This is a series of short stories, detailing the adventures of Chelsea Childling. You can start with her origin story or pick any story from the index. *** Whiskey burned, but not enough. Chelsea could still taste ocean salt and Jackson’s last kiss. She signaled for another drink. “Aren’t you hunting tonight?” Worry shaded Morgan’s voice. “Nope.” Chelsea […]
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.”
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.
“Well, there’s no credible sightings of a Kipsey in the local waters. It’s all obvious animals and hoaxes. And Bob has no known history of violence, not even in passing. Like I couldn’t find any unexplained injuries or attacks near his home/business, no missing pets or people either. And he’s lived here all his life, so it would be pretty easy to find this stuff.”
“Good start. Have you talked to any of his friends?”
“No, mostly because it hadn’t occurred to me to do so. This i
It was hard to feel claustrophobic in Seattle, with its wide-open spaces and the saltwater wind in the air. Being trapped in a hunt by a hedge doctor managed to make this clean city with its artwork and parks feel tiny and airless.
Chelsea reached greedily for the proffered coffee cup with her uninjured arm. Hot, and somehow both bitter and smooth, she savored the drink. One of the hedge doctors had bought her one from the coffee shop downstairs when she limped in this morning. She was on her third. “I swear this almost doesn’t need sugar.”
The Blind Bronco had never looked better to Chelsea as the cold, relentless wind blew her and Bentley through the door of the trailer. The bar stood immaculately clean, as always, and Florence smiled at her.
The teen aged beauty queen gestured to a stool. “Welcome back. I thought we’d seen the last of you.”
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.
She ran a hand over her ax and glanced at her hunting partner. “I thought you said this was only going to take a few minutes?”
Keegan shrugged his thin shoulders. “That’s what I was told, but…”
But the spindly vampires still hadn’t appeared after nearly an hour
The door to the haunt both attracted and repelled Chelsea. She hunted monsters and needed to talk to others who did so. But she didn’t have too many positive experiences with other hunters.
*Dead boyfriends and broken hearts don’t make for return customers.*
Words That Burn Like Fire 