Scavengers: Collection - Books 1-4 (Zombie Gentlemen) (m/m zombie steampunk erotic romance) (28 page)

“God.” He scrambled over the windowsill to join them. He pushed the ladder away from the window as hard as he could and lunged towards the door as soon as he saw more undead in the darkened corridor. The sheer force of his large body knocking into the wood sent some of the monsters back, but Ira could feel something soft between the doors. It was a half-rotten hand with only three fingers.

“There’s not many of them left!” yelled James with a bloodied dagger in his grip.

The gray-haired man charged forward and hit the stray hand with a heavy, brass ashtray. The monster tried to yank it back, but instead of sliding out, the hand fell off under the force Ira was applying to the door.

“Lock it! Lock it!” The gray-haired man screamed bloody murder. Ira nodded and turned the key, examining the door, but it looked solid enough to hold for a few minutes.

“To the corridor!” James helped the women up and guided them through the other exit, one that was safe for now. Only a second later, he turned around to face Ira, still tense and sweaty. If it weren’t for the dark spots of zombie gore, Ira would be tempted to lick his salty skin. “Where’s Lady Shelley?” James asked with sudden realization.

Ira looked into his eyes and paced to the window. He closed the blinds without looking down. “She fell.” For a moment, time stopped and their gazes locked, but James said nothing.

“Oh no,” whimpered Emma, holding Henry close but she didn't hesitate to leave the room. Katherine took hold of her husband’s arm, breathless and disoriented. If someone asked Ira, he would say more air wouldn’t hurt her. She would get it too, if only she agreed to take the corset off, but for some reason, she was outraged by the idea. Prostitutes and paupers were far less petty.

“Let’s go,” James said with a shake of his head. It seemed they were the last ones to get through to the shelter.

James led them down the corridor, which turned out to pass into the skyway between two buildings Ira saw outside. It was such a relief to reach the safety of the Palace of Westminster at last and Ira hadn't realized how worried for the Hursts he was until now.

At the end of it, in the dim light of the dirty windows, they saw two guards who instantly looked their way. They wore elegant, red jackets and black trousers.

“Lord Brown.” One of them saluted the gray-haired man.

Ira caught Henry’s gaze when the boy looked back at him over the shoulder of his nanny. He was still sobbing in terror at what he just witnessed and Ira smiled at him

“Tough day, soldier, huh?” He tried to lift Henry’s spirits. The boy had to know sailors did not cry.

Henry bit his tiny lip in an effort to toughen up as was expected of him when Ira realized that James was arguing with the guards.

“Only family, sir,” said the one who had addressed the gray-haired man as 'Lord Brown'. Ira sighed, looking over at Emma’s tensing face. There was no denying that neither of them looked chic enough to be a family member. He raised his hand to touch her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. Before he opened his mouth to tell her she would be safe with him, James broke their quiet exchange with an outraged yell.

“This is my family!” James spat and Ira noticed his arms shake, all tense.

“There is not much room, sir. We are not allowed to make exceptions,” the guard told them, not without pity. Katherine looked back at the two servants, her wide eyes shifting between them and her husband.

“Will you let my son’s nanny die out here?!” She came at the guard, breaking his personal space to look him straight in the eye.

Ira swallowed, slumping a bit. He got far too secure in his new position within James' home, but he should have known better. Privileges did not extend over the thresholds of the Terrace Mansions.

“Sir, I will be all right.” He looked at the back of James’ head. God forbid James got in trouble with the King... or someone like that.

The guard hesitated, glancing at Emma. “The nanny can come, but the other servant has to stay,” he muttered eventually.

James shot a look back at Ira. “No, it will not be ‘all right’!” He turned back to the guard. “Do you even know who I am?! If any of you want to ever work here again, you will let through my
whole
family!”

“Sir--”

“No! Not just here. Anywhere. If you don’t help us all now, you can be sure I will remember your faces...” he finished in a whisper, looking at the guards all around.

