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B riar was running out of time.

She looked around the dark tavern with a confident smirk, something she didn’t feel in the slightest. Appearances were important: she could hardly show the desperation that started kicking in after sunset, another constant reminder of how close she was to dying right here in this grimy tavern.

Unless she found a lover. If she could find someone to sleep with before midnight, she would be granted another day. Thanks to that gods-damned wizard who couldn’t take no for an answer and was very promptly killed for it, only to choke out his curse with his dying words.

That was months ago. There wasn’t a day that went by when Briar didn’t wish she had killed him faster. Sex was fun, to be sure. But she was getting deeply tired of finding someone new every night.

Briar checked that her pack was still next to her feet and gave the tavern another annoyed glance.

Still, no one was interested—she’d already done the rounds, only to find a eunuch, an irritatingly loyal husband, and a man who assumed she wanted to pickpocket him.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely off the mark.

She had been planning on stealing his coin purse afterward.

After months of traveling from town to town, she was almost at the point of no return.

Right next to the town waited an endless stretch of forest that Briar had to travel through to meet Marigold, Briar’s only hope of lifting her curse.

If she had come to the last small town, then she had to find some poor fool who was horny or stupid enough to follow her for weeks through a perilous forest in exchange for fucking her every night.

The tavern door creaked open. Briar looked up, her smile turning genuine as she noticed a new man. A tall, sturdy man with no companion. The perfect mark.

She waited for him to take a seat at the other end of the bar. Then she picked up her pack and walked over, making sure to make her hips swing as she went.

“Hello,” she said coolly as she dropped her back and slid into the stool next to him, right in front of the crackling fire. “What brings a man like you to a place like this?”

He turned to her. He was wearing a hood that covered most of his face, which was probably for the best. She’d slept with some truly ugly men since this curse took hold. Sometimes it was better not to see too much.

The man said nothing. He held up a hand, and the bartender slid a glass of moonshine in front of him without asking.

A local, Briar decided. And a working man, if his scarred hands and the weapons hanging off his belt were anything to go by. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.

She leaned forward coyly as she toyed with her necklace: a white gemstone amulet that Marigold had given her during simpler times.

Briar was never a sentimental woman, but she had allowed herself this one keepsake.

She usually kept it tucked away—better to have nothing people could recognize you by.

“I only ask because I’m looking for a man like you,” she said, dragging her fingers seductively down the necklace chain. “My bed is awfully cold tonight.”

She usually warmed men up more beforehand. But the night was getting awfully long, and she could feel the curse creeping up her skin. It felt like fire, crackling and throwing sparks just like the fireplace they were sitting next to. The closer she got to midnight, the more painful it became.

Right now, it was a low simmer. Soon, it would roar into a wildfire.

She waited for the man to huff in amusement or get suspicious. Maybe ask if she was charging by the hour. Most did, if she came on this strongly.

But the man just took a sip of his drink and looked at her again.

“Salaros’s family will be glad to see the curse is still in full effect,” he said in a familiar voice that made her teeth clench and her blood freeze. “And after all that talk you had about undoing it.”

Briar sat back, forcing her grin to stay in place. She should have known—he smelled faintly of lipseed, a crucial ingredient in the hair oil he used so copiously.

“Renault,” she said chirpily, subtly scanning the tavern for exits. She had a knife in her pack, but that was it. Escape was her best bet. Escape, recoup, and find someone to accompany her through weeks’ worth of forest so she wouldn’t die on her first night un-fucked.

“What a nice surprise,” she continued, pulling her pack subtly closer with her feet. “Is it just you this time, or did you bring your band of merry bounty hunters?”

Renault laughed, pulling his hood away to reveal the boyish smile and wavy, lipseed-smelling hair that had enchanted her for about an hour at a party when she was six and twenty.

The night had ended in a blur of blood and stolen gold, both of them laughing.

She had been proud that her laugh had been believable, even when she cleaned the blood off her hands afterward.

It had been almost ten years since then. Renault’s path had diverted from hers, but they both revolved around money. Unfortunately for her, he had found tons of it by chasing down anyone with a bounty on their heads.

