16. Riggs
RIGGS
“There’s too many!” Riggs gasped, gripping the hilt of his dagger. He scanned the green waters, more ammits slithering toward the surface. A deformed creature charged at him. He leapt back, barely dodging a blow from its venomous claw. The muck claimed his boots.
“Watch out!” Killian bellowed, swinging his sword wide, and decapitated two in a single stroke. Both heads tumbled to the water with a splash, tinging the water red.
“You killed a fucking twin slayer!” Riggs shouted, marveling as the two headed beast crumpled to the water.
“Nine or so coming.” Killian shouted, “Watch your left!”
Riggs panted, wiping the sweat off his brow.
He flicked his wrist, aiming for the nearby beast. Blood sprayed as the tip found its mark, right in the throat.
He watched it trickle down its green scales, wishing he could grab his vial right now.
He glanced to Storm and River up the hill, far away from the commotion, yet close enough he could technically grab his test kit?—
Focus!
Fuck!
Palming his last dagger, Riggs yelled, “I need a fucking sword!”
Killian moved swiftly, slicing into the beast’s stomach. He grunted, already poised for the next attack, “No shit.” Killian knee-deep in the mud, plunged his sword deep into the belly of the beast, ripping it apart in one fell swoop.
There was a ripple across the bog, and it only took Riggs a moment to understand what it was.
His mouth dried up, his tongue a dead weight.
A shadow of a beast barreled beneath the surface, slicing through the water.
This ammit was twice the size of the others, black as night, and headed straight for them.
Riggs' breath caught. “Holy shit.”
In a blink, the ammits on shore turned in the other direction, vanishing beneath the surface.
Riggs couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked once. Twice. “What the fuck?” Never once had an ammit fled from a fight. Those slithering assholes won’t stop until their prey was dead.
The dark one must be their alpha.
“Oh, we’re fucked, Kills.”
Killian whipped his head, shocked, his voice gruff as he adjusted his grip on his blade. “You think we can take it?”
Riggs gulped. “Do you see the size of that thing?” He kept a close eye on the midnight ammit as it charged through the water. He patted his belt, feeling nothing but leather.
Shit.
Riggs crouched, sifting through sludge, ripping daggers from limp bodies.
“I’m missing two,” Riggs chimed, scouring the ground.
“Besides the point; eyes up!” Killian bellowed, falling into a fighting stance.
The waters became eerily still. “Where did it go?” Riggs asked, the hilt slick between his palms.
Killian stepped closer to the shoreline, peering at the calm waters. “I don’t know.” He combed his hair back, shaking the blood from the thick strands. “Fucking weird though, right?” Killian grunted. “Let’s get out of here.”
Something wasn’t right. Riggs sheathed his dagger and walked toward the shore to double check for himself.
Riggs hummed. Killian was right. Not even the slightest ripple. He scratched the back of his neck. “There is something strange about their behavior right now. I don’t like it.”
Killian grinned. “You would know, nerd.” He gave Riggs a pat on the back. “Lucks on our side, brother. Just appreciate making it across the swamp, will you? I could go for some soup now.”
Riggs turned toward Killian, bunching his brows.
Fucking soup? “You can’t be serious?” Something rubbed against his ankle, and he leapt back, unsheathing a dagger with ease.
He halted. A tiny black kitten with a white mark on its chest pawed at his boots and meowed.
Riggs beamed, crouching down. “Killian, would you look at this?”
Killian turned, eyes wide. “What the fuck is a cat doing out here in the swamps?”
“I don’t know, but we can’t leave him out here.
” Riggs said in a baby voice, scratching beneath the kitten’s neck, “Aren’t you just the cutest?
” He grinned from ear to ear, sheathing his dagger, then scooped the kitten into his arms. “I almost killed you.” He chuckled, staring into its dark-brown eyes. “Where did you even come from?”
The kitten meowed in answer.
Killian’s jaw hung wide. “Riggs, we can’t bring a cat home with us. And are you sure it is a boy?”
Riggs turned the kitten around.
No balls.
The kitten hissed, embedding its claws into his arms. “Ouch, little fucker.” Riggs grimaced, pulling its nails out of his skin, one claw at a time. “That hurts.” He pointed a scolding finger. “Bad kitty.”
“That’s what you get for picking up wild animals,” Killian chimed. “Drop it, let’s go.”
“Excuse me, we can’t leave her out here.” He glared into Killian’s eyes. “And it’s a kitten,” Riggs corrected, placing her on Storm’s saddle. “Stay put.” He brushed his hand along her fur. She was as soft as a cloud. The kitten purred, arching her back.
