Page 21

Fifteen

B riar wanted to laugh in Renault’s stupid, sniggering face.

He really thought he could get his cronies to drop a net on Wick? As if some rope could hold him? He was a Skullstalker . Naked or not, he could tear that flowery rope apart with one claw.

But Wick smashed into the ground with surprising force. Then his skin started smoking.

Briar yanked her fur robe back on, cursing loudly. Usually when chaos broke loose, it was time to get out of there as fast as possible. But she couldn’t leave Wick. Especially not when he was trapped under a flower-knotted net that was burning him.

Briar covered her hands with the fur robe and yanked at the net. Her finger slipped out of the fur onto the thick rope, and she flinched. But her skin didn’t blister. Was it only dangerous to Skullstalkers?

Wick’s eye cracked open. It was wet and comfortingly fiery, even if the flames were smaller than she’d ever seen them. He was struggling against the ropes, his movements getting more panicked by the second.

Briar opened her mouth to tell him she would handle it.

“Bri-i-ar,” yelled Renault through the fleeing village folk.

Briar bared her teeth and whirled to face him.

Renault strolled calmly through the thinning crowd, stepping around a limping Madame Thatchbore who was staring at Briar while a harried-looking man led her away by the arm.

Renault had two of his cronies at his side. One carried an ax, the other was bending to scoop up the spilled gold from the offering bowl.

“That’s mine,” Briar snarled.

“Finders keepers.” Renault grinned. “Briar, Briar, Briar. I knew the curse would make you desperate. But I never pictured this .”

He gestured at Wick, who was writhing under the net as it burned through another layer of flesh.

Briar forced her face to stay smooth and unassuming. The knife she had tucked into her long sleeve was tacky with sweat. She let it fall into her hand, still hidden by the fur.

“I’m surprised you manage to capture anybody,” she said easily. “They should just run away while you’re gloating.”

“That’s why I have these guys.” Renault gestured at the bounty hunters on either side of him. “They keep everything in place while I’m gloating.”

“You just think of everything,” Briar said. She squeezed the knife hilt, waiting for him to come close enough to strike. Maybe if she bought Wick enough time, he’d break through the net.

The last of the villagers fled out of sight. They were alone: just Renault, his cronies, Wick, Briar, and the giant ravine next to them.

She nodded at the two hunters on either side of him. “I recognize these two from the village. What happened to the rest?”

“It was a dangerous journey,” Renault said. “You’d know. You’re the one who talked a Skullstalker into protecting you. Very impressive, Copperwood.”

“I’m a very impressive person,” Briar said coolly.

Renault’s gaze fell to her chest. There was a thin sliver of skin visible where her fur robe was hanging open, shiny with sweat. His eyes darkened.

Briar gripped the knife so hard her fingers ached.

A loud snap echoed through the air.

Briar looked down. Wick had broken one of the ropes, but they were still burning deep into his skin.

“Better speed this up.” Renault gestured at his cronies. They advanced on Briar, dragging ropes out of their pockets.

Briar stepped back. She had wanted to catch Renault with the knife first, but it looked like these two would have to go first.

“Careful,” Renault said. “Almost going over the ravine.”

“How awful that would be for you,” Briar replied. “Having to scrape up my carcass for your reward.”

She stepped back again, her bare feet teetering on the edge of the ravine.

Renault’s smile went sharp and satisfied. “You would never. You don’t care about anything more than your life—even spite.”

Briar rocked back into place, her heart racing. “I don’t know. I like spite an awful lot.”

The bounty hunter with a bag of gold around his neck lunged for her.

She dodged and shoved him. Renault made an annoyed noise as he disappeared down the ravine, screaming until he hit the ground with a sick crunch .

Briar grimaced and looked into the ravine. The man was lying motionless on the rocky bottom; his limbs twisted at hideous angles.

“Alright,” Renault muttered. “What am I paying these people for? You, stand back.”

The second bounty hunter stood back, looking relieved.

Renault stepped up, his head cocked.

“Now,” he said. “Are you going to make this easy or…”

He trailed off.

At first, Briar thought he was staring at her chest again. Then she looked down and saw the amulet glowing.

Another rope snapped. Wick snarled, groping for the next thick strap pinning him down.

“Huh,” said Renault. He reached up with his crossbow, sticking the point of the bolt through the amulet chain. “What’s this?”

“Nothing,” Briar blurted.

