The party of three rolled out of town with the medical supplies in a cart pulled by two horses. Reign and Crimson rode together in the wagon while Len rode next to them on his own mount.

  Len was the most excited of the three. “I can’t wait for someone to attack us. How long do you think it’s going to be before someone jumps out of the bushes and tries to rob us? Will we have to wait until nightfall, do you think?”

  Reign rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

  Crimson watched his mild annoyance before responding to Len. “I wish you wouldn’t hope for us to be attacked.”

  “It’s the whole reason I’m here, Angel.”

  “He calls you Angel?” Reign asked, bile on his tongue.

  “It’s not exactly a term of endearment,” Crimson explained.

  Len leaned down in his saddle. “It’s short for Angel of Death. There’s not a man in our camp that Crimson hasn’t come an inch from murdering. That’s why we love her so much.”

  “Why would that make you love her?” Reign questioned, hearing the affection in Len’s voice.

  “What good is it to train with someone who isn’t better than you? You know what will happen if you train with someone who goes easy on you? Someday you’ll have to fight against someone who honestly wants to kill you, and if you haven’t looked death in the eyes, you’ll crap your pants. The consequences will be worse than just soggy britches.”

  “I get it. You’ll be dead,” Reign said callously.

  “You’ll be worse than dead! You’ll be dead with soggy pants.”

  “That’s much worse!” Crimson laughed, and her laugh was so awkward that she killed any joviality that existed between Len and Reign.

  They carried on their journey. The landscape was rolling hills. There wasn’t a place for brigands to hide, because there were no trees, and the land came in slight slopes. Cotton grew on one side of the road, and wheat grew on the other. Len hummed, and it stopped the constant buzz from the insects from being too tiresome.

  Reign had not been expecting it, but he found that he actually liked having Crimson and Len with him. A part of him was distraught. It really bothered him to leave Olive behind without having come to a definite decision with her, but as far as he was concerned, she had not asked for much. When the three of them arrived at the drop zone for Marshgate, he would give Crimson a letter to leave in the conservatory for Olive. He had already written it back at the barracks, and Len’s wordless song echoed the hope he felt in his heart.

  He’d never been in love before. He’d never even had a decent woman act like he was a man at all. Most of the time, when a woman saw him coming, she saw him as a plague doctor, which meant he came bearing medicine or he came bearing a hacksaw. Neither thing made her think of love because his presence meant that something very bad had recently happened. Most of the time, he was considered part of the problem in infected areas, not part of the solution.

  A loving woman had never favored him before. It was because of the happy coincidence of the masked ball. She thought he was wearing a mask because of the party, not because he was forced to, which was what a surprisingly large number of people understood about him on their first meeting.

  All of which added up to the idea that Reign was actually quite popular with women, just with the wrong kind: black witches, bounty hunters, necromancers, dark fae, and the like. To spite his profession, he didn’t care for that brand of woman, and his enchantment with Olive and everything she represented knew no bounds. The most adorable thing was when her mask moved under his touch. His mask was attached to his face with such force that if someone wanted to remove his mask, they would have to cut it off his face.

  If he set all that aside and focused on his journey with Crimson and Len, he found that it was rather pleasing to have them around. Len did not chatter even though he hummed and sang under his breath. Crimson took the reins of the horses whenever Reign asked her to. In the middle of the afternoon, he rolled into the back of the cart, made a bed of all the bandages, and took a nap under the warm sun.

  When he awoke, Crimson was riding astride the horse, and Len was driving the wagon. Alternating that way, they didn’t stop except to rest and feed the animals. At sunset, they made a camp, and Reign found it was easy to take a shift watching over them while they slept. He would have preferred to cast a spell on the horses and keep them walking all through the night with Len and Crimson asleep in the back of the cart, but he didn’t want Crimson or Len to know he was more than he seemed.

  The second day was cloudier, and they came to a landscape with dotted trees that grew to be truly enormous, with tiny saplings growing around them amidst the rolling grass.

  That evening, one of the horses took a turn for the worse. She stepped into a gopher hole and hurt her ankle.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to chop her leg off,” Crimson said drolly as Reign inspected the injury.

  “I’m not going to cut it off. We’ll stop here for now. I’ll put a paste on it to help with the swelling, and if we’re lucky, she’ll feel better in the morning.”

  Len looked around, alert and excited. “We’re going to get attacked tonight.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Reign asked, getting up to fetch his bag.

  “Outlaws live here. Look at this forest. It’s obviously been stripped of all it has to offer. They’ve burnt every tree that wasn’t the size of a mountain, and these saplings are of no good for anything except for constructing arrows. Tonight is the night. Better load up your crossbow, Angel.”

