“Babe?” Ethan calls, coming into the foyer. “You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s not that deep.” I look at my arm. Actually, the pain hasn’t even registered yet.
“I didn’t mean that.” Frowning, he looks out at Rene driving away.
“Oh, right. You mean me finally making a friend only to have her get scared off by demons.” I raise my eyebrows. “Yeah. I’m peachy.” Letting out a breath, I run my hand over my forehead, which is sticky with reaper blood. “Gross.”
“I’ll start the shower,” Ethan tells me.
“We’ll burn the bodies,” Sam says, coming into the foyer. “Do you have a burn pile?”
“No,” Ethan answers, and I expect Sam to snip back with a what kind of hunter doesn’t have a burn pile—because apparently one is needed. “But there’s a bunch of firewood on the back porch.”
She nods, eyes me one more time but doesn’t say anything. Not a “thank you” or not even a “I guess you could handle it.” Turning on her heel, she disappears from view, and I go upstairs, peeling out of my blood-covered clothes.
“So, reapers are disgusting.” I shudder and then make a face. I don’t think there’s any saving my light blue sweater.
“They are.” Ethan turns on the shower and gets the first aid kit from the little bathroom closet. “I’ll wrap that after you get out of the shower. It’s going to hurt when you get in the water.”
“I know.” I wrinkle my nose and undo the button on my jeans. The pain is starting to register now, and I know it’s going to sting like mad when I step into the shower. Ethan grabs my pajamas while I wash the reaper blood off me, trying my best not to get shampoo in the cut. My entire arm hurts by the time I get out, and the warm water opened up the cut and I’m bleeding again.
I accidentally get blood on the white towel when I’m drying off. My hair is dripping water down my back, but I wrap the towel around myself and sit on the bathroom counter to let Ethan clean and wrap the cut before I finish getting dressed.
“Looking out the window and seeing you kill a demon was hot,” Ethan starts, gently putting antibiotic ointment on the cut. “But next time, let me know you’re running toward the danger.”
“I don’t have a very good track record of that.” My lips pull into a half smile. “And I honestly panicked. Hunter sensed something by the barn and all I could think was that a demon was going after the horses. The mama bear in me came out, I guess you could say.”
Ethan puts gauze over the cut, taping it into place. “If you want to use a battle-ax, we can incorporate it in our training.”
“I meant to grab the shovel, but it was too dark to see what I was reaching for,” I admit, watching Ethan wrap a bandage around my forearm. “I need to learn more defensive spells. Using magic felt natural but I’m still a little traumatized from that time I almost burned down my garage.”
“It’s smart to be cautious.” He gathers up the first aid supplies and I hop off the counter. “But you’re getting good, Anora. You need to give yourself more credit.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “If I could figure out a way to put the fire out once I’ve started it, that would be a different story.” Holding my arm against my body, I pick up the wrappers from the gauze and throw them away. Ethan snakes his arms around my waist as I’m leaving the bathroom, pulling me back in.
“I love you,” he says. “I just wanted to tell you again.”
“I love you too,” I reply, hooking my hands on his shoulders. Smiling, I stand on my toes to kiss him, feeling an instant rush go through me. He rests his forehead against mine and I get a whiff of smoke.
“What do reapers smell like when they’re burned?” I ask, though I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
“Kind of like a dog fart,” he replies, and I laugh. “Most demons have a strong sulfur smell, and you know how bad burned hair smells.”
“Yuck.” I shudder at the thought and let my hands slip down Ethan’s muscular chest. Shivering, I take my towel from around my body and wrap it around my thick hair instead. Since I’m going to have to go outside and deal with the ashy remains of the reapers, I put on a pair of fleece-lined winter breeches and a warm sweater. I hate going outside in the cold with wet hair, so I do my best to towel-dry it and then twist it into a messy bun on the top of my head.
“What do we do with the leftovers?” I ask as I put on socks. “Demon leftovers, I mean.”