Are you okay?” She hadn’t meant to ask, but the question slipped out.
He shook himself. “Yeah. Just. Stuff. You know.”
“Oh, believe me, I know about “just stuff.” I’m comprised of about ninety percent “just stuff”.”
“My ride won’t be here for hours yet.”
“That’s not fair.” She wiped at her face. “It’s not enough time.”
“Time for what?” He smiled, low and gentle. “To convince me to stay? Or for me to beg you to leave with me?”
“Either.” She sucked in a breath, but her chest still felt too tight. “Both.”
The second day of the storm had Chelsea pacing the hotel room. There were five steps between walls. The only five steps she had. She’d been walking them since she woke up.
He shuffled over, eyes bright and smiling. Chelsea’s stomach bottomed out. The man had tried to lie about his name and had done so poorly. Like many new hunters did. Yet he had beheaded a fairly big monster in moments. He moved a bit like the older people she hunted with, smooth and precise. But Rick had… an edge. He was so much faster… better than anybody she’d ever seen.
Chelsea fished her glasses out of her coat. When she had secured hers, she reached into her coat again for a pair of shaded goggles. They fit Bentley perfectly, and he didn’t attempt to shake them off to her relief.
Keegan paced in front of her, long, thin legs eating up the distance between the dark headlights. The other monster hunters stood around in shifting groups of denim, flannel, and leather. Nobody talked much, and all the laughter was short and sharp in the ever-blowing prairie wind.
Taku-He turned deeper into the prairie.
Oh no you don’t!
Thought and action came at the same time. She floored her car once more; the wild bouncing briefly bringing on fear for her suspension, and overtook the monster.
The only constant was a sense of belligerent purpose. They were a people who knew that they were lucky to be alive, and they intended to press that luck yet again.
Chelsea and the rest of the hunters try to save Alex and Tiggy from the nightlings. The hunt is on!
A light rain pattered on the gravel of the parking lot, but the whistling wind promised a storm. Chelsea leaned back in the seat of her car, studying the boarded windows of Boney’s haunt.
She’d been inside a handful of times before she’d decided not to hunt monsters. Dark, dirty, and usually full of surly hunters, it was the natural place to meet and discuss the reaver hunt.
Words That Burn Like Fire 