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  War

  The Calling Series

  Kim Faulks

  Copyright © 2018 by Kim Faulks

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Also by Kim Faulks

  She’s got Pestilence in her basement.

  He’s bound, gagged. His blood slick on her hands.

  His touch warm on her body.

  And he’s calling the others…the three riders she’s hunting.

  War is coming and she’s not ready…She doesn’t think she’ll ever be ready.

  But she’s been given a mission—a Calling to her tainted soul.

  Lamb, Pestilence calls her.

  But she’s no Lamb.

  She’s a Lion.

  Her name is Harlow Morgan, and she's the last hope a dying world has left.

  **This is a Post-Apocalyptic Reverse Harem Series filled with danger, lust, and dark romantic themes.

  Acknowledgments

  This book is dedicated to my readers. Thank you for your unwavering support. For letting my imagination go wild and coming along for the ride. You kick ass.

  When He broke the second seal, I heard the second living creature saying, “Come.” And another, a red horse, went out; and to him who sat on it, it was granted to take peace from the earth, and that men would slay one another; and a great sword was given to him.

  - Revelation 6:3-4

  1

  Fear made the bed tremble.

  Heavy drops of rain smacked the window. I lifted my head to the splatter and stared into the dark as a low canine whine cut through the room at my right.

  “Just a shower,” I murmured and dropped my hand to the cold nose. “Nothing to worry about.”

  But the whine never eased, instead deepened into a guttural snarl. She didn’t like it, not the thunder, or the rain.

  I dropped my gaze, finding the outline of her body in the dark. “Come on, settle down. Go back to sleep.”

  The vicious growl eased back into a whine before she quieted. I ran my hand along her body, finding the hard ridge of thick scars, and dropped back against the mattress.

  But sleep betrayed us, leaving me adrift, listening to the roar of the storm above us as Angel stared at the window.

  Storms came and left.

  By tomorrow it’d be yellow infernal skies once more.

  The storms I could handle. The skies I tolerated. But there was an ache in my chest…the ache of loneliness. The ache of being abandoned.

  In the midst of Armageddon.

  She settled with a grunt and a moan, twisted, gnarled ears pricking every now and then before she dropped her head against the blankets with a muffled thud.

  But the rain didn’t ease, even hours later when the air turned sullen and foreboding. I blinked, yawned, and eased along the mattress until my feet slid from the bed and touched the floor.

  The dull flare of pain shot through my belly. I winced, flattened a palm against the muscle. This wound was slower to heal, weeks bordering on a month…too long.

  Gray, lifeless buildings were a blur behind the rain. I took one look at Angel’s closed eyes and shoved up from the bed.

  Cold kissed my toes as I moved closer to the window. I lifted my hand, and pressed the tips of my fingers to the glass. There was no glint of the sun, nothing but sullen clouds and more rain.

  I shuddered, and then wrapped my arms tight across my chest. The weather changed so fast now. Yesterday was searing heat and today was frigid…the complete opposite. There was a whine, and then a yawn.

  “Don’t you start,” I said, moving to the bathroom, giving Angel a glare. “You hog the bed, and the damn blankets.”

  I moved into the bathroom, stepped out of my underwear, and used the toilet. I planned on pushing west today, moving through a bank of buildings I hadn’t searched before.

  After three years of plague, storms, and destruction, there wasn’t much left. Canned food had become scarce. Medical supplies now replaced gold.

  It was strange how fast I’d learned to adapt…how the smallest, most insignificant things I once took for granted were now the line between life and death.

  Antibiotics were sacred, sutures, and sterile bandages were blessings. Food was out there, you just had to work to get it.

  I rose from the toilet, grabbed a bucket filled with water, and washed it down. Water and shelter were the two things I had in spades. I lifted my gaze to the ceiling…four levels to be exact.

  This place had been my home for as long as I could remember, one I’d shared with my mom, dad, and younger sister, Sarah. Now all four floors were mine.

  Mine to protect.

  I reached for a washcloth and dunked it into the water. The thin bar of homemade soap smelled like pond scum, still I lathered the cloth and washed.

  Thunder roared far above and I shuddered. Food and weapons weren’t the only reason I’d brave the weather.

  Not anymore.

  There was a new threat now.

  One that kept me awake at night. One that made me scared.

  I dropped the cloth beside the bucket and walked into my room. Angel slowly climbed to her feet, stretching and shuddering. “You ready for this?” I murmured and reached for clean underwear and then clean jeans and a shirt. “The thunder will mask our sound, but it’ll also mask theirs.”

  She snuffed and shook her head. Bedsprings moaned under her weight as she climbed from the bed and jumped to the floor.

  I grabbed my boots and headed for the front door. The chain was silent as I slid it aside and cracked open the door.

