Molly

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“Yes, why are you here?” Tally2 spits. “It seems strange to me the Sinsear Tribunal would take such a keen interest in one fire elemental.”

I couldn’t agree more. Waste. Of. Time.

“You said yourself there are very few of them remaining,” Brody rebuts.

She only gives our intentions a fleeting thought, which is par for the course. She’s impossibly selfish, misguided, and too fucking dumb to understand the need for order. Look, I’m proud of being a squeaky wheel, but I know I’m a fucking wheel. That’s the difference.

“Why are you so interested in her?” Brody counters. “In a strictly systematic environment, she’d provide the missing link for making the most out of your meals...but you don’t drain humans, so I fail to see why she’s that important to you.”

“Explain,” Sheyla demands.

“A human’s blood is the ideal food source,” Tally2 claims. “The blood is like the meat and potatoes of the meal.”

Sheyla level one grimaces, while Tally smirks, gaining a little fervour for her explanation. “There are other things we can take that are like a dessert, if you will.”

“Not cool.” She shudders right out of Brody’s grasp. I, on the other hand, am enjoying where the conversation is heading.

“Declan, for instance, would steal away the victim’s breath.” I wouldn’t call them a victim. Prey seems more accurate. “Ryan would take away the excess liquid. There’s a lot of liquid in the human body.” Tally waggles her brow, Sheyla narrows her eyes, and I reckon this bonfire is finally starting to get fun. “I’d dispose of the remains, sort of like a composter.”

“And, my role is?”

“Well, you’re the star of the show, of course!” she clips excitedly. “You take away their fear, which makes the whole thing a lot less messy. I don’t mind letting the light shine on you initially because it’ll always finish with me.”

“But, that’s all hypothetical, right?” Sheyla reasons. “You don’t do that.”

“That doesn’t stop us from wanting to,” Tally dodges.

“So, this is how it works for the others, those who don’t seek out alternate means like you?”

“Your buddy Brody would know more about that than me, being he’s the nose-rubber of the elite,” Tally2 snips. “What’s it like being the family pet, Brody? Do they let you clean up the scraps or do they finish the job on their own?”

That pisses me off. My body begins the shapeshifting transition, my muscles intimately dancing under my skin. My control wavers as my anger grows.

“The technique means there’s no tangible evidence left of the event,” she presses when no one offers an explanation.

“What happens if there are no groups?” Sheyla carries on. “What if there’s a lone wolf or an incomplete set?”

“It’s funny you should mention that, since that was the initial purpose of the Good-Ole-Sentry,” Tally2 ignorantly continues. “Begging for scraps.”

A roar resonates in my chest again, longer and lower than before. Fuck, my shoes. I kick them off. I’ve already destroyed three pairs. Goodwill is getting suspicious. As a point of record, I give no fucks what that bitch says about me or our hunts, but I’m heavy on the side of defensive when it comes to my teammates. Only I’m allowed to badmouth them.

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“Maybe you should cool it,” Sheyla suggests.

“Why?” Tally2 laughs. “I want to see some of the tricks she’s learned.”

There’s a horrible rock crusher sound coming from within me. It’s time to show her exactly what I’m made of.

“Ah, come on,” Tally2 persists. “Sit. Roll over. Fetch.”

I rip right through my clothing and transform into the beautiful wolf-bear that’s been sleeping for far too long. My creature isn’t as big as the others. Oh, it’s a monster, don’t get me wrong. It’s just smaller compared to theirs. Asteria thinks it’s due to my panther being my dominant animal. She. Is. Glorious. Problem is, she doesn’t play well with others. Neither do I, if we’re airing our dirty underwear, but she’s way worse. There’s something I want more than my panther in this moment though. What do I want? Oh, you know, same old, same old. I want to take an indigestible bite out of an Earth Solathair, specifically this one’s big, inflated head.

“Oh!” Tally2 claps her hands excitedly. “I have a good one. I’ll teach you the best trick of all.”

“Just stop,” Brody recommends.

