What Are We Hunting, Tonight?
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.
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.
“These things are nearly as long as Bentley, if not as heavy, but it’s not their size, it’s their poison.”
“Poison?”
Andy nodded. “These are what’s known as a scourge. Get bit and you die, or you turn into a rat.”
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.
When Chelsea had been told there was going to be a hunt in the tunnels under New York City, she’d created a mental picture of splashing through damp, dark sewer tunnels with flashlights.
While the air was uncomfortably damp and the walls shimmered with moisture, the floor was mostly dry and bright lights hummed on the ceilings as they passed through.
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Cut the shit. Where’s my monster?”
A few chuckles from the rest of the team answered her before Andy did. “Jess has the map. Just follow her and stay alive.”
Chelsea dutifully followed orders, sheathed her axe, and headed into the dampness under the city.
His frown grew. “I thought you said Bob didn’t kill her.”
“He…” Chelsea sighed. “It’s not his fault that the nix fucked with his head, but he might be wrong, and I can’t leave until I know.”
She pulled out the map Andy had printed for her. It listed potential attacks and areas the nix was mostly likely hiding.
There was an obvious bend to the river where she could sit and wait. “But how do I get out there, Bent?”
The big mutt whined from his bed as his tail thumped.
“I’m looking into Bob.”
“Why?”
Chelsea licked at dry lips. “Because it doesn’t make sense. Kipsies aren’t real, but he thought one was coming. He really believed it. There’s something weird here.”
He took a deep breath. “Don’t take this personally, but you’re taking this personally.”
“Jack…” A shiver ran down her back. “I–”
“I’m worried about you, okay? You almost got killed, and you seem worried more about why the guy did it.”
She settled on the bed next to Bentley. “Something about this feels weird. And I want to know what. There might still be a monster here.”
He carried a coffee cup and settled himself at her table. “Chelsea?”
“You must be Bob.”
He held out a hand. Bentley covered for her, raising a paw to shake.
Bob laughed as he shook with the dog. “So you want to help me with this Kipsey.”