Page 76 of Heimlock

Huracio doesn’t even know what’s happening. One second, he’s passed out. The next, charred grass and ashes symbolize his wasted existence.

A better person might feel bad.

I’m not a better person.

Kyrielle runs her hand along my neck. I lean into the touch, letting out a gravely purr. It feels like heaven. She giggles. “Oh, you like that?”

Yes.

She gives me a gentle pat. “I’m going to grab Janeeka’s items. Do you want to stay out here to keep watch?”

I’m uneasy about letting her go into the house alone, but if there were anyone else inside, they'd've shown up by now. I can do that, if you want.

“I’ll be back real quick,” she promises. The scent of vanilla calms my nerves and, to my surprise, as she walks past my snout, she gives it the softest kiss. I watch her step into the ruined house, wholly disoriented. My broken bone throbs, but I can ignore it well enough. There’s been far worse delivered, and it will heal within the hour.

This evening turned into nothing expected, but something tells me that being around Kyrielle means that’ll happen more often than not.

***

Kyrielle’s gone for no more than ten minutes, returning with a black duffle bag. She huffs, wiping away damp hair stuck to her forehead. “This should be it. If she needs anything else, I’ll just buy it for her.”

Get on, and I’ll carry it.

“You sure?”

I let out a small growl. Do not insult me.

“Touchy, touchy,” she teases. “Okay, Mr. Gleanscale, carry the luggage like a good little beastie.”

My growl intensifies and I snake my neck to look her square in the eye. You do understand that in this form, I’m infinitely more powerful. Like, truly infinite? As in I never tire and have access to all weather-related elements?

Kyrielle smirks as she flutters to sit on my neck again. “Pride isn’t an admirable quality.”

Grabbing the duffle bag with a claw, I give my wings a hard flap and launch us into the air. Do not confuse pride with confidence. Do not mistake my kindness for softness.

“I would never,” she says, sounding serious. I surround her with a wall of air and head back toward the homeless shelter.

After a few minutes of peaceful quiet, I ask, You okay?

One of her fingers trails the shape of a scale as she says, “I’m not sure, actually. Tonight wasn’t intended to be about murder, you know.”

You mean this isn’t normal for you? I tease.

She lets out a bitter laugh. “Believe it or not, it’s my first murder.”

Me, too.

“You don’t care?”

Not in the slightest. He hurt you and was going to continue hurting you. He hurt me would have probably killed me. Honestly, it’s a shame no one has done it before tonight.

“So you don’t judge me?” Her voice is full of concern and maybe a little insecurity.

I will never judge you.

Her warm palm presses against my head, rubbing it slowly. “I’ll never judge you either, Trinte.”

And for the first time, I might believe her.