Highway of Bones

Chapter One

Sweat prickles my brow and between my shoulder blades. I grit my teeth and adjust my grip on the crossbow, wishing for a good pair of gloves. I had a pair not too long ago, but they were taken from me and we haven't crossed into a new town yet.

The brush beneath my feet crackles softly and the deer I've been stalking suddenly jerks her head up in alarm, nostrils flaring, ears alert.

Goddammit.

A big, cream-colored head butts up against my knee, pink tongue lolling from slim, but powerful, jaws. I sigh and roll my eyes down at the eager enfield. Go away, I think at Egon. But neither the beast nor I are telepathic, so he refines his predatory crouch, threatening to push me off-balance.

Stop! I shout mentally, keeping the crossbow trained on the deer with one hand while I wipe the other on my pants leg. If this damned enfield messes up my shot, I'm going to kill him, skin him, and sell his parts on the market. Don't you dare go chasing after it.

We went through a similar scenario a few days ago, when I was stalking a wild turkey. Rather than waiting for my signal, Egon simply rushed after it, scaring the bird into the trees where the foliage was too thick for me to see clearly. Small wonder he was emaciated when we came across him.

The enfield shuffles and I think, screw it, and shove my left hand against his chest while balancing the crossbow on my right knee. Egon's black-tipped ears prick up and he swings his vulpine head up to stare at me with those too-intelligent eyes.

What?

You know what, I think, frowning. I stab a finger at the ground. Stay put.

Egon's ears slide back and he slowly lowers his chimaeric body to the ground, resting his head atop eagle-like forelegs, defeated.

That's right, I tell him, picking up the crossbow. You sit right there and watch.

While all of this has been going on, the deer returns to grazing, blissfully unaware that this is its last day on earth. Taking a slow, deep breath, I carefully cock the crossbow and aim the bolt at the doe's heart. I lick my lips and lay my finger on the trigger. Fresh meat ...

There's a bellow and a massive body crashes through the brush on my right side. I'm thrown sideways and into Egon's feathered shoulder. The enfield yelps, scrabbling out of the way. My world tips and the crossbow lands with a heavy thud on the ground, firing its bolt into a nearby tree.

Shit.

I scramble to my feet just in time to see Ray, my peryton, bearing the doe to the ground. It's a surreal experience to watch the elk-like creature's jaws clamp around the back of the doe's neck and bite down with an audible crunch. The deer's eyes widen in pain and then the light dies; between one breath and the next, the doe is dead.

Ray drops the deer and turns towards me, lifting his head with its arching crystalline horns. He rustles his mottled grey wings and paws at the deer carcass with one cloven hoof.

"Well, that's one way of going about it," I mutter, reaching down to grab the crossbow. "You could learn something from him," I tell Egon. The enfield cocks his head and paws at his muzzle with one foreleg. I sling the strap over my shoulder and go in search of the missing bolt. Each piece of armament is precious and I can't afford to simply leave anything behind; which is why I prefer to hunt with a crossbow and not my Winchester rifle. Bullets, unlike more ancient weaponry, are harder to come by in these demon-forsaken lands.

I retrieve the bolt from where it's buried in the trunk of a tree, inspect the head for any damage, and then stuff it in its quiver. When I get through the brush, Egon is sniffing around the carcass while Ray watches.

"No snacking," I tell the enfield as I bend down to inspect the kill. "Good job," I tell Ray, looking up at him. The peryton is as tall as a battle-elk with a dappled grey coat, silvery eyes, and a tuft of feathers on his rear where his tail should be. A slim, unicorn-like horn sprouts from his brow.

Ray huffs and slow-blinks, a deep sound rumbling in his chest. He turns his head and snorts at Egon. The enfield rears back, the tip of his tail edging between his legs.

I pause, glancing between the two. Did I just witness a monster pissing contest?

Egon isn't small either—about the size of a pony. He's got the head of a fox, the forelegs of an eagle, the body of a big cat, and the tail of a wolf. A pair of grey and white vestigial wings press along his spine as he carefully maneuvers away from the carcass.

No, I consider as I gesture for Ray to lay down, not a pissing contest. It's a show of dominance. Although the newest member of our group, the peryton is definitely the dominant male.

And I'm including Finn Glaris in that category.

My smirk disappears as my expression slides into its usual mask of indifference. Now, why did I have to ruin the moment by thinking of the demon hunter? God. Now it's my turn to snort and shake my head.

"You've got blood on your muzzle," I tell Ray as I start hauling the deer onto his back. Focusing on anything else save the tall, dark-haired, yellow-eyed Glaris.

The peryton blinks, then lowers his head to wipe his muzzle on the browned grass. He's more intelligent than Winston, my old battle-elk who died fighting the Demon Lord Ehtab, but how much more, I've yet to discover. That goes for Egon, too. Sometimes I catch them paying a little too much attention to our conversations.

It's strange, and if I'm being honest—a little disconcerting. One would think that since I've lived a life surrounded by demons and monsters torn from the back pages of mythology human-level intelligent creatures wouldn't surprise me. But they do. I'm used to mindless beings intent on ending my life. That there might be more behind those strange eyes goes against everything I've come up against in the last ten years.

Maybe it's the kid, I reason as I direct Ray to stand. The peryton does so carefully and I lash the doe's front and back legs together beneath his belly. Kayleigh is a nephilim—a child with a human mother but an angelic father. And I don't mean her dad is pretty. I mean he's an actual, honest-to-God angel, wings and all.

And that kid is the reason why I'm out here, schlepping through unknown territory with a peryton, an enfield, and a demon hunter. I was tasked by her father—well, stepfather, really—to take her to her mother in the City of Dust. Little did I know that the kid was a nephilim and that the demon who ruled the city, Ehtab, wanted to sacrifice her to expand the portal to Hell and bring more demons to Earth.

Well, that wasn't happening, so now we're all headed to Alaska, where I hope I can find my parents and put an end to this nightmare that the world has been living under for the last decade.

Or, at the very least, cross the continent and live on the East Coast, where everything has remained more or less normal.

Hm.

I wipe the sweat from my brow with my sleeve. I'm not a contemplative person. I prefer not to spend long amounts of time thinking because that just reminds me of how shitty this life is. Well, we'll be on the road soon and I'll have the threats of unknown monsters to keep my mind occupied.