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.

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Stale grease and burnt cheese accompanied Jackson’s voice in the cheap hotel room. The bed was barely big enough for the two of them and Bentley, and Chelsea took some comfort in the closeness of Jackson and her dog. She knew she’d need both before the night was over.

Jack took a deep breath, his chest expanding under her. “Have I ever told you about Charlotte?”

Chelsea took a moment to place the familiar name. “No, but Andy mentioned her.”

Jack’s body stiffened for a moment before he settled back on the bed. “Charlotte saved me, and lots of other kids. She found us on the street, taught us how to hunt, and gave us a safe space. Usually an old warehouse, or whatever, but safer than anywhere else.

“She wasn’t…  She talked to people and things that weren’t there and could be a little… well, crazy in other ways. But she loved us and made sure we knew it.” He sucked in a deep breath and his voice took on a lilting, feminine quality. “Every day is a lesson, and every person is a blessing.”

Chelsea found a smile. “That’s a nice thought.”

“It’s a way to survive.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “When you have nothing and no one, you have to find your lessons and blessings, every day.”

She squeezed his arms, tears rising. She been loved, dearly, by her parents; indulged and even a little spoiled by them.  Her chest ached at the idea that Jackson Hawk had never felt that loved until a random homeless person took him in.

He cleared his throat. “Charlotte’s work with us, taking care of kids, got attention from the wrong people.”

“Cops?”

“Minions.”

“Oh.”

Jackson’s voice grew hard and dark. “See, homeless kids are great for nightlings. No one misses them and they are strong enough to fight back And now, Charlotte was removing a valuable food source from the area and teaching us how to recognize and fight nightlings.”

Andy’s voice rang out in Chelsea’s head. She could hear his usual sarcasm in full force as he rolled his eyes, telling her about Jackson’s past.

She died. Horribly.

Jackson’s fingers dug into her shirt, twisting it tight. “She got word of a new nit in the neighborhood, a big one. We started staking it out, learning their patterns.” He sucked in a deep breath. “And while we were out, they came for her at the safe house. And not just nightlings, but a full on demon lord.”

“What is a demon lord?” She rubbed at his arms, willing him to find some comfort.

He relaxed a little, enough to stop stretching out her shirt before snatching her closer and tighter. “Some of the more… humanoid monsters, when they live long enough, they develop powers. Stuff unique to them. There aren’t many, but that means a nightling that might be immune to sun or…”

She waited, letting him collect his thoughts. When he still didn’t speak, she gently prompted, “What power did this demon lord have?”

“Hell hounds.” He swallowed hard, his whole body jerking with the motion. “He summons and controls hell hounds.” Hot tears dampened the collar of her shirt. “He waited until we got back to kill her. Had her strung up on the wall and we came in…” He stopped and took several breaths before he continued. “And when we came in, he had the hell hounds tear her apart.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah.” Jack tightened his grip on her again, his voice muffled as he spoke into her hair. “Then he set the hounds loose on us. Most hell hounds are solitary. They don’t like each other. And one of them is bad enough. He had at least a dozen.” Jackson gulped a breath. “Only five of us made it out that night, and all thanks to Andy.”

“Andy?”

“He had the sewers around the warehouse mapped out and memorized. He got us out.”

Chelsea gave a silent prayer of thanks and made a mental note to buy her friend dinner next time she was in New York.

Jackson’s tears slowly dried, and he kissed her neck. “Andy saved us, but he couldn’t save Charlotte. And I couldn’t let her go.”

“What do you mean?”

He sat up then, taking her with him. She stayed on the bed as Jackson threw himself to his feet and began pacing. “I saw it, her, every time I closed my eyes, every time I tried to sleep. I heard her screaming at us to run, to leave her there.” He stopped, eyes wide and pupils dilated to hell. “All I wanted was to kill the monster that I had taken her from me. It was an obsession. Food tasted like sawdust. Sex or killing monsters was about the only was I could sleep, for years.”

He shook his head and paced again. “Andy did his best after that to keep us all together. But the others drifted away, eventually. Charlotte was Charlotte, everybody loved her, but Andy…”

Chelsea smiled despite the moment. “Andy is not everybody’s favorite flavor of wine spritzer.”

For a moment, Jackson smiled back at her. “I love that you two get along. I kind of need it.”

She nodded, finally, truly understanding why and how Jack and Andy were friends.

His smile faded as he took up his pacing again. “I stuck around New York, because he was there, but I… hated…” He stopped and sighed, before sinking to the floor to sit. “I hated that he wouldn’t help me hunt that fucking demon lord.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

He grinned. “You really are still a newbie at this.”

“It’s been almost two years, Jack. Perhaps if you had stuck around to teach me…” She smirked attempting a joke.

HIs grin melted into a wince regardless. “Demon lords are… old and powerful. Nearly impossible to kill. Andy won’t help me because he considers that particular hunt to be the same as suicide.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe.” Jackson shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now, anyway.”

“Why?”

 He studied the floor. “I left you once. If he’s right… I won’t do that to you again. Not on purpose.”

“On purpose?”

He crackled a laugh. “We hunt monsters. I can’t guarantee you that I’ll survive any given night, but I’m not going to fight a demon lord on my own.”

A shiver ran down her back. “On your own?”

Jackson sighed. “And that brings us to Amber.”