This is a series of short stories, detailing the adventures of Chelsea Childling. You can start with her origin story or pick something from the index.
***

On a dark, desert highway, a cool wind ruffled Chelsea’s hair. They’d been in the car for hours and this was the third stop on their list. 

Jim joined her, his black braid blending into the night. “Your friend, Andy, he really knows what he’s talking about?”

Chelsea held in her sigh and kept her eyes on the stars. An endless field of them stretched before her. “Yes. He’s a city hunter, but he’s good at what he does.”

Jim shook his head and let his sister, Kristin, continue his doubts. “How is this any different from what our parents did?”

She let out the sigh. “I asked Andy the same thing. And he reminded me that your parents didn’t go as a team. We are. We also know that La Llorona is a phantasm, which your parents didn’t.”

Jim snorted, and Kristin pursed her lips, but the last human member of the team chuckled. Jackson Hawk eased himself onto the hood of her car. “You all also have me.”

Jim huffed before flouncing back into the car. Kristin crossed her arms and glared. “And who are you again?”

Jack beamed at her. “The best damn bait in the world.”

Kristin rolled her eyes before joining her brother in the backseat. 

“You aren’t helping, Jack.”

He slid off the hood, arms encircling her waist. “Nothing will help those two except killing La Llorona. You know that.”

She nodded before burying her face in his shoulder. “At least there’s only one La Llorona.”

“Maybe.”

She backed away at his skepticism. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that sightings go back hundreds of years and all over old Mexico. So, just one monster?” Jack shrugged. “Doesn’t seem that likely to me.”

Chelsea stared out at the stars again. “I never considered that. She was a ghost.”

“But she isn’t.” Jack shrugged. “Look, this happens all the time. You think you know what you’re up against, but then you get into it and the monster is bigger, badder, and stranger than you thought.”

She nodded, thinking of more than a few hunts that got out of hand. “That’s true.” He grinned wide and bright in the darkness. “Tell me about the hunt. What was bigger than you thought?”

She gestured to the car and their partners. “You know about the nix, so I’ll tell you about the nightling in Seattle.”

She talked as they drove on to the next stop, watching the roads for any sign of La Llorona. But no women in white showed up on the side of the road that night. Nor the second night. The third night, they circled back toward Tucumcari through the black velvet of the desert night.

It was on the fourth night, not far from where they stopped before, that Jackson spotted the woman in the white dress. 

A field, only distinguished from the desert by the barbed wire, stretched into the darkness, but the woman’s dress, bright white and flowing, glowed in the night.

Chelsea pulled over, and they watched the woman pace the field. While her dress lifted and fell, it didn’t match the wind that dried the sweat on Chelsea’s forehead. 

Finally, Jackson grinned over at the rest of them. “Guess this is where I come in.”

“Jack…” Chelsea tugged at his sleeve. “Please, be careful.”

“I’m the bait, right?” He shrugged. “How careful can I be?” And with that, he ducked under the loose wire and walked towards the glowing woman. “So, I hear you don’t care for guys who sleep around. I’m trying to get better about that.”

La Llorona stopped pacing and cocked her head toward Jackson.

He held out a hand as he took a few more steps. “Name’s Jackson Hawk, by the way. And you are just gorgeous in the moonlight.”

The woman in white seemed to fuzz as if she was about to disperse in the wind. Then she snapped back into focus and screamed, raising her hands toward Jackson.

Jack backed up a step. “So, do you have a phone? Or am I going to have to ride around in the dark looking for you every time?”

She screamed again, and Chelsea’s body moved on instinct. She pulled her axe as she ran. Chelsea slid under the barbed wire, rocks digging at her jeans, only vaguely aware of the sounds of Jim and Kristin on her heels. She was on her feet and swinging before La Llorona could step towards Jack again. The phantasm didn’t look away from Jackson, even as she floated away from Chelsea’s blade.

Kristin’s axe right there though, flashing through the dark. La Llorona shivered as she backed away. But Jim had already darted to Chelsea’s other side, his normally pleasant face twisted up into a rictus of hate.

La Llorona screamed again and lifted into the wind.

“Oh, fuck you.” Chelsea barely registered her own words before she jumped and wrapped her arms around La Llorona’s knees. There was little substance to the phantasm, but somehow, she held on and crashed onto the ground, grinding her knees on stone.

The woman in white struggled, pushing her hands against Chelsea’s head. The long nails dug at her scalp and face, but Chelsea didn’t let go. “Someone kill her!”

It was Jack who left the ground, spinning, his leg flung out. He caught the phantasm in the chest. La Llorona shuddered and seemed to gain weight. Chelsea slammed the monster into the hard-packed, sun-baked earth. 

Jim and Kristin appeared on either side. Jim grabbed La Llorona’s hands and stretched out her arms. 

“For my mother, you bitch!” Kristin screamed as she hacked at the phantasm’s wrists. 

La Llorona howled and struggled, but Chelsea refused to let go of the phantasm.

Jackson scrambled to his feet, axes appearing in both hands. He skittered over to La Llorona’s head and brought them down. There was no sound except the dry squeak of metal grinding around dry earth. Still, La Llorona’s struggles weakened, and she gasped. Chelsea dared to loosen her hold enough to look up. 

A white mist appeared from La Llorona’s throat and the stumps of her wrists. The phantasm seemed to be trying to breathe, but all she could do was gasp and flail.

Chelsea let go and scrambled to her feet. She watched with the others as the woman in white slowly bled out mist, losing the shape of her features. After a time, the mist was gone and so was La Llorona.

Silence stretched tight in the field, until Jim dropped to his knees, crying out in a language Chelsea didn’t know. Kristin joined him, though she stayed silent. Only her face, shining wet in the starlight and eyes screwed shut, gave any sense of her feelings.

A warm arm circled Chelsea’s waist. She leaned into Jackson and waited for her friends to finish mourning.