Wicked Madness (Tales so Grim #1)

1. Chapter One

The forest buzzes with the currents of lightning fairies, and I grip my dagger, knowing the typhon wants to lure me into its deadly grasp, which is precisely what I want as well.

My feet tingle, telling me where to step not to break twigs and alert forest creatures to my existence.

The governor announced the creature lurking and the reward for its head, but I need its horns to save my baby brother.

There’s no mere want for me like the other villagers who scurry through the woods, trying to take down the monster to sate their greed.

A current crawls up my arm as the fairy tries to use energy to drag me to its master. It giggles, sure of its victory. “You’re a tiny, foolish man.”

I adjust my hood to conceal my face more.

The fairy zips into view as a ball of shimmering blue energy.

It morphs its shape as it moves, twisting in and out of itself like clay being kneaded.

Small bolts shoot from its fingers that dissolve into the air and leaves behind a smoky tar stench that makes my nose twitch.

It zips to my left as it tries to fasten its hold on my skin. Another appears, and the first snarls. “My catch!” it screeches.

Electricity shoots into the second, hissing and sending bolts to the first. My fingers slide into the pouch on my hip.

The dust is warm, even over my green leather gloves.

I fling the particles into the air, striking the first and quickly repeating the action on the second.

The shriveled ashes crumble to the ground.

Thrills prick my chest, and the excitement pushes me toward my prey, that believes itself the apex predator of this forest. I refill my palm with dust and shoot it at any lightning fairies that get close. A breeze increases into wind gusts, and the branches in the oaks and aspens whip about.

I groan as my eyes follow the movement in my peripheral. “Seriously!”

Ruax chuckles and shoots past me. “You really think this one is yours?”

“It is!” I leap onto the rocks.

Ruax jumps to the ledge seconds after me, and we take off in a race to the glowing grove.

The golden trees' shine warms my muscles, and my cloak protects me from the scorching they cast on any exposed skin.

Many come away burnt from exposure to this part of the forest. Ruax pulls up his hood, and we inch along as quickly as wisdom allows.

My boots slide against the smooth pink pebbles as I struggle to regain my balance.

I smirk when Ruax smacks his chest on the rocky ground.

We approach the flimsy den made of sharp smelling wild grass.

It gives the illusion that frailty dwells below its delicate ceiling.

The hiss echoes as barely a whisper, and the wind picks up a fraction.

The snakes uncoil from the shoulders of their master as he rises, ripping apart the enclosure.

It springs forward on two scaly legs. Its chest appears defined in a manner that would make the most trained soldier jealous.

Dark claws curl from its fingertips, and it snarls to show its triangular teeth. Reddish bat wings shoot out from its back, extending far beyond the snakes attached to its shoulders. The serpents spread apart enough to show the beast’s crocodile snout and yellow diamond eyes.

Ruax charges him. Impatience is always his weakness when we spar.

The creature grabs the young warrior around the waist. Claws rip off the hood, and the beast opens its jowls as it brings Ruax’s head to its mouth.

I sigh and shoot forward, driving my sword into the monster’s side.

It roars, drops my competition, and catapults toward me.

It claws at my abdomen, and I dodge the blows while yanking my weapon from its hide.

Ruax shakes on the ground but uses a jagged tree branch to get himself to his feet. He looks behind him like fleeing dominates his mind. I flip backward onto a boulder and jump down. My blade thrusts into the typhon’s shoulder, and I remove it to strike a third time.

Its eyes widen, and it knocks off my hood. “A woman!” It howls and stalks forward, fury radiating from its stomping. “A woman thinks she can defeat me!” He roars an enraged cackle. "Even the greatest men have failed to destroy me."

I hop onto higher rocks, and it spins to catch up to my swift feet. I swing at its serpents, and four tumble to the ground. It swipes and misses. The beast freezes, sniffing the air and whipping around to see Ruax running for a tiny typhon that tumbles from a hollowed stump.

“Idiot! You’re going to make it too infuriated to kill!” I shout to the moron.

“Didn’t know Neera feared a challenge.” He grins, stretching his hand to grab the baby he probably wants to sell at the market.

