“And the girl?” Enid asked, her unnatural eyes glinting with malicious amusement. “What dost thou want with her?”
“She will return with me as my wife,” I said. “That is not negotiable.”
Enid’s laughter was like glass breaking. “Bold words from a man who needs our help to claim what he calls his own.”
I felt heat rising in my face but forced it down. Anger would not serve me here. “Name your price. Whatever it is, I’ll pay it for the beast’s end.”
The three witches exchanged looks again, that silent communication that excluded me entirely. After a moment, Enid turned back to me, her leering grin wider than before.
“Dark magic comes at a cost, hunter,” she said, trailing one unnaturally long fingernail down my chest until it rested over my heart. “We require thy greatest treasure. The prize thou values above all others.”
My unicorn skeleton. I knew it immediately, felt the truth of it sink into my gut like a stone. The centerpiece of my collection, the culmination of three years’ tracking and a hunt that had nearly cost me my life. Its horn alone could purchase a king’s ransom, and its bones contained magic older than civilization itself.
“And?” I prompted, knowing there would be more. There always was with deals like this.
“And thou must be touched by darkness,” the gray-haired witch interjected, her voice scratching against my ears. “Marked as His servant. The beast thou seeks is protected by old magic. Only one who serves the Dark Lord can break that protection.”
The Dark Lord. Not the Christian devil, not exactly. Something older, something that had been hungry when the first humanshuddled around fires and feared the night. My grandfather had spoken of Him in whispers, even as he used the power granted by that medallion to hunt creatures beyond mortal ken.
I thought of Isabeau in the beast’s embrace, her perfect body defiled by its monstrous form night after night. I thought of my reputation in the village, how the men would snicker behind their hands if I failed to reclaim what was mine. I thought of the beast’s head mounted above my hearth, proof of my prowess as the greatest hunter who ever lived.
“I accept,” I said, the words falling from my lips before I could reconsider.
Enid’s smile grew impossibly wider, splitting her face almost in half. “Then let us seal our bargain in blood, hunter.”
She produced a knife from within the folds of her dress—an ugly thing with a blade that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. With one swift motion, she drew it across her own palm, dark fluid welling up that looked nothing like human blood.
“Thy turn,” she said, offering me the knife hilt-first.
I took it, its weight oddly balanced in my hand, and sliced my own palm without hesitation. The pain was immediate and intense, far beyond what such a shallow cut should cause. It burned like acid, like ice, like nothing I’d felt before.
Before I could react, Enid grabbed my bleeding hand in her own, pressing our wounds together. The contact sent a shock through my body that nearly brought me to my knees. Something dark and cold poured into me through that connection, rushing through my veins like liquid night, settling somewhere behind my heart.
“It is done,” Enid whispered, her face inches from mine. “We will prepare what thou needs to destroy the beast. In three days time, meet us where the decay has ruined everything. You’ll know the path now that you’re connected to His craft.”
A low chuckle filled the hut, emanating not from the witches but from every corner of the room at once. It reverberated in my chest, in my bones, in the freshly corrupted blood now flowing through my veins. The Dark Lord, acknowledging our pact.
For a heartbeat, doubt flickered in my mind. I thought of my father’s warnings about deals with darkness, of village priests speaking of eternal damnation. What had I just committed myself to?
But then Isabeau’s face floated before my mind’s eye. Her perfect lips, her amber eyes, and her body that was meant to bear my children. And beside it, the beast’s savage form, defiling what should have been mine alone undid me in ways I couldn’t express.
No. There was no price too high. I would see that animal destroyed, its head mounted on my wall as a warning to any who might think to take what belonged to Gaspard Coventry.
“Three nights,” I confirmed, pulling my hand away from Enid’s grasp. Dark blood—mine and hers, now indistinguishable—dripped onto the dirt floor, where it sizzled like fat in a hot pan. It would take me three days ride just to head back to the village, so I had no time to waste.
“Do not be late,” the white-haired crone warned. “The Dark Lord does not tolerate disappointment.”
I turned without another word and pushed through the door, back into the fetid air of the bog which now seemed almost sweet compared to the atmosphere inside the hut. The wound on my palm throbbed with each heartbeat, a reminder of the bargain I’d struck.
Alf waited on the rise with the horses, his face lighting with relief when he saw me emerge. The fool. He had no idea what I’d just set in motion, what power now coursed through my veins alongside my blood.
Soon, very soon, I would reclaim what was mine. And neither beast nor forest nor curse would stand in my way.
twenty-five
Isabeau
Sleep wouldn’t come. Not with the wound on my arm still throbbing beneath the bandage and the memory of those corrupted wolves’ yellow eyes haunting the edges of my vision every time I closed my eyes. Beast’s warmth beside me should have been comforting, but my mind raced like a trapped bird in a box too small to contain it, thoughts slamming against the walls of my skull with nowhere to go. Especially with him already being healed from the fight. I knew I’d never rest until I tried onemore time to understand what connected us all—me, Beast, the castle, the witch, and the roses drinking my father’s blood.
