Page 79 of Huntress

“What makes you say that?”

“They’re throwing temper tantrums, but they know they’ll never have it as good under someone else. In your little hunter world, you’re like a little lord. You protect them, bring them prestige, and inflate their worth. They’re better just for being near you. They’re not going anywhere.”

Elsie settled into the bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes. “I hope you’re right.”

She fell asleep quickly, and he stayed awake, watching her breathe. His eyes stung from staying awake too long, but if he looked away, she’d get herself into trouble again. She slept for a long while before rolling to her side, facing him, one of her hands resting on the pillow beside her face.

Saint got up and crouched next to her, the tip of his finger hovering over hers. It would be easy to slip his fingers between hers and hold on to her. He traced the lines on Elsie’s palm without touching her, then moved his hand to her face, his thumb lingering a hair’s breadth away from her bottom lip. The heat of her breath brushed his skin, and he pulled away, ashamed of himself.

Going back to his cot, he tilted his head against the wall. Eventually his breathing matched hers, lulling him to sleep.

Elsie woke two hours later and slipped in to take a shower, letting Saint sleep. She only had one set of clothes left that hadn’t been shredded or left filthy. The outfit was useless for hunting, but it was perfect for a lazy day like this. A pair of hemp shorts and a flowing, off-the-shoulder burnt orange top with wide sleeves. It tied in the front, and she cinched it in with a deep brown corset top with shoulder straps.

She left her hair long to give it time to dry properly, then went back into the room she shared with Saint. She stayed quiet, putting her things away, but before the task was finished, she caught him watching her.

“I’m going outside to get some fresh air,” she told him. He shadowed her through the halls and out the door. They wandered together, and at first it seemed random, but eventually he noticed a clear objective.

The tram station entrance was eerily quiet in contrast to the last time Elsie had seen it. Perrie’s barrier was gone, and so were the bodies, but the blood soaked into the ground remained. A heavy presence of death lingered, and the scents and memories flashed through her mind, as visceral and real as the moment they’d happened.

Elsie folded her arms across her chest, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather making her feel ill.

“You shouldn’t have come out here,” Saint said.

“It’s the only way back to the compound. We’ll all have to face it, eventually.”

There were a handful of half-melted white candles huddled together atop blackened soil, right outside of where the barrier had been. The place Grady, Morgan, and Banks had been forced to behead dozens of human corpses in defense of the living.

A box of unlit candles sat against the wall of the tram station entrance, waiting for people coming to pay their respects. Elsie took two, handing one to Saint. She lit hers, then tilted it over his, lighting them both. They stood quietly, eyes unfocused, reliving the fight for their lives.

“Santa Muerte, te pido que no los desampares. Cúbrelos con tu manto sagrado de todo peligro, de día y de noche. Aleja de su camino la envidia, el mal y a sus enemigos. Te suplico que los guardes y protejas bajo tu sombra poderosa. Amén,” Elsie whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.1

“Amen,” Saint whispered back. “What did you pray for?”

“I asked my mother to take them under her cloak and protect their spirits from danger. We should burn a black candle to protect against negative energy, but Mother will understand, if she’s listening.” Elsie bent down and placed her candle with the others, the demon following her lead.

“Chantraine, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Mordane said from behind them. Elsie wiped her eyes and turned to face him.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’ve spent the past few hours reading through your files and fact-checking your sources. Your evidence is solid. I spoke with a few of your witnesses, and they’re willing to swear to their honesty under oath.” He squinted at Saint. “I don’t believe we’ve met in person.”

“You’ve only ever seen him in a fur coat, chained and whipped by Clairemont,” Elsie said bitterly. “This is the wolfhound you and Cornick forced on me.”

“So much for all your protests, you seem to be along just fine.” Mordane looked at Saint with new appreciation, and a healthy dose of trepidation. “Where’s his collar?”

Elsie made a face. “You sent us to trial by fire and crippled my companion with that damned thing. He doesn’t need it anymore.”

“Uh-huh,” Mordane murmured, putting a few more feet of distance between them, as though it would stop the wolfhound if he were to decide to take his revenge here and now. “I wanted to let you know you’re off the hook. I’ve taken care of everything, so don’t you worry your pretty little head. None of Harlan’s baseless accusations will go on your record or follow you going forward.”

“Great. What’s going to happen with the investigation into Harlan’s misconduct? Will you need our help?” she asked, noting that Mordane took another step back.

“The investigation is closed.”

Elsie blinked, processing.

“WHAT?! He’s going to get away with it? Even the false accusations? How can that be your decision?” she demanded. “You can’t sweep this under the rug, that man is corrupt and inept! It’s only a matter of time before he fucks up again.”

“Harlan will remain the marshal of Colony Ten, with some additional training to correct his shortcomings,” Mordane stated. “You wouldn't believe the amount of work that goes into grooming a new marshal. We don’t currently have anyone qualified to take over.”