  Angel snuffed and pushed her head through. I’d come to trust her more than myself nowadays. Trust her smell, trust her instinct—I stepped through and closed the door behind me—trust her faith.

  The sudden boom of thunder made me flinch. But it was the roar of water through the pipes that held my focus.

  Angel barked, and then snuffed. She didn’t like the storm, didn’t like the unpredictability. “Me neither, girl. Me neither.”

  I yanked on my boots and tied the laces, listening to the rush of water. The thick black pipes weren’t originally part of the building. They were manmade…my dad’s greatest act of survival.

  Only he wasn’t around long enough to appreciate it.

  I straightened, listened for the low growl as Angel snuffed and grumbled, making her rounds through floor after floor, only to find me as I hit the last stair.

  Thick boards barred the main entrance to the building. It wouldn’t stop a bomb, but it was sturdy enough to keep out others who tried to take what was mine.

  Rivulets ran along the outside of the pipes. I stepped closer and reached out. Icy water skimmed my fingers and kept running, all the way through the ruptured concrete floor to the basement below.

  Down there, the water filled the tanks.

  Down there…I stared at the floor and then wrenched my focus away. Down there was a predator…

  The faint rattle of chains echoed…it was just a trick of the mind—a game my head played.

&
nbsp; It played a lot of them lately.

  Too many.

  Angel gave a snuff and clawed at the side door. I followed, gripped the handle, and yanked. Darkness waited, hunkering like some unwelcome guest.

  I’d grown accustomed to that gut-clenching feeling of dread, grown accustomed to taking a blind step of faith and plunging headlong into the unknown.

  I reached for my side, where thick wounds were still healing. I stepped into the tunnel and found the brick wall with my fingers.

  Chains rattled in the basement…a little louder now.

  I tried to focus on the rush in the pipes, and Angel at my feet…anything but the chink and the drag of heavy links.

  Anything but the thought of…him.

  I followed the tunnel, slowing at the fluorescent marker and the small table. My hip smacked the edge as I reached out, skimming fingers across the dark blur of boxes of ammunition and sheathed knives.

  Smooth leather stopped my fingers. I gripped the belt and swung the end around my waist. Metal buckles clashed, ringing through the air.

  My heart leapt. I stilled. Breathed…and waited.

  The sudden clash of metal on metal made me flinch.

  “I know you’re there,” the faint voice called through the basement door. “Please…please, Harlow, listen to me. I can help you. If you just listen to me, I can help.”

  I swung the belt again, and this time I caught the end, snapping the buckle in place. The firearm was next, sliding the steel into the holster, followed by the magazines and two knives, before I reached for my waterproof jacket and then my pack.

  Food, water, and a first aid kit would be all I’d carry. Even with that, I’d struggle. I bent low, grabbed the handles of my pack and rose. The pull was hard, clenching weakened muscles.

  I slipped my arms through the straps and straightened.

  “It’s not safe out there, Harlow.”

  I closed my eyes with the truth in those words. My boots were stuck, weighed down by fear. But there was no place for fear…not in this place…and not in this world.

  “Harlow…” His voice echoed, blending past and present. I gripped the strap over my shoulder and reached for the door as his scream tore free. “Harlow!”

  My heart thundered as I gripped the bolt and slid it across. The gap was small. Angel squeezed herself out first, before I yanked the hood on my jacket low and followed. I’d heaved metal sheeting and positioned them like a dumping ground.

  The faded yellow CDC banners were next, warning of infection. The building had never been condemned—even if it had…it didn’t matter. I couldn’t get sick…couldn’t end this.

  I shuffled my steps and slid free of the rubble to stare at what was left of the city.

  Some of the buildings were still standing, but most had been destroyed. They were shells. Gray, lifeless shells with smashed windows and shattered frames. This was what remained of my world.

  But I couldn’t leave the city—I lifted my head to the faint green on the edge of the horizon—as scary as it was here…out there was terrifying.

  Angel snuffed and trotted ahead, leaving my sight for a second. I curled my shoulders and pushed forward, weaving my way along the side streets to the familiar blocks to the west.

  Every day was a new part of the city, taking longer and longer to get there, and even longer to get back. Some days I carried more than I should. I sucked in a breath and felt my side ache—but out here pain meant little…when survival was at stake.

  Angel was a blur in the downpour, spearing ahead, only to stop and paw at a pile of rubble. I curled one edge of the hood around my ear and kept walking, listening to the thunder and the rain, and kept west.

  The faint crack of gunfire echoed along the streets behind me. Food and drugs weren’t the only reason I headed west now. East led down to the city center, to the train stations and then the harbor. East was dangerous…more dangerous now than ever—especially for me.

  The Lost Boys and The Mighty were out there, hunting new prey.

  Me.

  They wanted someone to pay...pay for the death of their loved ones, pay for their hunger, their pain—their loneliness.

