corridor to allow a warden carrying a large box of supplies to pass. Once the way was clear, she continued up the stairs that led to the level where wardens of higher rank were roomed. Her thighs burned, muscles trembled, breath came in puffs by the time she reached the landing. No one was about as she made her way to her and Jackson’s room and slipped inside.

Jackson had declined the use of the captain’s suite, and the room they’d originally shared had been damaged during the first attack on the headquarters. He and Justice were using a smaller suite set aside for visiting wardens, giving them a measure of privacy in a crowded space. All Brimfield wardens were now housed at the headquarters, the garrisons abandoned, as well as over two hundred half-breeds. It made for a tight squeeze, but the desire to stay close outweighed the discomfort.

Not that any of them had time to lounge around in their rooms. With so much to be done to get headquarters operational again, before she and Jackson led a team to Harlington to spread Hannah’s vaccine, everyone was doing their best to help out.

Justice flicked on the light switch, waiting a moment for the flickering to settle before scanning the room. Her gaze fell on the neatly made double bed and she quickly turned her head to ward off the temptation of a moment’s rest. She moved over to the utilitarian dresser on the wall opposite and scooped up the folder containing the neat notes Jackson had made regarding the supplies they would need for the next stage of the repairs.

With the folder in hand she headed back to the ground floor, her legs finding the downhill motion much easier to handle. Stifling a yawn with her free hand, she gave the folder to Sergeant Casey Saunders. ‘Here you go.’

The auburn-haired warden looked her up and down, a frown creasing her brow. ‘Looks like you need a break.’

Justice shook her head, a second yawn making her eyes water. ‘I promised Hannah I’d help her in the lab.’

‘You’re not going to be any use to her if you’re falling asleep on your feet.’ Casey’s frown deepened, green eyes narrowing.

‘I’ll rest when everyone else does.’

‘Captain Kyle won’t be happy if you collapse from exhaustion. You’re human. No one expects you to work as hard as the rest of us.’

Justice stiffened. ‘I do.’ She spun around and stormed off before the warden could say anything else, and this time the water in her eyes was not caused by tiredness.

She might be human, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t work just as hard as any of the wardens or half-breeds. She might not have the extra strength or stamina that came from their enhanced genetics, but she could still do her part. She didn’t need to be coddled. Just over a week ago she had been impervious to harm, secure in her role as the living embodiment of Gaea’s justice. She’d given her life so the power of Gaea’s judgement could be channelled through Jackson’s body, curing him of the freak virus. Her sacrifice had given the world hope of a future free of the freak virus, and after her resurrection she had been filled with joy.

Now, that joy seemed like a distant memory. Being human meant being vulnerable. But she would not let the frailties of her body stop her from doing everything she could to ensure the future she had died for came to fruition.

By the time she reached the lab, Justice had dried her eyes and calmed down enough to give Hannah a genuine smile. Her friend was seated at a gleaming silver bench, with a tray containing empty glass vials sitting in front of her. A second tray with vials that had already been filled with the precious vaccine sat to one side, ready to be transferred to a secure container for storage and transport. The first step to a better future relied on spreading the vaccine Hannah had created using antibodies formed in Jackson’s blood when he’d been cured.

Justice joined Hannah at the bench and began placing the full vials into the slots inside the storage container, while her friend continued the laborious task of filling the empty ones. They couldn’t afford to waste a single drop of the vaccine, needing as many doses as possible to take with them to Harlington.

‘You look tired,’ Hannah said, casting a glance her way.

‘Don’t you start. I’m fine. Let’s just get this done.’

Another yawn loomed, but Justice did her best to not let it show as she continued to place the vials into the container.

She would not let Jackson and her friends down.

Three

An ache had settled into Jackson’s jaw by the time he’d finalised the repairs to the gate. He’d had to stop himself from scanning the street every five minutes, waiting for Dillon’s next move. With no time to waste, he and his crew moved on to the next task on their list, though he left a squad of wardens to watch the street in case of trouble.

That trouble came an hour later, not from outside headquarters, but from the warden assigned to the Communications Room.

‘Captain Kyle,’ the young warden said, a sling on his left arm, ‘we had an incoming request for a video conference call from High Command. General Nigel Butcher wishes to speak with you in five minutes.’

Jackson followed the warden back to the Communications Room, where he input the code to allow access to the room set aside for confidential communications. The general was already seated in the corresponding room at High Command, glaring at him through the black-and-white screen.

‘What the freaking hell is going on with you, Kyle? I’ve got some arsehole councillor stirring up trouble here, and with the Over-Council, claiming you and your wardens have broken the charter. He’s calling for all of your heads.’

