Blood spilled in lazy fashion. The miniature hand was clawed, with long fingers. The following arm was thin, full of muscle, tendons and hair. A creature emerged. A werewolf-looking demon, slashing free of the surrounding flesh. There was an odor of stale milk. Spilled beer.

  “The fuck?” I repeated. The creature squatted on the dead man’s chest, staring intensely at me. Mist and smoke rolled off an abomination no more than five inches tall.

  “Seed?” the creature said.

  “The fuck?” I answered.

  “Not the seed,” the creature said, looking around, taking in the surrounding forest, the dead men, the boulders, and me.

  “You stab?” the creature asked, kicking at the sword through the dead man’s chest, nodding to it with a question.

  “No.” I was going to answer that Molly had been the one to kill the man, but decided against bringing her name into it. It could be dangerous. What the fuck was this little thing? It looked like a demon. A werewolf. A scarecrow made of meat. I couldn’t decide on its appearance. The mist around him was either playing tricks with the way he appeared, or with my mind.

  “Cleave the circle, the gnat breaks free!” the creature said, with a grating voice louder than should’ve been possible for his size. “Jagar is free now. He can serve another. You? Jagar serve you?”

  “The fuck?” I asked.

  “Jagar makes contract. You give soul. I help murder. Kill. Riches. We fuck things. All the things. We kill and we fuck and feast while they die.” The little demon was prancing on the dead man’s chest.

  “Holy shit,” I said. “What?”

  “Servant. Master. Just roles. Both of us are both. We make deal?”

  “No,” I said, and slapped down on the creature with my hand. It felt like high-fiving a porcupine. But his legs broke.

  “No kill!” he screeched.

  I stabbed him with my dagger as he crawled across the dead man’s stomach, driving my dagger down through him and the corpse, both. The hairy little bastard screeched in horror, nearly sliced in half. His body spasmed for several moments and then he went still. There was another ding of a treasure bell. The hair on my arms went prickly. My skin buzzed. My heart raced. Tiny lights exploded all around me.

  I was gaining another level.

  From all around, notifications of experience points popped up. A hundred experience points each from some of the dead men. Three hundred from the leader, even though Molly had been the one to kill him, but I knew that each of the deaths in the battle would count, because Molly and I were part of a team.

  Then, from the little hairy demon thing, I saw a floating announcement of more experience points.

  Binding Gnat

  + 402 Experience Points

  “That much?” I said. “It didn’t seem that hard to kill?” I used the tip of my dagger to nudge the small corpse. Then, because four hundred and two experience points seemed like a lot, I panicked and sliced off its head. Can’t be too careful.

  “Smart!” Molly said from behind me, which meant she quite nearly got a splendid view of me shitting myself.

  “Jesus FUCK!” I screamed, whirling around with my dagger, going on the attack. She parried my blade with an almost insolent gesture.

  “Just me,” she said. “Someone a little jumpy?”

  “Fuck yes,” I admitted. “Standing here with all these dead people? You know, the ones tried to kill us? And they knew my name! Fuck yes I’m jumpy. Are you okay? You fainted.”

  “I didn’t faint. I passed out. It’s different. It’s because of Murder Ballad.”

  “Say again?”

  “Murder Ballad,” Molly said, kneeling to inspect the dead Binding Gnat. She picked up its head and rolled it around in her fingers like a booger. “It’s one of my abilities. It puts me into a killing trance. I slaughter anything that’s near. It makes me damn near unstoppable, but I can’t tell friend from foe. Also it drains the shit out of me. Like a five-day orgy.”

  “Yeah,” I said, because as so often when Molly was speaking, I didn’t know what else to say.

  “I’d have probably stayed unconscious for several days, but I gained a level. When that happens, it heals you completely. Restores you.”

  “Pretty damn handy,” I said.

  “Pretty damn handy,” she agreed. “You take any liberties when I was out cold?” She tapped on her stomach.

  “What? No. Fuck no!”

  “You washed me, though?” She ran a finger along her arm. “I must’ve been covered in blood. But I’m not, now. And I’m all wet. You washed me?”