Immediately, she knew she had ruined everything. She’d been too desperate, too fast. She closed her sweaty fingers tightly around her knife, the tip peeking out from underneath the fur.

Renault’s eyes lit up. “Nothing? Well, then. You won’t mind if I do this.”

He jerked the crossbow. The chain snapped, and Briar yelled as the amulet went sailing into the ravine.

“Now,” Renault repeated. “Are you?—?”

A wild roar cut him off. Wick writhed savagely against the bonds, the last rope breaking free against his straining wings.

“Shit,” Renault hissed.

Briar reared back and stabbed him in the chest.

Renault stumbled back. Unfortunately, away from the ravine. Briar only got to see him stare, stunned, at his bleeding chest before she wrenched the knife out and turned.

Too slow.

The second bounty hunter slammed into her, scrabbling for the knife. But before he could grab it or even get stabbed, his eyes went wide, and he was ripped off of her.

Briar didn’t get a chance to enjoy the sight of Wick tearing into him. She was too busy falling, clutching wildly for any handhold she could find.

Her vision blurred: rocks, blood, the dark cliff looming over the village. Then her fur robe caught on something sharp, and Briar jerked to a stop.

She craned her head. Her robe had snagged on a rock, icy wind curling over her naked legs as she hung there, halfway down the ravine.

Briar cursed. She shoved her knife between her teeth and looked around desperately.

Screams echoed down the ravine. Briar ignored them, cold sweat dripping down her spine as she twisted carefully until she was grabbing the rocks.

Her hands stung against the craggy surface.

She gritted her teeth around her blade and started climbing down.

Rocks pressed into her bare feet, drawing blood.

Briar didn’t dare look down or pay attention to the screams overhead.

The only thing that existed was the next precarious handhold, the next place to shove her scraped feet.

Finally, she reached the ground. The first bounty hunter lay dead on the rocks, his head cracked open.

The amulet lay several feet away. It was cracked, the glow stuttering before slowly dying.

“Shit,” Briar whispered.

She took a step toward it.

The screams stopped.

Briar tensed, waiting for the sound of a crossbow or Renault yelling. Instead, she heard the sound of something whooshing, and Wick roared in feral fury.

Briar looked up just in time to watch him sail over the side of the ravine. He was wrapped in a new net, his naked flesh smoking as he fell.

He hit the ground with a thud that made Briar wince. Despite every instinct yelling at her to run, she turned and took a step toward her gentleman monster.

“Wick?” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “Wick!”

Wick snarled, spittle flying from his jaws. Then, slowly, he quietened.

Briar looked up hopefully. The amulet was glowing faintly on the other side of him.

Wick’s head turned. One eye was burned shut. But the other one fixed on her, pained and confused.

“Briar,” he croaked. “Did I… Did I hurt…?”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Briar said, her voice choked with useless tears. “I’m okay, everything’s fine.”

She ran toward him.

Wick spasmed, a horrifying noise ripping out of his throat. “STOP!”

Briar stopped, clutching her fur robe. “What?”

Wick writhed. In pain or against the blood frenzy, she wasn’t sure.

“It is not working,” he managed. “You have to… hurt me.”

“Void take you,” Briar said with a terrified laugh. “I don’t have to do anything. You just need the amulet. It’s right over there!”

She took another step toward it.

Wick screamed, the noise turning thick and feral halfway through. He jerked against his bonds, snapping a rope over his leg.

“I cannot hold myself back,” he cried, agonized. “You must, you must . Before I break free. I can feel it burning inside?—”

He cut off. His cry was so pained that Briar flinched with him.

“Please,” he whispered.

That fiery eye fixed on hers. Then the flame shivered and blew into a wildfire, burning so huge it took over the black.

Briar stumbled to the other side of the ravine, facing away from the town. Their flowers were clustered at the top, rustling merrily in the cold breeze.

Briar stared up at the steep rocks. There were enough handholds to get down, which meant there were enough to get back up. If she just had enough time?—

Wick screamed. It was not a pained scream. It was hungry .

Another rope snapped on his net.

“Fuck,” Briar burst, her voice cracking. She didn’t have enough time. If she started climbing, he would just fly after her. Unless…

Briar turned back toward him, numb.

She had done so many loathsome things in her life that she had lost count. But walking toward Wick felt like the worst.

Wick twisted and snapped as she approached. But he was pinned to the rock, helpless to do anything but roar and twist as she walked up behind him and pressed her blade to the base of his left wing.