Page 32 of Huntress

“Why would you intentionally make yourself uncomfortable?”

“Who says I’ll be uncomfortable?”

Elsie sighed, giving up. “Do what you want, but don’t come whining to me when you get cold.”

“I’m a demon, Mistress. I won’t get cold,” he contended.

“If you say so,” Elsie said, distracted as she strapped two daggers to her thigh.

One she’d gotten from Stolas, the other a graduation present from Albright. She hadn’t had time to polish and sharpen them, so she dug her whetstone and cloth out of her drawer and shoved them into her bag. It was a ritual she had every time she was back at the compound, keeping her weapon in pristine condition. It didn’t sit well with her that she’d been unable to complete that ritual.

Elsie checked to make sure everything was secured properly. When she was finished, she looked around her room quickly. She hadn’t even had time to dust off her sewing machine, and who knew when they’d be back again?

“Are you seriously going to take me into a nest with you?” the demon questioned, as though he couldn’t quite believe it.

“It’s the safest option for you.” He made a rude noise, but she ignored it. “Bring your ration card with you. You’re going to need it.”

Elsie shouldered her go bag and left her room behind, the demon coming behind her. She locked up, and they made their way back to the mess hall, approaching the counter away from the cafeteria line. The one meant specifically for supplying rations to those going out on missions. She set her bag at her feet and flashed her card.

“Seven days, Colony Ten,” she said to the woman behind the counter. The cook wasn’t much for conversation. She wanted information in as short an exchange as possible, and Elsie was typically happy to oblige. She jerked a thumb at the hound. “Same for him.”

He fished his card out of his pocket and flashed it at the woman, who nodded once before disappearing. “They’re dehydrated meals, but they’re surprisingly better than half the crap they serve in the mess hall,” Elsie told him. “More salt to preserve them longer, I think.”

“That sounds disgusting,” he replied in a low voice.

Elsie glanced around, noting there was no one close enough to overhear his words. His refusal to speak to anyone else was confusing. Surely he could hate everyone equally by verbalizing his anger to more than just her.

The woman returned with seven tofu-block-sized packs for each of them. Breakfasts. The colony they were working for would provide their lunches and dinners at their own expense. It saved room in their go-bags, and the colonies were held responsible for the hunter’s upkeep. They were also expected to provide well-maintained barracks to sleep in while they were within the nest itself. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was the system in place.

Shoving them into her pack, Elsie waited for the hound to do the same, not failing to notice the seriously judgemental looks coming from the cook. Perrie wasn’t wrong. Physically, he did a perfect imitation of an absurdly attractive human man, but there was no hiding how much magic he was packing, or the threatening aura oozing out of him every time he breathed.

‘Feeding a demon must be a first for her,’ Elsie mused in her own head. It wasn’t as though demons wandered around the compound on a regular basis.

It was amusing to watch how flustered his presence made people, especially since all they did was stare or make passing remarks. Not one person spoke out against having a demon walking free among them. They didn’t want to get involved with Elsie. It was common knowledge that she was a favorite of Mordane, and that she had his support, even in her craziest moments.

“Have you ever ridden a tram before, Mutt?” She led him through the mess hall and out the door.

“No.” He took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the sun. “Demon kind do not use such archaic means of travel.”

“So you walk everywhere?” she asked, though she knew demons had other means. Some had wings to fly; others did what Perrie called jumping. Better described as spatial travel, they used magic to jump from one place to another at ridiculous speeds. Perrie had the talent for it, and it never failed to make Elsie feel sick to her stomach when she saw it in action. The idea of moving that fast made her dizzy.

“Or run,” he answered.

Elsie looked up at him as they walked. The demon wasn’t about to give anything about himself away, and she respected that, though it piqued her curiosity.

“Don’t your feet get tired? Or, I guess, paws?”

“No.”

“That makes sense, if it’s something you’re used to.” She intentionally walked the long way to their destination to avoid the barn and the arena. He was calm for the moment, and she didn’t want to send him into another panic attack.

“Do you really not care that I call you Mutt?” she questioned when he continued holding his silence. He glanced down at her, a bored expression on his face.

“I’ve been called worse by better,” he tossed back.

Elsie huffed at him as they walked up to a building no larger than a supply shed. The only outward difference between this building and all the others was the material. Most had tin siding with faded, buttermilk-yellow paint. This building had the same color scheme, but was made of solid concrete.

The heavy door opened easily enough, using an ordinary key. It wasn’t designed to keep people out. It was designed to contain anyone trying to sneak into the compound. The interior was completely empty aside from a second door, with an electronic pad to the left of the handle.