Page 17 of Ghoul Huntress (Maelstrom Duology #2)

17

“I’ve returned to duel and claim leadership,” she told Drummer as she strolled into the armory with her boots jingling and her hand on Willow’s shiny butt. This had a nice western, showdown at the OK Corral feel to it. Blood still stained her hand and face, and no doubt her clothes too. Much of it was Vincent’s.

“You are not a Warrior,” he reminded her. “And you’re hurt.”

“Are you breaking your word?” Cyn began to unbuckle her gun belt, sure that would make it difficult for him to dismiss her. She lowered it to one of the nearby benches that was loaded with weapons being retooled and repaired. Then she wiped her bloody hands on a convenient cloth and wiped away more blood where it’d wet her neck.

When she spoke, her facial wounds dribbled blood.

“No. Of course not. You insist on this duel?”

“I do.” She walked a little closer, eyeing his followers. Her face ached like a thousand demons were poking her with hot jalapenos. Not that the beasters worried her, but she wished to gauge their reaction to this, to her challenging their leader.

“They won’t accept you if you win.”

“Perhaps this is true. Then… if I win, I will step aside and let Orin lead.”

The gasps and derogatory speculation from the crowd made her smile. She had him. Now he would want to prove himself better.

“Very well.” He undid a weapon belt or two, stripped himself of guns and knives, and gave them to his followers. “Orin leads if I lose. If not, you leave this quarter, forever.”

“Oh, I won’t lose.”

Someone chose then to yell. “She’s badly wounded! This should wait until she heals.”

“Fuck that.” Drummer dismissed the statement, slashing at the air with his hand. “She insisted. This will end when she cannot rise from the floor. Agreed?”

Cyn nodded, smiled thinly. “When you cannot rise.”

He took two steps forward, long but slow ones.

She sprinted, lit up her burning hands, then lunged and skated forward on the dust and the momentum. Though he raised his hands, she swiped in a fiery arc and burned across his hands at the wrist, and his head at the neck.

His severed hands fell from his wrists.

An angled black and sizzling red line showed at his neck.

Drummer’s head slowly slid from his neck, thudded wetly to the floor. It sat there smoking and crackling. His eyes stared then died, eyelids half-closing. Mouth agape.

Cyn dusted off her hands. Flames spat. “I win. Orin, you’re the leader now.” She bowed but kept her arms wide and her hands alight.

Then she turned and walked away.

Gasps and cries followed her, but no footsteps. She was right, most were tired of Drummer.

“That’s… fuck. That’s cheating! Come back!”

She extinguished the fire. Cyn turned then walked backward and away from them for a few steps. She held up her hands. “Bare hands only. No weapons. He knew what I was. And he sucked as a leader! Deal with it!”

The last beaster she took note of was Orin, who stepped out from the crowd, the black-muscled and winged beaster, his horns gleaming like oil, the blue streaks on him as startling as stars in the night. He raised both hands and gave her a double thumbs up.

Heh. He couldn’t do worse than Drummer.

Then she left. Little Mo emerged from the darkness beneath an armored car to scamper alongside her.

Although Rutger and Vincent might know much of what had occurred on their raid, the one thing she’d forgotten to plan for was how to inform Maura of what she had seen above, what the Lure had been like, how many enemies were likely…

Jolted by a memory, she stopped walking.

And well, when the queens would launch. That minor detail. It would happen in less than four weeks.

She’d leeched that data from the minds of the GLs and had barely noticed it at the time.

“Hey, Little Mo.”

“Hello, Cyn. I’m back following you.”

“I see that. I plan on staying by myself awhile, probably a few weeks. Can you link to Big Mo, if I need it?”

“I can.”

“Good.” She could tell the others what she knew. “This could get lonely.”

Vargr would be livid. Rutger, he might accept her choice. She’d have to scavenge for food, a safe place to live, stay on the move in case Vargr or Rutger decided to track her.

She needed to go full demon.

There could be no turning back from this.

Drummer had been partly right. Some of this day… make that night, had been a failure.

Do better.

She was doing better by going badder.

Or was that badass-er?

“I have to go full demon, Mo.” Going cold turkey on bondmating would not be easy. “It might get nasty. I might get nasty. I wish I knew for sure if I could keep being human. I want to still be me.”

Was she whining to the little bot? Yes, she was.

“I can help you, Cyn. Please. I will tell you if you are nasty.”

She looked down, and Mo had a clawed limb held up high. She squatted and took the tiny pincers between finger and thumb, then she shook it very carefully. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Protecting you is my job.”

She straightened and wiped beneath her eyes, which were watering stupidly.

“Damn. Who cares if I cry? I might forget how to soon.”

Cyn walked onward, boots still jingling, heading into the darker, uninhabited areas of War Quarter. Little Mo trotted along with her.

“Appreciate the help, little one,” she said, adding softly, “What profit a human if they gain the world but lose their soul?” She was definitely concerned for her soul, even if she hadn’t had a lot of use for it lately. Did demons even have one?

“Your soul, Miss Cyn? I don’t know what that is but if you give it to me, I will keep it safe for you.”

Awww. Adorable. Who’d been feeding cuteness to this bot’s programming?