The adult typhon catapults toward him, and Ruax skids across the pink pebbles when the scaly hand strikes him. The monster gallops forward with its mouth open, ready to devour the idiot I want to punch.

Ruax crawls backward, covering his face with his forearm. The baby typhon scurries away from its nest and moves toward the cliff. It teeters on the edge of its doom.

“You’re a father,” I say, staring at the beast. My resolve to slaughter the monster wavers only long enough for me to remember the human children it’s slain without thought. That and what I need from it is something I can’t afford to lose.

The typhon’s mouth shoots toward Ruax, and I spring forward, knocking the beast’s head from its shoulders. The body crushes Ruax. I reach into my pocket to pull out my brand.

Chirping alters my attention to where the baby toddles to its demise.

I abandon my trophy and scoop up the little one.

It squirms and cries as its immature snake heads attempt hisses on its shoulder.

It fits in my palm, and I zip it inside my satchel to worry about later.

I return to my victory to find Ruax branding the typhon skull with his mark.

Magic shoots from the brand and wraps around the head, making it impossible for a second brand to be placed.

A small fairy zips away from the mark to inform our town who won.

I won't even be able to kick his ass until after the leaders reward him.

I yank him up by his collar to my livid face. “Cheater!”

He punches me in the gut, but my armor and his flimsy muscles make it a useless blow. “You should have stayed with your kill. First rule of monster hunting.”

“That was my prize. I need it!”

He snickers and points to his mark. “That says it’s mine.”

I shove him off the small boulder. “Shallow is the unearned victory.”

He shrugs and grabs the head by the black horns protruding above the typhon’s pointed ears. “Yes, the prize money will fund many shallow parties I will indulge in with no regret.”

“I should impale you right now.”

“But you won’t. You're too responsible to end up in the dungeon and executed.”

I kick a stone off the cliff and bound after it.

Ruax takes my kill to the elders for them to add it to his records, and the official honor ceremony will take place tomorrow.

Everyone in the village will gather to watch him receive my prize.

He’ll be in for a surprise if he thinks I’m letting him keep any of it.

I go home to think through my plan and head straight to my small barn to check on my brown horse, Elton.

Normally, I ride him everywhere I go, but I needed to be as stealthy as possible when looking for the beast earlier.

My bag wiggles, and the tiny baby typhon squeaks inside.

It’s not like we can afford another living thing to feed or that it can be allowed to grow into the bloodthirsty monster it will become.

Still, I can’t kill it. For now, it’ll stay very little and eventually do a much better job at pest control than our lazy calico cat, Petunia.

I open my bag and remove the baby, placing him in one of the cages I use to trap creatures for the use of their blood.

He squeaks and waddles to the corner, where he shakes.

I put some rags in a bin along with water and a few pieces of jerky.

It’ll hold him over until I can decide what to do with him.

I brush Elton and stand back to admire the horse my father gave me last Christmas, five months before we buried him next to the temple. He worried about me traveling on foot so much, and when he won the horse in a poker match, it soothed his anxiety to give me a travel companion.

I make sure Elton has everything he needs before heading into the house.

At twenty-three, I’m much too old to be living at home and considered a withered old maid.

The villages love to demean any woman with a dream or free spirit.

Civilized society is startled by someone who won’t fall into expected norms. It doesn’t matter that I have enhanced skills in our most vital type of magic.

When Papa died, I had no choice but to give up my blood collector trade and help Mama with the young ones.

Water drips from our faded red roof, and paint needs to become a priority on my next trip into the city, or our house will be left vulnerable once the scarlet dulls into brown.

I use a metal stick to move logs around in the fireplace to extend the fire’s life.

The log rations are getting low, and I only throw one more in for the night.

My entire family squeezes into our only bedroom.

After Papa died, we couldn't afford rent and had to downsize.

I spent my entire savings on the tiny cottage so we wouldn't have to worry about being homeless again.

There's not much to it, but it's ours. My baby brother, Florian, sits in his crib, silently staring out the bars and wheezing.