Dare Me (Take Me 2)

In fact, Ryleigh was extremely fortunate to have two of their own slayers, who served as magistrates. Most towns shared a slayer amongst a hundred or so other settlements. Not great odds against those rogue demons who defied the law, nor an assurance of safety in the grand scheme of things.

Jade’s community was well protected for a reason. Regardless of the sanctions governing immortal interactions with mortals that might suggest it wasn’t necessary to have a duo of slayers in such a remote, lightly human-populated area, the village sat in the shadow of the demon ruler’s vast legion of allies.

The kingdom sprawled along the ridge of a portion of the New Brunswick border. Many of the vampires, shapeshifters and other unholy beings made residence within and outside the castle walls. Dark and foreboding as it rose above the pines, the castle lent a menacing and perilous presence to the region.

King Damien was the most revered of warlords. Given his massive federation and that he oversaw a large geographical expanse—that being all of North and Central America—he possessed the power to reign over the three stewards he’d appointed, each acting as the king’s representative for their designated territory.

As part of his regulations that kept the otherworldly immortals from preying on humans, the king had also declared no more than two preternatural beings at a time may roam close to or enter a village, the perimeter of which—in Ryleigh’s case—the slayers patrolled.

That particular pact might not have been broken this evening, but the no stalking restriction had clearly been violated by whatever tailed Jade.

A shiver chased down her spine and it wasn’t from the frigid gust whistling in a shrill tone through the trees. It was from the wraith.

Agitating her further was that she couldn’t discern in which direction the danger came or how to counteract it. Although she possessed above-average fighting skills, thanks to her father, she’d be no match for a ghost—the very reason she didn’t call out the hunter.

Quickening her steps, she reached the village proper, dimly lit by lampposts topped with torches enclosed in glass-and-iron lanterns. There was little activity on the cracked and brittle sidewalks or the pothole-invested streets, which had accumulated so much dirt over the years from lack of use, it was difficult to believe asphalt lay beneath the uneven soil.

Jade made her way to the tavern at the end of the block. She took one more look around her, pausing just outside the lively establishment, listening intently for any sign of what followed her. Not a peep, save for the hint of noise that breached the tavern walls and the chiming of the bell in its tower in the village square, signaling she was right on time for work at seven o’clock.

She shoved open the door and crossed the scuffed hardwood floor.

“Hey, Jade,” a few of the villagers greeted her.

“’Evening, everyone,” she said as she passed by, peeling off her jacket and shaking the snowflakes from it before hanging the garment on a hook in the far corner.

The tavern was as faintly lit as the streets. Candles on the long wooden tables and sconces hanging on the stone walls provided the only illumination, with the exception of the occasional lighting of a twig or dried needles set against a flame when a patron splurged on a hand-rolled cigarette.

Electricity, among other things, was not a commod

ity in this part of the country. Rumor had it, the humans on the West Coast had struck a bargain with their steward years ago and he had permitted them to restore limited power lines within larger communities. Apparently, the technique employed was circa late-nineteenth century, when electricity first made its way into homes in America.

Since Jade had never lived in a world with energy, she didn’t miss it. She could prepare meals over a fire and read by candlelight.

Modern amenities, it seemed, were of little use to the demon population, and that meant no manufacturing plants or advanced technology. Although, one major concession the king had made for easterners was mass purification of water.

Desalination procedures using condensers fueled by fire that boiled the liquid and pumped steam through salvaged pipes created condensation that turned into drinkable water. This made it possible to stock icehouses with sterilized cubes, as well as blocks cut from frozen lakes, useful for packing metal replicas of refrigerators.

Another allowance was human transportation by way of the occasional steam locomotive following the restoration of a main coast-to-coast railroad, which also provided importing and trading capabilities amongst territories. The demons themselves preferred their own two feet—or four legs, in the case of the animal shifters—or the gleaming black Arabians they were prone to breed.

Starting her shift, Jade tended to the small hearth to add more warmth to the room, then joined the tavern owner and her lifelong friend, Michael Hadley, as he served beers to the regulars gathered at the bar. The wooden surface was deeply scarred, but nobody seemed to mind. One simply had to be cautious of where they set their mug, so as to not perch it precariously in a groove.

“Damn cold out there, isn’t it?” Michael asked. He was easy on the eyes, with rugged looks, a head of tousled, russet-colored hair and a tall, muscular build.

“Still mild, relatively speaking,” Jade said. “Jinx predicted a long, hard winter. After today, we won’t be seeing the ground for another six or seven months.”

“Ah, the town crier strikes again,” Michael mused.

Jinx Cromley was the local psychic who had plenty to say about everything. Jade enjoyed his ramblings for the most part, but didn’t buy into his prophesies that the human world would one day more closely resemble what it had been at the turn of the millennium. Jade couldn’t fathom an alternative existence emerging from sheer and utter devastation.

“Jinx isn’t one to dampen spirits,” Michael continued, “but his winter forecasts always leave something to be desired.”

Jade reached for Donovan Kelly’s mug to refill it. She pumped the keg and cracked the tap while telling Michael, “Actually, all that fluffy white helps to counter the bleak gray and brighten the village.”

Just as the daily grind of serving drinks and chatting with the locals helped to ease Jade’s jangled nerves over being watched. Her working environment offered a bit of protection for now. No immortal other than the king or the general of his army had the authority to pass through a human door without invitation—and rolling out a welcome mat for the damned was something she’d never heard of happening.

Though she truly couldn’t afford the luxury of false security. Something awaited her in the dark, dead of night. She felt it in her bones.

“Notice our shipment of merlot came in?” Michael asked, cutting into her grim thoughts. “Up for a sample?”