Briar ducked another swing of the woodie’s arms, coming up fast to thrust under the demon’s chin and up into its brain. It jerked and thrashed, pulling the spear from his grasp as it fell to the ground, dead.
Briar whirled to help Stela, but she had rolled atop the demon now, accepting its raking claws as she stabbed repeatedly with her warded dagger. Soon the corie lay still.
Briar rushed to her side, examining her wounds.
He met her eyes. “Cut up bad.”
Stela shook her head, putting a hand under her. “Just scratches. Magic’ll close them up.” She made it halfway to her feet, then hissed in pain, stumbling.
Briar slid under her arm, catching her.
She turned to face him. “You’re the Mudboy, ent you? The one that guided the count to Docktown.” She spat on the ground, and Briar wasn’t sure if it was meant for him or Docktown, the place now synonymous with failure and loss.
“Briar,” he growled. “Don’t like Mudboy.”
Stela wheezed a chuckle. “Ay, don’t bite my head off, I didn’t know. We all get saddled with nicknames we hate. If I snapped at everyone called me Stelly, my brothers and sisters would only do it more.”
“Ay.” Briar’s siblings had been no different.
“Know a place we can rest a bit, Briar?” Stela asked.
Briar nodded. With Stela hunting so close, he was going to have to abandon his Briarpatch in any event. No harm taking her there now. “Safe place. Ent far.”
Stela’s eyes widened as he led her into the hogroot patch. “There’s paths.” She looked back. “You’d never see them from the outside.”
“Cories won’t come in,” Briar said. “Hogroot makes ’em sick up.”
“That what you spit in that demon’s face?” Stela asked.
Briar nodded.
“No wonder your breath smells like an Herb Gatherer’s farts,” Stela said.
Briar laughed. It was a good joke.
“Thought you found my hunting spot,” Stela said. “Guess it was the other way around.”
Briar shook his head. “Don’t hunt cories. Only bother ’em when they bother me.”
“You bother pretty well when they do,” Stela noted.
Briar shrugged, setting her down before disappearing into his hole. He returned with his herb pouch to clean the wounds, but Stela was right. Her superficial scrapes had healed, and the shallower cuts had scabbed over. Only a few needed stitches. When it was done, he ground a hogroot paste to spread on the wounds.
“Night!” Stela barked. “That stings!”
“Better’n demon fever,” Briar said. “Long night, even if you fight it off.”
Stela grit her teeth, allowing him to continue. “Must be lonely by yourself. No Pack to hunt with and keep you warm at night.”
“Got family,” Briar said.
Stela looked about dubiously. “Here?”
“In town,” Briar said.
“Then why ent you with them?” Stela asked.
“Don’t like walls.”
“Arlen Bales said they make folk forget what’s out in the night,” Stela agreed.
“Can’t forget,” Briar said. “Never forget.”
“I’ve got family behind walls, too,” Stela said. “Love ’em, but they ent Pack. Maybe after I rest a bit, you’ll come meet them.”
“They’re so great, why do you hunt alone?” Briar asked.
Stela chuckled. “Pack’s like brothers and sisters. Die for ’em, but sometimes they drive you rippin’ crazy.”
It was more than ten years since Briar lost his family to the night, but he remembered. How his brothers and sisters tormented him. How he hated them. How he would give anything to have them back.
“Corespawn it!” Stela hissed as she looked down at his stitches. “Just had those inked, and already I need them retouched.” She pushed her loincloth down for a better look at the damage to the tattooed wards, and Briar felt his face heat. He turned away.
Stela caught his chin, turning his face back to hers. She was grinning like she knew a secret. “Got anything to eat? Killing demons always makes me hungry.” She winked. “Among other things.”
Briar broke off some hogroot leaves, offering them to her.
Stela’s eyes rolled. “Please tell me that ent all you got. Din’t even wash it.”
Briar popped one of the leaves into his mouth. “Good for you. Fills your belly and keeps the cories away.”
Stela looked doubtful, but she took the leaves. “Mum always said, Only way to kiss a man who eats garlic is to eat some yourself.”
She bit into one and grimaced. “Tastes like a bog demon’s spunk.”
Briar laughed. “Ay.”
“Gets in the nose.” Stela swallowed and popped another leaf into her mouth. “Can’t smell much else.”
“Get used to it.”
“Better’n a lot of the Children. Half the Pack ent bathed in a month, and fighting demons works up a stink.” Stela pointed to the uneven sod of Briar’s trapdoor. “That where you sleep?”
Briar nodded.
“Big enough for two?” she asked.
—
Hogroot stalks crunched as Briar pressed himself against the wall, but however far he backed away, Stela snuggled closer. She faced away, round hips pressing against him. The air in the den was hot despite the night’s chill.
Not knowing what to do with his arms, he put them around her, hands thrilling at the feel of her skin. She shifted, giving him a noseful of hair. He inhaled reflexively, and the scent of her was overwhelming. He felt movement in his breeches and tried to pull back, lest she notice.
But Stela gave a sound that was part chuckle, part growl, grinding her bottom into it. Briar groaned, and she rolled suddenly to face him.
“You don’t hunt,” she said, reaching down between his legs and squeezing, “but killin’ demons gets you stiff as any man.”
She pushed him onto his back and Briar froze, not knowing what to do. If there had been room he would have fled into the night, but the den was cramped, and she had him pinned. He did nothing as she pulled the ties on his breeches and set him free. Before he realized what was happening, she raised her hips and took him in hand, sitting down hard.
He gasped, grabbing her hips, but Stela was in control and it was all he could do to hold on as she began grinding.
“Ay!” Briar cried, his limbs going rigid.
Stela kissed him, biting his lip. “Don’t you dare!” she growled. “I ent there yet!”
Briar squealed as something uncontrollable came over him. He thrashed, bucking and kicking, spurting inside her.
He expected Stela to be angry, but she gave that laughing growl and pressed down harder as he spasmed. “Ay, I can work with that. Hold on tight.” She gripped his shoulder, putting her full weight on him. She scratched and bit, but it seemed right somehow, and he held her tight as she bucked against him.
They lay panting and clutching at each other, the air thick and stifling. Stela wriggled, feeling him still inside her, still hard.
She kissed him. “Creator be praised. Ent done by a long sight. Put me on my back.”
Briar swallowed. “I…I don’t…”
Stela laughed and grabbed him, locking him with her legs and rolling until he was atop her.
“Relax.” She kissed him again. “Take your time. Both got a good dose of magic in that scrap. Gonna be hard and wet all night. Might as well make the most of it.”
—
It was some time before they finally began to drift off. Stela clutched Briar’s arm, keeping it around her like a blanket as she snored. They lay curled together, skin melded by sweat, and Briar felt something he had all but forgotten.
Safe.
He remembered sleeping in his parents’ bed, six years old, nestled warm between them. The night he had woken and thought there was a coreling in the house. The night he stoked up the fire to drive the shadows away, forgetting to open the flue.
The night his family burned.
Briar remembered the black silhouette of their cottage, outlined in bright orange. The billowing, choking smoke that filled the air as he cowered in the hogroot patch.