Moral Compass

Chapter One

"You ruined my life," Seth the tracker mused idly, eyes on the ceiling. "You know that right? I hope you're happy."

Everyone knew the best nights start with booze. And music. And dimmed lights. Revealing clothes were a mixture for a good time, paired with a healthy dose of confidence and bad decisions.

Earlier, when he'd been invited over to a 'bender', this was not what he'd had in mind.

Beside him, the hearth was roaring, warming the room till he tugged at his shirt's collar uncomfortably. Said room had been child-proofed, with sharp corners sanded down and baby wipes resting on every surface. Before him, a six-year-old stood with wide blue eyes pinned too intently to his face. Creepier yet, the one-eyed baby doll she carried made eye contact.

Said six-year-old pulled her thumb out of her mouth, giggling like Seth was some sort of comedian. "You're funny."

Glad you find joy in my pain.

Children could be so insensitive.

"I'm not funny, for starters. I'm hilarious. And this is no joking matter." He turned, making sure the kid saw exactly how serious he was. "The day you were born was the worst day of my life. The worst. I mean it." As he spoke, she stuck her thumb back into her mouth. "You ruined everything for me. And everyone was tripping, talking about this cute little bundle of joy. But you're not a bundle of joy. You're a sticky loud misery. Now sit down."

The tiny blonde hellion smiled toothily around that thumb. "I don't want to sit down."

What did she think this was? A democracy? Absolutely not.

"I don't care what you want. Sit down Hope. I'm telling you a story."

"My name's Faith."

"I know what your name is."

He thought about it too often. His God-daughter, Faith- Princess of the werewolves- had worked her way beneath his skin a long time ago. The kid was his best friend and arch-nemesis wrapped up tight in pigtails.

"You're funny."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You really don't listen, do you?"

"Do you want to play dress up with me?"

"I have much better things to do than play dress up."

"But you said you liked my tea party."

He stared at the ceiling, closed his eyes, opened them and stared some more. "You didn't mention a tea party."

"Will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Play dress up?"

"No. I'm telling you a story. Close your mouth and listen."

Following his instructions, the kid finally sat down at the edge of his sofa. Like a trooper, she didn't complain when he dropped his feet in her lap, practically crushing her. The kid had werewolf in her. Strong bones. She'll be fine.

"What's the story called?"

He rolled his brown eyes. "It's not called anything."

"Every story has a name."

"You're a worse know it all than your Mother." Faith, the spitting image of Evette—or Evie Wicker, was the woman's walking double. Always Seth this, Seth that. Exhausting. "Alright, we'll call this story Seth the great and powerful. Chapter one, the good old days."

"What's it about?"

"I'll tell you if you stop talking."

"Is there a fairy Princess?"