humanity, he was a monster. Just like them.
Chapter 20
After making a stop at the warehouse Colt had already arranged to serve as a holding cell for their new pawn, Colt rejoined Andrew and they got on their way.
The drive to the Plague Doctor’s address was longer than Colt had expected. Or maybe it merely felt that way. According to the GPS, they were making good time, but every mile felt like it was drawing him closer to some point of no return.
As if there was any going back from holding a relatively innocent person hostage. At least, she was innocent in this regard.
The closer they got, the more rural the scenery became. It was beautiful, really. Exactly the kind of place Colt had always imagined he would retire to one day: vast farmlands, spotted with cows and horses. Quaint barns and homes dotting the landscape like some Bob Ross painting.
In the back of his head, he could hear Jason jeering at him for his lack of artistic sophistication. He couldn’t tell a Jackson Pollock painting from the back of a cereal box, but as long as he got to see Jason again, he would happily put up with all his pretentious mockery and never complain again.
“Is this it?” Andrew asked doubtfully as they turned down a heavily wooded road.
“Road” was perhaps too generous of a word. It was more like a path carved out by the few but insistent travelers who had followed it over the years.
“Has to be. Unless Mrs. West is fucking with us, which is entirely possible.”
Andrew made a sound of discontentment, but he kept driving. “We shouldn’t drive the whole way,” he said suddenly. “I’ll park the car in the woods.”
“Good idea,” said Colt. He got out while Andrew parked and surveyed the surroundings. He wasn’t sure exactly what a Plague Doctor was capable of, beyond blasting ghouls to dust, but there was a damn good chance Vaughn knew they were coming. They hadn’t been ambushed yet, which he knew could either be a good sign or a really fucking bad one.
Colt pulled one of the two machetes he’d brought along for the ride out of the back of the car and offered one to Andrew. When he saw the doubtful look on the DA’s face, he said, “That gun’s not gonna do shit against him.”
Andrew reluctantly took the machete and followed Colt into the woods, hugging the path without being out in the open. “There has to be a more efficient way of getting rid of you bastards.”
“If you find one, let me know,” Colt said dryly.
Andrew snorted.
They were walking quietly, but still making too much noise assuming the Plague Doctor had any amplified senses. It seemed likely, considering Colt did in his other form. He was prepared to shift at any moment, but wanted to conserve as much energy as possible until he knew what they were up against.
To Andrew’s credit, he didn’t show a hint of fear. Then again, maybe that was just his hubris.
“Stop,” Colt said suddenly, throwing his arm out. “I heard something.”
Andrew paused to listen. He turned to Colt, scowling. “You’re fucking with me—”
Before Colt could deny it, he heard another sound coming from behind. He spun around to find a man watching them from the path. A man who definitely hadn’t been there a split second earlier.
Great. This thing was either lightning-fast or he could teleport. Either way, they were fucked.
All he could think was that he was glad Ronnie wasn’t there with him. Peter was one thing. He already knew Ronnie existed, and if he was particularly determined to get him, he would find a way. As counterintuitive as it felt, letting Ronnie come along when he arranged the drop would probably make him less of an interesting target to Peter. It was obvious the more dear he held something, the more the little bastard sought to use it against him.
“Stay behind me,” Colt ordered, raising his machete.
“Chivalrous, but I wasn’t going anywhere,” Andrew said flatly, his gaze locked on the ghoul.
He had to be the Plague Doctor, but he certainly didn’t look like one. He was a tall, willowy middle-aged man with long, stringy brown hair and perfectly average features. The only remarkably ghoulish trait he possessed was the fact that he didn’t look like a ghoul, which Colt knew just upped the odds, considering how much his own kind liked to blend in.
“Hello, there,” the man said in an unexpectedly pleasant tone. He didn’t have any