Like her. The warlock, Salaros, apparently had a very wealthy family across the sea. All the more reason to wish she’d never met the bastard. Not only did he ruin her life with this curse, but he also made her run from people like Renault and his band of hunters.

“I do enjoy our chats,” Renault said, his straight teeth shining in the dim tavern firelight. “Usually when I meet a mark, it’s all pleas or threats. Not you.”

“Not me,” Briar agreed. She eyed the fireplace next to them, keeping her smile as flirtatious as ever, even as the dread set in.

This was not the time to let her guard down.

She’d made it out of worse situations. Especially if he really was alone, like she suspected.

Renault never liked to share his reward. She’d found that out the hard way.

She leaned in, watching him stiffen in preparation. It lasted barely a moment—he knew the importance of looking calm and confident as well as she did. But he also knew what she was capable of.

“Look,” she said, trailing her finger down her necklace chain. “Salaros deserved it. You would have done the same thing, Renault.”

“Probably,” Renault acknowledged. He ran a finger around the ring of his glass and tapped thoughtfully. “But that’s not what this is about. It’s not personal. It’s just about the money. You understand. If our roles were reversed…”

He paused, giving her a knowing look. “You would have done the same thing I’m about to do.”

Briar leaned in closer, letting her long blonde hair brush his arm. “And what are you about to do, Ren?”

His gaze dropped to her mouth. It was gratifying, in a sad sort of way. She still had an effect on him, even after all this time. It was lucky she was so good at this. She wouldn’t be alive if she weren’t.

“First,” Renault started.

Briar grabbed his glass and lobbed it into the fireplace.

The glass exploded, showering Renault in fiery shards.

Renault yelped, jerking out of his stool.

Briar grabbed her pack and ran. She ignored the shocked looks of the tavern-goers, Renault cursing behind her as he righted himself and shook flames off his cloak.

She burst out of the tavern. The town was dark, but she always knew how to get out of any place she was staying. She ran down the cobbled street toward the inn she’d been staying?—

And staggered to a stop.

A group of men and women stepped out from around the corner. They were all wearing the same thick cloaks as Renault, carrying an array of weapons that marked them as fellow bounty hunters.

Briar swore and turned onto a side street. It was a small town, so she could already see the forest in the distance. But she could also hear the men behind her, calling to each other as they chased her.

“Get ahead of her,” Renault yelled. “Told you she’s a slippery one!”

Briar gritted her teeth and ran faster. She hoped she’d injured Renault with that stunt in the tavern. She thought she felt a sting of glass in her arm, but she didn’t bother checking as she sped toward the dark forest.

They were still in pursuit when she hit the tree line.

She could hear them. She still hadn’t glanced back yet. Looking back would get you killed. One of the many gems of wisdom she’d learned during her childhood on the streets.

They were getting closer. There was no way she’d shake them now. Even the ones who were yelling reminders about the warnings the locals had given them.

The locals had warned Briar, too.

Danger lives in those woods, they had said. There’s a cave, not far from the east entrance. There is only death and horror. Never go there.

Briar was nothing if not a rebel. If she couldn’t take on those men, maybe good ol’ death and horror could do it for her.

And if she died in the process… well, she was going to die at midnight anyway if she didn’t find a man to fuck her. Might as well take out some bounty hunters before the curse took hold.

She panted hard, eyes straining in the dim moonlight.

She could almost make out the entrance of the cave.

Hopefully there was a pissed off bear waiting to be woken up.

Or a kobald, which was more likely considering how terrified the locals were.

Maybe a demon or spirit bleeding through the voids.

Forests were notorious for having thin veils between the human realm and the voids, each void nastier than the last.

She sprinted into the cave and stopped, letting out a scream that was guaranteed to wake any bear, demon, or kobald that was trying to sleep. She kept her smile in place, bright and vicious. But she also reached for the knife in her pack, just in case.

A huge shape lumbered into view. Briar’s smile dropped instantly.

“Oh shit,” she whispered.

It wasn’t a bear. Or a kobald. She’d even take a spirit, or a demon who spat fire, anything but the thing in front of her.

The Skullstalker blinked. It was twice as tall as a human man, with huge horns and jagged claws and a long, whippy tail.