It was a deliberate effort for Jackson to not tense up or clench his hands into fists, conscious of the general’s hard eyes on him. ‘It was all in my report, sir. We had to bend the charter in order to save the human citizens, but we did not break it.’ He’d had to be circumspect in his report, to protect Justice, but what he had revealed should have been more than enough for the general to understand the situation.

Butcher’s eyes narrowed. ‘You really expect me to believe every one of them was turned into a freak and some little half-breed bitch cured them?’

Jackson’s nostrils flared at the insult to Hannah, but he managed to keep his voice even as he said, ‘Yes, sir. The cure is real, as was the threat posed to the citizens of Brimfield.’

Butcher rubbed his chin. ‘A claim like that has to be verified before it is made public knowledge. The wardens I am sending to relieve you will ascertain the truth of the matter. As will the investigation into the complaint raised by this councillor. Once Captain Landry takes command of the Brimfield Ward, she will see to it that you are treated fairly until all investigations are completed.’

‘Sir, while I understand the need to investigate the veracity of my report, it is not necessary to send Captain Landry. Geoff Anderson is more than capable of taking on the role of captain.’

Butcher dropped his hand and fixed his eyes on Jackson. ‘At this time, your request for Lieutenant Anderson’s promotion to captain has been denied. There has been enough upheaval in your Ward without adding an untried captain to the mix. Once we get this mess cleared up, you are welcome to resubmit your request.’

Jackson bit back a curse, not looking forward to having to tell Geoff another captain was going to take over his Ward. ‘What about the other promotions I submitted?’ He’d performed field promotions on a number of his wardens during the battle with Callaghan, and in the aftermath, to ensure the chain of command ran smoothly.

‘Those have been allowed to stand, for now. Captain Landry has orders to interview all Brimfield wardens to determine their performance status once she arrives. Until then, you and your wardens are ordered to remain within headquarters. Do I make myself clear, Kyle? You are not to leave Brimfield under any circumstances until such time as the investigation into this so-called cure is complete, and you have been cleared of breaking the charter.’

Jackson stiffened. ‘I understand, sir.’

Though the thought of being confined to headquarters chafed, he hadn’t planned on taking the cure to Harlington until after the repairs were completed. Landry should arrive before then and hopefully the investigation and performance review would be completed quickly.

His optimism took a blow when he emerged from the Communications Room to be told a mob of humans had begun to gather in the street outside the newly repaired front gates.

Heart thudding as he scaled the ladder, the sounds rising on the other side of the wall had him gritting his teeth. He reached the top, the wardens on guard duty moving aside to give him an uninterrupted view of the seething mass. Shouts filled the air as a lone human paced in the space between the gates and the mob. Jackson couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the angry mutter rising in the wake of his words suggested it wasn’t in the Ward’s favour.

‘Bunch of ungrateful bastards,’ Hanson said when he climbed onto the walkway, a bitter twist to his mouth. ‘We should have let them all rot.’

‘They’re scared. Angry. Looking for someone to blame. Seeing as the surviving members of Callaghan’s group fled town, we’re the only ones left to point the finger at.’

While he could understand their confusion, Jackson was just as bitter at the way those the Ward were charged to protect had turned on them. It seemed they’d clutched at Dillon’s lies about it all being a Ward trick like a lifeline, not wanting to face the darkness they now knew resided within the souls of every one of them.

‘If they want someone to blame, they should be looking to the members of their own council,’ Hanson said. ‘It was Dillon and his freaking son who let Callaghan get his hooks into this town in the first place. It’s not our fault they got turned into freaks. We saved them.’ He shrugged, his face losing some of its hostility. ‘Well, most of them.’

A large contingent of the Brimfield council’s security forces moved amongst the angry mob, the red stripes on their dark grey uniforms clearly visible. From this height it was impossible to tell if they were there to settle the situation down or stir it up. Knowing Councillor Dillon, the latter was more likely. A shiver swept over Jackson, aware this was just the beginning. Dillon would not stop until he had made the Ward pay for his own sins.

He turned away from the unsettling sight of the angry mob and scanned the activity on the parade ground in front of the main building. Wardens and half-breeds worked side by side to repair the damage caused in the three attacks instigated by Callaghan. A short time ago, the presence of half-breeds in the Ward would have provoked anger and division, the long-held prejudice between the two groups fostering an air of hate any time they were forced into proximity.

Now, having fought and bled together, wardens and half-breeds had thrown off the old prejudice and managed to accomplish an extraordinary number of repairs in two days. Each one of the people Jackson claimed as part of his Ward had been determined to scour away the visible signs of battles that had seen many of their comrades fall.

All for nothing.

There would be no peace for any of his people if they remained in Brimfield. Councillor Dillon would see to that. General Butcher had ordered them to remain at headquarters until their relief arrived, but to do so would be suicide. He returned to the Communications Room.

