Elanthe approached the cottage as the last light drained from the sky. She froze mid-step when movement near the barn caught her eye—the nightmare mare emerged from the shadows of the barn to look at the elf, bits of grass dangling from her mouth. Deep violet eyes fixed on Elanthe with predatory intelligence.

  Every instinct screamed for Elanthe to run. Nightmares haunted elven children's tales—creatures that fed on fear, left hoofprints of flame or ice, and drove their victims mad with visions. This one regarded her with an almost lazy curiosity, chewing thoughtfully.

  No aggression. No threat posture. Just... watching.

  Elanthe edged sideways, giving the barn a wide berth. The mare returned to her grass.

  Something moved next to the porch stairs. Elanthe jerked back, hand flying to pick up a stone to defend herself with.

  A gargoyle crouched there, perfectly still. She'd walked right past it. How had she—

  She could see the stone creature's amber eyes track her movement. It was a small and subtle motion, but not something an elf would miss if paying attention.

  Not a statue. Alive.

  Elanthe's breath came quick and shallow. A nightmare mare. A gargoyle. What other terrors had her master assembled?

  She forced herself up the steps. Tengen sat in the doorway, tail wrapped around her paws, looking insufferably smug.

  "Lára síla erin, House Cat," Elanthe murmured, offering the traditional elven greeting with a bow of her head and a hand on her heart.

  Tengen's purr rumbled through the evening air. Enter, child. My house is your house. It's nice to have at least one person here who knows the proper forms and isn't inherently evil.

  The words settled over Elanthe like a warm cloak—formal acceptance, status just below the House Cat. It was rare for such an honor to be bestowed, but house cats had a way of knowing things others did not. She stepped across the threshold.

  Chaos greeted her.

  A chair leg bore fresh tooth marks, and splinters were scattered across the floor. The apparent perpetrator of that crime sat in the corner, looking devastated, tail tucked between his legs as he faced the wall. A succubus! A succubus that hung from a ceiling beam, lean muscles flexing as she executed perfect pull-ups. The wood groaned with each repetition.

  "—and if you'll just initial here, captain, this form acknowledges receipt of the previous forms acknowledging—"

  "Pemberton, please." Chuck pressed his fingers against his temples. "I can't—"

  He spotted Elanthe. Relief flooded his face as if she'd arrived with an army of reinforcements.

  "Oh, thank the Light you're here." He strode across the room and hugged her, to which she did not know how to react.

  Elanthe straightened as he released her. "Thornwell holds roughly three hundred souls. Five council members govern, made up of a farmer, the moneylender, the innkeeper, a widow who owns the closest thing to a store, and the village priest. The main trade is agriculture. Market day happens weekly, but they barter constantly. They maintain a small church dedicated to the Light on the eastern edge of the village. No standing men-at-arms, but all men between fourteen and fifty serve in the militia when called."

  She paused, choosing her following words thoughtfully. "They seem... simple. Hardworking. Unaware of any threat."

  "Council meets where?"

  "Village inn. Middle of town."

  Chuck nodded slowly. "Good. Thank you. Have you eaten today?"

  The question caught her off guard. "I... I stole an apple off a tree I was hiding in." She looked ashamed by her admission.

  He took her by the elbow and led her into the kitchen, away from the chaos. "Here. I'll make something for us both. All I have are the travel provisions the paladin had in his pack. Tomorrow we'll have to go into town and purchase supplies." He looked at her and frowned. "And some clothing."

  When had anyone last offered to take care of her? It seemed like an eternity, but that's what it's like to spend time in Hell. There were a few stories about people who had escaped it, and their spirits were scarred from the experience. How she had escaped unscathed…

  "You should add protein," Calista called from the ceiling. "Lean meat, beans. Carbohydrates are fine, but you need balanced macros for optimal—gnnn, fifty-seven—performance."

  Chuck moved to the kitchen and pulled out a pot. His eyes drifted through the door toward the succubus. They lingered on the curve of her bottom as it rose and fell.

  Thwack.

  Elanthe had armed herself with a wooden spoon and caught him across the forehead, leaving a red mark.

  "Ow! What—"

  "Cook." Elanthe pointed at the pot with the spoon. "Ignore the succubus."

  Chuck rubbed his forehead, muttering. His gaze wandered again—

  Thwack.