Its skull mark was ghostly white, cutting off just above its fang-filled mouth.

Shadows crept out behind the bone in ways Briar had only seen in nightmares.

It had strange black markings between its chin and chest and massive spiky wings folded behind its back, both traits she hadn’t heard of in Skullstalkers before.

Its eyes were huge and fiery, surrounded by darkness that matched the long, black loincloth tied around its waist. The loincloth was one of the only markers that it wasn’t a mindless beast. No, Skullstalkers were infinitely worse: they were intelligent, horrible beings who would devour you as soon as they looked at you.

Briar stood frozen, uncharacteristically shocked still. Usually, she had enough preservation to run. But she couldn’t help it: she never thought she’d see a Skullstalker in the flesh. With its bright fangs, sharp claws, and towering stature, it was like looking death in the face.

The Skullstalker cocked its head. It looked oddly… meek. Like it was curious about her rather than ravenous.

Then something impossible happened.

“Hello,” said the Skullstalker, surprised.

Briar squeaked. Sense flooded back into her, and she prepared to run.

“Wait,” said the Skullstalker. Its voice was deep and gruff and oddly… polite.

An arrow slammed into the Skullstalker’s shoulder. It rocked back slightly, head jerking up to see the bounty hunters closing in on the cave.

Any meekness it had displayed drained out in an instant. Its inky eyes flickered blood-red. It hunched over, its huge body shaking. Its wings snapped out, scraping the cave walls.

Briar ran out like death was on her heels. Which, in her defense, it was. If the Skullstalker didn’t get her, the curse would. She could feel the fire climbing her bones, working toward her heart.

The Skullstalker emerged into the woods with a mighty bellow. Horrified yells echoed it, and arrow after arrow sailed toward the monster. It reared out with its wing and knocked a bounty hunter into a tree, snapping the trunk in half.

“Help, damn you,” Renault screamed at Briar. “Or we’ll all be killed!”

Briar ignored him. She’d achieved her task; they were too distracted to care about her. Now she just needed to find someplace safe.

She ran as fast as she could, fingers locked around her pack straps, lungs burning in a way that had nothing to do with the curse slowly taking hold.

She just had to hope the Skullstalker was too busy with the bounty hunters to bother chasing her down.

If she could just outrun it before it noticed her again?—

A loud flap of wings made her stifle a frightened yell. The bounty hunters were still clamoring, Renault was shouting at them to get out, but they were getting further away.

The wings, however, were getting ever closer.

Don’t look back, Briar told herself as she ran. Don’t look ?—

She looked back. Barely a second, but enough to see the horrifying blur coming at her.

Clawed hands closed around her shoulders. Briar didn’t even have time to reach for her weapons before it was slamming her into the dirt, her pack wedged painfully under her back. All the air whooshed painfully out of her lungs.

The Skullstalker reared up and roared, fangs glinting. Its eyes were still blood-red, its wings flared out to block the moon from view.

So, this is how I die , Briar thought, dazed. It’s even more dramatic than I expected.

The Skullstalker lunged.

Briar squeezed her eyes shut.

A bright glow lit up the darkness. For a confused moment, Briar thought the monster had folded in its wings, letting the moonlight through.

No fangs closed around her face. No claws tore into her throat.

Briar pried her eyes open.

The Skullstalker’s eyes were black again, reflecting the white light between them.

Briar looked down. That bright light wasn’t the moon. It was her amulet, glowing milky white in the dark.

The Skullstalker shuddered. Briar tensed, waiting. At least she wouldn’t go the way of the curse, burning from the inside out.

“Hurt me,” the Skullstalker growled.

Briar paused. This monster seemed intent on saying impossible things tonight. Was this a trick? A monster playing with its food?

“What?” Briar asked weakly.

“Hurt me,” it repeated. It struggled up, kneeling over her, twitching all the while. “I cannot—control—my blood. Hurt me and r—run.”

Briar gaped. Then she grabbed for her pack, the knife still stuck inside. But before she could unsheath it, the Skullstalker shuddered again, a whole-body spasm.

Its thick arm banged into her skull. Briar’s head bounced against the dirt, her vision tunneling as she sank into unconsciousness.