by Hickory Mack
Marley bit back a retort. Elsie was no ordinary woman.
“The mage alone should have been more than enough. The squad was lax in their mission, leaving the reaper alone for hours at a time, giving her all the room she needed to act. What a shame that such an opportunity was wasted,” Grant agreed, and Marley scowled.
This sounded like a demotion in the making. Why was she the only one here, anyway? Callum had technically been in charge of the mission. She’d just been along for the ride when she found out what he would be doing. His ass should be here, not her. But… She had seniority, even if it was his mission.
She was saved by an incoming email. Cornick checked it lazily, but everyone watched him when he sat forward, a slow smile crossing his lips.
“It seems we’re in luck. The tracker on the reaper’s device is transmitting again. She’s on the west coast,” he said.
“Awfully far for her to go, don’t you think? There’s nothing on the west coast but demons, witch covens, and mages.” Grant looked confused.
“Yes, that’s exactly where I thought she’d go,” Marley said, excited to know that she’d been right. “That’s where Riven lives.”
“Is that so? How fortunate for us that your theory appears to be correct. Your squad will be given a second chance to bring this reaper in. Do not fail us a second time,” Grant ordered. Marley dipped her head in obedience.
“Yes, sir.”
Chapter 8
“We’re going to go south from here,” Elsie said, wringing her soaking hair out as she sat on a boulder a short way from the water. Frida was nearby, snacking on a small silvery fish she’d caught with her clever paws, the alebrije having returned to her regular cat form as she was eating. “I don’t know exactly where we’ll find Riven, but I have a rough location, and we can work from there.”
The wolf came out of the water and shook himself off, spraying water everywhere. Elsie hid a smirk. The terrifying demon was a lot less scary when his long hair was slicked down, revealing that he wasn’t quite as broad as he looked.
She caught sight of something near his throat, almost knob-like, and narrowed her eyes, wondering what the hell it was. For a second she worried he’d gotten a sky person’s horn caught in his throat and wondered how he could be moving around like it wasn’t bothering him in the least. Before she could ask, he shook his fur again until she couldn’t see it anymore.
He gave her a stern look and trotted up the beach a way, then darted into the conifer forest above. Elsie groaned. Gods only knew what he was up to, and it wasn’t like she had a way to control him. There was no contract between them. She wasn’t his master, and he had no reason to listen to her.
Frida mewed at her, her big orange eyes following the wolf’s run. “Nope, we’re not following him,” Elsie told the cat, who started flicking her tail in annoyance. For whatever reason, Frida had taken a liking to the monstrous shadow wolf. Elsie ignored her attitude and stretched out, taking in the warm sunlight.
The beach they’d found was idyllic. A freshwater stream cut through the pale sand that stretched for the better part of a mile at the bottom of a dune covered in tall, swaying grasses. Above the dune was the forest, its pine scent lost to the salt of the ocean.
The waves were gentle here, and a series of stone stacks dotted the shoreline several feet into the water. They looked like a fun climb, and had Elsie been feeling energetic, she’d have tried it.
She gazed out at the water and tried to imagine what it had been like a few hundred years ago, before the humans had killed off all the whales. From what Stolas had told her, they’d been wonderful creatures with a love for life and each other. What must it have felt like to swim next to an Orca, a huge apex predator that was as intelligent as her?
Of course, the hunters blamed the demons for the mass eradication and extinction of the whales, along with half the species on Earth, but Santisima and Stolas had taught her otherwise. Those animals had been driven to extinction long before the rise of demon kind.
It was astounding to Elsie how hard the humans and hunters worked to paint humanity in a positive light. A nuclear war had destroyed human civilization, and they placed the blame on demon kind. Her mother told it differently. She’d said that while a demon had been involved, the war had waged for many years before he’d chosen to act. If anything, the demon had been a means to an end rather than a cause.
