Black Dalliances (A Blushing Death Novel) (16 page)

“Get your bearings. We shouldn’t linger,” Saeran said, stepping from the portal as if from a train. “Beings lurk in this wood that would not welcome us.”

“Welcome you, you mean,” I snorted.

“It makes no difference, Fertiri.” A small cocky smirk turned up the corner of his mouth. “You are my responsibility and will be seen as an extension of me.”

“Perfect, just fucking perfect. We can’t win for losing!”

“Welcome to Faerie.”

Chapter 15

Faerie, Present Day

I was close enough to the fire to feel the heat from the flames lick my face and I was still cold. Dean had insisted we stop and start a fire to get a couple of hours rest but I didn’t feel rested, I felt exhausted. My whole body shivered in the dark as the wind bit through me. This place was beyond cold. The wind whipped around us like it knew we weren’t supposed to be here. Something about the Outer Realm was uncomfortable with my presence, and I wasn’t in a mind to argue.

I still felt groggy, disjointed almost from the crossing. As if I was standing on a boat and the fucking thing wouldn’t stop rocking, I felt uneasy. It didn’t matter that I was on solid, frozen ground, I was still nauseous and my bones felt thicker which didn’t make any sense. My entire body felt lighter in my skin as if made of marshmallow, except for my bones. Saeran had said I’d get used to it, but I didn’t want to get used to it.

Magic tingled in the air like a fine mist, making my skin raw from the constant contact of something static and aware. I could feel eyes on me everywhere, waiting and watching. The sensation of magic and doom and whatever was out there, watched us, like someone walking over my grave.

“It seems colder,” Saeran grumbled above the crackle of the fire. His teeth chattered as he spoke.

“Colder than the last time you were here?” I asked, holding my hands closer to the flame to try and get feeling back in my fingers. They tingled but I couldn’t feel anything I touched. That, among other things, was starting to worry me.

“Mmm, I begged her last time to shift for warmth but she refused. Maybe she could have run if she had. Maybe she’d be safe now if she’d been more at ease with her beast,” he said. His gaze focused into the flames that grew abnormally high in the frigid wind. Something was off.

“Maybe,” I agreed, my teeth chattering, too, as I glanced into the darkness that thickened beyond the light of the flames to an unnatural pitch-blackness. I searched for some sign that Dean was okay. Having gone to do a perimeter sweep, he’d been gone longer than I’d like.

“I’m surprised the Gaoh hasn’t shifted yet. He must be cold,” Saeran said.

“I run hotter than most.” Dean’s voice boomed on the wind as he stalked out of the line of trees, stepping from the darkness as if through a door.

Dean sat down on the ground, scooting up behind me. He wrapped his arms and legs around me, a fuzzy, warmth at my back and I was incredibly thankful.

God damn, he’s warm.

“Better?” he asked, his breath blowing hot across my cheek. Even that was welcome and helped warm my insides against the unnatural chill.

“Yes.” My teeth had stopped chattering, so that was a good sign. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he chuckled. I leaned back against his shoulder, encased in his arms and legs. I closed my eyes, reveling in the warmth he provided. “Dahlia,” Dean whispered near my ear. His breath was wonderfully warm against my cold skin.

“Hmmm,” I groaned, snuggling deeper into the cradle of his arms.

“We’re not alone,” he breathed across the fur-lined ear flap of my hat.

My eyes shot open and my heart raced. The fire still blazed, reaching higher and higher into the suddenly lightening sky of early morning. The darkness bled away so quick that it was hard to get my bearings. I hadn’t felt the dawn coming and that worried me. I hoped Patrick was somewhere safe and away from the imminent blare of the sun.

One of Dean’s arms was wrapped tight around me as he clasped me against him. I reached into my jacket to where the Smith & Wesson was holstered under my arm. Wrapping my fingers around the gun’s butt, I squeezed the warm metal heated by my skin.

“What is it?” I whispered, my breath turning to fog as it passed my lips.

“Dunno. Can’t tell,” Dean said in a more normal tone.

A thunderous crack rang out, as tree trunks broke and fell to the ground. The thud of them slamming into the hard, frozen land, shook us, the fire, and the world around us. The grinding and whining of cracking wood sent shivers up my spine as I peered into the growing dawn to watch more and more trees uproot themselves and move, almost running out of the way. I drew the gun from my holster as a deep rumble vibrated against my back with his growl.

A high-pitched cackle echoed over the treetops and the fire jumped and danced to its uneven rhythm. I glanced over at Saeran through the fire. The flames shifted and split in the pit, flickering white and then blue. The Fae King’s eyes were open, staring into the flames. His hand shifted slow and precise to the sword at his hip.

I moved away from Dean, slipping my hand beneath my hair to the handle of the Gladius on my back. I drew it slowly from its scabbard and knelt before the fire, ready with the Smith and Wesson in one hand and the sword in the other.

Dean roared, a clear warning to whatever was moving in on his territory and threatening me, to back the fuck off.

I’d never heard that sound come from him before. It was more powerful and dangerous than anything he’d ever voiced before.

I peered down at Dean’s glove free hand to find long, talon-like claws protruding out from his fingertips. Smiling to myself, I turned my glare back out to the tree lined darkness beyond the fire’s glow.

The trees bent and fell to the side like toothpicks, leaving a clear path through the thick pines. Wobbling from side-to-side on two unsteady chicken legs and twenty feet high like an overweight man trying to walk on stilts, a house strode out from the trees. The chicken feet dug into the frozen soil cleanly, slicing the ground as if it was butter. The wood of the house was old, rotting. Holes littering every board of the shack made the thing appear rickety. Glowing green eyes stared back at me from each and every hole in those planks.

