Page 43 of Casting Butterflies

“I’m aware,” I grumbled. There had to be a way to make the pernicae harmless where I was concerned.

Hold on a second. What if…

My hand flashed out, because, apparently, I had a flair for the dramatic. “Change of target. It’s not me you want but your creator.” I focused on that command, pushing it at the monster.

The giant bug hovered in the air, its massive colorful wings—blood red and orange—flapping slowly. Its antennas—with the barbed ends—stopped waving. Its head shook as if in a silent internal battle.

I gritted my teeth and huffed again. “You will hunt your creator. Grigori Rasputin, AKA Duke Valefor. The asshole who created you and set you on this task.” I pictured the man as I pushed the command, shoving it at the monster until it uttered a keening sound, a shrill piercing noise that resulted in it suddenly exploding into—a lot of fucking butterflies. I’d never seen anything more beautiful, though, than that flock, outlined in a golden light, suddenly rising in the air and heading for the broken window, streaming out of the church, away from me.

“It worked!” I squealed.

“You should have probably destroyed it,” Cedric noted, rather than congratulating me on my epic victory.

“I didn’t know how. By the looks of it, it’s not after me anymore.”

“For now. There’s a good chance this Valefor fellow will be able to redirect the pernicae.”

“Then I’ll deal with it when and if that happens.” Hopefully by then I’d have a better idea on how to handle it.

Cedric hopped to the floor and threaded the wreckage in the nave. “We should get going before the cops get here.”

Guess this would be kind of hard to explain. Sure, the priest had seen the monster. However, I’d already been in enough trouble today.

A distant wail of a siren had me quickly following out the front door. We exited the church and walked a few blocks before flagging a taxi. We arrived at the train station to find it busy despite the evening hour. Thankfully the ticket booth operator understood some English, and I soon had the first leg of my trip booked.

The departure was within the hour, leaving me a little time to grab some things from the onsite, overpriced mart. A large satchel to smuggle Cedric onto the train, a croissant, a coffee, some chocolate. I also made a quick trip to the washroom, using the sink to clean myself up a bit. I didn’t have a change of clothes, something I’d have to take care of at the next stop.

Then, before disaster could strike again, I boarded, ensconcing myself in the private cabin. Overkill for a two-hour trip, but I wanted, make that needed privacy, as did Cedric. The fabric-covered benches facing each other had a table that could be lowered from the wall between them. I deposited my coffee and food but didn’t immediately touch them, needing a moment to apparently breathe.

My tension didn’t ease until the train began chugging. Safe. For now.

Once I ate, fatigue hit me hard. The overwhelming kind that saps all your strength and hits your brain, too, allowing doubt to seep in.

What was I doing? Heading to Russa, into the unknown, to find some hidden elves, by myself. It seemed so impossible. Hard. Scary.

Lonely…

“Don’t you dare start crying,” Cedric warned.

“I’m not c-c-crying,” I hiccupped as my throat tightened.

“Then do something about those tears.”

What tears? Oh, the fat hot and salty ones rolling down my cheeks.

“It’s just…just…I don’t think I can do this. I’m not some super sorceress or some savvy traveler.”

“Funny how that didn’t stop you when those demons came to town and you insisted on being Charlie’s sidekick.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because I was supporting my bestie. I had to pretend to be brave and strong for her.”

“And why can’t you do the same for yourself?”

I blinked wet lashes. “Because it’s not the same.”