  Crimson did not argue with him and armed herself accordingly, slipping things under her sleeves and behind her back.

  “I think you’re being overly conscientious,” Reign said after he had finished treating the horse’s ankle. “If there is anyone in these trees, most likely, they have been infected with the plague, too. They are no threat to us if that’s the case. Well, maybe they are… to you,” Reign said, sounding unintentionally smug.

  “Are you saying you can’t be infected by the plague?” Len asked.

  “Nothing of the sort,” Reign answered. “What I’m saying is that I know how to prevent the plague at every step… literally. It’s a foot thing. More than three-quarters of the time, it’s a patient’s feet that go sour first. After having seen your hooves, Len, I vote you as the most likely to get the plague.”

  Len frowned. “Really? You’re not just joking with me?”

  “No. Why would I joke? Wash your feet. Everyday!”

  Len let out a whimpering sort of laugh. “Oh. Is that all there is to it?”

  “Quiet,” Crimson hissed. “Someone is behind that tree.”

  It wasn’t dark yet. The last bits of sunlight were streaking across the tall grass and shining in patches between the framework of branches the trees created. Silhouetted beside the trunk of a tree was a figure. It was difficult to tell what sort of person it was, only that it was a person. Then, just as quietly as it had appeared, it was gone.

  “We’re going to get attacked tonight,” Len repeated.

  “We may not,” Reign said, coming up beside Crimson. “They may just want to talk, but I do think it’s safe to assume that yes, someone will visit our camp tonight.”

  “Break out the biscuits,” Crimson said through the corner of her mouth.

  “That’s the cheapest, crappiest, worst food we brought,” Len complained.

  “Yeah, well, we don’t want to seem wealthy to our guests,” Crimson said. “Let’s skip the fire too.”

  “What about sleep?”

  “Go to sleep now, Len. If you can. I’ll bet you won’t be able to.”

  “But if there’s no fire and no torches, how am I going to see you fight?” he whined.

  Crimson sighed. “There isn’t going to be a fight. These people are desperate. The woods have clearly been stripped of their resources. They’re going to ask us for medical supplies and food. We’re going to give them forty percent of our biscuits. I packed more for just this occasion. We’ll give them the remaining biscuits on our way back.”

  “And the medical supplies? How many of those are we going to give them?” Reign asked seriously.

  Crimson stopped. “Well, I guess that depends on how much you believe in your doctor's oath. If the hoodlums in the woods have lives that are as important as the townspeople in Marshgate, then I guess you’ll be staying to treat them.”

  Reign did not answer Crimson positively or negatively. He was not a plague doctor because he wanted to be one. It was a job for someone who didn’t mind butchering human beings, and he had his reasons. He hoped the people living in the woods were not sick. He hoped they had been smart enough to stay away from the people in Marshgate. He hoped they would come to the cart, take the biscuits, a pack of bandages, and leave.

  He hoped.

  Then he jumped up into the driver’s seat in the cart and started going through his personal bags. “If you’re not going to sleep, Len, then I’d be happy to.”

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  “You would be able to?” Len asked incredulously.

  “Yeah,” Reign said, flicking Len an amused smile. “I have slept in more pressing situations than this, and if you’re too bent up, then I’ll gladly get a few winks now. Crimson sounds like she has a plan for dealing with these people with fairness and kindness. If something comes up, she’s free to wake me.”

  “I’ll wake you,” Len stressed.

  Reign nodded confidently, put himself in the back of the cart, again using the packs of bandages for a mattress, and using his mind to its best purpose, he uncoiled every muscle in his body for sleep.

  ***

  He awoke to the sound of Len hissing, “Did you hear that?”

  “They’re here,” Crimson agreed.

  Reign steadied his breathing and forced his breath to come slow and shallow so he could hear better. He needn’t have bothered. A clear voice rang across the shivering stalks of grass. “Do you have the plague doctor?”

  “Why? Do you need one?” Crimson called back.

  “Some people have the plague in Marshgate.”

  “Well, that’s where we’re going, so nothing to worry about.”

  Reign peered over the edge of the cart. He had been expecting Crimson to be conversing with maybe one or two people across the distance, but as he peered around, he saw that they were completely surrounded. The people of the wood were not even bothering to hide their numbers. When they didn’t retreat, Crimson tried again.

  “Was there something else you wanted?”

  “The man you’re with isn’t a doctor. Where is the doctor?” the voice asked urgently. “He didn’t go and drop off from the plague before he could get to Marshgate, did he?”

  “No. He’s here.”

