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.
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Chelsea stretched in the sand, luxuriating in the heat on her skin, and water on her legs. That the sand was imported to create a fake beach for a hotel that shouldn’t exist in the desert heat, didn’t bother her. For once, she let herself spend some money and enjoy it. She did feel a little guilty that her dog was locked up in their hotel room. But most likely, Bentley was stretched out on the bed and napping peacefully in the air conditioning after his morning walk.

Behind her Jack chuckled. “How do I order one these drinks?”

“My card is on file, so just flag down a server and charge it to the room.” Chelsea sat up. “And order me a piña colada.”

“Can do.” Jackson Hawk waved cheerfully at the poor girl in heels, dressed all in black despite the sun overhead. Chelsea hoped the summer uniforms were more weather appropriate. She made sure to leave a big tip for the server, just in case.

As they sipped their drinks in the sand, warm water lapping at their legs, Chelsea’s phone rang on the small table they had dragged over. “Hey Rita.”

Rita Green’s native yinzer buzzed through the speaker “Yinz ready fer the next job?” 

Chelsea stood, drink in hand, and headed for a lounge chair. “You know, I think I’m going to have to pass this time.”

“Why’s that, girlie?”

“Because I wasn’t sure why you were helping to begin with and I’m still not.” Chelsea took a long drink. “And I don’t like being in debt to people I’m not sure of. So, I’m going to stop digging this hole and get out now.”

Rita sighed from the east coast.  “Like I said, you don’t owe me nothin’. Yer helpin’ me and my friends out.”

“Funny, they seemed to think I was odd for coming out this time of year.”

“Yeah, I told ya that too.” Rita snorted. “It ain’t the right time for tourists, so most hunters go else where. But that just means folks that live out there is short-handed when something does pop up, and somethin’ always pops up.”

“Right.” Chelsea closed her eyes. “Sorry. I don’t like feeling railroaded, though.”

“You and every other hunter I’ve ever met.” Rita paused then took a deep breath. “But ya don’t owe me, either from before or now. You helped out m’friends. And if yer done, yer done. No hard feelins.”

“Really?” She opened to eyes to Jack’s concerned frown. She waved a hand at him. She was fine.

“Girlie, I’m just here t’help get hunters t’monsters. If ya don’t want that help, that’s on you.”

“Then I’ll talk to you next time I’m make it into Pittsburgh.”

“Ya better.”

She hung up with a feeling of satisfaction. Standing up to Rita Green had been much easier than she thought.

Jack sauntered over, still a little worried. “You really told Rita you were done?”

“Yup, and we’re still on good terms.”

He took a long drink. “She’s good people.”

Chelsea shrugged. “Sure. But she’s really pushy.”

“Everybody who runs a hub is at least a little pushy.”

“Florence isn’t.” 

“From the Blind Bronco?” Jackson’s incredulous tone held laughter at her obtuseness.

Chelsea paused and thought back to her last visit to South Dakota. “At least Florence knows how to be pushy without pushing buttons.” At least, she had the ability. The girl could also put you in your place without batting an eye.

Jackson let out his laugh, but didn’t continue to argue. “Now what?”

“Now we relax for a little while.” She sauntered down to the real sand at the fake beach and stretched out in the desert sun. Jackson waved to the waitress as he joined her. 

The next few days were a blur of sun, sand, booze, and Jackson. With no monsters on their list and nowhere pressing to be, Chelsea let herself enjoy Jackson as she’d never really been able to before. To her relief, he was just as earnest and enthusiastic for downtime as for hunting. 

He fell into walking Bentley with her in the mornings and evenings and took the dog’s feeding schedule to heart more than she did. They ordered food in, avoided the casino like the plague it was, and played giant chess on well-watered grass.

She couldn’t say how long they stayed in the fugue state of living in a resort, but it was less than a week when she got another call by the pool with the fake beach. Jackson’s eyebrows went up when she snatched the phone. 

But that phone number couldn’t be ignored. “Hey asshole.”

“Hey princess.” That tone. Oh, she knew that tone.

“What’s the job?”

Keegan chuckled, low and dark. “Kindermord.”

“Kindermord?”

Jackson sat up fast, sand and water arcing as his eyes grew hard.

Chelsea nodded back. “Whatever. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

Keegan sighed. “Can you wait a day to head out? My sister and Kate will be gone tomorrow, and we’ll have the house to ourselves for a few days.”

“Can do. I’m poolside in Vegas. Another day won’t kill me.”

“Lucky you.” Keegan’s laugh was lighter this time. “See you two in a few, then.”

She met Jack’s eyes. He was coming with her. There was no doubt of that. But she had to give him the chance to refuse. 

He nodded to her.

“Us three.”

“Three? You finally track down Amber?”

She swallowed, knowing his reaction. “Yes, but it’s Jackson who’ll be helping us with this.”

Keegan giggled, high and quick. “Oh, I want this story.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, asshole.”

“Love you too, princess.” He hung up laughing to himself.

Jack’s face serious and sharp cut off her usual amused, annoyance with Keegan. “Why are we waiting on a kindermord?”

Chelsea shrugged. “Gotta wait for the non-hunter and her baby to leave the house for the weekend.”

Jack accepted this with a nod. “Somebody has their head on right. Who is it, by the way?”

“My old partner, Keegan.”

“Tall, thin, dark hair, caustic as hell?”

She nodded. 

Jack beamed. “Keegan’s good. This should be a cakewalk.”

A feeling of contentment settled her as she relaxed into the sand. Vacation was nice and all, but it was time to get back to work.