Jackson scratched at the huge mutt’s silky black ears. “Amber… did she ever tell you about her family?”
Chelsea took a deep breath and thought back. “She mentioned she was very young when they died. Too young to remember some of the food her parents made.”
He winced as he studied Bentley’s ears. “She was seven. Just seven years old when the demon lord slaughtered her family.”
They both studied the darkness between apartment buildings. The wet autumn had driven most of the denizens to warmer and drier spots. They’d paid for a hotel for the old woman they’d found here earlier in the night.
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.
Chelsea scrambled out of her car, pulling off her beanie. It had been well over a year since she’d seen Amber, but it felt like a lifetime. She wasn’t sure she was recognizable as the person Amber knew, the failed debutante turned artist, but her bright red hair was freshly dyed.
. “How long do you think you’ll be in town?”
Amber shrugged. “Boney’s place comes with a reaver hunt attached. So at least until that’s done. Two, maybe three days, and then a week at the apartment.”
“Reavers?” Chelsea winced even as she said it. She’d sworn off monster hunting.
Amber, bless her, didn’t even flash a knowing look as she answered. “A type of vampire. Like the exact opposite of a nightling: animalistic, solitary, and ugly as sin.”
Words That Burn Like Fire 