Chapter Six

With the threat of the gevaudan scourge taken care of, local farmers who lived and worked in the countryside surrounding Bachans were free to return home to their crops and fields. As such, and with spirits high from the prospect of safety and freedom, many had taken the opportunity to avail themselves of the town's services before returning to their homes. Including the town healers.

Hunter watched from a distance as Willow patched up a line of refugees alongside the local head healer and her assistants and apprentices. He'd left his coat, hat, and kerchief in the wagon and was hidden in the shadows to better blend in, and his eyes were soft … as was his smile. Willow looked so comfortable treating any number of ailments and offering advice and supplies on remedies and treatments for any and all injuries and afflictions.

It had been a few days since their mission had been completed, and they had stuck around for that time to keep an eye on things. If any rogue gevaudan were on the loose, they needed to know. And with the political fallout of a lord's assassination, Hunter felt he needed to add more to his report. He'd sent one with the immediate details the morning after, but a follow-up on the state of the town would not be out of line.

The headman and elders of the village had sent messengers to the estates of Lord Chastel's various extended family to inform them of their need. The House of Chastel would select their nominees for appointment to lordship and King Belos would formalize it if he felt their choice was acceptable — a unique system that helped curb in-fighting among the nobility.

Hunter's smile fractured at the sight of Willow pressing a kiss to a younger man's fractured and bandaged hand, the gesture almost romantic when seen out of context. And while Hunter knew the context — Willow was slowly replenishing her strength after their mission — the sight still left a knot in his belly. He turned away and trod to the center of town to peruse the small market.

As he wandered about, looking over the somewhat meager fare that was left over in the wake of what amounted to a siege, Hunter examined something he had taken from his pocket: a butterfly-shaped hairpin made of blue glass. He'd bought it back in Heartsvale for Willow after he'd noticed her examining it in the market and was now trying to find a proper time to gift it to her.

As he walked, he also considered what to do next. For so long, he had gone from one mission to the next with little to no breaks, always on the road when he wasn't actively hunting. The day after each mission was essentially his only time to relax, when he allowed himself to order food from the inns and sleep in a bed. When on the road, he ate dry rations and slept on the ground. It wasn't required of him by the Corps, it was just how he'd chosen to operate. And it had inadvertently led to his exceptional record and reputation.

But now he had Willow with him, and they lived in her wagon. With that drastic change, he felt his previous lifestyle was no longer an option. For one, Willow took the time to appreciate her life and make it better, mostly by excellent cooking and a personal bed. Her method of travel was far more comfortable than his, too.

And for two, Willow literally couldn't live as he had, in near-total solitude. Hunter was a loner by nature and went just short of out of his way to avoid contact with others. Willow was a kind and friendly woman who enjoyed helping people. And even further, she needed to feed, or else have her darker nature consume her. And the only way to do that safely was to have her ply her trade.

Hunter stopped and leaned against a public building as an idea rolled around in his mind. All agents of the Corps earned leave days with every mission, and Hunter had never cashed his in in the six years he had served except for recuperation from injury. He hummed to himself as he continued to turn his idea around.

Willow hummed to herself as she entered the wagon, her spirits high. She had spent most of the last few days doing her work, helping people in the memory of her mentor. And the fact that she had been able to nearly replenish her strength had helped, too. The way Willow fed would never be satisfying to her darker nature, but it was enough to remain alive and sane.

Willow placed her satchel of equipment on a worktable and hung her short cloak that hid her wings in public before turning to find Hunter engrossed in a book. With the sun setting, he read by firelight — and the warm light painted a smoldering cast to his features, picking out his sharp cheekbones, strong jaw covered in faint blond stubble, and nobly hooked nose.

Willow felt heat rise in her lower belly at the sight, an sultry purr escaping before she could hold it back. Hunter looked up at her with a strange light in his eyes and snapped his book shut before tossing it onto the dining room table. He held out his hand in silent invitation, and Willow took it. Before she knew it, he had pulled her onto his lap with a squeak of surprise. One hand went to her waist and the other cupped her cheek.

And then he kissed her.

Hard.

Willow instinctively reciprocated before reason reasserted itself and she pulled back with a soft chu. "Hunter, what are you doing?"

"I'm tired, Willow," he replied, voice low and eyes practically burning. "I'm tired of holding back how I feel." He cupped her cheeks in both hands and ran his thumbs over the silky smoothness. "I want this, Willow." His gaze softened. "And I think you do, too."

Willow bit her lip, the truth of his words warring with the danger of them. "It could hurt you," she reminded him.

"It won't," he said, the words ringing with conviction. "You won't. I trust you."

And that was the final nail in the coffin.

