Page 89 of Huntress

“I–” She pulled her hand away, hanging her head guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“Mistress.”

Elsie looked up to see a pained expression on his face.

“You’re not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I have to be. You can’t let yourself start thinking like that.” She winced.

“Because of them?”

“Because of you. All I can offer is a miserable life or a violent death. Don’t you want better than that? I don’t want the guilt of your death on my hands, but if you keep throwing yourself between my enemies and me, it’s bound to happen.”

Saint sighed, then leaned forward, reaching for her again. This time he let the tips of his fingers brush across the back of her hand. Her lips parted, eyes widening, but she didn’t stop him.

He’d barely touched her, a mere whisper against her skin, but a warmth kindled, reaching every cell in her body. Her muscles strained, wanting to move toward him so badly that she had to hold herself back.

“You don’t get to dictate my choices when it comes to protecting you from things that want to kill you,” he said.

“Like hell I don’t–”

A soft sound came from the woods. Albright was coming back. They broke apart, Elsie busying herself with their trash while Saint pulled his still-slightly-damp clothes off the line. She watched the packaging burn, flexing her fingers. Having Saint around was starting to get dangerous.

“Are you going to eat?” she asked her mentor when he joined them. “If not, let’s get moving.”

“Feeling anxious, are we? Good, you should be. When you’re out there on one of these missions, you move as if your life depends on it, because it does. Yours and everyone around you. If a runner were to get captured, they’ll spill everything they know to save themselves, especially when the demons start torturing them for information. Letting them get away with all that valuable intel in their heads puts the whole clan at risk.”

He fished an MRE out of his go bag and started heating the contents. Elsie let her clothes stay on the line until he finished eating, reluctant to put them away while they were still wet. She put the map at the top of the bag, readily accessible as they navigated the terrain. The only trace they left behind was the remnants of the fire they’d doused before leaving.

“How will you track a target that knows how to jump?” Albright quizzed when they were well on their way.

“Their files will have a max estimate of how far they’re able to jump in an emergency.”

“That will work for the first few jumps, if you’re lucky enough to predict their landing, but how will you figure out their stamina? Their maximum may be immense for the first couple of jumps, and then dwindle to nothing. Or, they may have a moderate mid-level jump that stays at a consistent distance,” he questioned.

She thought about Perrie’s ability to jump, and what she saw in the pool of magic her friend left behind each time she did. Elsie frowned as she called to mind what those same pools looked like when the witch was tired, while keeping a steady pace as she crested a hill.

She paused at the top. It had a pretty nice view of the valley below, and with both the red and white moons hanging in the sky, each at different phases, it was worth taking a moment to appreciate.

“I can learn their magical signature with a quick visit to their room, and once I find it outside their barrier, I can see how much magic they’re using for the jump,” she finally answered Albright’s question. “When someone intentionally uses their magic, they leave more evidence, and when they jump, what they leave behind is like a small puddle. The magic splashes behind them, indicating the direction they’ve gone and how much power they’ve put into it. Less magic, less distance.”

“Hmmm. What’s your plan for when you come across someone who leaves no magic trail? They could be a void, or a human.”

“What? They’re not going to send me after humans,” Elsie laughed, but she glanced over when he didn’t laugh along. “Right?”

“Sometimes, you get a human that doesn’t fit in with the others. They’re always a bit more intelligent than the others, a bit more curious, and that leads them to wander. Sometimes, those humans take a risk and leave the nest. And when nothing bad happens the first time, they’ll do it again, growing a little bolder with each escape,” Albright said.

Elsie chewed the inside of her lip at his choice of words. Humans who left their nests escaped.

“When I’ve asked, they describe it as an addiction. They get crafty, learning how to avoid their nest’s hunters, and one day, they don’t come back. By that time, they’ve gotten so good at avoiding detection that their family and friends won’t even realize they’ve gone missing. Sometimes for days.”

“Nobody checks in on them?” Elsie’s brow furrowed.

“Most of them claim they never fit in. I’ve had parents admit that they were relieved, thinking their moody kid had finally found a friend. Or women who assumed their husbands were cheating on them, and colleagues who were happy to avoid awkward conversations at the lunch table.”

“Gods, that’s tragic! What happens when you find them?”

“I don’t always. A few had already been killed by demons by the time I got there, though I’m still convinced a handful found the feral colonies and joined up with them. Those who are found are most often invited to join us in non-combative roles.”