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She turned, her weapon aimed. The bitter scent of fear surrounded her as adrenaline coursed through her. It got my heart racing, that pungent odor of terror. She faced the darkness, eyes wide. The stench of rot was in the air, growing stronger as the beast under the trees crept closer.
It fled the moment I drew near. One Eldbeast alone wouldn’t face me.
“You need to shoot for the head. It’s really the only way to kill them.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of my voice. She aimed the gun at me, clutching the small pistol with both hands, her extended arms shaking. “Who the hell are you?” she said, then, she narrowed her eyes. “You...you were in the diner. You followed me.”
“You have quite a few things following you, little wolf, and they all wish you a lot more harm than I do.” I looked off into the trees. More of the beasts were encroaching on our position, their silhouettes scurrying through the dark. They had long, boney limbs, and vile, hunched bodies. They resembled spiders as they moved. “You need to get indoors. If you’re going to travel at night, use a vehicle.”
She didn’t lower the gun, but curiosity began to creep over the fear on her face. “Those things...do you know what they are?”
“Eldbeasts,” I said. My golden eyes were hidden behind brown and I had sheathed my claws. I would appear as just a normal human to her, at least for now. No point in scaring her even more. “They’re elder monsters, from when the world was young. But magic can stir them from their slumber. Magic...and Gods.”
Her face looked stricken. She cocked the gun. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? One of the Libiri?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m not part of Kent Hadleigh’s little cult. I have no interest in sacrificing you to an old God. That would be such a waste of your soul.” I looked her over, catching a glimpse of her scars at the neckline of her shirt. They were ritual marks, cut into her flesh as she was offered up in sacrifice. “And what a beautiful, damaged soul it is.”
She began to back away. “What the hell are you then? What do you want?”
“For now, I want nothing at all.” I let my eyes shift, and her entire body went tense. I let my claws come out, and my teeth sharpen. She nearly stumbled as she backed away, barely keeping her feet. “But someday, little wolf, I may want everything.”
She fired the gun.
The bullet struck my shoulder. It felt like nothing more than a pinch. I looked down at the wound curiously, poking my finger in to dig out the bullet. She watched, in horror, as I dropped the bloodied bit of metal onto the ground.
“My, my, so flirtatious.” I chuckled. “Do that again, Juniper, and I might think you want to play.”
“What thefuckare you?” She was going to run at any moment. She was shaking her head, her brain unable to process what she was seeing.
“You’ll see me again,” I said. “Survive a few years, Juniper, fight for your life. I like fighters. They make better prey. Survive, and the next time you see me, I may have an offer for you.”
“I don’t want your offers,” she said. “Stay away from me!”
I tsked. “You say that now. But as the years go on, and the danger keeps coming, you may change your mind. Or you may not.” I shrugged. “The choice is always yours. But Iwillsee you again. Now, get inside. Get away from the trees. Wait until morning to travel. Juniper Kynes…” I crossed the space between us in a second. I stood over her, her wide eyes defiant and terrified as they looked up, and I smiled with a mouthful of sharp teeth. “Run.”
She did run, sprinting down the road. The Eld would keep following her, but I’d hold them back, at least for tonight. May as well give the little wolf a fighting chance.
She had more viciousness in her than I’d thought. So much fire, for a human so burned. I’d hunted enough souls to afford to be picky, so I could hunt by my whims rather than necessity.
She would be a fascinating hunt, indeed.
3
When enough people tell you you're crazy, you begin to question your own mind. You pick apart your memories, bit by bit, unraveling them until they’re disjointed and stained, rearranged, every second doubted. The story I’d told so many times — to rescuers, to police, to my mother, my brother, over and over with increasing desperation — was woven throughout my mind, stitching together who I was back then...and whoever I’d become now.
Most people have fantasized about danger: how they would escape, how they would fight, how they’d be too smart to be hurt. But those fantasies are nothing compared to the moment it happens. Sometimes, you can watch danger coming at you like a freight train, and all you can do is stand there. All you can do is let it overtake you.
Sometimes, there’s no running, no fighting. Sometimes, bad shit happens.
The bad shit changes you. You can’t look at the world the same. You realize that manners, morals, culture, society, friends, and family are all fake. They’re ideas we cling to, to make existence bearable. When that’s ripped away — the fake optimistic bullshit — the only thing you have left is survival.
Survival is messy. Survival has no morals or kindness. Survival isn’t black and white, good versus evil. Survival is shades of red; it’s blood taken and blood lost.
My survival was a gun, liquor was my sustenance, and rough sex was my painkiller.
The dingy bar was the closest thing to a club I could find that night. Neon signs hung on the bare wood walls, old license plates were nailed to the ceiling, and pool tables took up the majority of the floor space. I hadn’t seen a town for miles on the road, but there must have been one close by because the bar was crowded.
It was late, and the Misfits tribute band playing on stage was almost too drunk to keep singing. I stuck out, about a decade younger than most of the people in there. But I had a gun at my hip and I could whip their asses at pool, so no one had messed with me. Winning those bets on my games was the only way I’d have the money to get gas in the morning, so I was playing a little underhanded to make it happen.