  "I'm cooking! I'm cooking!"

  Tengen's purr deepened, distinctly amused. She settled on the table, pleased with the quality of the entertainment.

  Elanthe allowed herself the smallest smile. Perhaps her service to Chuck wouldn't be so bad after all.

  Thwack.

  "Ow!"

  * * *

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  After dinner, Elanthe slipped outside. The squad had dispersed—Calista on an evening run, Boots had fallen asleep on the porch, Mum and Pemberton discussing the intricacies of the paperwork they expected to have to process as Chuck took control of the village. The gargoyle wasn't about to have a conversation with her, so only the nightmare mare remained, standing in the barn's dim interior like a piece of living night.

  Elanthe approached the doorway and paused, taking in the monster before her. Iridescent waves writhed through the mare's coat, constant motion perturbing her silky black coat. Her eyes held cold fire, violet flames that were the only indication that the mare was watching her. Stories whispered through elven memory—nightmares that galloped through sleeping minds, leaving madness and terror in their wake. Riders who mounted them never dismounted sane. Having one stabled nearby was like keeping a wild Tiger as a pet. It might look good, but it was only a matter of time before its true nature showed itself.

  The mare shook her head and watched. Waiting with a patience that would watch empires crumble.

  The wrongness intensified the more she studied it. The mare stood too still and breathed too quietly to be entirely natural. Her bloody hooves left hoarfrost wherever they landed. It felt as if the temperature dropped five degrees as Elanthe approached, but she was sure that was her reaction to the physical terror before her.

  Yet something in those burning eyes reminded her of her own reflection in the bathwater Chuck had drawn for her—lost, uncertain, trying to understand a world that had suddenly turned incomprehensible.

  "Amin sinta," Elanthe whispered. Peace, I know you.

  She extended her hand, palm up. Elven magic stirred in her blood—the same instinct that let her coax flowers to bloom and trees to bend. Not commanding. Inviting.

  The nightmare mare's nostrils flared. Her ears swiveled forward. Curious.

  One step. Another. The mare lowered her massive head and pressed her muzzle into Elanthe's palm.

  Cool smoke against her skin. Not quite solid, despite the weight. Shadow made flesh, fire given form, and underneath it all—

  Loneliness.

  Elanthe's breath caught. She stroked the mare's nose, letting her elven magic reach deeper. This creature had been forged to drive people insane, bred to inspire terror, trained to break minds. But standing in this quiet barn, accepting gentle touch, she radiated the same desperate isolation Elanthe felt in her own chest.

  "That's it, isn't it?" Elanthe murmured in Elvish. "They think that you're a misfit. Defective. A tool that doesn't quite fit the hand that wields it. They rejected you for being different."

  The mare leaned into her touch, eyes half-closing.

  Elanthe glanced around the barn—sparse hay, a water trough filled with accidentally captured rainwater and full of green algae. Tengen may have forced the squad to work in the house, but she'd clearly not given a single thought to the barn.

  She fetched hay from the loft. It was old but miraculously dry, so it was mold-free. She dumped the trough and worked the barn's hand pump, disgusted by the rusty water that emerged. She continued to pump until clean water flowed, then dumped the trough again and then refilled it. The mare watched, head tilted. When Elanthe returned with a curry brush and comb she'd found on a shelf, the nightmare actually shuffled closer.

  The grooming settled something in Elanthe's chest. This, at least, she understood. Work. Care. The simple rhythm of brush through coat, even if that coat rippled with living darkness and scared the bejezzus out of her. This poor creature needed mending, too.

  The mare's muscles relaxed. Her head drooped. A sound emerged from her chest—not a purr, not quite a rumble. Contentment in a language beyond words.

  "I bound myself to a madman," Elanthe whispered, working the brush in long strokes. "A demon captain who defied the Demon King himself. I should have run. Should have fled back to the forests and never looked back."

  The brush caught a tangle of shadow. She worked it free gently.

  "Instead, I knelt. Pledged my life. Wove the thread of my fate to something I don't understand." Her voice cracked. "I don't know if I'll ever see home again. Don't know if I'll survive the week. Don't know if—"

  The mare turned her head and rested it against Elanthe's shoulder. Not crushing. Offering comfort, the only way she knew how.

