by S T Branton
Kill the Wild
The Heinous Crimes of Sara Slick™ Book 2
ST Branton
CM Raymond
LE Barbant
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2020 CM Raymond, LE Barbant, and LMBPN Publishing
Cover by Fantasy Book Design
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89109
First US edition, June, 2020
ebook ISBN: 978-1-64202-988-8
Print ISBN: 978-1-64202-989-5
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Author Notes
The Kill the Wild Team
Thanks to our Beta Readers
Larry Omans, Kelly O’Donnell, Rachel Beckford
Thanks to our JIT Readers
Daniel Weigert
Paul Westman
Deb Mader
Angel LaVey
Editor
SkyHunter Editing Team
Prologue
“We can’t lose momentum.” Hobbes sighed. “This is a critical time, and we need to keep pushing.”
Aldrich flicked an unsure look across the room toward Hobbes. The only light in the stone room came from the flames flickering in the fireplace. They cast long shadows across the floor that stretched and undulated with the sweep of long robes as Hobbes stalked back and forth in front of him.
Documents and pages of communication spread out across the table chronicled their plans so far, but the sharp point of his quill hovered above a new, blank sheet. Poised to record whatever Hobbes might say, the Philosopher watched a drop of ink slip from the end and splash onto the cream-colored page.
“It’s been difficult, Hobbes. We haven’t been able to follow through with our operations the way we intended. The Guild is on high alert now with Sara Slick out of The Deep.”
Hobbes stopped pacing and crossed to the table to stare into the Philosopher’s eyes. “I can handle them. How is the rest of the plan progressing?”
The Philosopher drew a breath as he scanned the papers around him. “We’re nearly ready.”
Hobbes grinned and went back to pacing. This time, excitement and anticipation fueled his short steps rather than anger and frustration. Aldrich stayed in place at the table, ready to take notes or send communications. He knew Hobbes was right.
They couldn’t lose momentum. Despite the slowed progression under the watchful, scrutinizing eyes of the Philosophers, the plan was coming together, and it was almost time.
“I’m particularly proud of this plan,” Hobbes replied. “The humans are setting the trap for themselves.”
Chapter One
This is so unfair.
It repeated in my head like a bitter mantra. So. Un. Fair.
I dug my heels into the concrete and narrowly avoided running into a glassblower who was not only in the middle of the sidewalk but was currently making a giant wine glass. Beside him was a table where several various-sized glasses already stood, but this one, at least three feet tall, was the largest of them.
A reveler from inside the bar next to him came out, grabbed a glass from the table, threw some bills in his general direction, and wandered toward the next bar.
Delightful chaos, that’s what this party was, and I was stuck chasing down Farsiders instead of drinking and eating and dancing with the guy in a giraffe suit. Or was it a dinosaur suit? I couldn’t tell, mostly because the costume was coming apart at the seams, and the person inside was more concerned with lifting the head to get more booze in him.
Man, it looked like fun.
But no, not for me. I had to find two or possibly three Farsiders bent on causing trouble at a street carnival where everyone else focused on partying. At least Splinter seemed to be enjoying himself. He wiggled his way up to hang out of my pocket as I ducked under a rope that was the only barrier between the incredibly professional Ferris wheel operator and the raucous crowd, then snatched a piece of popcorn from someone’s bag and ducked back into my pocket with his treasure.
I waited for the ride operator to say something, but he didn’t notice as I passed him and dipped between the ride and a funnel cake stand. For a brief second, the allure of blowing off my responsibilities and sitting in the middle of the street while covering my face in fried dough made me pause, but I pushed on.
“I promise we will get a funnel cake later,” I said to Splinter, but really, mostly to myself.
Flickering lights guided me to the other side of the street, where a carnival barker stood outside a giant tent. A sign beside him advertised wonders sure to fill me with amazement, but considering my entire life was seeing wonders that amazed me in the worst way possible, I had less interest in him than in the hot dog stand next to him. Or the fizzy drink of the person who passed me, with the jaunty little hat on the straw. Everything about this festival was the kind of thing I’d rather be doing.
Ever since my time in The Deep, I had longed for days like this, where instead of three dank walls and bars that kept me locked up, I could be the carefree teenager I was before they brought me there. But not yet, not until I had cleared my name at least. Until then, Sara Slick was stuck watching other people have all the fun.
