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.

***

Pink clouds lined with gold sat tackily in the sky as Chelsea and Morgan finished their clam chowder, feet dangling off the pier.

Morgan sucked in a deep breath. “Is Jackson coming with us?”

Chelsea held her sigh. She knew Morgan didn’t like many people, and tried not to be offended on Jack’s behalf. “No, he’s keeping Bentley at the hotel for me. Little monsters tend to end up as chew toys, and that’s always worrying.”

“Yeah, no monster bits for doggies.” The forced lightness in Morgan’s voice thudded into the ocean below them. 

Chelsea let out her earlier sigh. “Jack’s good like that.”

“Yeah…”

She side-eyed her old hunting partner. “What?”

“Nothing.” 

“Right.”

Morgan stood with a huff. “I’ve… heard about him, okay? And I’m allowed to be worried for you.”

A laugh bubbled up in spite of Chelsea’s annoyance. “I assure you, all the stories about him are true.” She took Morgan’s hand and help to get to her feet. 

Morgan’s frown said more than words. “I thought you were looking for Anna or Amber or whoever.”

“Her too.” Chelsea shrugged. “Jack’s okay with it, so why are you giving me shit?”

“Whatever.” Morgan hurried for the car. “We have some lake monsters to kill.”

Chelsea followed the GPS without further conversation as she battled Seattle traffic. Neither she nor Morgan were inclined to talk just to hear themselves, and their silence was comfortable despite earlier. Chelsea might not agree with Morgan’s conclusions, but she understood them. It wasn’t like she didn’t know all the same stories or hadn’t stressed about them in the beginning.

Eventually, they left the inching snarl of cars for their exit. Once they were off the highway, the evergreen forest swallowed them. Chelsea barely noticed night falling amid the trees.

The patch of dirt that served as a parking lot had no lights, and the sounds of lapping water came from the dark. Chelsea popped her trunk and deposited her finger overcoat. Water monsters and suede did not mix. As Morgan grabbed the light and generator, Chelsea stretched and readied herself.

Morgan eyed her. “Why are you bait again?”

“Just used to it at this point.” She snatched a broom handle empty of bristles from the backseat, and a bag of herbs. “And Keegan gave me a few pointers on using a staff.”

“You have the weirdest hunter friends.”

Chelsea winked. “Yup.” 

Morgan’s laughter followed her down to the lake. There was no sign of the little bastards, but they were about to fix that. 

As Morgan set up the light, Chelsea dumped the herbs in the water and started stirring up mud. She stomped around, pushing her broom handle into the silt. Soon the waters were dark and opaque, nothing visible even with the flood light Morgan had running.

Chelsea splashed over towards a decent sized rock. She climbed up, fighting for good footing with wet boots. Once settled, she poked at the muddy waters with her makeshift staff. Time passed, maybe minutes, maybe seconds, but eventually, her broom handle found more resistance than mud. “Got something!”

“Might be a fish.” Morgan warned.

Chelsea grabbed the pole in both hands and gently waved it through the water, arms tense. The slightest jarring had her lifting with the staff. Something greenish brown, with more limbs than it should, flew towards Morgan and the light.

Hissing came from the banks, but Morgan darted over, ax slashing through the air. Chelsea nodded to herself and fished through the dirty water for another small monster. She found it quickly and flipped it into the air. 

This time, it just went up and then slammed back into the water.

“Shit. Sorry!” Chelsea called.

Morgan snickered. “Those were great tips, huh?”

“Shut up.” Chelsea grinned, though. “Why didn’t we get fishing gear? There are better tools for this.”

“Things you could have said before now.” Morgan snorted. “And this was how I was told to do this.”

Chelsea swept through the waters again and found another little monster. She managed to flip this one onto the bank. “I think this might be some kind of hazing or prank.”

The only response was a grunt as Morgan beheaded the monster.

“Also, the assholes out here tend to be under prepared,” Chelsea continued, staff already in the water. “Don’t be afraid to run their plans past me, or even better, call Bart and George.”

“Fuck, I do miss them.” Morgan grinned, wistful and happy for a moment. “Those two old bastards could plan a hunt.”

So it went for the next few hours. Chelsea found a lake monster and Morgan killed it. Once they had a few dozen, Morgan called it quits. Apparently, they had met their quota.

Chelsea stomped through the water once more and finally got a good look at the little monster. Greenish-brown, with six legs, and webbed, clawed feet, they just seemed like big newts to her. “What makes these things monsters? The amount of legs?”

Morgan shrugged. “Apparently, it’s a cycle. These things just show up in this lake every ten years or so. And they can get big enough to eat people and the claws are super septic. The Seattle haunt organizes quotas and stuff. Meeting mine helps me build my reputation.”

Chelsea rubbed her eyes. “Nothing just “shows up.” There are eggs, spawn, adults… something. No such thing as spontaneous generation.”

Morgan only laughed and shook out the giant garbage bag.  “Monsters and magic, remember?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Chelsea huffed a sigh before grabbing a carcass and shoving it into Morgan’s bag. Cleaning up took another hour, and by the time they had all the bits of monster bagged, Chelsea realized she was cold, wet, and smelled of the lake. A dark mood settled over her as they headed back to the city. 

Morgan sat in similar silence until they pulled up to Chelsea’s hotel. “Why are we here?”

“Does whatever abandoned building you’re squatting at have running water?”

The answering snort said no.

“Then come and get a shower. We both stink.”

They trudged up the metal stairs to the second floor room. Jackson opened the door as they approached. “I think Bentley heard your car.” He gestured to the room. “Pizza is cold, but there’s a lot of it.”

Morgan darted for the bathroom, a frown deepening before the door closed. But Chelsea breathed deeper and reached for Jack’s hand. “I’m gross. Don’t hug me, but I missed you.” And she had. She missed the easy laugh and back up, no matter her mood swing. She’d missed the warmth of being around him.

He grinned and squeezed her hand for a moment before tugging her to the chair. “Eat. You must be starving.”

Morgan’s shower lasted mere moments, to Chelsea’s shock. But she found little patience at her own turn under the water. She had information to get, and a bitchy hunter to find.