Willow surged forward to kiss him back, the force of it knocking the chair backward to lean precariously before settling back on its legs. She moaned at the feel of his soft lips, and a final thought lanced through her mind. "The clothes stay on," she whispered throatily.

Hunter huffed a laugh. "Deal." Hunter scooped Willow up and moved her bodily to the bed, setting her gently onto the sheets before drawing her close and kissing her deeply. Willow returned his passion with equal fervor, their lips molding like pieces of a puzzle.

Willow whimpered as Hunter nipped her lower lip and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, the beginnings of a trail that passed over her cheek to the corner and down the soft line of her jaw, then down her neck to end on the point of her pulse. Willow gasped as lightning seemed to jolt from that spot and her back arched in sheer pleasure.

After an endless instant, Willow jerked Hunter's head from her throat and brought him back up to kiss him even harder than before, her tongue prodding his lips for entry that he gave quite enthusiastically. In an instinctive motion, she rolled them over to settle on top of him and tangled her tongue with his, both of their heavy breaths mingling. Willow smirked against his lips at the sudden advantage — her darker nature aiding her for once — but it was snatched away by Hunter's hands sliding down her sides to grip and squeeze her lower cheeks. Willow yelped in surprise and Hunter laughed.

And then the games truly began.

To both of their credit, the clothes stayed on.

Willow curled into Hunter's chest, her cheeks red, her breathing heavy, her skin covered in a light sweat, and angry red welts littering her neck that would no doubt bruise. Oh yes, and a wide smile spread across her lips that matched Hunter's.

"Willow?" Hunter prodded. She hummed in reply, fisting her hands in his shirt to feel his firm chest. "First off, I told you so." He laughed as Willow swatted him with her palm, her smile unchanged as she fought back a giggle. "Second, I, um … I wanted to tell you an idea I had." He could tell he had her attention, and so he explained about the Corps leave system.

"You want to take a vacation so soon?" Willow asked.

"Not for me, so much as for you," Hunter said. "And more for where we would go. What if we went to …" he paused for dramatic effect, "Gravesfield?"

Willow gasped with sudden joy. "You mean …?"

"We're going to visit Luz," Hunter said with a smile.

Willow squealed with sudden joy and hugged Hunter, peppering his face with kisses as she did. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she shouted.

"Anything for you," he said, meaning every word.

Willow leapt from the bed and scrambled for a piece of parchment, as well as her inkwell and pen. "I have to write and tell her!" she said, her smile undiminished. "She's going to be so excited!"

Hunter sat up and sighed through his nose. Part of him regretted telling just after their, uh … ahem, activities. No one would have suspected upon seeing him … but Hunter enjoyed cuddling. But the much larger part of him smiled at the unmistakable joy Willow was glowing with at the thought of visiting her best friend. And Hunter would be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to returning to the Owl House.

So with a groan, he stood from the bed and began making preparations to leave. If they set off in the morning, they could make it within a week.

Odalia drummed her delicate, curved claws upon the armrest of her crystal throne as she leveled a narrow-eyed gaze upon one of her allies. "They pulled through," she surmised.

"Yes, indeed they did, my Lady," the broker said with false cheeriness. The imp-like broker, Tibblet of Grimhammer — known to many by the ridiculous name "Tibbles" to lower their guard — was a demon of small stature resembling a swine. His skin was sickly yellow from his large, bald head to the point of his curly, demonic tail, and his large eyes sat behind a pair of unnecessary spectacles. He had large ears, small tusks, a snout-like nose, and clawed hands that contrasted piggy hooves at the end of his feet. He dressed in a purple waistcoat over a tailored white shirt in a show of something like civility.

"And the trade?" Odalia pressed.

"A trifle, of course," Tibbles replied easily. "I have an associate on Earth who breeds the beasts. It was simple to acquire a sample to trade with." With that, he held up a thin chain strung with an amulet of an orchid gemstone. "As for his end," Tibbles commented with a vicious grin that bared his tusks, "I doubt the fool had any idea what he had in his grasp."

Odalia grinned, showcasing small, pearly teeth that ended in razor points. "Excellent," she purred, running the claws of one hand over the armrest in feline motions and the other set over the scales that transitioned to pale skin, drawing attention to her figure. "And your price?"

It was Tibbles's turn to grin. "Why, a gem for a gem, of course." He pointed with the hand that wasn't holding the amulet. "I would ask for a piece of your throne, Lady Odalia."

Odalia surged to her feet, the claws on her cloven hooves striking sparks upon the dark stone floor. Violet flames raced along the edges of the room and climbed the walls to reflect her sudden rage in this, the literal seat of her power. "You dare to even suggest such a thing," she hissed.