  Reign grabbed his beak mask, which had been in the front of the cart, and placed it on his face before he stood up to show them he was there. There was a slight sound that came from the people who made up the circle.

  “So, are we all good?” Crimson asked, one second before an arrow streaked past Reign’s face.

  “Turn around and go back to the Earldom. They don’t want a plague doctor in Marshgate,” the voice called through the darkness.

  “Why?” Crimson called back, confused. “I thought you said people were suffering from the plague there. Don’t you want him to treat the people?”

  “If you got the plague, would you want him to treat you? You know what he does to people, don’t you? He cuts off their feet! Chops off their legs! Do you know what he does when it’s on their head instead of their feet?” The shadowed speaker paused for emphasis, “He scalps them and cuts off their ears!”

  “But he saves their lives!” Crimson called back defiantly.

  “They don’t want their lives if they aren’t going to be whole! We have seen the work of plague doctors before. The people of Marshgate have chosen death rather than the aid of a plague doctor. Be gone!”

  Crimson looked to Reign for a direction to take the discussion. She didn’t know how to answer.

  When Reign did speak, he did so with an air of authority Crimson had never seen before. “And who are you? Who are you to say what the people of Marshgate want or don’t want? Are you their mayor, their commander, their king? Show me your authority, and I will depart.”

  The man hobbled forward on one crutch. “On this authority,” he said, showing his peg leg.

  Reign laughed. “So you’d rather be dead than have only one leg? If you haven’t got any better authority than that, I will proceed. Thank you for making your feelings known, and you may rest assured that I will not treat anyone who asks me not to. Does that satisfy you?”

  “I told you he wouldn’t listen!” a girl’s voice screeched from behind the original speaker. Then she fairly screamed the words of a spell that Reign understood all too well.

  In the space between the party of three and the circle of people intending to block them in, an eerie light flared. It was on the ground, in the branches of the trees, blocking out the moon and the few stars that filtered through the clouds.

  “Run,” Reign whispered harshly. “Get on that horse double and ride!”

  “Where to?” Len asked. “They’re blocking us in.”

  “They’ve summoned a demonic being. I don’t know how powerful it will be. If you don’t escape, you’ll die!” Reign warned.

  Crimson scoffed. “We will not die.” She reached for her crossbow and quiver.

  “I don’t think you understand,” Reign continued as the light grew and a figure appeared in the conjuring circle. “A demon summoned in this way exists half in our world and half in the Astral plane. You can’t kill it, because half of it exists in a different dimension. No matter how great a warrior you are, you will die, Crimson.” He unbuckled the plague mask from his face and let it fall. “Maybe I can get you out of here. Mount up!”

  Crimson did not obey Reign. She didn’t even look at him. She kept her eyes firmly on the spot where the demon had almost completely materialized.

  “It’s a servant of the Demon God Taurus,” Reign said between gritted teeth. Realizing Crimson and Len were not going to run as he advised, he put the leather of his glove between his teeth. He was about to tear the glove from his hand when Crimson let off two arrows in rapid succession at the demon.

  Leaping into the air, it dodged them both.

  Reign blinked. That in itself was strange. Usually, in that situation, a demon would let the arrows hit the dimensional barrier between them to prove his superiority and subdue his opponent into submission. But the demon dodged rather than take the blows.

  The demon landed in front of them and showed itself. It had horns, like Taurus, but they were small and stubby, coming from its large, shaggy head. Its teeth were every bit as large as its horns, and it roared right in Crimson’s face.

  Her hair did not move. They were not breathing the same air. He was breathing air from inside his dimension, and she was breathing air from inside hers. There were dimensional barriers between them that were slimmer than paper, covering the demon in an invisible shell that prevented her from hurting him. However, it didn’t prevent him from hurting her. His barrier coated his claws, his teeth, his horns, and all the rest of him. If he spilt her blood, he wouldn’t even get dirty. The blood would cling to the barrier and not to him.

  Crimson looked up into his maw as he roared and smiled. Then, she made a cut across its neck and drew blood.

  The thing backed up in surprise. “You sliced me!” it screamed in outrage.

  That got Reign’s attention. She shouldn’t have been able to harm it at all. He scanned his mind furiously for an explanation and landed on one that made sense. Her weapons were from the Astral Plain.

  The demon groped at its wound and glared at Crimson, its sideways pupils palpitating in rage.

  “You aren’t going to scare me,” Crimson said, thrusting a chestnut curl away from her sticky face. “Fight me like you mean it or get out of here!”

  That alarmed Reign. The creature in front of them was not the lowest kind of servant a demon god had, but even so, he was the kind of servant who could single-handedly level a village and kill every last person there without too much difficulty. He was not to be trifled with. Reign applauded Crimson for showing the thing that they were not easy prey and for landing a blow, but beyond that, he wished she had shut the hell up. Her weapons might not be enough to deal with him.

