Copyright 2025 by Cassie Swindon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be produced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This work is fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, cities, or events are entirely fictional.
Read short stories in this order:
Scarlett’s Pledge
Ryker’s Promise
Ruby’s Vow
Crimson Oath (full standalone novel)
Ryker’s Promise
My camper swerves around another tree and a streetlight flickers far in the distance, at the edge of the woods. I push down on the gas harder. The entire vehicle bumps and jerks over the uneven forest floor. My ass thumps against the seat and my head hits the ceiling. The Slynik tied up in the back won’t stop screaming through the tape around her mouth.
I’ve heard worse.
I clutch the steering wheel tighter and swerve onto the two-lane country road. Screeching tires skid as I regain control, but that doesn’t stop the demon in the back from tumbling into the side. She grunts and her muffled sounds make my arm hairs stand on end. In the mirror, her red eyes scream promises of torturous nightmares. Some days I wonder how long I’ll last in this cursed world.
Faint stars peer through the sunroof, always watching. I follow the brightest constellation to Kinsley.
Suddenly, pain registers. Fuck. When did she scratch me? It doesn’t matter. I’ve felt worse. Much worse.
The empty road curves into a wall of heavy fog, so I slow and lean forward, squinting. On this winding cliffside roads steal hundreds of lives when drivers fall off the edge into the sea. Even the ocean below seems to hold its breath. But I can still feel the claws of the waves reaching out to drag me to my death.
A large shadow moves across the hood of my camper.
I gasp. “What was that?”
Immediately, the Slynik in the back stops thrashing. Her labored breaths fill the small space between us. I gulp down my legitimate fears because the creature I’ve captured is the epitome of horror wrapped in spider webs and death.
A thud smacks on the roof. My heart rate doubles and I slam on the breaks. Something black flies forward into the fog. I wait. Breathe in. One. Breathe out. Two. Breathe in. Three. A loud shriek pierces my ears from outside then something pokes through the windshield.
“What the fuck?!”
I fling my camper in reverse and stomp on the pedal. We zoom backwards. Sweat drips down my neck. The Slynik in the back is much too calm. Each time I veer in a different direction, she rolls back and forth. I cringe at the bruises I’m causing her. No. There’s no room for empathy. She’s a soul-sucking beast.
Haunting memories flash images of my wife being drained by a Slynik. Varya never stood a chance. And it’s all my fault. If I had been stronger, more like the warrior my mother expected of me, Varya would still be alive. Instead, I’ll always have to live with the memory of ink streaming out of my wife’s temples and the Slynik stealing her pure cruxel. Every day, memories of Varya weigh heavy on my heart and mind. All Slyniks deserve a cruel and painful death. They took my love. My future. My everything.
Another loud crack stabs at the windshield. Adrenaline floods my system. Glass shatters. Sharp shards rain on my knuckles. I wince and slam on the breaks again. The Slynik groans.
Heart pounding, I kick my door open and crunch over the broken glass on the pavement. Not one car has driven by. No witnesses. I leave my knife in the car, knowing it’ll make little difference.
I turn, gaze darting between towering trees in the darkness. Could the second monster be hiding behind those trunks? My chest tightens. I clench a rope in my fists.
My best chance I have is to cuff my prisoner’s hands. If she can’t touch my temple, I should be safe. I’ve never been one to torture, but somehow I must find the answers for how to kill a Slynik.
Outside, a rusted dirt bike leans crooked against a tree, it’s dark colos camouflaging into the trunk. Strange. I step forward, raising my finger to tap the handle bar.
Suddenly, a giant bird dives from a branch and swoops at my head.
“Shit!”
Its beak jabs my neck. I try to swat it away. Rough pecks strike at my skin. I crouch and flail my arms.
“Tura? Come back, girl!” A high-pitched, female voice yells in concern.
She sounds so worried, so human. But, I bet my entire existence, that she’s the other Slynik, prepared to murder me in cold blood.
The bird rises and hovers a few feet over my head. Its beady eyes glare and those giant wings flap. I cock my head to the side. What kind of bird is it? A falcon?
“Tura! Come back!”
A Slynik won’t think twice before draining my cruxel. She needs to be caught off guard. I check to make sure my camper is still securely hidden behind the tree, then start jogging.
This entire night might be a planned trap. All Slyniks have a unique method of seduction.
Ahead, a silhouette prowls between tree trunks. I was right. This isn’t a damsel in distress at all, but an experienced predator. The monster tracked us.
One against one is manageable. Just can’t let her touch my temple. My shoulders hunch into a fighting stance.
Soft footsteps sweep the leaves to my left. I pivot. Black, unruly hair, as wild as the forest itself, floats behind another tree. So, this one likes games. Fine, I’m willing to play hide and seek.