There were still areas of the world too dangerous to visit because of that war. Places where the nuclear fallout continued to affect the local populations. It was those places the monsters had chosen as their own—to their own detriment.
Monsters had been human once. Their genetics warped and corrupted by radiation, they were deformed, their minds rotted. They thought little beyond basic survival, and for some reason, they craved human blood. The generally accepted theory was they were instinctually trying to fix the genetic corruption, using the healthy cells in the blood of others.
Monsters had heavily attacked nests in the early years of the first few colonies' development. They weren’t seen as often anymore. Somewhere in their minds, enough cognizance remained to figure out that continuing to fight the hunters was not in their best interest. Elsie herself had never seen one. She’d only heard the stories told by the elders, like Captain Albright, the man who’d been her mentor.
Walking along the beach, Elsie picked up an armload of aged driftwood. It was far enough away from the water to be perfectly dry. It would burn easily. She brought it back to where they’d been sitting and started a fire.
Elsie dug into her go bag and took out her little frying pan. They’d have something to eat before moving on, and it would give the wolf time to finish up whatever the heck he was up to. She was eager to get moving again, but she’d washed her clothes and they needed time to dry. A storm had clearly moved through not long ago, and all the extra moisture in the air was slowing the drying process. Hopefully, the fire would help.
She set the pan on the fire then dug out a bowl and two cans. One was chickpeas; the other was black beans. After a second, she added a container of ground chilli peppers. Draining most of the liquid, she mashed the beans into a paste with the peppers mixed in before working them into patties. She created four decent-sized burgers. Setting them aside, she worked on some bread.
By the time Frost returned, his mouth covered in the blood of some unfortunate creature, Elsie was tucking into a burger covered in caramelized onions. She gave him a hard look and motioned at the food.
“I told you I would cook for you. I barely even spiced these so you could have some. There’s no reason for you to kill helpless little animals!” she scolded irritably. The image of a demon no bigger than a fat raccoon flitted across her mind, and she scowled. She couldn’t give him shit for eating another demon. It was an ingrained part of their world, and she wasn’t the one to change that.
Frida purred happily with another little fish in her mouth, and the demon nodded at her as though to question her reasoning. “That’s not even remotely the same, and you know it. Frida is an obligate carnivore! She can’t help it,” Elsie grumbled.
Finishing up her burger, she fixed herself a second, wishing she’d had potatoes to slice into fries to go along with it. She fed bits of the third burger to Frida, then tossed the fourth at the wolf, who caught it and swallowed it down in one bite. Elsie squinted at him as he licked his lips then looked for more.
“Were you even able to taste it?” she questioned, chucking the last of the remaining burger his way. He devoured it, then stretched out to lie next to the fire. Closing his eyes, he gave a contented sigh. Elsie rolled her eyes, noticing his fur was already dry. She tried to see if the horn was still stuck, but with his head on his paws, she could see nothing.
Frida climbed up onto his back and curled up between his shoulders for a nap, ignoring the dirty look Elsie threw her way. The little traitor.
Cleaning up was a lot easier with water more readily available. She scrubbed everyt
hing down then let it dry before putting it away. Once the dishes were taken care of, she changed her clothes into the set she’d washed in the freshwater stream. Elsie wished she had time to wash the clothes she’d been wearing as well, but it was already late afternoon, and she wanted to hike at least twenty miles before nightfall.
Packing her soiled clothes away, a chill gust of wind whipped her hair around and sent shivers down her spine. She opened her senses, searching the sky for any sign of an incoming storm, but saw nothing. That didn’t mean anything, though. With a wind this strong, the clouds could roll in at any time, and storm systems often stuck close to one another.
She pulled on the only set of robes she’d brought with her. It covered her from head to toe, with a generous hood that was deep enough to hide her face should she need it. Around her waist was a golden rope, cinching it in and giving her some shape. She instantly felt better.