  Tears blurred Elanthe's vision. She pressed her face against the nightmare's neck, breathing in smoke and starlight and ancient terror, and found herself sobbing. She had been terrified in Hell but hadn't cried once. Now the tears flowed as she let all the fear and terror she'd felt over the past few weeks come out in a river.

  The mare stood perfectly still. Patient. Present.

  When Elanthe finally pulled back, wiping her eyes, the nightmare regarded her with her smoky purple eyes.

  "We're both far from home," Elanthe managed. "Both serving a master we barely know. Both..." She stroked the mare's nose one more time. "Both pretending we're not terrified."

  The mare exhaled. Cool breath, touched with frost.

  Elanthe smiled despite herself. "I'll come back tomorrow—fresh hay. Proper grooming. You deserve better than this."

  The nightmare's eyes flickered, perhaps with gratitude.

  * * *

  What a day it had been. I'd been killed, resurrected, faced down the Demon K— Faced down one really bad dude, woke up fantasy world, been put in my place by a cat, got smacked around by an elf as I tried not to stare at the most incredible woman I'd ever laid eyes on, who'd happily devour my soul if I gave her the chance. I bet it's a Monday in this world.

  Sorting out sleeping arrangements took me three tries. I kept subconsciously assigning Calista to my room, and Elanthe kept making me restart. Eventually, the succubus solved my problem for me and declared that she'd sleep in the field, as the overnight cold was good for circulation, and she wouldn't wake us when she took off for her morning run. Whatever. Problem solved. Wow, she's hot.

  Elanthe was thrilled to have a room to herself. Sure, it's small, but she just beamed when she saw it. All I can think of is how lucky she was that I was the bastard who was summoned to sacrifice a virgin elf. It didn't bear thinking about what anyone else would have done. A chill ran down my spine. What would I have done had I not had Mrs. Ramirez enter my life? It didn’t bear thinking about.

  She didn't even mind the crappy pallet she ended up with, as there was no bed in there. I guess she got used to sleeping on the floor in hell. I made a mental note to find something better. I take care of my people.

  I don't know where Pemberton got off to. He's old enough to manage himself, I guess, and doesn't take up much space. The root cellar, maybe? Mum, on the other hand, was not happy when Tengen banished him from the house, but it's exactly what she said she'd do. I'm not excited about that, but he seems to accept it. Out there, at least, he can smoke all he wants, but I can smell his cigar through the holes in the walls. Dammit. I forgot to order him to get me a supply.

  Boots snuck in and started the evening at the foot of my bed. Tengen came in and corrected the situation. Now she's curled up next to my thigh, and the pup is sprawled out on the floor—all eighty pounds of untrained dog. I'd never trained a dog before. I wonder if there's someone in the village who can train him for me.

  I stared at the ceiling with my hands behind my head, trying to sort my life out. I mulled over the equipment I stripped from the paladin’s body and winced at the thought. I shouldn't have left his body where I did. Surely the man deserved more respect than that. I'd have Calista recover the remains in the morning. She'd probably find it fun. She'd probably find a lot of things fun. A lot of things that—

  I shook my head. Best not to let my mind wander down that road. Not the least of which was that it bothered Elanthe, the poor girl. I felt terrible about involving her in all this. I'd been a world-class a-hole as recently as yesterday. From what I could tell, she had been as innocent as they come until she'd been taken by the forces of hell to be sacrificed by me. It bothered me. Nothing used to bother me, but I wasn’t thinking or acting as I used to. Did Mrs. Ramirez do something to me? Did I do something to myself?

  I shivered, so unpleasant the thought was, and rolled over carefully so as not to disturb Tengen. House Cat Tengen, Mistress of the Manor. I didn't understand what was going on with her, but I was sure happy she was here. I knew I could trust her at least. Well, I could trust her to be a cat, and I was pretty sure that she liked me. I just hoped her secret cat agendas wouldn't harm me.

  Boots whimpered in his sleep and started twitching, suffering from a puppy nightmare. Much to my surprise, I felt Tengen shift and jump down from the bed. I couldn't be sure, but it sounded like she settled in next to him and groomed him until he settled back down. I smiled. You're a good kitty.

  You tell anyone about this, and I'll put your eyes out while you sleep, Monkey-boy.