  “It seemed like the thing to do, yeah. Honestly, I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Thanks. And I was just giving you shit. I knew you wouldn’t do anything totally perverted.”

  “Well, I do like to do totally perverted things, but there’s a time and place.” The words just came out of my mouth. Molly had cast the little demon’s head far into the woods and she’d been walking away, heading back to Baubles, but when I spoke she stopped in mid-stride. She didn’t turn around. She was just standing there. I was wondering if I should apologize, but at the same time I couldn’t really think of anything I should apologize for. Baubles, in the stream, shifted. The splashes seemed loud in the silence.

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  Molly looked at me over her shoulder. With a smile that told me no apologies were necessary.

  “Little tiger roars,” she said, turning fully around.

  “What?” I asked. She gave me a look of consideration, then walked closer.

  “Faint wolves howl,” she said. The husk of her voice made my stomach do funny things. The stalk of her hips made it worse. Better.

  “What?” I said, because I am a master of the moment.

  “A bull snorts low,” Molly said. She was standing in front of me. Either too close or too far. I couldn’t decide. The water was drying on her skin. The smile was not drying on her lips, despite the heat it was emitting.

  “It’s a fine thing to hear you growl, Josh Hester,” she told me. “Now and then, I like to see your fangs.” She stepped closer. There was contact. It felt like being bludgeoned with silk.

  “Want to look at me?” she asked. Her eyes met mine. Her gaze, guiding my own, swept down.

  “You mean…?” I asked. My words left me. But they weren’t necessary. The meaning was clear.

  “Oh, I do mean,” Molly said. “And I am mean, too. I growl, and I bite, and I leave marks. That’s what Molly does.” She was talking to my ear. To my neck. To my cheek. Her lips brushed each place in turn, leaving no trace, but still leaving marks.

  “Do you want to look?” she asked.

  “I do.” Her wet hair trailed against me. A thousand touches.

  “Good,” she said, stepping back. Her hand went to the laces of her leather jerkin. The fingers traced over the belt loops, and all the other places that held her clothes together, with her fingers dancing over their surface and her eyes dancing over mine.

  “Because…” she said.

  “Because…?” I asked.

  “Because I made a level,” she said, speaking in an entirely different tone. Her fingers left the buckles behind. “Do that magic thing of yours. Stat Divination. Take a look at me.” There was a different smile on her lips.

  “Oh shit you are so cruel,” I said. She stuck out her tongue and laughed.

  “You should’ve seen your face!” she said, coming as near to giggling as a barbarian can.

  “You should’ve seen yours,” I told her. She blushed, suddenly, and came as close to stammering as a barbarian can.

  “Oh, yeah. Well, I’m a good actress. I was just joking, Josh. I just meant that, will you use your Stat Divination to look at me?”

  “Sure.” I was trying to laugh things off, but something in my chest kept remembering the husk of Molly’s voice, and my fingers and lips were aching to touch her. I had to physically shake my head clear. I felt my shoulders tense and shiver, then relax.

  “We both gained levels,” I told her. “So we should take a look at both of us.”

  “Me first,” Molly said. “A gentleman always takes care of a lady first.”

  “Don’t start up with that again. I’ve never spanked a barbarian before, but I’m close.” Molly started to say something, but words never quite formed. She bit her lip and looked slowly away. Baubles shifted in the stream again. More splashes. I wondered about all the little fish in the stream. Could they understand what had joined them in the water? Could they possibly have the slightest comprehension? Did anyone, anywhere, know what the hell was going on?

  “Here,” I told Molly, concentrating, and then her stats appeared in the air.