A reaper’s robe was weatherproof. It could be the coldest winter day, and she could be naked and barefoot underneath, but she’d be nice and toasty. On the reverse, she could wear a parka in the desert and feel cool and refreshed. Her mother had boasted of walking through hurricanes with no difficulty. The spell woven into the threads was Santisima’s own invention, one she had chosen not to share with anyone but her reapers.
With everything ready to go, Elsie stared at the wolf. She wanted to demand he go back inside the cuff. After his slaughter of the sky people, she couldn’t trust him, not that she really had in the first place.
They shouldn’t run across anyone trying to kill them around here. The witches would avoid them, and any demon with sense would run away when it felt what was coming its way. The wolf’s magic was powerful and easily felt, even when he wasn’t using it. It should be safe to let him wander around, for now.
Mages, on the other hand, tended to be more confrontational. When they drew closer to where Elsie suspected them to be, she’d demand he return to the pocket dimension within the cuff for everybody’s safety. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a firefight with a group of mages. She didn’t know if she could win, and she didn’t want to risk Frida getting in the crossfire.
“Let’s go, Frost,” she muttered. She stood up and began walking up the beach without waiting to see if he’d follow, trusting that Frida would be safe with him. He’d seemed to accept the alebrije without any reservations and had shown nothing but patience with her.
Sand wasn’t the easiest surface to walk on, and Elsie soon turned toward the dunes, climbing them into the forest. She wouldn’t be able to keep as close an eye on the sky with the trees rising around her, but the firmer footing was worth it. Frost caught up to her, the sound of his soft, padded steps almost lost to the birdsong and wind through the trees.
This forest was old. Perhaps even older than the fall of humanity. Some small pockets of the oldest forests on the west coast had remained protected until the very end. Those pockets were thousands of years old. Everything else was a bit less than three hundred. Enough time for the forest to regenerate itself.
Elsie touched the petals of a bright orange flower as she passed, wondering how many of these plants had been here originally and how many were invasive. It would have been a great pleasure to see it in its glory before the humans cut most of it down, the way it was originally intended. The forest was impressive enough as it was, though.
The trees were massive, their canopy stretching far over their heads. All were variants of evergreen, with a thick undergrowth of hardy plants and bushes that could thrive in the low light.
Magic permeated the very air, and the trees seemed to watch them as they walked by. No creatures presented themselves, but there were trails of magic everywhere, each with their own distinct pattern. The vast majority were composed of earth magic, but the other elements were all represented as well. One bright red one caught her eye.
Somewhere within the forest was a powerful fire user. She kind of wanted to meet them, but it was more important to find Riven than it was to satisfy her curiosity. The attacks on her organs were coming more frequently, and Elsie knew she couldn’t screw around. If she was going to remain independent from those damned hunters, she needed a cure. Fast.
From a few feet over their heads, a small pair of eyes watched them from the branches of a younger tree. It looked like a little red squirrel, but the earth magic enveloping it said otherwise. Elsie blinked, and it was gone. Little instances like that happened a lot. The local population was curious about them, too, but not quite brave enough to approach. With all the activity they were stirring up, she wondered if the forest’s spirit would come to greet them.
Forest spirits were some of the oldest creatures on Earth. Unfortunately, many of them had died off when their respective forests had been razed to the ground. Some had survived, and Elsie was certain that the spirit of this one had not only survived, but was thriving.
They were insanely powerful beings, and since they were so old, most of them contained at least three elemental magics; some had even more. Stolas had told her that once, the forest spirits had been the favorites of Mokiko, the Earth Mother and embodiment of the planet itself. She’d never met one herself, but it was an experience she looked forward to, meeting something with that much wisdom. With all they’d seen over the centuries, she could only begin to imagine the stories they could tell.
After a while, the quiet tattoo of hooves joined in with their footsteps. Elsie turned and spotted a small, slender white deer following behind them. Its antlers were thin and long, splintering into many tines that reached skyward. Golden vines with dainty leaves and flowers were draped over them, and there were even little pearl drops among the vines.
