The Company of Shadows (Wellington Undead Book 3) Read Free

love and war, my dear, and who is to say which one this is?” The voice sounded more playful now, bordering on the coy.
    “If you expect me to fall for your wiles—”
    “Wiles? Such arrogance! Far greater men than you have fallen to their knees in the face of my charms, vampire. ” Kali’s disembodied tone had changed just like that, shifting to one that was shot through with rage. Wellesley imagined her face, which he had to admit had been the very model of flawless complexion and unparalleled beauty, flushed purple in the wake of her new-found anger. “I have been the wife and consort of gods, and the lover of emperors and kings. Do not think for a moment that I would stoop to sully myself with a mere General, whether he be a Major one or not.”
    “Bless me,” Arthur shot back slyly. “I do appear to have touched a nerve.”
    “Be careful, Irishman. You are playing with fire.”
    “ Irishman? That is true enough. I have been called that before, though not by you.” It had been something that the Tipu Sultan had like to call him during many of the dream-visitations that the two had shared since the potentate’s death at Wellesley’s hand. The vampire General had still not determined to his own satisfaction whether the corpulent little man’s spirit had truly returned from beyond the veil of death, or whether his own subconsciousness had created him as a means of processing its worries and concerns during the idleness of the dream-state; perhaps now he would never know, for on the Sultan’s last visit, he had been about to allude to Kali’s grand plans, only for the goddess herself to banish him with a casual wave of her hand. Wellesley had been preoccupied with the pursuit of the Maratha army ever since, but if the truth be told, he rather missed those visits, and had hoped that the goddess was not punishing the Sultan for his loquaciousness.
    He feared that he was becoming something akin to fond of his old adversary, and the vampire hadn’t realized just how much he would miss the were-tiger’s visits until they had been cut off so abruptly.
    “Your army is dying, vampire. Up there, on the plain above.” The anger of the goddess seemed to have abated as quickly as it had arrived, and her voice now carried a distinct undertone of gloating. “One at a time, your fragile little toy soldiers are being picked off and gobbled up.”
    “You lie. It is your army that has been defeated.” Arthur’s glowing red eyes narrowed. “The forces of Scindia and Berar have been utterly broken. They are fleeing the field even as we…speak, for want of a better term. Do not waste your time with such empty deceptions.”
    Kali laughed, long and loud, the sound pealing around inside the vampire’s aching brain like a church bell being rung by a lunatic. “That may be so, my dear Wellesley, but it seems that you have missed the point entirely. For you see, that is not the army of which I speak…”
    Then it dawned on him. The bodies of the fallen would be rising. In their thousands, if he was any judge.
    And they would be hungry.
    “Every one of your oh-so-precious red-coated little darlings that has been slain this night shall return, his attention fixed on just one thing…”
    “Feeding,” Arthur thought flatly.
    “On the flesh of his former comrades,” the goddess agreed gaily. “Every man that falls, no matter whether he be Maratha or foreigner, shall soon enough join the ranks of my army. As your force is depleted, so mine shall swell. This can only end in one way: your inevitable defeat. Poor, poor little vampire. You have really but one choice left open to you.”
    “And that is?”
    “Burn or starve.” And there it was. Even before Kali continued, Wellesley knew that she was right. “Soon enough, there shall be none left alive for you and your kind to feed upon, vampire…and who shall stand watch over your graves then, when the sun overhead renders you impotent and vulnerable? Already it rises