Page 14 of Oath of Revenge

She dug one pointed tip of the dagger against the jugular of his neck. “Did you attack my grandmother? Where is she, and why are you here?”

Dear gods, don’t let her be dead. Emotions clawed at her throat, but the Growler’s eyes rolled back in his head as he slumped to the floor. The pool of blood was spreading, and for the first time she noticed that the front door was open. A trail of blood and snow led straight to him.

She reached over to touch it and rubbed her fingers together. He’d been here a few hours already based on the blood, and he wasn’t going to move on his own, not with those injuries.

With a quick glance around, she got up and strode through the kitchen to the living room, her eyes taking in every detail as she shut the front door. Tidy kitchen, clean countertops, and neatly stacked dishes in the open cabinets. The long, wooden table separated the living room, which had two plush chairs flanking the large fireplace.

Nothing was out of place, other than the Growler bleeding all over the floor. The scent of herbs filled the air, covering up the tangy metallic blood that always made her heart race. Both rooms were neat as a pin, and Grandma would throw a fit if she saw the mess he’d left through the great open room. Bloody footprints marred the shining wooden floor, mixing with melted snow and ice.

Scarlet took the stairs two at a time, jerking to a halt when her antlers tangled with some drying herbs.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, going slower as she removed leaves and plants from around her head and searched the rooms upstairs. Grandma’s hairbrush and toothbrush were gone, along with her favorite floral print carpet bag. Maybe she went to the old druid’s circle again to talk to the spirits?

Six months ago, if she would’ve found a Growler here, she would’ve slit his throat with no hesitation and said good riddance.

But she wasn’t just a Hunter anymore. She had responsibilities to help the other cursed villagers. Plus, the wolf part of her curse complicated things. It was the only reason she hadn’t killed him, why her stomach was so knotted at the thought of ending him. That had to be it.

If grandma was at the druid’s circle, she’d not be back for days. She needed to clean up his mess before Grandma returned. If she was going to be here in the cottage with him, she might as well patch him up too.

Scarlet went back downstairs and stood over him. He didn’t move, so she nudged him with her boot. He didn’t grunt or groan or open his eyes.

Her heart raced again, and she knelt to feel for a pulse. She breathed a sigh of relief to feel a thready and weak heartbeat. Then she scowled and jerked her hand away. What did she care if the fucker died? That would be so much easier.

She ran her hands over his head. The fur was more like a mane of knotted and matted gray and black hair. Her hands tingled at the tickle of his fur, and they came away from the back of his head covered in the sticky juice of life.

She searched the rest of him, down his neck, and over his back. Carefully, she rolled him over and winced. Her chest ached at the sight of so many injuries.

Several gaping wounds still bled steadily at the shoulder, ribs, neck, and foot. Red mixed with the black, gray, and white fur all over his muscular body. Smaller scratches had caked with dirt and congealed into crusty scabs, sticking to his thick layer of fur.

She watched his chest, barely rising and falling. Her chest tightened as she looked up at his battered and bruised face.

He was going to die. She should be relieved to be rid of one more monster in the world, but strangely the fear threatened to choke her again. She knew in her soul that she had to fight to save him.

Besides, Grandma would want her to fix this. It wouldn’t have mattered to Grandma whether he was a Growler or not. He’d obviously come here for help, and with him passed out cold, he was harmless and close to the Beyond.

She pursed her lips and got to her feet, pulling out a pan to start boiling water. She’d work to save him, but she wasn’t going to rush around in panic.

Instead, she set the pot on the stove and lit it with a match, before going to the medicine cabinet and setting out herbs and jars for a poultice.

Chapter 4

Eirwyn shifted on her chair, her ass going numb again. Nothing felt right, nothing tasted good, and she was cranky as hell. She hadn’t even felt like smiling and sending Scarlet on her way yesterday morning.

She finished her letter to the Confederation representative still in Glathen. She shook the paper to dry the ink, then slipped it into the envelope and sealed it with her wax stamp.

Helga knocked and poked her head around the door. “Have a minute?”

Eirwyn leaned against the pillow behind her and nodded as she arched her back. “Of course.”

Helga turned and backed her way through the door, pushing it open with her hip. “I think what I eat influences the taste of the tea. I drank a lot of peppermint yesterday. Can you taste peppermint in this newest batch of leaves?”

She laid a tray on the desk, and Eirwyn nodded as a stab of pain shot through her back. Thankfully Helga was too distracted pouring to pay attention.

She added two lumps of sugar and a dab of milk to the cup just the way Eirwyn liked it. Helga had been her lady’s maid since she was a young girl. Some days, Eirwyn had driven her mad with all her wild ways, but Helga had stayed and even tried to protect her from her brother, Gastone, when she could.

Eirwyn took the warm cup and sipped. The flavors swirled on her tongue, and she closed her eyes and sighed.

“Ah yes, I can taste the peppermint! It’s wonderful, Helga.”

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