Then I saw a flash of darkness. No, deeper than that. More. Like the darkness other darkness feared. The kind that hides in the closet and scares the most intimidating of monsters. It was quick but unmistakable. The type of darkness that only emanates off the evilest of creatures. Something low and dirty and brutal. Something from The Far.
“Found you, asshole,” I muttered. Hot dogs would have to wait.
My feet pounded on the pavement as I tore off after the streak of midnight that had ducked back into the crowd. I silently thanked myself for investing in some decent running shoes before this adventure as I bounded up the side of a lean-to stand to get a better look. Scanning the crowd was easier from up higher, and I occasionally glimpsed the dark figure as it ducked inside large groups of people, then popped up somewhere e
lse. It was like Whack-A-Mole of the damned.
Wherever it vanished from, there was rustling. People cried out like someone had kicked their shin or grabbed their wallet or tripped them unexpectedly. Whatever it was, it was a troublemaker, and I had to catch it before it started something I couldn’t stop. I hopped down off the stand and landed at the entrance of a funhouse.
I groaned at the lost opportunity to stare in mirrors that made me look taller as I ran for the edge of the crowd, hoping to circle around and cut the creature off at the pass. It disappeared before I got halfway down the line, and I cursed myself for losing it. I rounded a corner, trying to avoid a wall of teenagers, when a hand grabbed me by the arm.
I yelled in surprise and my fist stopped mere inches from Ally’s unflinching and perhaps unaware face.
“Sara, it’s over here,” she yelled over the sound of the eight-piece band that had begun blasting a swing song somewhere close by.
“Damn, Ally, I almost knocked you out.” My hand unclenched as I looked in the direction she was pointing.
“Oh, you wouldn’t hit me,” Ally said in the tone of a person sure that such a thing would be impossible.
“I wouldn’t be so sure—” The rest of my sentence condensed into a surprised yelp as she yanked me in the direction she’d pointed.
“It went down this way,” she yelled with a giggle in her voice. She loved this. She might not be much of a fighter, but she loved the chase and the intrigue. Her hastily pulled-back ponytail bobbed in front of me as I jogged after her. My best friend was a great investigative journalist and had led me to this lead about troublemakers from The Far, but she was still as much the kid she was when the Philosophers sent me to The Deep. Her sense of glee from adventure was infectious.
We rounded a corner, and I saw three huddled figures in the distance, all wearing gray hooded sweatshirts and acting like they had something to hide. Something about it wasn’t right, but I didn’t have too much time to think. They had spotted me.
“Gig’s up, douchebags,” Ally yelled after them before I could open my mouth. It was like she’d read a book on how to be a 90s action star. I shook my head.
“What she said,” I shouted as I snapped out my switchblade and activated it.
“Aw, fuck,” one of them yelled and took off. As he did, his hood fell, and so did his baseball cap. The other two stood petrified on the spot, and I saw their faces. They looked like teenagers. And the smell coming off of them most certainly smelled like pot.
One of them reached into his pocket and I was on him instantly, yanking his arm out and looking for a weapon. It was a lighter. The kid’s eyes never left mine, and his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as he shook his head and backed away. I let go of his arm and he dropped the lighter at my feet.
“Just say no,” Ally shot from behind me, and I hung my head while listening to the footsteps of the kids running away.
“Did you watch a Law and Order marathon or something?”
“Come on, Sara, what good is being a hero if you don’t get to try out a few one-liners?” She laughed, obviously having the time of her life.
I bent and grabbed the lighter, examining it just in case. I flicked the flint and a small, pitiful flame shot up. I let it go and tossed it at Ally.
“It’s here. I know it.” I pulled a rune from my pocket. Ally always had good intel, and if she said there was Farside activity here, then there damn well was. And where there was Farsider activity, there might be a clue that could lead back to Hobbes.
“New gift from Archie?” Ally looked entranced by the tool, as if it was a new toy I had gotten for Christmas.
“New and untested.” I showed her the flat face set in a dark blue crystal. The face was copper metal and had the four directions carved in the appropriate places. “Acts like a compass to track Farsiders. The needle is a bone I took off a troll. Nasty bastard, he was.”
“Well, I mean, you took his finger. I would expect him to be a little less than pleasant,” Ally pointed out.
