There wasn’t an ounce of recognition in the monster woman’s face, at least not as far as Rusk could tell through the dark. And he had a pretty good vantage point being swathed in shadow.

Etoile let out a strangled whine. Rusk wondered if he had made that kind of pathetic vocalization when he first saw the monster inside of Mandy. It seemed so long ago now. He’d grown. The Elva Bow ached to be fired.

“Well, well,” said Mayor Rose. He lifted the torch to illuminate more of the dungeon. Metal contraptions with leather restraints bloomed into awareness. There was blood, unlike Rusk had first thought, but only in certain specific areas. Felix’s spot was too far, still blanketed in deep impenetrable darkness. But more disturbing than the blood, which Rusk had seen plenty of in his travels with Greil, were the other stains. Vomit and urine and something else that Rusk could only guess at given the context of what Felix told him.

“He found me,” said Loretta from the floor. She hadn’t picked herself up, which was worrisome. “I’m sorry.”

“Momma,’’ repeated Etoile.

Rusk moved to stand in front of her and Felix.

“Look what rats I’ve found sneaking around,” said Mayor Rose. “Can’t have this now. Abhorrent for my reputation.”

Rusk fired an arrow at him.

Mayor Rose wrenched his pet monster forward to shield himself. Etoile’s mother snatched the arrow out of the air and then broke it in half. The shaft disintegrated back into the Elva in pinpricks of starlight. Rusk heard the arrow itself scream as it died, and he reflexively covered his ears.

He’d never broken an Elva Arrow before. He hadn’t known it was possible. In fact he’d assumed it wouldn’t be. Surely this went against some laws of nature? But perhaps that’s why the Elva ached for the destruction of the monsters. Maybe the monsters were the Elva’s only real threat.

Etoile’s mother dashed for him with a furious scream, and Rusk dove away. When he tried to roll back up to his feet he crashed into a construction of brutal metal that he thought might skin his back to shreds. His tunic tore in three to five places. Changing directions in a split-second decision he managed just barely to avoid the monster’s lunge for his arms. Once was enough for a lifetime. Even with how much muscle he’d gained over the years training with a bow and learning to be as tough as a Hero should be, Rusk still had the scars all across his upper arms. He didn’t want any more.

The monster had other ideas. It cackled and tried again, this time going for Rusk’s torso in a full body tackle.

Rusk realized the Elva Bow had abandoned him. The pain in his back made him slow instead of kicking him with adrenaline. In the back of his mind he wondered if Mayor Rose had slipped him something during breakfast. Or maybe this Hero business was finally taking its toll on Rusk. He felt every inhalation and exhalation in vacuums of screaming hot air. His chest hurt. His back hurt. His lungs weren’t working.

He felt his inevitable doom come crashing down on him in a heavy flailing of sharp, scratching limbs.

And then it was wrenched off him.

The monster flailed its arms. Rusk saw hands clasped together, wrapped around its torso. Feminine, wiry hands. Etoile’s.

Mayor Rose hollered incomprehensibly from his safe haven at the wash of torchlight near the base of the stonework stairwell. Rusk could imagine he was shouting orders, which was absurd since monsters were by their nature out for their primal urges and thus disobedient. But on the off chance it worked he pulled the Elva Bow out of its space, and it came into his palm willingly. Along with an Elva Arrow, knocked and ready for the draw. Rusk pulled back. He didn’t aim for the monster.

He aimed for Mayor Rose. And loosed.

This time the arrow struck true.

Mayor Rose didn’t sound very dignified when he fell over. There was a slap of flesh when fat hit stone. The torch flew out of his hands to burn itself faster with fresh blood fuel after it skittered across the floor. More of the room was illuminated, but not enough to be of any use to Rusk. Loretta found her second wind and took advantage. She placed a knee squarely between her father’s shoulder blades and put all her weight into it to keep him down. From the look on her face, fiery as the torchlight that revealed it, Rusk could make the fair assumption this was retribution for her.

Good.

Fucker deserved it.

Wait, where was Felix?

Rusk spun around and squinted into the dark. Back by the far wall where Felix had been shackled were the sounds of a scuffle. The monster was either roaring or crying. Etoile’s quick skittering footfalls bounced off the metal contraptions on the floor, and some clattered under the greater weight of the monster’s footsteps as they both angled for better positions. As they passed into and out of the torchlight Rusk saw Etoile was still hanging onto her mother’s back tightly, refusing to let go or give her any air. A flash of Felix’s blonde hair as it caught the torchlight moments later told Rusk his trajectory. Running toward the sounds of the fight after the monster.

“Wait!” called Rusk. “I can’t take the shot if you’re in the way.”

Felix didn’t stop.

Rusk cursed in the older language. He couldn’t do this close range. It was clear he was already fatigued, and keeping the monsters at a distance was a better strategy anyway. Mandy had taught him that. A bow is long range. Run and fire. Find advantageous perches. They should feel your arrow before they ever suspect you’re there. Different in practice than in theory. Especially against monsters. But sound advice nonetheless.

He found himself thinking she’d be useful here. She’d know what to do, how to win. Great with odds, Mandy.

The Elva Bow ached to fire, but Rusk refused to succumb to the urge. He refused to risk hitting Felix or Etoile. The Elva Bow itself didn’t seem to care. It only wanted to vanquish the monster.

Wait, Rusk told the Elva Bow. Please, wait.

I will make you wait.

The Elva Bow shuddered with impatience.

Then the monster broke free of Etoile’s grip and shoved Felix harshly aside.

Felix yelped and curled up when he hit the ground. Etoile didn’t fare much better.

Rusk didn’t see any of this. It was too dim. He felt it. The Elva surrounded him all at once and made him experience the monster’s perspective. Through the hunger and anguish and wishing for harm Rusk could feel the momentum and direction of each and every swing the monster swung. When the sensation ended and time was no longer stretching impossibly yet truly, it was a matter of applying mirror logic to the target.

Rusk didn’t waste time thinking. He aligned the shot with his gut instinct and loosed the Elva Arrow.

It felled the monster.

“Momma!” Etoile scrambled across the torture devices protruding, tearing all her red skirts, and then erupted into sobs over the body of the monster.

Instant regret struck Rusk right in the belly. He turned aside and added vomit to a nearby common depository on the stone floor. The Elva Bow evaporated. Maybe it disapproved of his meltdown.

Some hero.