Page 37 of Held

Until now.

Wick leaned in.

Briar gasped. “Wait!”

Wick stopped. “What is it?”

Briar shook her head. Her head tilted, listening hard. “Do you hear that? IfIcan hear it, you must.”

Wick concentrated. Distant birdsong, leaves on the cooling breeze, and behind it all, growing louder the more he listened:

“A waterfall,” he said, surprised.

Briar’s face lit up. “We’re here!”

Wick frowned. “What do you mean?”

A cheery greeting drifted down from the trees. “Hello there!”

Wick dragged a wing in front of Briar automatically, only stopping when he looked up and saw the friendly smile on their intruder’s face.

A woman around Briar’s age stood on a high branch, spinning a staff energetically in one hand. Her hair was a tight black puff around her head, and she smelled of strange herbs and animal blood.

“Briar,” said the stranger with an excited wave. “Good to see you! Why are you propositioning a naked Skullstalker?”

Eleven

Briar watched Wick’s face, wishing she didn’t care so much about his stupid reaction.

“See?” she said. “Waterfall. Surprise!”

“Surprise,” Wick agreed in a tone that made her think that sometimes he just repeated her words when he didn’t know what to say. It should have annoyed her. Instead, she was just annoyed at herself for how fond it made her.

Wick stared up at the waterfall with an unreadable expression. His whole body was still, no tail twitching or wings fidgeting. Just a complete, utter stillness that Briar had never known. It made her nervous. It made her jealous. It made her really pissed off that he could smell her damn emotions.

She pulled up a smile and tried to force the nerves out of her chest. “Pretty, right?”

“Pretty,” Wick echoed. Then his tail flicked, and he was back to normal. “Your witch picked a good place to live.”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Briar glanced back at Marigold’s cottage, which was just as cozy and charming as the last time she was here, recovering from a gut wound.

The cottage was a round, quaint thing with wisteria dripping around the thinning roof and smoke piping merrily from the wonky brick chimney. It was worn down and in need of repair, but it was also one of the sweetest things Briar had ever seen. Like something from a story book. The kind of place where danger never touched you and you could sleep deeply every night, knowing all was right with your little world.

The kind of place, in other words, Briar could never stay. But she liked to visit from time to time.

One of the crooked cottage windows swung open, revealing Marigold wearing an apron and waving wildly.

“Are you two coming?” she called. “The tea’s ready!”

“Coming,” Briar yelled back.

She and Wick set off toward the cottage.

Wick leaned down to Briar. “What is ‘tea?’”

“Hot, gross, brown water,” Briar said. “Just force it down.”

“Oh.” Wick twisted back to look at the waterfall again. Briar marveled at him. How much nature had he seen in his endless Skullstalker years, and a waterfall could still make him go still like that?

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