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.

***

Jackson Hawk settled against the headboard, pretending to be calm. His arms rested lightly across his stomach as he crossed his ankles. But heat flashed in his green eyes, and his foot twitched.

Chelsea waited for him to speak. She’d said her piece. He wasn’t going after Amber, or the demon lord that had killed their families, without her. She patted the bed, and Bentley heaved his doggy bulk up beside her. She rested her chin on his silky head and waited.

The silence stretched, thick and sticky in the air, holding them in place.

Eventually, Jack sighed. “She’ll run if you come with me.”

Chelsea shrugged. “Maybe. She also might run if it’s just you. Remember, she left me so we could be together.”

“Sorry.” Red flooded Jack’s face. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

“You had every right to be upset.” Chelsea fiddled with Bentley’s ears. “We still need to talk to her, together.”

“No, we don’t.” Jack uncoiled, launching himself into a furious pace around the room. “I still don’t get what you want from me or her.”

“I just want you both. We’ll work out the details as we go.” She wasn’t sure it was as simple as she made it sound, but Jack didn’t need to know that at the moment. “And considering that we all face sudden painful death, I don’t see why I shouldn’t get what I want.”

Jack snorted. “Spoken like a rich girl.”

She ignored the swoop in her stomach. She was a spoiled, rich girl. 

He stopped pacing to stare at her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just… angry.”

“You didn’t mean the truth?” She laughed. “Jack, I know what I am.”

His smile bloomed across his face. “Yeah, you do.” Tension left him and he settled on the carpet at her feet. “Maybe that was it. You’ve always known who you are. Even when you don’t like yourself.”

“Maybe that was what?”

He kissed her knees. “That was why I fell in love with you. I’ve never… Jackson Hawk isn’t my real name.”

Her eyebrows rose with her sarcasm. “Really?”

“Made it up when I was sixteen. I thought it was cool.” He grinned at her. “I still kinda think it’s cool.”

She laughed as she slid off the bed and into his lap. 

He wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve never known who I am. Only who I wanted to be.”

“A cool, tough hunter. Who got all the chicks?” 

“Cool and tough, yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah, that was about as far as I ever thought.”

She nodded against his shoulder. He didn’t want to discuss his other issues tonight. She’d let him direct this conversation, but she was going with him after Amber. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be tough and cool, especially not when you’re hunting monsters.”

A chuckle from him rocked them slightly. “Isn’t that like hubris or some other sin?”

“Hubris isn’t a sin. Pride is.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

She shook her head. “Stop trying to change the subject. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be the kind of hunter people like to work with.”

He pulled away to look at her face. “What?”

“You want to be tough and cool as a hunter? That generally means being a good hunter, the kind other people want to work with. What’s wrong with that?”

“Because that wasn’t what I wanted.” Shame forced his eyes away from her.

She wasn’t having it. Putting a hand on either side of his face, she pulled him back to her. “Yes, it was. It’s just that you were sixteen and didn’t know how to think of it, except as tough and cool.” She smiled at him. “Maybe this is where parents come in handy, but when I was fourteen, all I wanted was to be a famous artist. My mom kept asking me what I meant by “famous artist”, and eventually I realized what I meant was a good artist. I wanted recognition for being good at what I loved.”

A laugh dribbled out of him, and his voice took a very familiar huskiness. “So you’re gonna play mommy, now?”

She smacked his arm. “You aren’t distracting me or wearing me out so you can take off.”

“Turn about, fair play, blah, blah.” He kissed her neck between blahs.

“Jack, seriously, stop.”

He sighed and pulled away. “You sat in my lap.”

She rested her forehead against his chest. “We go after her, together.”

“No, we don’t.” He kissed her head. “I love you, but you… you needed time to work through what you wanted.” He pulled her closer and his voice trembled. “I think I might need that, too. Amber and I need to get our shit together for you. If we can.”

She pushed herself out of his arms and into the mattress behind her. “Stop the bullshit. This isn’t about me. You want my permission to get the both of you killed while I wait somewhere.”

Jackson’s wide smile held too many teeth to be a happy gesture. “I want to save her. For you. And maybe for me, but I want to save her. But she won’t let me near her if you’re with me.”

Chelsea closed her eyes and just let herself feel. She wanted Jack to be lying, to himself, to her, to the universe. But he knew Amber better than she did, as much as that hurt in the moment. It came down to trust. Did she really trust Jack? That he knew how to help Amber, and keep both of them from suicide by demon lord?

She opened her eyes to a very still, very tense Jackson. He still knelt in front of her, but now his hands sat in white-knuckled fists on his lap.  He took deep, measured breaths that he seemed to be counting. Green eyes met hers, but for the first time, the only emotion in them was fear. 

Chelsea sighed and held out a hand. Bentley shuffled off the bed and laid his head in her lap.

She threaded her fingers into his silky, dark fur. “I can drop you off–”

“At the ferry. It’s better if she can’t get a whiff of you, and she’ll be looking for your car.”

“How d–”

He sighed. “You found her once, and she… She’ll be looking for you now.”

Panic rose. “And she won’t be looking for you?”

“She will be.” He shrugged. “She’ll probably find me first, but she won’t run from me.”

Tears rose, and she buried her face in Bentley’s neck. “Pack your shit.”

“Chelsea…”

She pulled Bentley closer. “Just get ready to leave.”

No noise came from him, but he made no move to comfort her either. 

“Jack, I don’t like this, but I understand. Please… just, get ready.”

He said nothing as he rose to feet and started packing.

Chelsea stayed on the floor, her face pressed into Bentley’s neck, tears flowing.