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.*** The badly lit hotel room was dirty. Not in the well-used and loved sense, but in the Chelsea-very-much-didn’t-want-to-take-off-her-shoes sense. She sighed and pulled her feet onto the bed. The […]
Twilight brought twinkling lights and absurdly suggestive slogans at the roadside attraction. The place was famous for its risque name, and fudge, and lived up to the touristy promise of the billboards. All of of four stores and bawdy signage; the sheer over-the-top nature of the “town” overloaded Chelsea’s sense of maturity and she giggled as she contemplated buying a t-shirt.
All annoyance fled as she looked into deep brown eyes under unruly dark curls. “Morgan!” She flung herself at her former hunting partner. “I thought you were out of town.”
Morgan squeezed her back. “I was. Just got in.”
“Like we said back at the bar, winged, flying spiders. Guess we forgot to mention the barbs that shoot a paralyzing agent that can stop your heart. And there’s at least five of them down there.” He rolled his eyes and snorted. “Some idiot wanted ‘real fairies’ for his daughter.”
“That’s so… stupid.”
“And yet, it happens every few months.”
Andy looked between them. “You got a hunt without me?”
Amber shrugged. “I heard something at that shithole restaurant. I just didn’t act on it. Figured we could do some recon. See if there’s any there there.”
Their banter got sharper with the wine, but Chelsea bathed herself in the warm moment. Her last few months on the road had been lonely.
“Most banshees are pretty harmless since they don’t actually kill with screams. This one, however, has been credibly seen at several suspicious deaths.”
“How do we kill it?”
“My, aren’t we blood thirsty?”
She grinned at him, showing more teeth than was friendly.
“I’m not about to judge someone. Well, not unless they are actively out to kill me. Not only would the nuns have shit to say about that, but I’m the queen of bad decisions. If there’s a shit option, that’s the one I’m going to choose.”
Laughter broke through Amber’s desperation. “Not making me feel better about this.”
“Let’s get this over with.”
“I thought you said not all hedge doctors were bad?”
Chelsea glared at the building. “Who says this is one of the good ones?”
Chelsea grabbed Amber’s arm. “Stop, it’s a kid.”
Andy’s voice crackled through the earpiece. “A kid?”
Chelsea nodded to thin air. “He’s scarred and pale and weak.”
Amber glared and slammed a hand on the closing doors of the elevator. “He’s a minion.”
“The ginger is right.” There was no silk or velvet in Andy’s voice. Just pure carbon steel.
Words That Burn Like Fire 