I Guess You Should, Chelsea Childling.

The Blind Bronco had never looked better to Chelsea as the cold, relentless wind blew her and Bentley through the door of the trailer. The bar stood immaculately clean, as always, and Florence smiled at her.
The teen aged beauty queen gestured to a stool. “Welcome back. I thought we’d seen the last of you.”

Better Than Therapy

The last five months in the Dakotas had ground cattle-drive chic into her wardrobe, and these people were pure urban working class. It was all baggy denim and hoodies as far as the eye could see. Her fringed leather duster and matching black Stetson stood out to say the least.

Chelsea Fights Taku-He

Keegan paced in front of her, long, thin legs eating up the distance between the dark headlights. The other monster hunters stood around in shifting groups of denim, flannel, and leather. Nobody talked much, and all the laughter was short and sharp in the ever-blowing prairie wind.

Chelsea Finds a Job

Once they were outside the restaurant, she looped the leash around the faux-wood horse hitch and hung his sign around his neck. It read, “I’m waiting for my owner and love pets.” Bentley’s mouth opened in a smile as kids squealed and headed over.

Chelsea Hunts a Brain Leech, pt2

Tall and thin, the brain leech’s only resemblance to humanity was being bipedal. But the silhouette offended her sense of proportion, being truly too thin to be human, and its face was utterly alien. The lack of a nose making it vaguely reptilian, but also a touch insectoid, with side mandibles.

Chelsea Hunts a Brain Leech, Pt1

How’s class going?”
Mr. Preppy rolled his eyes, fingers still buried in Bentley’s fur. “Crazy. And the headaches aren’t helping.”
This was her third college campus, and she finally got a nibble. Careful to stay casual, she forced herself not to fiddle with Bentley’s collar. “You probably need more sleep.”
He shook his head. “That’s just it. I’ve been sleeping constantly. I think I’m just burnt out.”
*No, you’re being poisoned.*