The Huntress
“Tilda, this is my third time seeing you this week!” the bounty collector exclaimed with delight.
“You can thank the never-ending shortage of vampires in Night Falls,” Matilda nonchalantly replied, dropping the heavy canvas bag dripping with blood onto the desk. “Oops,” she mumbled when a head rolled out of the bag onto the floor, leaving a bloody trail behind it. “I’ll get that.”
Matilda triumphantly retrieved the head and turned it in her hands until it faced her.
“God, it’s so ugly,” she proclaimed, childishly hissing at the fanged monster, knowing damn well he couldn’t retaliate.
He was a crafty bastard, and Matilda hated to admit it, but he almost got the jump on her.
She had gotten bold and cocky after landing a few solid punches to his face and ribs with her silver brass knuckles.
Her prey hissed from a combination of pain and annoyance, and she nearly lost her life when she started shit-talking and tripped over an inconvenient log.
She fell on her back with a shriek, and the opportunistic vamp didn’t hesitate to jump on her.
Matilda cried out in pain when he swiped her face with his razor-like claws.
He reared back and sank his fangs into her shoulder, giving Matilda the opening she needed to stab him in his side.
She stifled a cry when he tore his fangs away with a loud shriek.
She scrambled for her fallen ax and climbed to her feet just in time to relieve the pesky vampire of his head.
Covered in the vampire’s blood, Matilda collapsed onto the dirt and thanked the gods for sparing her. Her father always chastised her for her arrogance in battle and warned her that she would be her own downfall if she didn’t focus. Her close call that night was the wake-up call she needed.
“Here you go,” Matilda announced, dropping the head onto the bounty collector’s desk. “What am I owed?”
“You managed to bring in two males and a female. You know the math: 50 silver pieces for each male and 25 for the woman. You receive your share of the bounty, and the rest goes to the blood donor fund. I’m feeling generous, so I’ll round you up to 20 silver pieces.”
“Thank you for your generosity,” Matilda drawled.
“Thank your sire who invented the rules.”
“I know. Please forgive me for seeming ungrateful. This is more than enough for me to get a room for the night, indulge in a fattening meal, and have a few pints of ale. I’ll work harder.”
“That’s the spirit, and maybe if you take Belzar up on his offer, then you can get all of that for free.”
“Ew. I’d rather sleep on the streets and starve.”
“Well, if you only bring in three heads, that might become a possibility. Run along, Tilda.”
Matilda snatched up her meager earnings and added them to her flimsy leather satchel that held her paltry collection of coins.
Tomorrow, she would collect four heads. Satisfied with the thought, Matilda started toward the decrepit inn tucked away in one of Night Falls’s rougher quarters.
She might end up with fleas again, but the food and ale were well worth the risk.
“We have hay money,” Matilda whispered to Obsidian, her pitch-black stallion patiently waiting her return. She ran her fingers through his silky mane and whispered sweet words to her loyal friend. “I promise you things will get better one day.”
***
Matilda flung open the door of the decrepit tavern and wrinkled her nose in disgust at the musty stench of various supernaturals that assaulted her nose.
She pulled down the hood of her cloak as far as possible and meandered through the rag-tag crowd of degenerates.
She meticulously avoided bumping into anyone or stepping on any toes, hoping to avoid causing a ruckus and drawing attention to herself.
“Is that my future wife?” Belzar exclaimed. Matilda froze in her tracks.
“Shit,” she whispered under her breath. She had planned to secure her lodgings and take dinner and drinks in her room, but fate was not on her side.
“There’s no need to hide, Matilda. I can smell your delicious scent from here,” Belzar chuckled as the crowd parted for him. His thunderous steps shook the entire tavern. He ripped her hood back, revealing her mass of curls caked with dirt and blood.
“What do you want, Belzar?” Matilda asked, looking up at the green orc.
“When will you stop avoiding me and let me split you in two?” he rumbled.
Matilda squinted her eyes at Belzar and wondered if there were any signs of intelligence in the creature.
“You do know your offer doesn’t sound appealing, right?”
“To me, it does.”
“To me, it doesn’t.”
“You know I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he murmured, running his eyes up and down her cloaked figure.
His imagination ran wild. He knew what treasures lay underneath her outer garment: soft bronze skin, pillowy breasts, rounded child-bearing hips, and an ass that had to be gripped with two hands.
“You want anything that moves.”
“That’s not true.”