‘Put me through to High Command,’ he said to the radio operator. ‘I need to speak to General Butcher urgently.’

The operator turned to his console, only to shake his head a moment later. ‘I’m sorry, Captain, I can’t raise them.’

‘Keep trying,’ Jackson said as he headed out the door, aware he couldn’t afford to hold off until the sporadic communication network was working to put his plan into action. Even if that meant disobeying a direct order.

The mob at the gates was not going to go away. The situation would inevitably worsen, anger spilling over into action, and Jackson knew they didn’t have time to wait for the wardens General Butcher was sending to relieve them, or to get permission for the order he was about to give.

But what of those they would leave behind?

He looked left, to where neat rows of fresh graves lined the ground near the main building. Simple white crosses proclaimed the dead as warriors, warden and half-breed alike, who had fallen while protecting the citizens of Brimfield.

Would any of the misguided humans currently massing outside the gate care that the dead wardens and half-breeds had given their lives for them? Would any of them harbour enough guilt for their part in this travesty to tend the graves once the Ward was no more?

Jackson pushed these thoughts aside as he made his way to the nearest ladder, calling out for Hanson to follow him. His focus had to be on the living.

The moment his feet touched the ground, he scanned the parade ground for Geoff’s familiar wide bulk. He was sure to be in the thick of the repairs, using his prodigious strength to work alongside the wardens under his command.

His gaze fell on Justice, deep in conversation with Hannah, both with their backs to him. Justice immediately spun to face him and waved him over. The bond between them, forged when he’d been compelled to take on the role of her bodyguard, allowed them both to sense when the other was near. He was no longer able to feel her emotions, but didn’t need that to know she was exhausted. She’d been working just as hard as the rest of them, refusing to accept the limitations set by her human body, despite his assertion she didn’t need to prove herself to any of them.

‘Hannah has completed another batch of vaccine,’ Justice said the moment he and Hanson were in earshot, a tired smile lighting up her beautiful brown eyes. ‘Another couple of weeks and we’ll have more than enough to vaccinate everyone in Harlington, as well as cure one thousand freaks.’ She waved a hand at the ongoing repairs. ‘This should all be done by then, so we won’t be leaving Geoff shorthanded when we take some of his wardens with us.’

Jackson did his best to keep his voice and expression neutral, conscious of the many ears listening in. ‘Where is Geoff? I need to talk to him.’

Colour draining from her face, Justice stepped closer, her gaze searching his as she asked in a low voice, ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

‘I’ll tell you what’s wrong,’ Hanson said. ‘That idiot councillor has got the whole town worked up. I’m surprised you can’t hear them. They’re at the front gates right now, practically calling for our heads.’

Down here, surrounded by people sawing and hammering, the sound of the mob was muted to a murmur. Justice’s brow creased as she looked toward the main gate. Her hand reached out for Jackson and he took it, pulling her close.

‘I think Geoff is in the truck depot,’ Hannah said, face as pale as Justice’s. ‘Least, that’s where he was half an hour ago when I let him know the next batch of vaccine was ready. I’ll need you to come to the infirmary so I can take more blood before I can get the next batch going.’

Jackson managed a smile for the young woman who had created the cure that had eluded human and Ward scientists for generations. ‘Sorry, Hannah, but that’s going to have to wait until we get to Harlington. We’re leaving Brimfield tomorrow. I want you to pack up everything you need to make your vaccine and get it loaded on the trucks as soon as possible.’

Justice’s hand tightened around his. ‘If we leave tomorrow, it will take twice as long for Geoff and the others to finish the repairs to the Ward, and we won’t have enough to vaccinate all the citizens of Harlington.’

No longer trying to hide his unease, Jackson said, ‘We won’t be finishing the repairs. It’s time to evacuate.’

Four

Questions crowded Justice’s mind, but she remained silent as she followed Jackson to the truck depot. He had enough to deal with without her adding to his burden.

She bit her bottom lip as she considered the coming move. It had been the plan all along, for them to take the cure to the rest of the world. Harlington was the closest town, making it the logical choice to start. But Justice had not forgotten the brief time she’d spent there before moving on to Brimfield. She’d witnessed half-breed children being beaten in the streets by gangs of human youths, and had been stopped from helping by Jonah Smith, the mercenary compelled to protect her. He’d been killed by freaks moments after they’d arrived in Brimfield and Jackson had taken his place.

So much had happened since that day. She finally had the chance to live a normal life, no longer constrained by a destiny chosen for her by someone else. She rubbed her palm, the faded birthmark marking her as the Earth Goddess Gaea’s living scales barely visible. But while the mark might disappear, her memories of what she had witnessed during her years travelling the world never would. Nor would she forget those who had given their lives so she could fulfil that destiny, whether because the bond had given them no choice, or