Demon Disgrace (The Resurrection Chronicles #8) - M.J. Haag

Chapter One

I stood under the hot spray of the shower and let myself imagine a lie. In my lie, the world wasn’t irrevocably changed. The steaming water raining down on me wasn’t due to the solar panels on the roof but the work of a perfectly functioning utility grid. And, at any moment now, my sister would pound on the door to demand that I stop hogging the bathroom and the hot water.

I could almost hear her yelling, “Hannah,” as she drew out the last syllable of my name.

Pain pierced my middle. The world I’d once known was gone, and I struggled to endure the reality that persisted. There was no reliable utility grid. There was no sister. The dregs of humanity that remained huddled in fear of the black dogs with glowing red eyes and the infected that wanted to eat us alive. Fear was just part of life now, and yesterday had proved that death always waited just two heartbeats away.

Lovely reality.

I turned off the water and went through the motions of getting ready for the day as if I had somewhere to go. Jeans paired with a cute top. It was an outfit I would have loved wearing before the earthquakes. Now, along with most everything else, I hated it. None of what I put on was mine. Like all the people in Tolerance, I wore what had been collected from the homes the fey searched for supplies. Remnants and reminders from those already claimed by this new reality of fear and death.

And sacrifice.

So much sacrifice. How much more would we need to give before the infected and the hounds were dead?

With a bitter tilt forming at the corner of my mouth, I recalled the tiny ember of hope that had flared to life the moment the fey had appeared. That hope had begun to fade when I realized a simple truth. There were too many hounds and infected out there. And those creatures that craved human flesh would continue to return, day after day, relentless in their determination to kill us all. Yesterday’s breach had proved that. It had also extinguished any remaining hint of hope.

I already knew the end of humanity’s story, and it wasn’t pretty. It would be filled with fear, blood, and death. What then was the point of the continual struggle to exist?

With trembling fingers, I combed through my drying blonde curls then left the bathroom. Downstairs, Emily moved around in the kitchen.

“You look like you didn’t sleep well,” she said, noticing me. “Me neither. I couldn’t stop seeing yesterday.” She lifted the bowl of mush she was stirring. “I’m making dog food meatloaf for Merdon as a thank you. Want to help?”

With a shuddering look at the pinkish mash, I shook my head and fetched my morning glass. The cupboard above the stove didn’t have much of a selection anymore. I was down to vodka. Not my drink of choice, but it would do. The last three fingers from the bottle looked pathetic in my cup. More so after I took a large swallow.

“I still can’t believe how Merdon came out of nowhere like that,” Emily continued. “I mean, I know the fey move fast, but he was almost a blur. Without him there...” She shook her head and flipped the mush into a pan.

I tipped back the rest of the vodka, trying to drown out the memories. It didn’t work. Images from the day before, breach day, flooded my mind.

Hordes of infected had gotten in and stormed the streets of our supposed safe haven. A woman with a huge chunk of her cheek missing had run straight toward Emily and me. Had it not been for Merdon, Emily and I wouldn’t be in the kitchen now. We’d be a headless mass of decaying corpses tossed out in the trees somewhere.

The thought didn’t upset me. After all, that was where we’d end up at some point. What did upset me was another day of the struggle to exist. If not for Merdon, I’d already be at peace.

Another sharp pang of regret and loss pierced me, and I set the empty glass on the counter to double-check the cupboards.

“This is going to take a while to bake,” Emily said, sliding the dogloaf into the oven. “Want to go check on James and Mary with me? They’d probably appreciate the company after yesterday.”

“They’re going to want to recap what happened. I’ll pass.” Frustrated with the lack of alcohol, I closed the cupboard door and