I roll up my sleeves and sniff the night air. She radiates a scent of pomegranates instead of the expected smell of decay.
A pale hand stretches out from behind another tree and the falcon lands on her forearm. It scowls at me with eyes ablaze, but for some reason, all I care about is that the Slynik’s nails are painted a bright red, similar to Varya’s favorite color. I freeze. My heart stops. Slynik’s aren’t like us. They aren’t artistic or whimsical. They don’t paint their nails or dress up. They aren’t human.
This creature probably stole the nail polish. Or maybe this varmint used her last meal’s blood as polish.
A new female voice yells in the distance.
I snap back to attention and move away. I can defeat one alone, but not two. Jitters crawl up my spine. I can’t waste this opportunity. After searching for months, I finally caught one of the wretched mongrels.
“Ruby!” The closer voice staggers.
I almost feel like I’m dreaming because Slyniks don’t have feelings or empathy. They don’t form connections or care about one another.
“Thank goddess, you’re here!” The Slynik with the falcon moves out from behind the tree, facing away from me, and says, “One took Scarlett! She’s gone.”
Complete intrigue washes over me. No … I despise them all.
I stagger back and slip away from them, slowly, quietly.
Back at the campter, I jump inside and check the back. The Slynik stares at me and tears run down her cheeks. How? Slyniks don’t cry. They’re incapable of emotions.
I clear my throat and slap my cheeks. Maybe I’ve been awake for too long. I restart the camper and drive through the fog down the road for at least a mile, hoping the others don’t hear. Carefully, we scale the cliffsides.
Soon, the night will paint the sky with a new morning. Varya used to love sunrises. She swore to me that it was different every day, so we’d sit at the highest peak in Kinsley and invent names for each ray of sunlight. With her creative mind, she’d devise new names: Brielle, Fay, Dionne, Everlee. I always had the same answer—Varya—because she had always been my light. But she’s gone. And the Slyniks are to blame. So the one restrained in the back must be my key to fulfill my revenge.
My stomach grumbles for breakfast. I grab a protein bar from the passenger seat and rip open the wrapping with my teeth. As I bite into the granola mix, chocolate melts over my tongue.
After devoting five years to hunting Slyniks I haven’t learned much, but at least I know that they need nourishment just like us. She’s probably watching me eat. I hope her stomach is rumbling. Starving my prisoner is an option to get her to talk. Or maybe I’ll start with sleep deprivation.
The campter rolls up to a tall black gate, rusted at the hinges and bent open. The fog lumbers through the gate first, but it isn’t thick enough to cover Milo’s silhouette. My jaguar’s form appears through the mist. He paws at my door, but I won’t risk letting him near the Slynik. He loved Varya as much as me and has been waiting for his own turn at vengeance.
“Go inside, Milo.” I wave him towards the ramshackled shack hidden behind trees.
He jumps on the hood and my heart stumbles out of my chest when he almost steps on a piece of broken glass.
“Milo! Stop!”
He jumps straight up in the air while hissing and lands on the ground.
“Be careful.” I nod to the building cast in shadows again. “Go on, go inside.”
With his spotted tail pointed straight up, he leads the way and the camper trails in his wake. I park out of view from the road. The engine shuts down and I suck in a deep breath.
Three lamps swing from the shack’s front porch ceiling with the bulb snaking in a spiral.
I turn to meet the gaze of my prisoner again. Her red eyes glisten like rubies in the sea. Shit. Fuck.
That means she’s ready for a kill. All the other legendary names for her kind rush to the forefront of my mind: a Queen of whispers, a Wretched wordsmith, a Writer of ruin with eyes of red.
But then Varya’s face flashes before my own eyes. She’d never want this for me. Never in a million years would she agree to hurting another living, breathing creature. She’d hate me for this.
Suddenly, everything is too restricting. The humidity is suffocating. I loosen the collar of my shirt but I still can’t breathe right. Trapped. I feel so trapped. I whip off my shirt and let the muggy night air bristle against my chest. For just a moment, I sag in my seat and cave in on myself. Squeezing my eyes shut doesn’t make my situation vanish. I press my forehead against the steering wheel and exhale deeply.
I have a choice—set the Slynik free or force her to tell me how to kill one of her kind. I can make her a promise that she won’t be the Slynik I terminate. These monsters aren’t loyal to one another anyway.
I send an apology to Varya, wherever she is in the Holy Abyss. Because I’m out of options. I’m running out of time.
The Slynik grunts in the back and the smell of urine fills the van.
“Shut up!” I open the doors and try to tug her out.