"Of course," Tibbles said, his grin wide even as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. He refused to brush it away, refused to show weakness in the face of Lady Odalia of the Blight. He was more than aware that he was making an exceedingly dangerous gamble … but as they say, there is no great reward without equal risk. "Though I would be more than satisfied with a fragment from its carving," Tibbles added. "And please don't insult me by claiming you cast them out. We both know that this particular crystal is far too powerful for such … frivolities."

The flames ringing the chamber grew ever-higher, the temperature becoming scorching even for demons. Tibbles's shirt and vest became drenched in sweat, whereas Odalia's body shined like that of a sensuous serpent. The demon lady could clearly see what Tibbles was attempting, even without her Sight. He had deliberately provoked her with a request he knew she would never have agreed to, and then offered an alternative that would be far less of a loss.

Odalia's throne of violet crystal was an artifact of immense potential power, carved from the largest piece of Pythonian glass to ever be found in the entirety of the Belowlands. The naturally-occurring glass, named for an ancient and long-dead archdemon from before the war of old who was legendary for his oracular powers, acted as an unparalleled focus for oracle magic — particularly to see distant events.

During the chaos of the olden war, known to some as the Crucible that had seared away the weak and foolish to leave the strong to rule, Odalia had bartered, seduced, and slaughtered her way to finding the last deposit of raw Pythonian glass to secure for herself. She had melded it all together into a single massive outcropping that she had spirited away to her headquarters. Only then had the real fun begun.

Odalia had hand-cut that great piece of crystal into the throne that would become the symbol of her power. With such a vast piece of Pythonian glass focusing and amplifying her already considerable Sight, she had stayed one step ahead of her enemies in the war and maintained her demesne for centuries. To request for a piece of it even in jest was enough to warrant death in her eyes.

But a piece from the cutting …

Odalia's sapphire eyes, their pupils slit like a serpent's in her fury, flicked to the amulet still clutched in Tibbles's hand. That artifact could open up so many possibilities … Odalia ran the numbers before releasing a hissing breath and letting the fires around the chamber ease into nothingness. She held up a hand and snapped her finger, summoning a fragment of Pythonian glass the size of her palm from the deepest vaults of her fortress.

"Very well, Tibbles," she purred, her sharp smile back as if it had never left, "you have a bargain." She strode down the steps toward him, her wide hips swaying. She held the piece of violet crystal out to him, her other hand open for the amulet. But before Tibbles could swipe it away, she twitched it back. "On the condition that you never allow it to be used to spy upon me, a condition that will pass to any and all who may own it after you."

Tibbles's eyebrows shot up and his eye twitched as he considered this new term. Then he smiled wanly, his indignation at being forced into such an agreement paling against his triumph at making the deal and living through it. "Very well, my Lady," he agreed with that smarmy grin. "It's a deal."

Odalia's hand was surrounded by violet flames, mirrored by the pink flames surrounding Tibbles's opposite hand. They shook on it, the magics sinking into their bones to forge an unbreakable compact. Only when the deal was struck did they trade the amulet and the gem fragment.

Tibbles took a step back and bowed in a courtly manner. "A pleasure as always, Lady Odalia," he said before his throat swelled and he breathed out a swath of smoke that whirled around him before dispersing to find him gone. Odalia curled the fingers of her right hand in a gesture to focus her Sight and found him sweating with exertion and fleeing her lands with the crystal, no doubt back to the stand he maintained in one of the settlements in her demesne.

She snarled viciously at the loss of even a small amount of her most treasured resource before sighing and reseizing control of herself to climb the steps to her throne and fluidly sink into it. Only then did she banish the amulet that she had bargained for to her vault.

And only then did she reflect upon her failed gambit.

She'd known quite well that Jean Chastel was a fool full of more ambition than brains. The arrangement she had set up with him, putting him into contact with Tibbles so that he may barter for gevaudan venom and attempt a coup of his hated brother's fiefdom, was more to sow fear and discord than any serious faith in his abilities. And to get her hands on the amulet, naturally.

And then those two had shown up. The Corpsman and half-a-demon Willow.

Odalia drummed her claws upon the armrest again, eyes narrowed in thought. A half dozen plans flitted through her mind to deal with them, all too tediously out-of-her-way for such small thorns in her side. Perhaps if there was a way to take it out of her hands, she would- Wait … Odalia sat up straighter as a genuine scheme unfolded in her mind. Her luscious, purple lips curled into a cruelly beautiful smile and she stood to make for another chamber.

It was time to call upon an old friend …

Luz brushed her arm against her forehead to wipe away the sweat beaded there, propping the broom on her shoulder to examine her work. She'd been sweeping the stone floor of the Owl House's first story all morning, and the fruits of her labor sat as a considerable pile of dust and dirt right beside the front door.