Around the creature’s neck was a golden torc. The jewelry twisted intricately, one side ending with the image of a fierce bear, the other curling into what looked like the end of another vine, a single leaf embedded within.
It had large dark eyes and a full beard with hair dripping down its belly and legs. Elsie closed her hands into tight balls, fighting the crazy urge to pounce on the creature and squish its furry face between her palms. Even as she had the thought she knew it would be a bad idea. There was something extraordinary about this deer.
Its magic was deeply embedded in the earth, and there was plenty of the light moon in there too. A strong creature, especially given its size. The wolf ignored it completely, giving a warning growl when Elsie stopped to greet the deer, firmly reminding herself that she could not gush over it like a fan girl and admit it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen. It was a demon, after all, not an actual animal. That didn’t stop her from wanting to pet it so damned bad!
“Hi there! We didn’t intend to trespass on your territory. We’re just passing through and won’t disturb anything,” she said, careful not to actually apologize. Elsie didn’t think the deer was fae, but it never hurt to be too careful. She didn’t want to end up indebted to some fae creature for apologizing and admitting a favor owed.
The deer dipped its head and wagged its tail, walking toward her. Frida mewed from behind her, and Frost’s growl took on a more threatening tone as the deer gently butted its head against Elsie’s thigh. Against her better judgment, she reached down and gave it scritches, right between the antlers. She couldn’t help herself, and the demon obviously didn’t mind.
“Aw, hell,” she muttered when she noted the pheromones rising in the air as fertility magic pooled around them. “You’re some kind of sylvan? Really?”
Sylvan was a term that encompassed all kinds of sexually aggressive demons, ranging from incubi and succubi to satyrs and fauns. Elsie yanked her hand away. She’d been tricked.
The deer touched her again, rubbing its antlers against her leg. It was no wonder it was so damned cute. Everything about these creatures was designed to be endearing. Too bad all the legends depicted them as such rapey little bastards. They had a lot of magic, but they generally used it to force mortals, especially humans, to fall into desperate lust
with them.
“I’m a reaper, idiot. Your magic doesn’t work on me.” Elsie scowled at him, and the deer gave a great sigh. He stood on his hind legs and shifted into his human form, keeping the antlers. He was muscular, but just as slender as his deer form, with snow white hair long enough to cover his ass and the biggest brown eyes that blinked at her innocently. Completely nude with his cock erect, Elsie could see why humans were so willing to give themselves to these creatures. The guy was well hung.
“There doesn’t need to be tricks between us, reaper,” he said in a voice so soft and soothing it could only be by design, meant to further entrap his prey. Creatures like satyrs thrived on contact. They fed off of it, and this one was clearly not going hungry. He reached up and touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, ever so gently.
Elsie swallowed hard. His magic couldn’t touch her, but she’d have to have been born without eyes to not be attracted to him. He was gorgeous, to an extreme point that made her feel like her brain was short circuiting, and while she’d always hated that kind of girl, she couldn’t help it. She wanted him to put his hands on her, and she wanted to lick every inch of his bare skin.
She’d never been touched by a man. Plenty of women had brought her pleasure over the years; she wasn’t celibate. She certainly wasn’t opposed to lying with a man; it was just too dangerous since she was trying to avoid mating anyone else. If she had to have a mate, she only wanted Saint. And since she couldn’t have him, she didn’t want any.
The satyr offered her a guilt-free chance with no fear of mating. Satyrs only mated with their own kind, though it didn’t lead to any sort of monogamy. The creatures could have a strong mating bond and still seek sex elsewhere.
Those big eyes caught hers, and his lips parted into a shy, sweet smile, spoiled when his cock twitched, jumping between them. He was standing a mere foot away and leaning in, his gaze falling to her lips. Elsie leaned with him, her breath coming short, his lips inches away. The sweetness of his breath made her pause, the heat of his mouth so close to hers she could almost taste him on her tongue.