Ira’s jaw dropped at this sudden outburst. He’d never witnessed James being this aggressive, let alone threatening someone. He was certain he could keep himself and Emma safe, even if they weren't inside a building, but the way James stood up for him made him feel something he couldn't pinpoint. Was it awe? Gratefulness? Love? Probably all of these emotions and many more. He swallowed hard.

The guard listened to James with a sour expression on his face and Ira understood. His pride was being stomped over by someone of higher standing and there was nothing he could do about it. Tense and red-faced, anger withheld, the guard moved aside and let them through.

“Good grief, Hurst,” muttered Lord Brown when the other guard, the one who didn’t utter a word during the whole exchange opened the door for their party.

“That’s no business of yours, Lord Brown!” Katherine cut into the conversation, agitated. She glanced back at Ira, but as soon as their eyes met, she broke the connection and went into the building.

The never-ending howl of sirens was broken by gunshots somewhere below the bridge, but none of them looked down, hurrying to enter a narrow staircase. It was far less grand than Ira expected; it had to be meant for lesser staff.

“Are you coming, darling?!” Katherine called out, already halfway down to the level below them.

Ira swallowed, his eyes fixed on James’ head as they ran down. He always thought the parliament would be more glamorous than this, but then again, it didn’t seem like they were going through any of the main corridors.

“Everyone here? Everyone fine?” James looked back, as they went into a passage so dark that Ira could barely see anyone. The lower they were however, the louder he could hear what he presumed were sounds from the shelter. Crying children, agitated laments and a loud, male voice that pleaded for everyone to calm down.

“Is that the shelter?” he asked James when they spotted a yellowish glow looming from behind the curve of the corridor.

“Yes, we are almost there.” His lover let out a sigh, before they went down one more corridor and entered a massive windowless space, with a ceiling so low Ira got the impression it was about to crush them. It was semi-dark and bland, with no decoration whatsoever except for a small portrait of the King on the wall to Ira’s left. The room was relatively narrow, but it ran deep, reminding Ira of a cellar, despite the lack of an earthy smell. Groups of well-dressed people, mostly women, children and very young looking men, rested on blankets or mattresses laid out by the walls. Most of them tried to remain calm, comforting each other with touch and words, but Ira could see that not all children could be convinced to stay quiet. Despite all efforts, however, tension was thick in the air, soothed by the efforts of uniformed staff who distributed tea, biscuits and towels as many guests hurried through the dusty streets without masks. Ira noted how well-trained those men were to have a soothing smile for everyone when their own families had to be somewhere out there, beyond the safe walls of the shelter.

It certainly seemed that this was the safest place. The other lords and men of power had been discussing the attack upstairs, so as not to disturb the ladies’ delicate sensibilities.

Ira moved out of the walkway, expecting James to give him some kind of instruction. At least no one seemed to pay any attention to him. After Katherine, Emma and Henry were settled in their privileged space near the furnace, James came straight back to the door where Ira was waiting.

“Come with me.” James gave him an unsettled look and Ira felt his stomach knot.

“As you wish, sir,” he answered for the ears of the guards, following James back into the corridor. He was eager to provide any help he could, but his lover’s expression didn’t look promising.

“What if the city doesn’t survive?” James whispered and grabbed Ira’s hand when they were once again swallowed by darkness. Ira felt as if air was brutally pressed out of his lungs, shocked at the closeness.

“Why wouldn’t it...” he trailed off, giving his lover’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“It is hard to judge the extent of the attack. Is it just a district? A few streets? Or is all of London already swarming with beasts?” James reluctantly let go of Ira as they turned a corner into a wider, more elegant corridor lit by small windows in the ceiling. Ira noted the decor was masculine and fashionably modern, with wooden panels on the walls, embellished with symbols of the new age: clockwork mechanisms, wings and tools.