  But the true reason was it was all of our faults.

  Every single one of us.

  We did this, we brought this on ourselves.

  If I closed my eyes for a second, I could see her…her bright eyes, curled mouth, twisting as she laughed…Kenya…her name ran inside my head. She’d been a friend…someone good left in this world. Someone who’d wanted to help.

  And they killed her. I can still hear the screams, calling for blood…calling for blood. Still feel that cage around me, still hear the chains. They locked us in there, pitted us against each other.

  And only I survived.

  The crack of gunfire echoed once more, but this time there was a boom. I stopped and turned, scanning the gray skies, and found the faint puff of smoke in the distance. They were bombing, tearing down buildings one by one.

  It started the day I woke in my bed…the day I carried chains into that basement and locked him in there. The day I made a decision; the decision to survive…and stay sane.

  I stared at the tiny tendril of white smoke and then turned away. I knew what they were looking for, and they hadn’t found it.

  For if they had, I wouldn’t be here. I pushed harder, risking pain to lengthen my stride. I needed to be stronger, needed to be faster…needed to give myself more time…

  Time to make a plan. My fist clenched, pulse sped. Most days, I tried not to think about it…tried not to let my imagination run away.

  White smoke drifted into the sky in the distance.

  But it wouldn’t always be that way.

  Sooner or later, my luck would change.

  And I had to be ready. Ready to run…ready to fight.

  Angel was a blur of movement up ahead. I tugged my hood low, and then stopped at the torn metal bars. Glass crunched under my boots. I scanned the darkness inside, my hand slipped to the hilt of my knife. “Angel, here girl.”

  She stilled, turned her head, and then headed my way. The knife came out slowly and stayed by my side as Angel sniffed, stepped up to the open doorway, and then slipped inside.

  I’d seen other dogs out here, ones scarred and hurt like her. But they ran when I neared and the sight of that hurt my heart. I followed, catching sight of the busted door just inside.

  The place was a mess, busted shelving lay strewn on the floor. Machines that required power were broken and forgotten, most still in their boxes. I knelt and yanked aside blood pressure machines and breathing masks to the plastic underneath.

  Perfect pink caught my eye. I dug my fingers through, catching the shaft edge of the plastic cover, and yanked it free. It was a toothbrush, Peppa the Pig, still perfectly intact. I lifted the knife and cut, working the tip all the way along the side before I set the blade on the floor. “Looks like we have a winner,” I murmured and lifted my head.

  Angel just stood there, watching as I peeled the plastic free and captured the small AAA batteries.

  In the panic, people missed things, important things…things they didn’t need at the time…but they would now. I threw the rest aside and worked on the next, cutting and searching.

  I’d become a scavenger, picking at the bones of the life I had so long ago. The life I took for granted. The life I’d give anything to have again.

  Angel gave a sniff, and then moved away, bored with watching me. She was all I had in this world. The only one who loved me…my family was gone now.

  Mom, Dad…Sarah.

  All I had were the voices in my head, and the memories…always the memories. That dull ache settled deep inside me. I pursed my lips, grabbed the blade, and pushed to a stand.

  A shattered mirror sat crookedly on the wall. Dark hair and dark eyes stared back at me. A stark contrast to the perfect blonde hair of my sister and Mom…different, alone.

  “Let’s go, girl.”

  In
a way, I’d always been alone. Alone when I came into this world…

  And now.

  Dad told me the story of the day he’d found me only once. After that, he said he’d speak no more about it. That in his mind, and in all their minds, I was theirs and that’s how it would stay.

  Thunder snarled and grumbled above. Angel gave a whine and kept on sniffing and searching. Dad told me the day had started out much like this, but it was cold…bitterly cold when he turned up for his shift as a police officer on the coldest damn day of December and found a wrapped bundle in front of the door.

  His eyes lit up when he told me. I could still see the shock, still feel the panic as his fingers trembled. It was a baby…a little girl left out there in the cold.

  It was a miracle I survived, he told me. A miracle. He rushed me to the hospital and into the arms of the first nurse he found.

  A nurse named Hope…the woman who’d become my mother.

  They ran all their tests…days’ worth, he said. Hope stayed with me, sitting beside the crib with the name baby Jane Doe #15 printed on a tiny pink birth card.

  And in the end, I was given the all clear.

  I was perfectly healthy, dating my birth days before…December twenty fifth, Christmas day.

  They searched for my mother. I couldn’t quite remember how long he said, days, weeks, searching every hospital and shelter they could find all the way up to the border, but when days turned into months, they gave up.

  No one came forward to claim me. No one but two very special people—the police officer who found me, and the nurse who cared for me.

  They met for coffee, dad said, both wanting to discuss my care, and the rest is history. I was theirs...body, heart, and soul, and so started our little family.