“I’ll teach you how to…” Her voice lowers to a mere murmur, full of the most contempt I’ve ever heard from anyone other than me. Kinda sexy, to be fair. “Play dead.”

That’s when I charge her. I give zero fucks if it’s her or a replica of her. I don’t even care I can’t kill her. I’m not seeing that clearly. All I’m seeing is red. Do I get the chance to chomp? Fuck no. The stupid little girl everyone’s crushing over starts with her pyrotechnic distraction. There are tiny flames flickering from her fingertips within seconds, but she can’t seem to release the trigger. Brody helps her by giving her a hefty slap to the back, which causes the sparks to shoot forward, igniting the wood piled and waiting for them.

Naturally, she can’t control the energy once she lets it out of its cage, and she doesn’t know what to do with the leftovers. What. A. Waste. I whimper at the energy being lost. I want it. Every bit of it.

Brody doesn’t seem phased by the excess particles floating around like euphoria aerosol. His only concern is Sheyla. He takes her hand and tries to blow on it. Idiot. While he’s undoubtedly full of hot air, it isn’t doing any good to abate the finger flames lady lightshow is still experiencing. She manages to be even more stupid. She starts shaking her hands as if something’s stuck to her fingers. Flames are flying everywhere. Fuck, what a shit show. I have a nice combo yip-snort when Brody’s shirt catches fire, but it’s short-lasted.

“How could you let his happen?!” Phelan barks. Great, Cuntface is in creature form too. Now I have regrets, the main one being I’m not the panther. Had I opted for that, his words would be like listening to a foreign language with unilingual ears.

Within seconds, he’s in front of the girl who’s fallen to her knees. He takes his paw, careful of the claws, and attempts to pat away the residual flame. No dice.

“You’ll have to suck it out,” I advise him.

“No!”

“It’s either that or let her blow herself up,” I remark.

“No!” he repeats.

“Well, get the hell out of the way, and I’ll do the job.”

That does it. He knows there’s fuck all chance I’ll stop once I’ve started. I never do. He opens his jaw, exposing his beautifully sharp teeth, and sucks in a giant breath. As he does, the fire lets loose her hand. I take a few steps back. The free energy is far too tempting. I want to join the feast and bleed the bitch dry. I look around. Connor’s already vacated the premises—pussy. Brody’s cringing like a child about to get a raking—pussy. Tally2’s looking worried as fuck—pussy. Sweet hat trick, you bunch of pussies.

In a move both shocking and aweing me, Phelan rubs Sheyla’s hand lightly with his nose, both checking to make sure she’s okay and apologizing. When she smiles, he grunts, then heads back in the direction he came, tipping his muzzle for me to follow.

“Now explain to me what the hell just happened.”

“Later.”

When we get back to the cabin, I shift back into my human skin, resting my bare ass on the porch steps.

A warning roar rumbles through his chest. “Go put some damn clothes on!”

I roll my eyes. Cuntface loves my eye rolling. I am to please. Being naked doesn’t bother me. It never used to bother him either, until the indecent. Phelan’s been awkward with me since his dick got hard while we were sparring. Big whoop. It’s not like my lady bits reciprocated. They’re dry as the Sahara. Fucker couldn’t get me wet even if Tyler wasn’t tethering that shit. Then again…Cuntface. Nah. Never gonna happen. I’d rather rub my nub on Sheelin’s filthy floor.

“This wasn’t my fault,” I inform him on my way inside. “When you play with fire, you get burned. That shit just happens.”

He stands on the porch, with his fists clenched at his sides. He didn’t enjoy taking her energy, or maybe it’s something more. Maybe he enjoyed it too much. If that’s the case, she’s in for a world of hurt. Starting that type of fire in Phelan isn’t safe. Even I’ve learned to steer clear of his bull when it’s rampaging red. Took me a quarter century or so, but those hard lessons stick once you finally learn them. Sheyla? She seems like a hard lesson kind of girl. Sorry about her luck.