The bitch goes dead-weight. I pull, yank, and fight her to the edge of the door.
“Stand up!”
She shakes her head and growls.
“Stand! Let’s go!”
She wiggles back to the center of the campter like a worm. If it were anyone else the scene might be comical, but the deadliest creature is right in front of me. The truly last thing I want to do is carry her into the warehouse in my arms.
“I’ll drag you by your hair if you don’t get up!”
Muffled sounds try to escape the duct tape around her mouth.
I glance behind me at the abandoned road and check the perimeter. “Fine, if I take that off, will you stand?”
She nods.
I reach forward slowly, cringing at the disgusting thought of touching her again. When my finger is an inch from her face, Milo jumps in the camper.
“Milo, no!” I grab his scruff and gently place him outside. “Stay away from her.”
A wave of fatigue crashes over me and I just want this over with, so I quickly rip the tape off her skin. She doesn’t make a sound but flashes sharp teeth.
“Stand.” I gesture in front of me, leaving enough space.
Miraculously, she listens but is a bit off balance since her hands are still tied behind her back. Deviousness dances in her eyes and for a split second I wonder if her companion from the forest looks the same.
This Slynik is only inches away, so I step back.
“Afraid of me?” she snickers with a voice so different than the others.
“No. I’ll let you go right now, if you answer a question for me.”
She moves forward, fearlessly. “What do you want to know?” The Slynik licks her bright red lips and it gives me the vision of maggots crawling out of her mouth.
“How can I kill a Slynik … permanently?”
She laughs and casually leans against the shack’s wall. Part of the wood gives way and bends under where her hips touch. “I’m not going to tell you that. How about you ask my name for starters?”
“I don’t care.”
Her jaw drops a tad and her nose scrunches up. “It’s Scarlett.”
“I. Don’t. Care.”
She grins playfully, as if the entire act in the camper was her best dramatical performance. “Then you could ask how old I am. I bet you’re curious. I’m thirty.”
“And how long have you been thirty?”
“See, I knew you were curious.”
“Nevermind.” I cross my arms.
“I’ve been thirty for fifty years.”
“Fascinating,” I deadpan. “This is your last chance to tell me how to kill one of you. I don’t think you’ll enjoy me as company.”
Milo rubs his head against my ankle and circles my feet, purring.
She tilts her head. “Your cat is more brave than you.”
“He’s a jaguar.”
She rolls her eyes as if she hadn’t been crying desperately in the back of my van minutes ago. “I’ll never answer your question, so you might as well let me go now before my sisters find you.”
“Sisters?” I point a finger at her. “No, no, you don’t have sisters. Everyone knows Slyniks don’t have families.”
“Oh, okay, you’re the expert then.” Scarlett’s eyebrows rise and she glances to the door. “So … if you free me now, I pledge not to kill you. But I can’t speak for my sisters. Ruby might scoop your eyes out first, I’m not sure why, but she collects her favorite mortals’ eyes in jars and I have to admit, yours being two different colors do stand out.”
“Tell me how to kill one of you.”
She spits in my face. Actual spit, like a barbarian.
“You’re gonna regret that.” I yank under her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Scarlett kicks my shin and tries to ram her knee into my groin but misses. I twist out of the way, then pull her across the lawn.
Rain begins to drop. Splat. Drip. Plink. Within seconds the drizzle turns to a downpour. Water drums against the warehouse rooftop. At least the monsoon will cover up any tire tracks leading here.
“Do you creeps have supernatural tracking abilities?”
“Maybe.
I pull her behind me as I heave the shack’s door in.
An automatic draft makes me shiver. Inside, I flip on a light switch. Milo sprints around a lopsided table with drawings etched into the top. I’d know since I’m the one who carved the images. Memories from my past show the Lanuri’s city, the spider-shaped architecture we’re famous for and some of the tattoo symbols that define our culture. Of course, next to those are the rough outlines of Varya’s face.
At least I have Milo still.
“Do you have anything dry for me to change into?” Scarlett gestures to her dress, drenched in more ways than one and I realize I’ve been breathing through my mouth for the last few minutes to avoid the stench.
“You need to untie me or cut this dress off. It’s stuck at my wrists.”
I run a hand over my face. “Do you have … uh … under … garments on?”
“Does it matter? You plan to torture me for answers anyways, right?” Her sharp voice reminds me of nails on a chalkboard, or the sensation or the thought of swallowing a giant ball of hair from a shower drain.
“I’ll uncuff you, give you a dry set of my clothes and drive you wherever you want to go if you just tell me how to kill one of you. If you do, I promise I’ll never bother you again.” I need to try, even if she plans to try and kill me once I set her free. Damn it, this plan is disastrous.
