Page 173 of Huntress

“Never. Tell me,” he said.

Elsie told him about the visions the shadow coyotes had put in her head. “It was a convoluted mix between memories and my worst fears. I killed you, Saint. I love you and Cornick, and Mordane made me kill you. I won’t ever do it. I’d kill myself first.”

Her whole body trembled.

“I know you wouldn’t. It wasn’t real, Mistress. You’d never hurt me, and I’d never hurt you. We’ll run before it ever comes to that, okay?”

Sniffling, she nodded and propped herself up on an elbow, leaning in to kiss him. “I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never let anyone else hurt you either,” she promised, kissing him again. “Never.”

Chapter thirty-three

Chapter 33

Two weeks into chasing her down, Elsie had to admit that Angela Graystone was a hell of a lot smarter than the other hunter clan defectors Mordane had ordered her to track. Unlike the others, the woman wasn’t traveling alone. She’d made an ally in some low-level earth magic user.

Whatever companion she’d taken along was small and agile. Splashes of its magic bounced all over the place. Elsie had spotted its remnant trail on rocks, logs, and even the lower branches of trees.

Angela was better at hiding and throwing off the trail than anyone else she’d been sent after, and Elsie fully suspected that her magical friend was more than partially responsible.

They’d found themselves walking in circles several times during the chase, looping back to a familiar rock or tree with no way of knowing how much time they’d wasted. Each time, Elsie identified a small, easily hidden object used as an anchor for the illusion spell that had them unknowingly wandering the same patch of woods. Sometimes it was an acorn, or a pinecone, though stones no bigger than the tip of her finger seemed to be a favorite.

Elsie's heightened sense of smell had pulled them through each time, since Saint had already refused to have anything to do with this one after reading Angela’s file.

“I’m keeping this one. Wouldn’t it be cool if I could replicate the magic? It’ll drive my sister crazy back home,” Riven cackled, pocketing one of the acorns.

“Did you have to bring Riven with us?” Morgan complained again in hushed tones. The mage had discovered they were leaving on a top-secret mission and invited herself along, not showing up until they were settled on the tram and ready to go. Knowing full well it would be frowned upon, Elsie had let her tag along.

“Mordane and Albright made it perfectly clear that these missions are strictly classified. This isn’t mage business, and it’s not why she’s come to the hunters.”

“If Mordane didn’t want her to learn what we’re up to, he shouldn’t have placed her with our squad. It was only a matter of time before she’d overhear or see something classified.” Elsie shrugged.

She paused, cocking her head at a hollowed-out log with a pool of earth magic in and around it. Angela’s little friend liked to play here frequently.

‘A demon sympathizer must not be suffered to live,’ Mordane’s voice echoed through Elsie’s mind. He’d been talking about Angela, but the way he’d stared at Saint while he said it put her nerves on high alert. ‘They’re a poison that must be stopped before their ideals can spread.’

Lately he acted as though they’d never actually intended for Saint to become her companion. Maybe it was paranoia creeping in, but Elsie was starting to feel like her demon’s presence was a test that she was failing. Saint was a well-laid trap, and by falling for him, she was tightening the noose all on her own.

Another pool of earth magic led to a tunnel under some brush. They were getting close. There were signs of the pair all over the place, which meant they’d made camp somewhere nearby and had hunkered down for at least a few days. It came as something of a disappointment to Elsie. Angela was smarter than this. She must have an urgent reason for staying in one place, despite knowing she was being hunted.

The scent of cooked meat and a fire drifted lazily in the wind, and then the sweet, high-pitched voice of a child rang through the trees. Elsie’s group froze, watching and listening for any sign that their quarry knew they’d arrived. The child laughed, and the patient voice of a woman followed.

Elsie’s gait moved into a creeping crawl, each step calculated to make zero noise. Morgan broke away, cutting wide to get to the other side of the small camp waiting ahead of them. Saint stayed with Elsie, the presence of his magic snuffed out so as not to give the pair they’d been chasing any warning of his approach. Riven hung back under strict orders to observe only. Elsie refused to dirty the mage’s hands with what they’d come here to do.

The camp came into view, and Elsie recognized Angela at once from the photos in her file. Her short-cropped blonde hair was shaggier after over a month on the run, and she was a bit leaner, but there was no mistaking that jawline or the scar across her chin.

Angela had a wet, soapy cloth, and she was wiping the face of a toddler. Her earth magic-bearing friend was a little lop-eared rabbit demon, giggling and trying to break free of her hold. The kid was no older than three or four.

“Living in the middle of nowhere doesn’t give us permission to be savages. We have to clean up before you can eat.”

Elsie locked eyes with Saint, dread building in her chest. She’d already had her qualms after reading this woman’s file, but seeing it firsthand...she couldn’t do this. Not without one hell of a good reason.

She stood and walked into Angela’s camp, intentionally scuffing her boot against a rock to draw her attention. The woman moved fast, shoving the kid behind her and pulling the weapon she had lying on the ground within reach—a stave with fierce blades on each end.

“They sent you,” she said, voice strained. Heavy bags drooped under her flinty eyes, and tension puckered the corners of her mouth. Wariness weighed on her brow, but she was ready to fight to protect that little kid, despite the ankle injury she was doing her best to hide.

The camp she’d built was little more than a shelter fashioned from a fallen tree and some branches for a windbreak; the bed inside was piled-up leaves. Angela and her rabbit friend were surviving off what she scraped together out here, with nothing but her wits and weapon to protect her.

‘And one feisty little bunny,’ she mentally corrected herself as the kid balled up his fists, standing at Angela’s side. Gods, was he ever cute. With shaggy hair as gray as the ears that fell to his shoulders, he had big eyes on an otherwise human face. A fluffy little tail poked out from the base of his spine.