“You wouldn’t care if my head was on backward.”
“That is very factual,” he growled. “How about this?” he offered, slinging an arm around Matilda’s shoulder. “I’ll give you free board.”
“What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch.”
“Nothing in life is free, Belzar.”
“I can’t pull the wool over your eyes, can I?”
“Not at all.”
“Your board at my lovely establishment will be free as long as you have dinner with me and explain to me who I have to kill for marring your beautiful face.”
“He’s already dead and is none of your concern. I decline your offer.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust you.”
“We should work on that. How can we marry if there is no trust?”
“It’s never going to happen.”
“I promise that I’ll be a complete gentleman. I only want to talk.”
Matilda released a heavy sigh. Orcs were known for their promises. If they intentionally broke a promise, it brought great dishonor and misfortune.
“Fine. But you must include your best ale,” Matilda agreed.
“Wonderful. Here is your room key. I gave you the best room in the house. Freshen up, and I’ll have our meal delivered soon.” Belzar turned to leave when Matilda stopped him. “Yes?”
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
He nodded. “You’re welcome, Tilda.”
***
“If this is the best room in the tavern, then I’d hate to see the worst room,” Matilda groaned, dropping her belongings onto the lumpy bed.
Her eyes scanned the dingy room, and she shivered at the cobwebs that spanned each corner of the bedroom.
The webs reminded her of the garland they used to hang in their humble cottage many years ago during Yuletide.
Matilda carefully moved through the room, hoping not to kick up too much of the dust that blanketed the creaky wooden floors. Her sinuses would thank her later.
“Maybe some fresh air would do some good,” she expressed, flinging the curtains open.
To Matilda’s extreme dismay, the window was nailed completely shut.
She would have a word with Belzar regarding his tavern’s safety.
What if she had a vampire hot on her tail and needed to make a speedy escape?
What if a fire broke out in the kitchen below?
If Matilda were destined to die, she’d hope it would be more climactic than perishing in a tavern fire.
“Knock, knock!” a voice rumbled from the doorway.
Matilda turned to find Belzar’s twin sister, Belzara.
“Belzara, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Matilda said to the full-figured orc.
“Ah, how I’ve missed your jests, but I must turn down your advances, for I am now a taken woman.”
Matilda rolled her eyes and laughed. She had complimented Belzara on her dress the first night they met many years ago, and Belzara took the compliment as proof that Matilda was a lover of women.
Belzara had been “denying” Matilda every time they were in each other’s presence.
Matilda attempted to set the record straight several times, but Orcs had egos the size of Night Falls, and it was rare for them to change their minds once they were made up.
That explained why Matilda struggled to shake Belzar loose.
“Taken, you say?”
“That’s right,” Belzara proudly boasted, rolling in a cart filled with several pails of steaming water for her bath.
“But I thought we had something between us, Belzara?” Matilda expressed in a mock-confused tone.
“I’m sorry, Tilda, but it will never be you. I do not wish to have you as a mate; however, I would love to have you as a sister.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Tell me more about your betrothed,” Matilda demanded, accepting a wooden pail that overflowed with scalding water. The women chatted about Belzara’s pending nuptials as they filled the tub in the bedroom corner.
“He is a merchant,” Belzara confessed.
“A merchant, you say?”
“Yes, and he sells the finest of wares to the wealthiest clientele. No need to inquire. You can not afford him.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m just being truthful. You barely scrape by with your minuscule earnings from vampire slaying. Your family’s cottage was burned down after someone reported a slayer lived there.”
“Can we not use the term ‘slayer’? It seems more sinister than it is.”
“Okay. Which would you prefer? Killer? Murderer? Harbinger of Death?”
“The last one was pretty good, but how about we just stick to huntress?”
“That’s so boring, but I will respect your wishes. As I was saying, you’re destitute. You’re a couple of silver pieces away from living beneath the stars.”
Matilda sighed. “You don’t have to keep reminding me of my financial woes.”
“I’m sorry. There are solutions, you know?”
“I will not work in the brothel.”
“I hear the women there make excellent money. Plus, you have a body to die for. Of course, if you would marry my brother, then you wouldn’t want for anything.”
Matilda was over the conversation and knew just how to get rid of Belzara.
“Can I be honest with you?”
“Of course, Tilda.”
“I don’t want to work in the brothel, and I don’t want to marry your brother. Because… I’m saving myself for you.”