Page 8 of The Hunter's Mate
“It might not be fun, but it would be fair,” I say. “A big part of hunting is knowing your prey. I don’t know anything about this creature—how it feeds, where it likes to hide…”
“Good point,” Nyrik says. “Well, in that case…the zimya is nocturnal, so it will hide during the day and come out at night. It must sleep above the water; it can’t breathe underneath. But it will feed on fish and other marine animals. There is a weak spot just beneath the chin that, if hit right with a blade, will pierce the brain and immediately end the creature’s life.
It stares out at me with an eerie gaze, sizing me up for its next meal.
“What happens if neither of us catches it?” I ask quietly. “Does it just…stay here? Become the resident lake monster? Terrorize residents?”
Nyrik shakes his head. “If you don’t catch it, I will. And besides…your world is about to become a much more dangerous place. One loose beast wouldn’t make a difference.”
I want to ask him more about that, but right now I need to focus on the task at hand: killing the zimya and getting the hell away from him. “Can I look at your weapons?” I ask.
Nyrik’s frill flares. “It would be my pleasure to show you.”
He takes me to the aft of the lower deck, where he taps in a shape on a circular panel with his claws. A second later, the wall slides open to reveal an array of weapons, each more alien than the others. I gaze at them in wonder, impressed and also kicking myself as I realize I’m going to have to learn how to use one of these.
“Which is the most user-friendly?” I ask, gesturing weakly at the wall.
Nyrik leans over me from behind, his chest cool against my shoulders. He plucks a small triangular device that looks at least a little like a crossbow, holding it out to me.
“You might want to try this bowcaster,” he says. “It’s light and small for a species your size, and it works similarly to a human crossbow—without having to load bolts. It attaches to your wrist here…”
He takes me by the arm and pulls up the sleeve of my still-damp shirt, then fastens the weapon to my arm. I point it right at him, but he doesn’t so much as flinch.
“Before you try anything, you should know there’s a kinetic shield on my suit,” he says. “Any shot you make would simply glance off.”
“Can I have one?” I ask with a sly smile.
“Ah—a huntress who tries for any opportunity she might get,” he says. “Clever…but no. I have no spare suit of armor for you, human.”
“Will you at least show me how to use this thing?” I ask.
His fringe flutters.
“Gladly.”
We go out together to the top deck, then he opens the hatch to reveal a view of the swamp from the shade of a large willow tree. Cicadas and frogs sing a bayou symphony, a few fireflies still hanging on in these last days of waning summer and lighting up the still, flat water. They drift over the ripples made by turtles and fish, a single heron watching from the low branches of a cypress tree.
I’m going to get free.
This is my world, not his.
“Have you ever shot a crossbow before, Fawn?” Nyrik asks, coming up to stand beside me.
I don’t answer; I’m thinking about jumping off this ramp and heading straight toward my boat—
His arm shoots out to wrap possessively around my waist, his breath puffing against my temple from scaled nostrils. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what?” I ask, playing coy.
“Escaping,” he breathes. “You forecast your next move at all times. It’s a trait you should remedy. Besides, then we couldn’t play this game I’m so looking forward to.”
“Maybe I’ll run then,” I say quietly.
He gets even closer, until his forked tongue darts out against my neck. I know it should disgust me, but I can’t control the way it makes heat surge to my core. “Fawn, if you ran…I would catch you.”
A shiver goes up my spine even though the night is warm. Nyrik’s claws rest on my hip, my leg bare from where he patched my wound up earlier.
“Are you going to keep flirting or show me how this works?” I ask.