Ira guessed they must have been in the newly renovated part of the palace. Amid the chaos caused by first victims of the Plague, some sections of the building had been badly damaged as a result of street fights and looting.

“We
are
safe here,” insisted Ira, willing to lift at least some worry off James' shoulders. Surely, no zombie could ever go through such thick walls, and even if someone were arrogant enough to somehow smuggle them inside, there were far too many guards around for the ghouls to enjoy a long non-life.

James led them up a staircase fitted with a thick, green carpet. “I think so too. But there is a limited amount of supplies. We can all stay here two months at best.”

Ira laughed with relief. Two months was plenty of time to make plans if the worst happened. Ira wouldn’t have to fight for his life this time, and for that, he was grateful.

“If that ‘appens, I won’t let ya all be ‘armed.” He dropped his version of a polite accent with relief.

James rubbed his forehead and then his eye, clearly exhausted. Ira smiled at the gray dust on his lover’s usually immaculate face and watched James fish out a key from the inner pocket of his jacket.

“We will just have to deal with whatever is coming our way.”

Ira glanced at the large, wooden door, one of many in this particular corridor.  “That ya office?” he inquired.

“Yes... I just,” He looked back at Ira, while opening the door, “want to spend some time with you before we join the madness upstairs.”

Ira felt a tremor run down his spine as his eyes met James’ gaze. He swallowed hard, moving his hand to gently touch his lover’s hip. It was just the two of them and he took another step closer, sliding his hand under James’ jacket to cup his side. Sweat and dust created an uneven, gray coat over the handsome face. Ira bit his lip, needing to taste the grime on his tongue. For a brief moment, his mind filled with images of him licking James clean, soothing every inch of skin with his lips.

“I understand,” he whispered, following his lover into the office. It was dim, as the heavy outside shutters blocked most of the light. Piles of neatly organized documents lay on a massive desk to their side, signifying the amount of responsibility resting on James’ shoulders. Ira licked his lips, taking in the conservative decor. This room reminded him of the office James used at home. It had the same coloring and the two armchairs in the far end of the office looked an awful lot like James' favorite seat in his drawing room.

“I talked to Katherine.” James locked the door with a loud clank.

“About?” Ira moved closer, brushing the back of his hand over James' back. He still needed to thank him for speaking up for him by the entrance and as soon as he thought about that, the knot in his stomach reappeared out of nowhere.

James strolled over to his desk and lit the large oil lamp. It gave the room a warm, orange glow, making James’ hair shine like threads of gold.

“About her and me... that maybe we are not suited for one another.” These words seemed to cost him a lot of effort. It wiped the smile off Ira’s face.

“Ya did?” Ira moved closer to pull him into an embrace.

“Yes. And it seems that, in a way, our feelings are alike,” said James, wrapping his arms around Ira’s neck.

“That’s good.” Ira hugged him and moved his nose along the side of his lover’s neck, savoring his musky scent.

“I wish I could tell her.” James gave in to the caress and trailed his fingertips along Ira’s spine.

“What, ‘bout
us
?” Ira pulled away at arms' length, warily scanning his relaxed face. He never thought James would even consider that a possibility.

“Yes, to share my happiness." James leaned in to give him a soft peck on the cheek. His lips were dry and puckered after the exhausting run, but Ira still found them irresistible.

“Ah, my boy.” He laughed, playing with his hair. “Ya share it with me.”

“You have taken over my heart.” James smiled at him, gliding his hands down Ira's back and onto his buttocks. Ira groaned, pressing into him, yielding to his touch as he seeked James' lips for a hungry kiss.

Sucking on his lover's lips, he tasted sweat, dust and James' unique flavor as their embrace became frantic. James kept kneading his ass, moaning into the kiss as if it was the best thing in the world. He clawed his fingers into it and pulled Ira up with a low grunt. This was something entirely different. Ira tightened his grip around James when he realized his lover tried to lift him off the ground despite the size disadvantage.