Page 12 of Huntress

“I knew you’d come around,” he said, throwing a grin and a wink toward the beastmaster. Elsie’s knuckles grew white as she gripped the leash. He’d set this up, and she’d played right into his hands.

Cornick’s eyes feasted on her face, reading every emotion written there. He’d casually placed her on the edge of a sword. Her job was to kill demons for the hunters, not befriend them. They obviously didn’t understand what companionship meant among reapers, and they expected her to use the wolfhound as a tool while treating him as nothing more than a weapon.

If she got too close to this demon, they’d despise her, and it would end in dire consequences for both of them. She’d have to walk that edge without a single misstep.

“General!” Clairemont called, turning his blood-soaked face toward Mordane, a spray of red droplets hitting the ground. “You didn’t warn me that she’d be such a savage!”

“Shouldn’t have messed with her new pet, now should you?” Mordane laughed before turning to Elsie.

“Congratulations, Chantraine. Have fun with your new toy, he’s nothing more than you deserve. Ask Clairemont if you have any questions on how to handle him. He has a stall in the demon barn when you’re done playing with him. He’ll make quite the companion!” Mordane made it sound as if Cornick had given her a prized pony she’d begged for her whole life.

Elsie shot him the dirtiest look in her arsenal. “Yes, sir. I’ll take good care of him.”

“That’s my girl. Visit Roz when you have the time. You’ve got a new assignment. Don’t worry, Cornick will still be here when you return. Plenty of bonding time in your future.” Mordane waved as he and Cornick walked away.

Elsie turned toward Marley, but the healer was already gone, apparently too angry to stick around for an explanation. All that remained were Elsie, the demon, and the beastmaster.

“Great,” she muttered.

Chapter three

Chapter 3

“You’re dismissed,” Elsie called over to Clairemont. “Stay away from me.”

“But you don’t know what commands to use,” Clairemont argued.

“He’s not stupid, he doesn’t need commands. Reason will work just fine. Come on,” Elsie muttered to the hound, but it didn’t move. Her eyes landed on the demon once more, struck with the inexplicable urge to reach out and touch the giant dog’s wiry-looking muzzle, though he’d probably bite her hand off if she tried.

He was backed into a corner, stuck between fight or flight. His choices were Clairemont, who’d beaten him into submission, and the woman who’d have killed him if she hadn’t been interrupted.

“You’d rather stay with him?” Elsie tilted her head toward the beastmaster.

She watched the conflict play through the panicked micro-expressions in his eyes, muzzle, and tense muscles. Should he stay with the monster he knew, or go with the monster he didn’t? She might be easier to deal with than Clairemont, or she might be his worst nightmare.

With a huff that landed just this side of a whine, the demon eased off his haunches and took timid, measured steps. He moved with a pronounced limp in his foreleg, body rounded to show that he wasn’t a threat. His ears lay flat, the whites of his eyes showing, tail tucked so far under his body it didn’t look like he had one.

The hound was the complete opposite of what she’d faced in the arena. She glared back at the beastmaster, willing to bet a week’s worth of pay that the demon was convinced he’d been fighting for his freedom, only to be handed over to a new master.

Clairemont ignored her orders and followed close behind, shrewd eyes watching her every move. Elsie was already coming up with plans to ditch them both. He could become a mascot-like grifter, hanging out around the mess hall waiting to perform tricks for scraps. That sounded like a better idea than sending him back to Clairemont, or taking responsibility for him herself.

“Don’t loop the leash around your hand like that, Chantraine. If he decides to take off running, it could break the bones in your hand,” Clairemont warned.

She looked at the coiled rope in her hand and frowned. That actually made sense. The cowering hound didn’t look like an escape artist, but demons were unpredictable. She adjusted the leash into a figure-eight of loops with her hand clamped down on the middle.

Clairemont assumed this meant she was willing to listen to him.

“He should walk two steps behind you, anticipating your movements rather than walking directly beside you. This demon is not your equal, he is your subservient,” he instructed. Elsie’s brows furrowed. What a miserable existence.

“What’s his name?” she asked. Clairemont blinked, confused by the question.

“I don’t name the demons,” he said as though it should be obvious. Maybe other hunters would agree.

“He isn’t a pet, why would you have to give him a name?” she retorted. “Didn’t you ask him? His mother must have given him one.”

Clairemont looked at her like she’d grown an extra head. “It’s a dog.”

Elsie walked backward a few steps, watching the demon. He wasn’t paying attention to her; his focus was on the leash. She rubbed her fingers on it, noting that under the leather wrapping it was stiff, as though made from wire. Her mind connected the dots real quick. Even the leash was a weapon used against him.