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

***
The Seattle haunt was exactly as Chelsea remembered. The failing restaurant with its old booths and beat up menus. The same tatty velvet rope blocked non-hunters from heading upstairs. But the waitress had electric blue hair now. And she was way too friendly with Jackson. She kept a hand on his arm as she gushed, “I didn’t think we’d be seeing you again this soon.”

He shrugged and gave her a sleepy smile. “Something came up.”

“Something usually does with you.” The giggle didn’t last as she turned to Chelsea, boredom already creeping into her voice. “The dog can’t come in here.”

Chelsea hoped she was smiling, but all she really knew was that she was baring teeth. “The dog stays with me. Especially here.”

The waitress finally looked at her, taking in the duster she wore as well as the huge mutt at her side. “Oh, it’s you. Head on up.”

Jackson’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing until they were halfway up the stairs. “You never did tell me what happed to you here.”

Chelsea shrugged, taking some comfort in the sway of the leather fringe from her coat. “Some bastard was trying to get in good with nightlings by feeding it hunters.”

Jackson stopped short, eyes wide and head cocked.

“I got lucky and overheard the nightling talking. Got luckier and managed to jump the vampire and then the traitor bastard.” Her lips curled into a sneer. “Fucking hedge doctors owed me a favor after that one.”

“Holy shit.” He shook his head. “Nobody mentioned that last time I was in town.”

Disgust rolled over her and she stomped up the stairs. “Not surprised. Let me do the talking here.”

“Absolutely.” The hitch in his voice stopped her.

“What? She demanded.

Jack grinned. “It’s hot when you’re all dominate and aggressive.”

She rolled her eyes and started back up the stairs before he could see her smile.

Her good humor didn’t last. She hoped Tracy wouldn’t be working. They hadn’t parted on great terms, and the awkward was bad enough without having to find out if Jackson had slept with the bartender as well.  Luckily, the owner, George, was making drinks tonight. The slight man with his greying hair was just like the small, dusty room.  Exactly the same as the last time she saw it.

He eyed her as she stalked over, but a local beer in a bottle awaited her. “On the house.”

She sighed. “No thanks. I’m just looking for a friend.”

“Bentley?”

Chelsea spun, hand on her ax. There was nobody in this city happy to call over her dog.

“Bentley!” Dark curls turned toward the bar, as familiar, low voice full of shock came from the dark tables at the back. “Chelsea?”

Warm relief edged out her disgust with the locals. “Holy shit! Morgan? What are you doing here?”

Before she got an answer, Morgan wrapped her up in a fierce hug. Chelsea returned it, squeezing her old partner just as hard. She stepped back and pushed a wayward curl out large, brown eyes. “I thought you had settled in Pittsburgh?’

Morgan shrugged, shoulders barely moving the huge sweater. “Too close to family.”

Chelsea swallowed her tears of empathy. Morgan wouldn’t want them. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Morgan sighed, then scurried to a table in the back. “What are you doing in town?”

“Looking for a friend.” Chelsea waved to Jack. 

Morgan eyed Jack as they all took a seat. “Another one?”

“Morgan, this is Jackson Hawk. My friend from the phone.”

Jackson smiled and held out a hand. Morgan seemed unsure, but tentatively shook before slumping back into the chair. “So the long, torrid story had a happy ending?”

“Torrid?” Jackson beamed at them. “And long?”

As Morgan’s round cheeks stained red, Chelsea punched Jack’s arm. “Stop it. Play nice.”

Jack snickered. “I’ll let you two catch up.” He went for Bentley’s leash, but Chelsea shook her head. She didn’t like this haunt or these hunters.

He kissed the top of her head and sauntered to the bar without her dog.

Morgan frowned. “Seriously? That’s the guy? Jackson Hawk?”

Chelsea shrugged. “Anything you’ve heard is probably true, but yeah, that’s the guy.”

“Whatever.” Dark curls quivered at Morgan’s headshake. “So, who are you looking for if you two are together?”

“Another old partner. Amber Neil. Tall, heavy-built, Asian, and not a people person.”

Morgan studied the table. “Sounds like Anna.”

Heat radiated in Chelsea’s chest as anticipation rolled her over. “That’s one of her pseudonyms. Where is she?”

A sigh answered. “Chelsea, I’m going to have to ask for a favor…”

Cold shock froze her. “What?”

Jackson looked over at her outburst. She waved him off. Everything was fine.

Morgan sniffed. “He’s attentive.”

“Very.” Chelsea took a long drink, trying to control her anger. “So what the fuck, Morgan?”

Another sigh came from across the table. “Look, I adore you, you know that. But here’s the truth. I’m new in town, and I hate people. This isn’t Pittsburgh. I don’t have Rita and her family looking out for me.”

Sympathy warred with rage. Rita had claimed Morgan as one of her own because of her deceased grandson. Which made Chelsea wonder more about her old partner’s move. Maybe it wasn’t family in Ohio that had been the problem. “So, jobs are scarce.”

“Very.” Morgan picked at the label on the bottle of beer. “I had heard stories of what happened here. People weren’t happy about that guy, but they’re kind of in awe of you. And now they all know we’re friends…”

Chelsea finally understood. “So I help you out, show all these assholes that you’re good at what you do, and then you’ll tell me about Amber?” 

Morgan nodded despite a red face. “I need this.”

While she understood, something in Chelsea felt raw, broken at this… betrayal. She opened her mouth, unsure exactly what she wanted to say.

Jackson didn’t let her. He plopped down next to her once more. “Okay, I listened in.”

Morgan eyed him. “From the bar?”

“No, I snuck over to eavesdrop when Chelsea started to lose her temper.”

“I didn’t–” She snapped her mouth shut when Jack held up a hand.

He grinned at her, obviously trying not to laugh. “And you shouldn’t be mad.”

“I shouldn’t?” Chelsea tried to find it in her to care that Morgan was cowering just a little.

“When you go to Rita’s, does she ask you for help before she gives you info?”

“Yes.”

“And Florence. Does she just give up the bunk for free?”

Heat flushed Chelsea cheeks. “No.”

“Exactly.” Jackson beamed at the two of them. “Face it, my little nun, Morgan asking for a favor in exchange for info is just how it works. Andy and Keegan have spoiled you.”

Morgan frowned. “Nun?”

A sigh escaped Chelsea. “Buy me a beer, tell me about whatever job you have, and I’ll explain the stupid nickname.”

“Deal.” Morgan held out a hand with a small, scared smile.

Chelsea reached over and grabbed it, the last of her annoyance burning away. “It is good to see you.”

A sigh of relief came just before a real smile from Morgan.