“I wish that was possible, Mo. That would simplify things a helluva lot.”

When she’d killed Drummer, she hadn’t felt a thing. Not fear or sadness or worry, or even regret.

Nothing.

She should take the trinkets off her boots. The noise might alert some animal predator as to her whereabouts… but then again, she could kill anything she encountered, as long as it wasn’t a whole bunch of Ghoul Lords. Let the buyer beware, so to speak. Fuck with me and die.

Gunshots echoed in the distance, carried in the long hallways, then rapid fire followed. It could be anywhere on this story. Afraid of what that might mean, she questioned Little Mo.

“Big Mo tells me a skinsuit attack was detected early. It was repulsed by the machine guns linked to scent detectors that the Warriors set up.” Mo paused as if listening to Big Mo. “It was a great success, Cyn.”

“Good.”

They really were getting nearer to being able to defeat the Ghoul Lords. She crunched her hands into fists.

How many humans were left? Thousands or millions worldwide? It wasn’t as if they had hard data. Four weeks until launch and every day more people would die.

“Can you please send to Big Mo,” she said, “That I’m being careful with the Lure. I’ll be testing myself. Tell him to tell Maura, and…” She swallowed. “…and V and Rutger.”

First the hands of skinsuits appeared at the edge then they began to pull themselves up. Before long, Avidex was certain something terrible had happened below. So few returned. The humans had somehow destroyed much of this force, even though it was the largest ever sent below. Fifteen Ghoul Lords and many rippers had left and only four Ghoul Lords returned.

This will not be good for us, Willow.

Now you too say us .

He ignored his Willow brain and watched as Blobby wobbled toward him… them. Alas the Blob had not been one of those who volunteered to attack the humans.

Behind Blobby a line of Ghoul Lords slowly gathered and swelled, advancing this way also.

They look threatening , Willow thought. What will you do?

Listen. What else could he do?

Blobby raised several tentacles and waved them at Avidex. You sent them below and many died. You must be punished for this. We have talked among ourselves.

And left him out of the chat room, clearly.

And so we cast punishment on you. You are banished to be a guard of the rogue queen on the next set of buildings. You will leave now.

So… I’m guessing we should pack a suitcase?

He hissed mentally at his human. No longer did he have the slightest chance to be a part of the launch of queens. The joke is not appropriate .

He backed away from those confronting him and began to slither to the opposite edge.

Once there, hours later, he gazed down at the rubble covered Top where the rogue queen had stupidly landed and built her mound. It was miles below, beneath the clouds and barely visible.

How will we get there?

We sail down, we float. It is how I came here years ago, except I was wise enough to find this landing site and not that poor one down there.

I see.

And so it was. He sailed, he floated, then he overshot the Top entirely and kept sailing, while cursing the wind and his stupid human.

Heyyy. She sounded affronted in thought.

I am not sorry. Your advice caused this.

I didn’t know of the consequences.

You are trouble. You’re lucky you taste good or I would get rid of you.

They landed on the Ground, a terrible place. Though the Lure worked on most creatures, this place was anathema. Shuddering, Avidex shook dirt off his tentacles. It would be a long sliding, slithery journey to get back to the buildings. He must go across the ground, over the debris mound, then he would have to climb all the way up the side. It would take days.

The Top is low. There is that.

Her point was true.

This we call seeing the bright side of life . Although, what will you eat to survive down here? There are no humans.

You wish me to eat your kind?

No.

A herd of four-legged striped animals galloped nearby, beneath the twinkling, starry sky.

He slithered onward. I will eat some of those.

Zebras? You cannot eat those. Some are babies, plus they are too cute.

Avidex tried to roll his large saucer-sized eyes. I am a predator, a flesh-eater. So are your species. You must have eaten these. I will Lure them close.

We did not.

You did not eat them? Why?

Stripes. And cute, and too like horses.

He found the human logic terribly odd at times like this.

All predators eat the lesser creatures. Humans did this. Now we eat you.

That is bad.

Bad… good. The concept escapes me.

You cause unnecessary suffering.

Avidex blew a mental raspberry. We kill our prey, humans. Why is it not bad for humans to kill their prey?

We think. We are intelligent.

He didn’t see why that made a difference.

Later on, growing hungry, he caught a zebra anyway and ate it in spite of the shrieks and mind-mutterings of Willow. Though, truthfully, he was beginning to see what cute meant. The sky was pretty, the stripes on the hide were so… interesting in their geometrical arrangement.

From the bloody remains of its skin, he retrieved a genetic sample. He could play with it when he had the time. When he ate other creatures along the way, he kept samples of those also.

One never knew when one might make use of them.

On the journey, he conjured up a Willow copy a few times, amused himself fucking her and eating her. He kept his Willow brain unaware. Causing her discomfort and pain was no longer appealing.

Once, he made a zebra copy from other living material—same as he made his Willow copies. The creature staggered about on its newborn spindly limbs. It even had a brain, though it was a pristine clean, zebra one. This seemed to astonish Willow.

Wow! You can do this?

Yes, though it requires ingredients and energy.

Creating something is so much better than destruction.

You humans can make new humans—babies.

The similarity perplexed her which he found funny. Good and bad puzzled him, but this puzzled her?