His lips tilted. She likes me.
Reaching into his bag, he grabbed his test kit. “Let me grab a quick sample.”
Killian gripped his forehead. “Hurry up, will you?”
For the past two days, Riggs had been dreaming about this moment. He surveyed the dead ammits sprawled across the mud, wishing he could drain them all. In theory, one vial could cure hundreds of people. If I could get the damn formula right.
He sank the syringe inside the leathery skin and watched the tube fill with thick, crimson liquid. After he filled four vials, he carefully placed them in his pack, securing them deep within the padding of his clothes. He had a few hours before the blood spoiled. He needed to get them on some ice.
“Get what you need?” Killian asked.
Riggs nodded then mounted on Storm, placing the kitten between his legs.
“Let’s ride, brother.” Killian galloped ahead.
When Riggs heard the familiar rush of water, he raced down the mountain, leaving Killian behind. He needed to strip out of these clothes and rinse off. Blood mixed with sweat made for a horrible stench. He’d rather not scare the kitten away.
Eventually, Killian caught up and surpassed. Sorry bastard. Killian had always been a sore loser. Riggs let him inch ahead, confident he was the true winner.
Once they reached the bank of the river, Riggs slid off Storm with stiff limbs.
Tugging at his blood-caked shirt, he peeled his clothes off and ditched his swamp-smelling boots, sharp rocks piercing the bottom of his feet.
Riggs gazed at the gleaming river, breathing in the fresh pine.
The afternoon sun glinted off the water, refracting like a thousand diamonds.
Grumbling in discomfort, his fingers drifted to his hair. The blood and algae were stuck in his strands, causing his scalp to itch. Fucking hell.
A warm breeze blew against his bare skin as he approached the bank. He drowned his clothes and boots in the water, setting a few rocks on top of them to keep them from flowing down the river. Luckily the current was strong enough to rinse the algae off.
Riggs sighed. Gleaming Falls; that’s what they called the river growing up.
The last time Riggs went swimming in the river was when he was eight years old.
Pressure filled his chest, mind yielding to the awful memory.
After a heavy moment of silence, Riggs emerged into the river.
The warm, buttery sun beamed down on his golden skin, rivaling the chill of the water.
Riggs groaned, “Perfect combination.” He glanced over his shoulder at Killian, who ran his fingers through his shoulder-length chestnut hair, rinsing away the remnants of the fight.
Riggs leaned back, drenching his hair, and scrubbing his scalp, relieving the itchiness.
It was a damn shame they stopped coming here. Emerald pines cast shadows along the boulders edging the river, blue birds singing on their branches. This place was heaven. Riggs dipped his head back again, but this time, he submerged completely beneath the water.
There was a moment of silence.
He held his breath, pressure melting away the seconds. It was a release from what they had just endured. His body was sore. His mind conflicted. Lungs begging for air, Riggs lifted his head and inhaled a flower-scented breath.
“Woo!” Riggs shouted, dragging his hands across his face. “The water feels amazing.”
He glanced at Storm to ensure the kitten didn’t run away.
To his surprise, she was still perched on the saddle, licking her paws, faced away.
He always wanted a cat, but with the hunts and studies, he never had the opportunity—or the time.
He’d make it work. Maybe his kitten could be the very first animal bounty hunter.
He chuckled. I could train her. He could see her now, with daggers strapped to her waist. He’d give her a cape to make her look even more badass.
He shook his head, laughing at the bizarre thought. Still, it was fun to imagine.
Drifting on his back, his thoughts coasted to Esemeray. What’s she doing right now? He supposed he could write to her. It’s not like her parents would find out. He could go by his fake name, Leo. No. Maybe? No, he wouldn’t do that. His brow arched. Or maybe he would.
Fixing his gaze at the teal sky, cool air brushed along his face in a gentle caress. “Esemeray,” he whispered to the wind as if the breeze could deliver his message.
“Are you ready to eat? Brodie’s Tavern is about forty-five minutes from here,” Killian asked, shaking his hair dry and breaking Riggs' thoughts.
Riggs nodded, standing. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
Brodie’s Booze and Bonds was full of locals today.
Chatter sounded all around, making it hard to hear.
Riggs walked in, scanning the wooden bar to see if he’d find his cousin, Zander, drinking all the ale he could get his hands on.
Fucker took advantage of his free tab. Free to him, but Riggs still had to pay it.
Luckily, there was no sign of that long-haired brute.
Good.