  Molly Fenriskicker

  Barbarian  Level: 9  Health points: 120

  Race: Elven  Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

  Strength: 16 Intelligence: 13 Dexterity: 17

  Charisma: 14 Constitution: 16

  Languages: Elven, English, Dwarf

  Special Abilities: Double attack every other round,

  +6 against all giants, Murder Ballad, Animal Kinship,

  immunity to poison, immunity to debilitating inebriation, -3 against insects,

  weapons / armor will not deteriorate or break in combat, +3 to attack / defense

  in unarmed combat, +5 to all Bedroom Games, Double-Axe-Tornado

  Magic Items: Cup of Jester, Handcuffs of the Night, +2 Amulet of Cat

  Summoning, Cedric’s See-All Stone, Veil of Increased Bowel Movements,

  Hell’s Axe, Barrette of Illicit Excuses

  “Oh,” she said. “Double attack every other round? That’s new. Awesome! Fuck yeah! Molly’s more dangerous now, boys!” She flexed an arm, patting her bicep.

  “I didn’t think you could be any more dangerous. And someday you’ll have to tell me about this stat of yours for ‘Bedroom Games.’ I notice it went up another notch.”

  “Oh!” she said, staring at her stats. “You’re right! Molly’s more dangerous in every way now, boys!” She wiggled her rump, giving it a spank. The slap sent a sharp retort throughout the boulder-filled clearing. A few squirrels chattered in reply. My entire body felt like it was bristling from the combination of having made a level and the dwindling adrenalin from the fight. Molly again flexed her arms, showing off her muscles.

  “C’mon, big boy,” she said. “Show me yours. Let’s see those stats.”

  I frowned at her. Then concentrated. My stats appeared in the air.

  Josh Hester

  Class: Open  Level: 3  Health points: 37

  Race: Human  Alignment: Neutral Good

  Strength: 12 Intelligence: 11 Dexterity: 13

  Charisma: 13 Constitution: 13

  Languages: English, Elven Special Abilities: Stat Divination,

  Poison Resistance (40% chance no damage: half damage otherwise)

  Heal Light Wounds (1d4+5: 4x day) Talk with Animals (1x day)

  Special Attack: Precision 3x day: attack ignores opponent’s armor class

  Known Spells: Lightning Bolt (2x day), Fireball (2x day) Booksmart (reveal weak point of enemies of equal or lesser level: 2x day)

  Magic Items: Trip Ring, +1 Cloak, Blameless Dagger

  “Holy fuck look at the way your health points are soaring!” Molly exclaimed, giving me a hard enough thump on my shoulder that I probably lost a couple of those points. “And, don’t get a swelled head, but I understand and agree with your charisma going up. You’ve seemed different lately. It’s strange, but in one way it’s like we haven’t known each other for very long.”

  “Well, we really haven’t. It’s only been— “

  “Don’t interrupt, Mr. Charisma. I was saying that in one way we haven’t known each other for very long, but in other ways I feel like I’ve known you all my life, with the way Mom used to tell me stories. And then we finally met and you were—I’m trying to put this nicely—a scared little bitch of a chicken, but these days you’re more interesting.”

  “Was there a compliment written somewhere on that dagger you just shoved into my heart?” I asked, looking at my stats in the air. “Hmm. My poison resistance went up. If that continues, maybe someday I’ll be immune to your insults.”

  “My words aren’t poison, Josh,” Molly said, grabbing my arm and bringing it to her mouth, baring her teeth but having trouble suppressing a grin. “I’m only poison when I bite.”

  “Noted,” I said, pulling my arm back. “Oh. Look at that. I can heal wounds an extra time a day. That’ll come in handy. And what the fuck? I can talk with animals now?” I looked over to Baubles.

  “Animals never have anything interesting to say,” Molly told me, dismissing my world-changing ability. “I’m more focused on this new Booksmart skill of yours. You can sense weak points in your enemies? That’s fucking amazing, Josh. You’re gonna skewer people.”

  “It’s just what I’ve always wanted. Skewering people is all I live for.”

  “Stinks after you’re done, though,” Molly said, gesturing around us. The wafting scents from the surrounding dead were not pleasant. The men hadn’t smelled any too agreeable when they were alive, and death hadn’t improved them.

  “Let’s go somewhere else,” Molly said. She looked around. Considering things. “Deeper into the woods?” she asked.

  “Oh why the hell not,” I said, since, no matter what, I felt like I was getting in deeper all the time anyway.