Page 15

“I am fine,” he said, breathing raggedly. He looked over at Briar, and she wondered when his fiery eyes became so comforting.

Marigold wheezed out a laugh, fanning her face. She was sweating, drops appearing on her hairline.

“That was new,” she said with nervous delight. She grabbed her wet teacup, her hand shaking as she sipped. “I-I can cure you. Cure you both, even. And the best news is, I only need one more ingredient for both of those spells!”

“Great,” Briar said. “What is it?”

Marigold grimaced. “That… might be a problem. It’s just up in the mountains, but I don’t have time to go up there right now. I’m behind on some ritual translations for my clients, and I promised I would finish them this week.”

“We can do it,” Briar said eagerly. “Right? Wick can fly; it makes travel so much easier!”

Marigold brightened, clutching her tea with shaking hands. “I didn’t think about that! That’s so helpful. Well, if you go up the mountains and get me the flower I need, I can cure you both within the day.”

Briar clasped Wick’s knee excitedly. “Do you hear that? We’re so close! What flower?”

“I’ll show you! Here, it’s in my library.” Marigold stood, brushing her wet skirt once more as she turned toward the hallway.

Briar stood. Wick stood with her and immediately knocked over the table with his swishing tail.

“Damn,” he blurted. “I am sorry.”

He bent down to turn it back on its feet. His wings knocked into a bookcase, knocking over a stack of books and a framed sketch of the mountains that waited in the distance.

“Sorry,” he repeated, grabbing at everything he was knocking over.

Marigold stopped in the mouth of the hallway to give him a strained smile. “How about you stay in here for now? Briar, come and see this flower.”

Briar held back a smirk and turned to Wick. “Maybe just sit back down, big boy.”

Wick paused, halfway through bending down to pick up the books, like he was deciding whether it was best to try to fix this and risk knocking over more things or sit quietly on the couch where none of his limbs could break more of this tiny cottage.

Briar glanced back as she left the room to see Wick sitting down slowly on the couch.

Marigold was on Briar as soon as she stepped into the cramped library.

“ Briar ,” she hissed, her smile twisting with shock and disbelief. “A Skullstalker? Really ? Gods, does he even fit ?”

“Mostly,” Briar said with a confidence she didn’t fully feel.

She rubbed her thighs together, both her holes twinging from so much stretching.

Her panties were wet with his come, yet again.

Maybe he could make good on what he’d said in the clearing and lick it out of her before they found someplace to sleep.

Briar looked around the narrow library, full of towering stacks of books in various stages of decay.

“When you start up your apothecary,” she began. “Are you going to do a discount for old friends?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Marigold warned. She even looked like she meant it, right up until her mouth twitched.

Briar giggled. Marigold tried not to join in, but her mouth kept twitching until she was joining in, the two of them falling over each other laughing like they were young girls again.

“Gods,” Marigold repeated, wiping her eyes. They were bloodshot, Briar noted. It almost looked like flames were circling her irises.

“But really,” Marigold continued. “A Skullstalker. I didn’t even know they could sleep with humans!”

“Me neither. But I found out.”

Marigold’s face twisted. “I couldn’t do it. He has a skull face!”

“Only half of it,” Briar said defensively. She went to lean back against a stack of books, then immediately thought better of it when the stack started to tilt. She turned back to Marigold, whose hands were up, ready to catch the stack if it fell.

Briar swallowed. If there was anyone in the world she could tell about her stupid, soft feelings, it was Marigold. Her only true friend in the world.

“He’s actually pretty wonderful,” Briar began. “He’s sweet. He’s… good. I know he’s a Skullstalker, but I think he’s truly a good creature.”

Marigold blinked. She looked expectant, like she was expecting Briar to come in at the last second with a joke. In her defense, it sounded like something Briar would do.

Briar laughed self-consciously and stepped away from the stack of books teetering behind her. “So. You had a flower to show me?”

“What? Oh.” Marigold rushed over to the corner of the room and heaved out a giant tome. She hauled it open, flicking water-stained pages until she reached one with a detailed sketch of a dappled rose with pointed petals.

“It’s called the snowskull rose,” she explained, holding the book out. “It grows in small clusters up in the mountains. The locals will be able to give you directions.”

“Locals?” Briar had assumed they wouldn’t run into anyone. “People live up there? I thought those were rumors.”

“There’s a whole town,” Marigold said. “They’re a bit… weird . But they aren’t hostile.”

“Weird,” Briar repeated. “Weird how?”

“Oh, nothing too bad. It’s mostly their magic practices, to be honest. Their magic is very, um, intimate.”

Briar grinned. “ Intimate ? Do you mean sex magic?”

“I try not to know,” Marigold admitted.

She tore the flower page out of the book and handed it to Briar, who studied it carefully. It had no color, but there were notes in the margins: the center was white, almost in the shape of a skull. The rest of it was pure black.

Marigold heaved the book back onto a shelf. It wobbled, and they both froze until the shelf stilled.

“I’ll try not to stumble into any more weird sex magic,” Briar said as she tucked the piece of paper into her pocket. “So, how does it work? The protection amulet, I mean. I didn’t expect it to protect me from wayward Skullstalkers.”

“It doesn’t. The Skullstalker— Wick’s case is unique.” Marigold eyed the amulet around Briar’s neck, gnawing on her lip thoughtfully.

“Why?” Briar asked. “What links this amulet to his blood frenzy? What sort of magic is it?”

Marigold startled. She laughed nervously, and Briar noticed that she was still sweating, a line of salt running down the side of her face.

“Oh, that’s—” She waved a dismissive hand. It looked strange, Briar noticed. Chapped and red and worn, like she had been out in the cold for many days in a row.

“It would take too long to explain,” Marigold said. “You always get bored by magic theory. What matters is that it will work!”

“You seem confident,” Briar noted. “I thought you’d never dealt with this before.”

“I haven’t.” Marigold pushed her sweaty hair out of her face. “But like you said, I’m a great witch.”

She smiled, sunny and enthusiastic in that way that Briar used to hate before she realized Marigold wasn’t faking it.

Briar started to smile back, then she stopped.

For a moment, Marigold’s eyes were slate white once more. Something spun in the center of them, thick as a snowstorm. But before Briar could panic, Marigold blinked, and her eyes were back to normal again.

“I’ll get you sorted, Briar. Don’t you worry.” Marigold patted her shoulder with those oddly chapped hands, then turned toward the hall. “I’ll get your room set up. I still have your favorite blanket! And some spare clothes, if you want to change.”

“Thanks,” Briar said, plucking at her sweaty clothes. Then she paused. “Hey. About that room…”