“He wasn’t nice before that.” I watched it spin. “Come on, come on,” I pleaded, trying to encourage it. It might have worked. I’d seen enough runes to believe some of them had minds of their own. It spun several times but kept landing on north, then spinning.
“Hey, it looks like that troll is giving you the finger.” Ally broke into fresh laughter. “A little late, but still effective.”
I was about to throw the damn thing at her when it suddenly stopped and showed southwest.
“Got it.” I took off running.
Ally lagged, but it was on purpose. I didn’t want her rushing into the fight while making bad jokes and warning the Farsider that I was coming. I scanned the crowd in the direction the rune pointed, focusing on dark shapes. Then I saw them. Not one. Three. They seemed to fade into and out of the darkness like they were ebbing and flowing with the tide. One of them elbowed the other, and their heads all turned toward me before they slid into the crowd.
I hoped they didn’t think they were blending in well. There were costumes at the festival that showed some serious lack of judgment and sewing know-how, but these took the cake. The horribly disguised figures made themselves look more suspicious in the strange layers of multicolored fabric draped haphazardly around their bodies. They looked like unicorns somebody tossed in a blender with a little pinch of bat-shit crazy.
Exactly the kind of thing I liked to see when hunting down Farsiders frolicking among the innocent humans.
I ducked behind a taco stand. It provided enough cover to throw off the three beings so I could follow them more easily. It also made my stomach rumble in protest as the glorious smell of tacos drifted up my nostrils and into my soul. My head tipped around the side briefly to look around for Ally, catching her as she reached me. We scanned the crowd for the cotton candy disasters. I glimpsed one of them break into a run.
Chapter Two
Whatever these creatures were, they were impossibly fast. The reports coming in were a little hard to believe, but without evidence to the contrary, I had to go with it. Merpeople. Specifically, flesh-eating merpeople, which I didn’t know was a thing, but somehow didn’t surprise me. Nearly everything from The Far seemed to be flesh-eating these days, and underwater creatures always seemed untrustworthy, anyway. Something about the scales.
All those news reports about people floating around in the ocean and coming back with flesh-eating bacteria? Not bacteria. They got nibbled on by those merpeople.
The three were sticking together, so that was a plus. Although they were weaving through the crowd of people, diving behind stands, then appearing further down the main street or sliding between the legs of a dude on stilts, they hadn’t split up yet. Considering it was only Ally and me, and Ally wasn’t exactly prepared for a fistfight with a fish, the only way to wrangle them all was to get them together. My switchblade was cold in my pocket, reminding me it was there and ready for action.
Ally lagged a little, and I turned back.
“Find somewhere high up and look for me,” I shouted, then kept up my pursuit. I chanced a glance back a few feet away and saw her bent over with one hand on her knee and her head hanging low while panting. Her other hand gave me a thumbs-up. Splinter had jumped ship too, and had his head inside her jacket pocket, his tiny feet kicking to get himself inside. There was also a mysterious candy apple-sized bulge in that pocket.
Good. No distractions.
A group of people staggering into one another after having their fair share and more of the craft beer tent nearby provided a challenge. Rather than run through them or try to get around them, I made a small spectacle of myself and ran up the wall. I launched myself into a half-crouch and hit the wall with my legs still churning. It was a trick that Solon taught me long before, usually as a fancy distraction or a way to get behind an attacker. This time, I used it to vault over some drunken partygoers and to clear the sign hanging above them that read ‘CHARLESTON NIGHT OF LIGHTS.’
After landing on my feet, it disappointed me that no one seemed to notice. I’d hoped it would amaze them that a superhero jumped over their heads, but instead, they were still off in their little world of alcohol and poor decisions. What good was doing super cool stuff if no one ever saw it?
“Slick, over there,” I heard shouted above me, and I looked up to see Ally. She’d commandeered a pair of stilts and was pointing at a large red tent. She quickly lost her grip and ended up tossing one stilt to the side, then rode the other with both hands until she landed hard on the concrete. In the ever-present state of mind that a street carnival creates, partygoers cheered her on as she fell. As quickly as they became enamored by her, they lost interest and went back to whatever they’d been doing before the entertainment.
“That sucked.” She stood and brushed herself off. A wad of gum had stuck to her shirt, and she carefully peeled it off.
“Stilts?”
“I can see everything,” she informed me.
“Yeah, but where the hell did you find them?”