Luz pouted at the thought of Eda forbidding her from doing her chores with magic, citing that she wasn't strong or skilled enough yet. It seemed a little redundant for Luz to actually be doing chores since she knew from experience that Eda could do them with a flick of her wrist, but maybe it was to build character, or something. Or maybe she was just using the opportunity to skive off in general. Meh.

Luz opened the door and brushed the pile of dirt out into the yard, glancing over her shoulder before taking a breath and focusing on her magic. She opened herself to the gentle currents and waves of the mystic energy of the universe that flowed all around and let it fill her up before she reached out with it and took hold of the air itself. With a strong effort of will, she started the air moving in a vertical, circular motion — like a turning wheel. The current swept over the spread dirt and gently, but firmly, swept it away and further toward the treeline of the forest that separated the Owl House from the town of Gravesfield.

Luz grunted with sudden fatigue and stumbled to lean against the pillars holding up the porch cover. Her eyes fluttered open and she took in the sight. "Hey, it worked!" she chirped giddily.

"And it only took you five minutes to prep," Eda said, from directly behind her.

Luz shouted in shock, jumping a foot off the ground before she whirled on her mentor with a pounding heart. "Eda! I asked you not to do that!"

"And I said nothing," Eda shot back with a smirk. "Silence isn't agreement, Luz. Consider that a lesson in itself." She gestured with her arm out to the yard. "And taking so long to figure out a simple wind spell? You'd be dead in a fight." She propped a fist on one hip. "Which is why we keep practicing."

Luz opened her mouth to reply with enthusiasm for practicing when both women were nudged inside by an unseen force, the door slamming shut behind them. A small whirlwind arose around them and mist lifted from the stone floor that coalesced into a face reminiscent of a barn owl. "Hoot hoot! Mornin' ladies!"

"Hooty, was that necessary?" Eda asked pointedly, brushing a hand through her thick mane of silver that really only returned it to her usual mess.

"Yep!" Hooty said brightly. "Especially since it's-" The phantom face, the manifestation of a spirit attached to the old house that had been built by witches of old and left abandoned until Eda found it thirty years before, began hacking and retching until it vomited up some very real envelopes and packages in a splattering film of ectoplasm. "-Mail time!"

Luz gagged at the display, but thirty years had been too long for Eda to be anything more than mildly annoyed and tokenly grossed out by Hooty's antics. She took up the envelopes and began flicking through them. "Junk, junk, death hex-" she tossed that one into a waste bin that collapsed in on itself and disappeared, "-and something for you, Kid." Eda passed Luz an envelope with familiar floral stationary.

Luz smiled and sliced it open to find an expected letter from Willow. She mumbled as she read it over, eyes slowly widening until she reached the end. She squeaked and then cheered, clutching the parchment in her hand as she shot her arms up with joy.

"Good news?" Eda deadpanned.

"They're coming to the Owl House!" Luz reported gleefully. "Hunter's got a boatload of time off, or whatever, and they're coming to visit!" Luz laughed with joy and danced in a circle. "Oh, it'll be good to see them both! Especially together!"

"Oh boy," Eda snarked, "more mouths to feed." But she said it with a faint smile. She'd never admit it, but she liked Willow. And the Hunter kid was kind of a buzzkill, but he'd helped Luz out of a real rough patch when Eda had been caught up in some witch business and she appreciated that.

Eda looked down at the feel of soft fur and the sound of purring to find King rubbing against her leg. She snorted and picked the cat up to settle him in the crook of her arm. "So, when do the newest set of lovebirds arrive?"

"Later this week," Luz said. "How much do you wanna bet that there's a crazy adventure involved?"

"Knowing you, Luz?" Eda replied with an arched brow. "It'd be more risky to say there wouldn't be."

So sorry about the wait for this one, everyone. I've been handling a bunch of other (mostly Huntlow) projects, plus work. But hopefully this will make up for it.

*Pythonian glass is named after the Python, a monstrous serpent slain by Apollo to free the oracle of Delphi in Classical myth. The term "glass" refers to volcanic glass, like obsidian.

*As mentioned before, magic in this work is heavily influenced by the Dresden Files book series. Witches and sorcerers are simply humans that have learned to harness the forces of the universe with their force of will. Luz is still learning and has a long way to go for on-the-fly magic. But she's good at enchanting...

*It took me forever to find a way to adapt Hooty without making him a demon, but I figured it out: he's the spirit of the Owl House, its genius loci.

As always, if you liked it leave a review! They make me so happy! And may your own inspirations never waver!