Her footsteps grow louder and the sound of her dress dragging warns me to move away. But she’s closer than I thought.
“Don’t touch me!”
Scarlett laughs in a minor key, like she’s made for an opera set in the catacombs. In fact, her laugh echoes around the empty warehouse, bouncing off the worn graffiti. I don’t dare turn around to argue with her. No matter how curious I am in learning more Slynik weaknesses, it’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
“Tell me what your tattoos mean.” I can feel her gaze on my back.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because.” Because I don’t know. Though, I won’t admit that.
“Well, this is boring.” She taps her foot behind me. “I need dry clothes.”
If I didn’t have a buzz cut, I’d be pulling out my hair at this point. “Fine, stop talking. I’ll get you clothes. Stay here.”
“Yes, your highness.”
I stomp towards the back corner towards towering bins and crates, then pause for a moment to process. Heat flushes through my body at my predicament. I should’ve brought that other hunter I met in the woods. Two against one is much smarter.
A raging pounding escalates in my ears, and I just want this monster gone or dead.
I crack my neck from side to side, then pull out some old clothes, torn at the edges and probably too big for this woman. No, she’s not a woman. Scarlett is a monster.
But, they have names. And she has sisters? That can’t be correct.
Milo jumps next to me and nudges my hip.
“Why aren’t you bothered by her, boy?”
Milo yawns and shuts his eyes.
“Stay away from her. Please. I don’t know if they can drain animals too.” I grab extra socks since the Slynik has been barefoot the whole time, just like her companion in the forest.
The wind whips against the sole window in my room, tapping its secrets on the pane. Soft reds probably bloom on the horizon over Jarrigan sea and the first of the morning’s sunrays would be sparkling on the water at any moment.
Good morning, Varya. I want to smile, but too much has been taken away. If she were still here, Varya wouldn’t even recognize the man I’ve become. Sunrises are pointless without her, so I turn back to the task at hand.
As I approach the Slynik again, something seems off. Her back is to me and she’s too still, unnaturally, like a statue.
That’s when I notice her hands aren’t tied behind her back anymore.
“Shit!”
Quick as death, she turns, with wild eyes, both hands outstretched, one holding a sharp dagger.
“Surprise!” She wiggles her fingers then lunges at me, one hand reaching to my temple, the other holding the blade.
I jump back. Light reflects off the sharp tip as Scarlett slashes the knife through the air.
“You egotistical!” Scarlett swipes at the air. “Arrogant!”
Slash.
“Abusive!”
Hack.
“Terrible! Atrocious mortal!”
No matter how many times I dodge her, the Slynik is faster. She corners me and pushes the knife’s edge to my throat. I flinch but stare at her defiantly. My chest rises and falls fast.
“Do it.” I dare her to end me. It may even be a blessing to end of agony.
I’m weak and undeserving if she’s gained control within five minutes of being here. I lost. Since she won’t reveal her secret, I have nothing to live for anyways.
“DO IT, SCARLETT!” I roar and press my neck against the blade.
Something flickers in her big eyes. “What’d you just call me?”
“SCARLETT! YOUR FUCKING NAME. Now kill me or get the fuck out of here!”
She’s within reach. All it’ll take is for her to stretch out one arm and touch my temple, then my cruxel will belong to her.
She drops the blade to her side and tilts her head, studying me.
“Get out!”
Scarlett backs away slowly.
I could maybe restrain her again. All it would take is a quick lurch forward and she could be my prisoner once more. Instead, I watch her back away, faster with each step. Scarlett never takes her eyes off me, though they’re no longer fiery red.
Sunlight creeps through the window, shining a path towards the exit.
“Don’t follow me. I never want to see you again. And leave my sisters alone.” Her voice trembles for the first time. “Promise me!”
“I no longer make promises I can’t keep. Run. Now.”
She gasps, turns her back to me, and sprints from the warehouse.
And I stand there, solid as a statue, cursing myself for making the second biggest mistake of my life. Now they know where I am. I just voluntarily reunited three sisters who will track me. Fuckin’ brilliant, Ryker. Fuckin’ brilliant.
Be sure to read the other short stories, in this order:
- Scarlett’s Pledge
- Ryker’s Promise
- Ruby’s Vow
- Crimson Oath
To read other short story prequels by Cassie Swindon, check her website at www.cassieswindon.com for the following:
Olivia’s Date
Lou’s Tulips
Rynn’s Crush
Piper’s Challenge
Mora’s Thorn
Eribelle’s Dream
Isaac’s Curse
Jadox’s Spell
Kyra’s Ruin
Raelyn’s Last Shot
Kody’s Secret
Phoenix’s Spies
Cali’s Escape
William’s Lies