But first, I snatch up the man’s coin purse.
I retrace my steps, following the scent of squalor. When I find the little hole of a home I’d arrived at earlier, I see that the door is shut tight and the lights within are out, though I can still hear the infant’s soft sobbing. Easy targets, the both of them, but I think they’ve dealt with more than their fair share of bad luck tonight.
Maybe I do pity my food. Just a little. In the same way one might feel sorry for a wounded rabbit squealing helplessly in a snare.
Coin purse in hand, I hop up onto the stoop and tie its strings to the door handle. I have no use for money. Whatever I want, I steal. Most are too slow to realize what I’ve pocketed, and those that aren’t can’t keep up with me should it come down to a chase.
With two swift kicks at the bottom of the wooden door, I bolt around the corner and duck out of sight. I watch from the shadows as the woman nervously opens the door a crack, peering out for someone she never finds. She notices the coin purse almost immediately, taking it with a sharp gasp. A quick look left, then right,suspicion etched into her cry-swollen face. I smell relief, a sweet note lingering beneath the surrounding decay, but it’s mostly masked by the bitter tinge of her distrust. I don’t leave until the woman returns safely inside.
I’ve had my fill this night. There’s no need to feast on lambs when there are wolves to satisfy my belly.
2Sonam
Hunting Log #151:
They will consume until nothing remains.
The reports these last sixmoons are troubling. People have been going missing at an alarming rate. Men, women, and children—regardless of wealth, age, or creed. The count is pushing into the low hundreds; though for all I know, it may well be higher. The one thing Iamcertain of is that this work has all the markings of a demon: not a hair left behind, yet the unmistakable twinge of blood in the air.
“Remember to stay close,” I instruct Wen and Sooah as we arm ourselves for the night ahead. “Don’t give it an opportunity to pick us off one by one.”
We’ve gathered in the storehouse, though the building’s unimpressive size and molding exterior would suggest that it’s been all but abandoned. It was one of the only places I could secure upon my return. Our cache of weapons was too valuable to leave unattended. And since I was not welcomed by a host at one of the pavilions due to the dishonor of my rank, this was the best I couldmanage. So long as the creaky roof over our heads keeps out the rain, and therefore the threat of rust, I can find no complaint.
Laid out upon the wooden table before us is a wide selection of weapons. Sharpened axes, steel-tipped spears, double-edged swords, arrows with fletching of sleek dove feathers. I have to choose wisely. To be over-encumbered is a disadvantage, so it’s better to only take what we need. No matter the weapon—they will all kill demons just the same.
“You reckon we’ll be done by dinner?” Wen asks. He inspects the sharpened tips of his arrows before sliding them into the bamboo-carved quiver at his hip. “Ling’s making dumpling soup tonight.”
I suppress a chuckle. There are few things Wen enjoys more than talking about his wife. Give him a long enough stretch of silence and I’d wager my every coin he will find a way to mention her. “I’m offended you haven’t extended an invitation,” I say dryly.
Wen snorts as he rubs his wrist. The tremor in his hand is slight, but I notice these things. Their well-being is my responsibility. I pray for all of our sakes that this is the last hunt we will endure.
“You can join my table any time you want, Cap’n. You know right well my kids prefer you over me.”
“Of course they do. I bring them sweets, and it’s your job to scold them.”
Focus, Sooah signs with her hands. Her movements are somehow both fluid with practice, yet stiff with urgency.The sun is setting soon.
She’s right. In all my years of hunting, I’ve observed that demons are most active after nightfall. It makes sense, given their opportunistic nature. When better to strike than while we’re asleep in our beds, unaware and defenseless? If we don’t hurry, we mayface another string of disappearances before the sun rises once more.
I run through my usual checks. Daggers, sharpened. Dao, at my hip. Rope dart wrapped tightly around my waist. Just as a fisherman never leaves shore without his line, I have the tools of my trade at the ready.
“Move out,” I order. “Before it strikes again.”
If they leave no bodies, there may be witnesses. If there are no witnesses, there might still be tracks. And if there are no tracks, there’s always the faintest chill in the air—a gut instinct that tells me something vile has walked the path before me.
A woman sits on the stoop of her shop, the local seamstress, biting her nails down to the beds. Her face is pale, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She stands the moment she sees us, apprehension furrowing her thin brows.
“Have you come back to mock me?” she asks, her voice rough and cracking.
I set my jaw. “Why would we mock you, madam?”
Her bottom lip trembles. “The officers tell me I’ve gone mad, but I swear I speak the truth. Something snatched up my daughter. Ademon.”
I take a deep breath and will my heart to remain calm. Sightings in the city are rare these days, no doubt in part because of my team’s efforts. Demons tend to target smaller, more isolated villages where humans make easy pickings. The fact that one has made Longhao its territory bodes ill. The authorities here aren’t equipped to combat such a danger, which was why I returned home in such a hurry at His Majesty’s behest.
It had been years since he’d sent me a letter. I contemplated—only for a moment—ignoring his summons, though I decided it wasunbecoming of a man my age to throw a tantrum. Besides, whether the king wishes to acknowledge it or not, I may be the only one equipped to handle situations such as these.
“Did you lay eyes on it?” I ask the seamstress. “This demon.”
