How’s class going?”
Mr. Preppy rolled his eyes, fingers still buried in Bentley’s fur. “Crazy. And the headaches aren’t helping.”
*Bingo.*
This was her third college campus, and she finally got a nibble. Careful to stay casual, she forced herself not to fiddle with Bentley’s collar. “You probably need more sleep.”
He shook his head. “That’s just it. I’ve been sleeping constantly. I think I’m just burnt out.”
*No, you’re being poisoned.*
Chelsea flipped the wheel of the lighter. A single yellow flame burned in the growing twilight. It flickered in the ever-present wind but didn’t die.
The only signs of civilization were the blue ones on the side of the highway. They told of food and shelter, but Chelsea wanted neither.
Her breath arrived in a great shuddering gasp that she let out in something that streaked between sob and shriek. Frantic calls came from the house as she crushed the paper in her hands.
Chelsea slumped against the porch, staying out of the crowd. She still felt like she would puke. She wasn’t really watching monster hunters gather excitedly to learn how to use polearms. Instead, all she could see, over and over, like some sick commercial on a loop in her head, was Amber bolting from the car while the words “I love you” stuck in Chelsea’s throat.
The usual stench of Boney’s haunt seemed heavier tonight. The sweat of hunters, the reek of cigarettes, and stale beer, it clung to the skin on normal nights. Tonight, Chelsea imagined it soaking into her hair.
Welcome back! Chapter Three: Chelsea and Bentley starts today!
Bald, pale, red-eyed, and razor
teethed, the vampire blurred out of focus as it ran across the dimly lit
parking lot.
Chelsea pushed the gas pedal of her car all the way to the floor, aiming for where the reaver would be. She hit the vampire in the back, sending it flying into the brick wall of the condemned apartment building.
The raw light of day rubbed at her red eyes a moment before Chelsea realized she was awake. She promptly fell off the couch. As she stumbled to her feet, the strangeness of her surroundings hit her.
This was not the brick and concrete apartment she shared with Amber. The dark faux-wood paneling should have tipped her off much sooner. She took a step and nearly fell again. Leaning against a recliner, Chelsea realized that she was drunk.
Chelsea breathed in the heady fumes of the oil paints. She had finally finished her reference outline. It had taken months. Much longer than she had spent with Jackson Hawk in real life
Music pulsed throughout the warehouse apartment, rattling the high windows. Chelsea barely heard it. All her concentration was focused on Amber. The other demon hunter stood taller, weighed more, and had no idea what fighting fair might possibly mean.
