Page 32 of The Monster of Darkspell Comics

Fanny

I regulate my breath as I listen to David Sweeney moving around the camper.

I’ve been awake for a while, listening to him mutter to himself.

He’s been trying to radio his superiors, but nothing is getting through.

All I’ve been hearing is the rustle of papers and static crackling interspersed with his furious whispering.

I’m pretty sure that his obsession and this desert has driven him mad.

He no longer as well groomed as he was when the vampire dropped me off.

When I peek at him from beneath my lashes, I can see that his hair is in disarray and the gauntness in his face that I hadn’t noticed earlier as he rifles through his notes, his eyes overly bright with some kind of fervor.

Thankfully, he seems to have momentarily forgotten that I’m there.

Or more accurately, he doesn’t consider my presence a priority at that particular moment while he goes over his notes.

I’m pretty sure that he plans on chopping me up into meaty pieces to get my genetic material, so it’s not something that’s going to happen immediately.

That much is relief and allows me to bide my time as I carefully begin to work on the screws bolting down the bar that I fastened to.

It’s my good fortune that the camper is old and not well maintained so the bolts are looser than expected and come off with just a little stubborn prying.

I slip each bolt onto the cushion beside me so that it doesn’t make a sound or alert him to the fact that I’m awake and daring to make an escape. I love Pashar, but I can’t depend on his being able to find me. I don’t even know where I am.

As I covertly work, however, I slowly become aware of the fog creeping into the camper.

It doesn’t happen all at once but in a slow trickle that gathers in a dark corner away from the direct exposure of the sun.

Just as I’m loosening the last bolt, I see the large malcante take form right before my eyes as Chewy’s vines stretch all around her, sliding across the floor and walls heading directly for him.

My eyes bug a little because I didn’t know she could do that.

I watch with fascination, though as one vine runs ruthlessly up his pants, and he shouts, kicking out his chair as he spins around.

I slam my eyes shut, pretending to still be unconscious, but I can hear him scrambling backward.

There is the sound of something like a metal box being fumbled with, and then a loud click, followed by several more metallic sounds that I can’t quite identify.

It’s not until the gunshot rings through the room that I realize that what I heard was the gun being loaded.

I try not to cringe as it fires again and again.

I can hear the shattering of wood and the snapping of Chewy’s thick vines, but she persistently keeps sending them until she no longer has any more long vines to send.

I hear is breathing as the room falls silent, now absent of the sound of her running, rushing vines and his gunfire.

He drags out a chair, and I peek at him from beneath my lashes as he drops tiredly into it, though his gun remains directed at Chewy, who regards him balefully with her numerous pods.

He laughs tiredly to himself, and the gun shakes in his hand. “I knew you were not a normal plant,” he rasps. “I will be sure to pack every little piece of what’s left of you after I’m finished tearing you apart.”

He lifts his gun again, but his hand jerks down when a loud bang practically shakes the camper. My eyes snap tightly shut, every muscle tensing as I become hyperaware of the whisper of shifting fabric as he turns in his chair toward the sound.

I have to admit that the sound of the door being kicked in and wrenched off its hinges just nearly startles me into giving myself away.

But I don’t dare risk another peek until David Sweeney is on his feet, his back to me as he faces whatever is there in the doorway.

My gaze shifts and my breath catches as I see the dark monstrosity of my mate standing there, his corethi and wings filling the doorway around him like a dark shadow.

His armed is stretched out in front of him, Adam dangling from his fist. He doesn’t say anything, but his corethi rise out from his sides, framing him with an unholy glory before jabbing downward into Adam.

The vampire doesn’t scream; he merely gurgles pitifully for a moment before Pashar casts him onto the floor. My demon steps forward then, stalking toward David. I see the gun rise, David’s attention trained solely on Pashar as he takes aim.

This is it. It’s now or never.

Seeing my opportunity, I jump to my feet, yanking free the support bar free. It’s still attached to my wrist, but whatever. I rush at David Sweeney, a scream building in my lungs that I let loose as I swing the bar like a championship batter at the plate.

“Cowabunga!” I shriek as I hit him with enough force to send him stumbling backwards.

I grin triumphantly as the breath expels from him painfully.

I tighten my hold on the bar, ready to go in swinging again, even though I flinch as his gun moves toward me.

Before he can fire even one round off, however, he trips over one of Chewy’s long vines lying discarded and broken on the floor.

His arms whirl, the gun swinging away from me as he topples backwards, falling into Chewy’s grasping fronds and vines.

The screams and sprays of blood that fill the room make me wrinkle my nose, and I’m grateful when Pashar wraps his wings around me to protect me from the worst of the blood spray.

It’s all pretty putrid, but I’m surprisingly keeping it together pretty well as Chewy does things I don’t even want to know about to what is left of my captor.

The wet tear of flesh and slap of innards is enough to color my imagination for a while.

Finally, the camper grows silent once more, and Pashar’s wings slide from around me, giving me a clear view of my surroundings. Everything is hosed in blood. Even the notebooks seem to be nothing but wet smears of muck on the table. I whistle softly to myself as I look around.

“You do realize that we are probably going to have to torch the place,” I say conversationally, and my mate’s head turns, his yellow-green eyes focusing on me for a moment before turning to Chewy again with a sigh.

I return his stare, lifting my hands helplessly in a shrug. “What?”

“Do you not understand the concept of allowing your mate to save you?” he grumbles as he reaches over and effortless snapes the cuff on my wrist. “I wanted to eat him.”

I scowl at him and toss the bar aside. “So, this is not about saving me. You’re mad because Chewy got to eat him instead of you?”

An abashed look briefly crosses his face before being replaced with annoyance. “Saving you is what brought me out here,” he says testily. “But I still wanted to be the one who ate him.”

I giggle despite myself and pat his chest. “Next time, honey. But hey on the bright side, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Chewy’s leaves look so healthy.”

He grumbles about that, followed by further complaints about how he’s going to have to make a second trip with a blanket to get her back home without the sun frying her white.

It is at that point that I also learn how she got into the camper.

I can’t believe she transformed into mist to move through the air and fog to reach me, but I have to say that I’m impressed.

That’s malcante love for you. Awwww, Chewy.

“Let’s go home,” he rumbles as he hefts me up into his arms. “And then paperwork. Loads and loads of paperwork... which you are going to help me with,” he adds, giving me the gimlet eye.

I sigh heavily. “Seriously. I don’t get a pass for escaping death here?”

“Welcome to the bureaucracy of the demonic realms,” he replies acidly as he pumps his wings, carrying me across the sky.

Is this a happily ever after? Oh, hell yeah.