Not the social justice kind, of course. Here’s a little treat courtesy of my new best friend and one of the commenters at Sigma Game, who inadvertently produced a line that I thought sounded… familiar. So, naturally, I took the opportunity to turn it into a short story. Do enjoy, and feel free to discuss on SG.
A BRAVE TALE OF A TRUE HEART
I’ve been walking my crush home since last week to protect her from all the creeps walking around. Next week I’m going to introduce myself to her.
Right now, though, I was content to stay in the shadows, watching from a distance as she made her way down the dimly lit sidewalk. Her name was Elise, and she worked the late shift at the diner on 5th and Main. Every night at 11:30, she stepped out, adjusted her bag over her shoulder, and started the six-block walk to her apartment. And every night, I followed.
Not in a creepy way. At least, I hoped not. The city had gotten bad lately—muggers, weirdos, and worse. The kind of things most people didn’t believe in until it was too late. I’d seen the news reports: Missing Persons. Unexplained Attacks. Animal Maulings. The cops didn’t have a clue. But I did.
I knew what was out there.
Elise turned the corner, her dark hair catching the glow of a flickering streetlight. She was small, delicate, but moved with a quiet confidence that made my chest tighten. I kept my distance, staying far enough back that she wouldn’t notice me, close enough that I could reach her in seconds if something went wrong.
Something went wrong a lot these days.
Tonight, the air smelled like rain and something else—something musky and wild. My fingers twitched at my sides. I didn’t carry a gun. Guns were too loud, too messy. Instead, I had a knife sheathed at my belt and a length of silver chain wrapped around my wrist.
Elise hummed softly to herself, oblivious. She had no idea what was coming.
Then I heard it—the low, guttural growl from the alley up ahead.
Elise froze.
A massive shape detached itself from the darkness, eyes glinting yellow under the streetlight. The werewolf was big, easily seven feet tall on its hind legs, its muzzle pulled back in a snarl. Saliva dripped from its fangs as it took a step toward her.
Elise didn’t scream. She just stood there, eyes wide, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
I didn’t give the beast a chance to pounce.
I lunged forward, silver chain whipping free from my wrist. The werewolf turned just in time to see me coming, but it was too late. I looped the chain around its throat and yanked hard. The silver burned, filling the air with the stench of scorched fur and flesh. The monster howled, clawing at its neck, but I twisted the chain tighter.
“Run!” I barked at Elise.
She didn’t.
Instead, she just stared at me, her expression shifting from shock to something else—fear. Not of the werewolf. Of me.
The beast thrashed, its claws raking my arm. I gritted my teeth and drove my knife into its ribs. It howled again, then collapsed, twitching as the silver did its work. Within seconds, it was just a man—bleeding, gasping, dying.
I turned back to Elise, wiping my blade clean. “You okay?”
She took a step back, her hands raised. “Stay away from me.”
That stung more than the cuts on my arm. “Look, I know that was a lot, but you’re safe now—”
“You killed him,” she whispered.
“He was going to kill you.”
Elise shook her head, her eyes wide and terrified. “You’re one of them. A hunter.”
The way she said it—like it was a curse. Like I was the monster.
Then I noticed something I hadn’t before. The way the streetlight caught her skin, giving it an almost luminous quality. The faint, shimmering outline of delicate wings folded against her back—wings that shouldn’t have been there.
Oh.
Oh.
“You’re fae,” I said slowly.
She flinched. “Half. My mother was sidhe.”
That explained why the werewolf had been stalking her. Supernaturals could always sense each other. And hunters? Well. We were the bogeymen of their world.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” I said carefully.
Elise laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You just murdered a man in front of me.”
“That wasn’t a man.”
“It was,” she insisted. “Once. Before the curse. Before people like you decided he didn’t deserve to live.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped. She wasn’t wrong. The guy hadn’t asked to be a werewolf. But that didn’t change the fact that he would’ve torn her apart.
“I was trying to protect you,” I said finally.
Elise swallowed hard, her wings trembling. “I don’t need your protection.”
Then she turned and ran.
I let her go.
Because the truth was, she was right. I was a hunter. And now she knew it.
I watched until she disappeared around the corner, then sighed and pulled out my phone. Time to call cleanup.
Tomorrow night, she’d walk home alone again.
And I’d be there, watching from the shadows.
Whether she wanted me to or not.