CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE（Untitled）Grace

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Grace

God, these little fuckers are vicious! I'd forgotten how much their beak pecks hurt, since the healing salve Branikk treated my wounds with healed them up right quick last time.

Or did it hurt this much before? It's kind of hard to remember. Everything's gone weird and woozy, like my head's stuffed with cotton candy in place of brains.

The others fight too, but my vision's gone a bit dark around the edges. I hope they're okay.

I hope Branikk's okay. I try to turn, to see him…

Another burst of pain on my left shoulder.

I bat at the bird, but I'm hella clumsy, and the knife barely grazes it. Since when am I this damned uncoordinated?

It buries its beak in my shoulder.

"Fuck me, oww!" I yell through the pain, needing to let it out somehow.

At least it clears my head. I grit my teeth and stab again, and the bird disappears from the blade, fading into nothingness.

But there's always another and another.

The next peck is a dull ache, like it's not even really happening to me. God, I'm tired. I could sit down, just for a little bit.

Maybe Branikk will join me. We could sit side by side, just like we did last night. That would be nice. His big thigh could press against mine. I like it when he does that…

My knees give out.

"Grace!" Branikk yells. His voice comes from far away, but he sounds upset.

I don't like that. I don't want him to be upset. He's a happy person, and I like him that way. I want to do something to make Branikk happy. I force my eyes open. God, they're so heavy.

Branikk swings his sword over me, fighting off birds. Mean little nasty birds with their red eyes and red beaks and red talons. Yuck.

But no matter how many he hits, there are always more. They're pecking at him, hurting him.

"No," I mumble, my lips numb. "No."

If I want to keep them from hurting him, I need a net. "I wish I had something to capture them with."

Warmth blooms on my chest, and a tingle of electricity goes through me, waking me just a bit. A weight fills my hands. I squint down. It's one of the net guns we used for a carnival game! I loved that game.

I lift the big cone end of the muzzle and pull the trigger. A white net shoots out, wrapping around a black bird so it crashes to the ground, flapping trapped wings.

Branikk steps on the edge of the net, and a big bunch of the birds overhead go quiet, their wings moving just enough to hold them in position in the air.

In that same instant, the cotton-candy fluff filling my head melts away, and energy returns to my muscles. "Oh, god! What was that? It's like I was going brain dead!"

"It's the soul stealers. They drained enough of your life force to incapacitate you… almost ." He grins over at me. "But you, my beautiful bride, have turned the tables on them!"

An angry whinny rings out. More of the birds still attack Aurora and the wolf.

"Can you do them too?" Branikk yells, pointing.

I try to tap into the feeling I had, when I finally got my magic to make something useful. I'd been worried about Branikk and wanting to save him, just like he was saving me. "I wish to save my friends. I need more nets."

A pile of net cartridges pop into existence. I yank out the used one, slap in a new, and aim for the birds over Aurora's head.

My shot goes wide. One problem with playing a lot of carnival games is I'm not used to shooting anything more than six feet away.

"Dammit!" I pop in a new cartridge and leap to my feet to shove the net gun into Branikk's arms. "You do it! You're great with a bow."

He shoves his sword back in its scabbard to take hold of the gun. "I don't know how to use this!"

"Just point the fat end at the bird, sight down the barrel like along an arrow, and squeeze the trigger." I point out the mechanism.

He lifts the gun, squints along its stubby length, and shoots.

A netted bird falls cawing from the sky.

"Trap the net with your hoof!" Branikk yells. "You have to subdue the bird before the flock will stop attacking!"

Aurora stamps down hard, burying the edge of the net a few inches deep in the ground, but I guess when you weigh a literal ton, any stamping you do is going to be extra.

"Two more sluagh to go," Branikk says, eyeing the birds still dive-bombing the wolf.

I slot in a new net cartridge, and he shoots, sure and steady, with zero hesitation.

When that bird hits the ground, the wolf leaps through the air to land on the net with both front paws, growling, saliva dripping from his fangs.

"Don't kill it!" Branikk yells. "If you kill it, it frees the rest of the sluagh to attack you again."

There's one flock still moving and shrieking overhead. Instead of attacking, it flies off. Why do I feel like it's that one that escaped last time?

We all stand there, panting and trying to catch our breath, the three of them all holding down their trapped birds.

"How's everybody feel?" Branikk asks. "You should have gotten your energy back as soon as the soul stealers were trapped."

Aurora says, "I'm good."

"I seem to be back to full energy as well," the wolf says. "That is an amazing creation."

"It's a net gun," I say. "My boss once had an idea for a new carnival game using these. People were supposed to shoot nets and capture stuffed frogs sitting on top of moving platforms to win a prize."

"Why didn't it work?" Branikk stares at the gun. "It seems fully functional to me."

"Oh, it worked." I grin. "It worked too well. People won almost every time, and that's not what you want from a carnival game where you're trying to part people from their money." You need a game just difficult enough to capture the person who's determined they'll win "next time," so they play until they do.

"I know something else that worked." Branikk smiled at me, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Your magic. The net device you conjured is amazing."

"It did work, didn't it?" A trill of happiness goes through me.

"You saved us all." His long arm reaches out and pulls me to him.

I usually have zero exhibitionist tendencies, but I don't even care that Aurora and the strange wolf are watching.

I'm so happy to be alive and that my magic finally did something useful. I'm also so happy he's alive, this husband who looks at me like no other man ever has.

Branikk kisses me, his lips soft and teasing, pressing to me in the lightest of touches and then pulling slowly away so that I lift onto my toes, seeking more. His amused chuckle tells me that's exactly the reaction he wants, and I don't even care.

I fist my hands in his hair and pull myself up his body.

His arms close around me, crushing me to him. All playfulness leaves his eyes, replaced by scorching heat. He growls. "My beautiful, amazing bride."

His mouth takes mine, tusks nipping my lips, demanding entrance. All softness is gone. This is pure hunger.

I moan, opening for him, lost in the power of his kiss.