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I frowned, taking the meat he offered and trying to decide which statement to ask about first. I blew on the meat to cool it and took a tentative bite. It was gamey, and tough, but it was food. “Who is the Horned God?”

Mama had told me to ask for protection in the name of the Horned God, but this man didn’t need to know about Mama’s command.

Hunt looked at me, raising a skeptical brow.

“Witches don’t worship the Horned God?” he asked, taking a bite of his own meat. He ate quickly and neatly, as if the food was nothing more than fuel for his broad body.

“No,” I said, frowning. I had never heard of mortals worshiping a Horned God either, but to be fair, I didn’t chat with a lot of mortals. “Witches venerate the Triple Goddess. Maiden, Mother, and Crone. She is the threefold deity, Mother of all.”

“Interesting,” Hunt said again, finishing his meat.

“You say that a lot,” I said snappishly, aware that he hadn’t actually answered my question. Hunt smirked, shrugging.

“You’re an interesting witch,” he replied, studying me as if he truly did find me an interesting specimen to behold.

“So tell me,” he continued, yawning. “Why is a witch, who doesn’t know of the Horned God, on her way to the Darklands?”

“Why is a mortal man wandering through the Bloodwood rescuing witches?” I countered, looking at him with narrowed eyes. Hunt laughed.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re difficult?” he asked, leaning back and stretching out his long legs ostentatiously, as if he knew he cut a striking figure.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re infuriating?” I replied, giving him a tight-lipped smile. He laughed again.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” he said, reaching forward to smother the small fire. We were plunged into cold and fading gray light as the sun disappeared behind the trees. “I’ve decided what payment I want anyway.”

“And what is that?” I asked, wrapping my cloak more tightly around me for warmth. Akela snuggled closer, resting his head on my lap.

“Now who’s the traitor?” Hunt asked, giving the wolf a pointed stare. Akela huffed, making me smile.

“I want the shadow stone,” he said, looking back at me.

“What?” I asked, startled as I met his green eyes, which were difficult to make out in the growing darkness.

“The necklace you’re hiding,” Hunt said, looking pointedly at the small bulge under my bodice. “That’s my price.”

“It’s Mama’s,” I said, the idea of handing it over to this stranger making me anxious. Not only was it my only connection to her, but it was precious to her, and she had told me to follow it. “Why do you want it?”

I half expected him not to answer, and he seemed to hesitate a moment before he finally replied.

“Shadow stones have power,” he said with a shrug. “They’re valued by the demon courts. Having one might prove useful.”

He seemed so nonchalant about it, I was positive he wasn’t telling me the whole truth. I pursed my lips.

“Take it or leave it, Red,” he said. “That’s my price. If you don’t want to pay it, we part ways in the morning.”

I bit my bottom lip, trying to think my way around this. I supposed if I could keep the stone until we reached the Demon King, I would be following Mama’s instructions. I would have to beg her forgiveness for the loss of something she cherished, though.

“Fine,” I said, choosing my words slowly and carefully. “I will give you the stone after you have safely delivered me to where I need to go.” Hunt narrowed his eyes, looking at me like he expected a trick. I raised my brows innocently.

“It’s a bargain,” he said, holding out a hand to me. I took it. It was large and warm and calloused as if he spent most of his life wielding a weapon or an ax. I supposed he probably had.

Before I realized what he was doing, he had turned my hand wrist-up and slit a line of fire across it.

Chapter 7

“Hey,” I shouted, trying to pull back. He held my hand fast, using his other hand to slice his own wrist before pressing the bleeding wounds together. Something zinged across my wrist and I yelped again, pulling it back. This time, Hunt let it go.

“What the hell was that?” I shouted, scrabbling backward so I could examine the cut. To my surprise, there was nothing but a thin, red scar where he had sliced across my wrist.