  The thing changed its posture. Cracking his neck, the blood came in deep purple as he bent his throat back, showing how shallow Crimson’s cut was. “Perhaps I should have introduced myself,” it said, suddenly seeming unconcerned with the wound.

  “There’s no need,” Crimson said sharply, aiming her crossbow a second time. “You’ll be dead before it will matter who you are. We’re merely trying to help people who have the plague, and you are interfering. We’re not going to hurt them. This is your last chance. Back down.”

  Reign admired her pluck, but he still thought she was crazy. The best thing they could do as far as he was concerned was still to run. He was going to miss her. She was something else. Reign promised himself he’d kiss her forehead before he buried her, because the demon in front of them was going to kill her and Len, then maybe the little priestess who had summoned him, and then a few of her friends so they would remember not to summon him for stupid things ever again.

  Reign would walk out on his own two feet, but he wouldn’t be able to protect her. He wished he could have been strong enough to save them, all of them, but that had never been how it had worked when he fought before.

  The demon wound up, and it was clear to Reign before the thing struck that it was attacking with a right hook and also a swipe of its right leg. The two parts of its body would move as one. Hit her in the face and whip her feet out from under her in the same movement. It happened too fast for Reign to warn her.

  Crimson leapt into the air at exactly the right moment. She dodged the movement intended to drop her and used her crossbow to block the right hook. The force threw her, and she flew through the air. Catching the ground with her toes, she slid through the clearing before giving herself the appropriate amount of distance to re-aim her crossbow. She fired.

  The thing ducked, but Crimson took off its left horn. She had been a finger’s breadth from hitting it in the head. It screamed, and Crimson reloaded her crossbow, which could fire three bolts in a row before needing to be reloaded.

  Reign was impressed. Where was she getting arrow tips from the Astral Plain? Who could get those?

  The demon appeared to have changed his mind about fighting her bare-handed and tore a hole in the air so that he could access the Astral plane. He pulled forth a bowstaff. When Crimson shot at him next, he deflected all three arrows with it, spinning it in perfect synchronization.

  Crimson’s red eyes flashed with amusement as she dropped her crossbow, like it hadn’t been much of a weapon to begin with. From the insides of her sleeves, she let two daggers fall into her palms. She placed them so the blades lay close to her forearms. Then she let loose, chasing with all due speed toward the demon in front of her.

  It bore down on her, swinging the staff toward her. She blocked it with the dagger and, surprisingly, took a chunk out of the wood with it. It was the force the demon swung with that caused it to be stuck inside, and his force again that caused the dagger to be broken free from the staff.

  It swung again with the same results. She was going to break his weapon.

  “Damn me,” it said in low tones. “Who are you?”

  “I’m going to break off one piece at a time, and when I’m finished,” Crimson threatened, her face practically steaming. “I’ll cut your leg off, and then you can show these fine people how great it is to live with one leg. What do you say? Are you game?”

  The demon’s horn had not been shot off completely, and it still hung from a string of flesh when it suddenly swung over the monster’s eye. He dropped his bow staff. “You shot off my horn?”

  “You hadn’t realized?” Crimson said cockily. “What did you think happened when I shot you?”

  He held it in his hand, then let go, and it dangled from the string of skin. He turned to Crimson, and it was like he saw her for the first time. “You’re half demon,” he said.

  Reigns jaw dropped.

  Crimson said nothing, like she had been trained to ignore almost everything that was said in a fight.

  She took a deep breath, and then she started at him at a dead run. He put out his staff to shield himself, but she leapt into the air and caught the tip of his staff with the toe of her boot. Using her weight, she pushed the staff to the earth and ground it in. With her knives pointed outwards, she dove at the demon, who had opened a portal into the Astral plane and slid into it at the exact moment the blade of her knife came in contact with his cheek.

  A moment later, he was gone, but she still stood like a dancer on his staff. She turned to the summoner who had brought him forth and screamed like a banshee, “Bring another one!”

  The crowd jumped.

  As authoritative as her captain of the guard father, Crimson shouted at the crowd that surrounded them. “Bring another one, or clear our path. The doctor has promised not to make a cut on a person who has not asked for it.” Then her voice changed, and she stopped sounding like a warrior and started sounding like a woman, and a very nice one at that. “That promise is good enough for tonight, right?”

  Reign didn’t watch as the people retreated, some faster than others. Instead, he stopped to gaze at Crimson. The half-demon thing probably wasn’t far from the truth.