“Has he ever ‘wandered’ for three whole days?”
“Well… no.”
“The people around here are a bunch of cowards.” I set a plate on the stack with a loud clank. “I’ll look for Herron on my way to Grandmother’s house. If I don’t find him, we need to tell Marduc to put together a search party. Mama, please help Anne finish with the dishes. I’d like to get an early start.”
Mama takes the towel from me without further comment, and I run upstairs to fetch the treat I saved for Grandmother.
On my way out of the barn last night, I had to pick my way through a forest of naked, writhing bodies, many of them people I’ve known for years. I never expected to see Saumur Genton’s dick, which is about the length of my thumb, nor did I realize that Lille Evin’s breasts were so lopsided. Her corsets must be padded on one side to even them out. Not that I think any less of either of them—it was merely interesting to observe. It pleases me that the people at the party were enjoying themselves, no matter what their physical attributes might be.
As I was leaving, I saw a bowl that had three oranges left in it, and I took the whole thing. I’ll return the bowl next week, but the oranges will be a nice treat for Grandmother Riquet. They’re an exotic fruit only available to the wealthier folks of our region, and I’m sorely tempted to eat one on the way to her cottage. Idistract myself by searching the trees for signs of Herron and replaying the events of last night.
It shocked me that so many of the young folks of the region were happy to fuck in front of each other, in the barn of a mysterious man whom no one seems to know very well. According to Beresford, he has been hosting these orgies for a while. Such debauchery is a frequent occurrence for him. I wonder how many others he has fucked in that curtained alcove.
An irrational rage churns in my chest at the mere thought of him having sex with anyone else. I hate the idea of another person’s fingers or mouth on him. My hatred is murderous, so intense that it scares me a little. I’ve never been possessive or jealous. Then again, I’ve never had occasion to be.
I’m a fool, letting myself become so enraptured with the first man to show me any real attention. It’s silly and immature. A couple of good orgasms don’t make Beresford mine, nor do they mean that we owe each other allegiance or affection.
“You idiot, Sybil,” I say aloud to myself and the forest. “He doesn’t care about you, and you don’t care about him.”
Something scurries onto the path, and I stifle a cry. It looks like a squirrel, but its head is a stripped skull with long fangs, and where a fluffy tail should be, there’s a scorpion stinger arching from its hindquarters.
The creature doesn’t appear to be in pain, and it seems mildly interested in me. It scampers in and out of the trees as I follow the path, so I begin talking to it for lack of another confidante.
“Beresford has probably fucked a hundred women,” I say. “He’s rich, mysterious, and handsome. With those three qualities, anyone could overlook the blue beard. I rather like it.”
The squirrel chatters, then startles away from a fallen leaf that’s quivering in the breeze.
“There’s so much I don’t know about him,” I muse. “How old is he, anyway? Thirty? Older? It’s hard to tell. Maybe he’s too old for me.”
The squirrel bounds nearer, and I shy away, conscious of that scorpion tail, but its sights are set on a fat, glossy acorn. Once it has secured the treasure in its fanged, bony jaws, it disappears into the forest. My gaze follows it—and then my heart freezes.
I stop in my tracks.
Out in the forest stand four tall, slender objects that I thought were trees. They aren’t. They’re legs. My gaze follows them upward to the shaggy belly of the wolflike creature I saw before.
It’s closer this time. It’s fucking huge. I have to crane my neck to see its shape, high overhead, right beneath the leafy canopy.
When it turns its head, I clamp my hand over my mouth, because it doesn’t have just one wolfish muzzle. Its head is split in two. It has a pair of pointed noses, right next to each other, along with three pale, glowing eyes and three triangular ears.
Beneath its ragged fur, I can make out the distinct shape of its ribcage. This creature appears to be starving. It must be the overgrown form of something I summoned, or it would probably eat me.
“I wish I had something to feed you,” I say faintly. “But my family and I can barely feed ourselves.”
The creature lifts one long, thin leg and takes a step toward me, setting down its cloven hoof heavily in the autumn leaves.
“I’m sorry.” My voice breaks. “If I took you from somewhere nice and brought you here—I’m so sorry. You should go deeper into the woods, or relocate to another forest where you can find more prey. This area is too close to farms and villages. There aren’t enough animals to keep a creature like you alive.”
The demon lets out a long, droning sound that ends in a rattling chitter. It’s the most unearthly noise I have ever heard.
With a toss of its split head, it turns and lopes away, picking its path among the trees with an uncanny grace that’s almost ethereal.
I let out a shaking breath, my hand pressed to my pounding heart.
The wolf wouldn’t eat me. I’m convinced of that. But what if it came across someone else in the forest? Someone like Herron?
Fuck.
I quicken my pace, but the journey to the cottage takes two more hours. If we still had a horse, I’d be able to ride part of the way—but certain areas of the path are too narrow or rocky for a horse, and I’d have to leave my mount alone in the forest once the trail became impassable. I’d never leave a horse alone out here, even if the area wasn’t home to a monster wolf.