A smoking chimney crowned the shack as two slender, mustard-yellow legs balanced and teetered under the front porch. A cackle rang out through the silence of the forest and a chill shot up my spine. The forest was empty and had become soundless as the house stopped in front of us, as if all the other creatures lurking in the dark had been smart enough to run away. We were the only ones left.

Dean’s power heated the air around us, melting some of the snow on the ground. His growl resonated from deep in his being, knowing there was a threat but unaware of what was coming.

My stomach churned with dread, shooting panic from the follicles of my hair to my toes. My heart raced and I tightened my grip on the handle of the gun, simultaneously loosening my grip on Gladi. The feel of the gun in my hand let me think and the hum of magic from the Gladius quieted my panic.

A woman, old and craggy, stepped onto the front porch from inside the house. She was tall, worn, with deep creases in her face. Her eyes were black as midnight and her silver hair was plaited to her head in a complicated bun at the base of her neck. The rest of her head was covered with a kerchief. She wore long, flowing skirts of heavy wool that reminded me of peasant-wear from the last Czar, circa 1905.

“Fuck,” I breathed.

“
Ya ne povredit vasheyi mat, shchenok
,” she said with a mocking laugh in her tone.

My mind filled with Russian, some I’d learned in college, some I’d heard when I was little, and even more flooded my mind from the witch’s magic.

“They don’t understand,” I replied to the witch. The weight of her power resonated in my head, heavy and solid like the earth beneath my feet. She was old and the magic was too thick in my mind to really put an age to. There was so much power that it exuded from her, rippling across the air.

“Then tell him,” she said in her native tongue with a quick nod to Dean behind me. She paid Saeran no mind.

I couldn’t believe it. I spoke and understood her Russian as if I’d been speaking it all my life.

“She said she won’t hurt me,” I translated.

“That’s not what I said, girl,” she sneered, lowering her ancient body down on a bench beside her front door.

The movement appeared painful as if her joints weren’t used to moving that way. I didn’t dare contradict her. I’d heard enough stories when I was little about Baba Yaga to know better.

A thing of nightmares, Baba Yaga was the Russian equivalent of the Boogey Man. My grandmother and great-grandmother had used Baba Yaga like some parents use Santa Claus. If I was bad, Santa wouldn’t bring me presents but Baba Yaga would steal me from my bed in the night and eat me. There was no way in Hell I was arguing with Baba Yaga. I wasn’t that brave or that stupid.

“She said, she’ll not hurt your mate, pup,” I repeated like a good little Slav. She smiled at me, appreciation exposing her wide, toothless grin.

“Good!” she chirped. “What’s your name, girl?” Her tone carried a sharp cackle in every word she spoke, making my blood run cold.

“Dahlia Sabin,” I answered without flourish, the less I said the better.

“Sabin! Sabin? Ah, Tsabin! You are Cossack,” she stated with another ear-piercing laugh, slapping her knee through her heavy skirts.

“I, I don’t know.”

“You are,” she said, so sure. If Baba Yaga said the sky was red, I wouldn’t disagree.

Saeran had moved around the fire, slowly so maybe she wouldn’t notice his movements as we spoke. Carefully, he flanked me on one side and Dean on my other. Even with the solid protection of the two powerful men flanking me, my fear didn’t diminish. I was surrounded on both sides by beings that couldn’t protect me, not from her.

“Ah, you keep impressive company, Dahlia Tsabin, Cossack. Most impressive Gaoh I’ve seen in centuries, and Saeran, Kingling of the Sidhe. He rules over all beauty and no fear. He lacks darkness in his kingdom. What is day without night?” she said, glaring at Saeran with fire flaring in her black eyes. She had actual flames in her eyes.

She’d also mocked Saeran with her use of
Kingling
. She didn’t respect him but I wouldn’t tell Saeran if I could help it. I didn’t need him going off halfcocked at Baba Yaga. I might, just might, have a chance to get us out of here alive if I was lucky.

“They are my friends.”

“Ah . . . ah . . . ah,” she said with a mischievous smile. “Pup is more than friend.”

“Yes.”

“What’s going on?” Dean asked. “What’s she saying?”

I relayed word for word what she’d said, even the Kingling, which wasn’t a good idea but I didn’t want to anger Baba Yaga. I couldn’t go toe-to-toe with her. Saeran bristled at her diminishing of his title and her accusation, but he stayed put with his mouth shut.

I turned back to the witch.

Sitting on the bench, patiently waiting for my translations to end, Baba Yaga watched us.

“We’re terribly sorry if we’ve trespassed. It was not our intention,” I said, humble and compliant. See, I could be smart sometimes, especially when I was scared out of my mind.

“You’re not trespassing, girl,” the witch barked out with a laugh.

“Then we will go in peace,” I said, the first signs of exasperation filling my tone.

“Where do you wish to go?” she asked, as if she already knew the answer and didn’t approve.

Her black eyes narrowed in on me, and I forced myself not to step back as her energy beat around me, making me feel knocked around. I squared my shoulders and gripped Gladi in my hand.

“Likho has kidnapped someone. I’ve come to get him back.” My voice was strong and even as I stood my ground.

“Yes, yes, your vampire. We all know about him,” she said like he was nothing.

My heart raced at the sheer mention of him. She knew where Patrick was and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to ask for her help. Asking the Fae for help could be dangerous; asking Baba Yaga for help could be deadly.

“You’ve seen him,” I stated, very careful not to make it a question.

“Of course,” she spat out in confirmation. “Nothing goes on in the Outer Realm
I
don’t know about.”

“I need to find him,” I said, again very careful with my inflection.

“What would you give to find your parasite?” she bit out, contempt clear in her voice. “They are dirty creatures. Drink the blood of adults. Blah! I prefer the meat of little children.” A snide smile curled her thin lips, sending a shiver up my spine. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?” she snarled.

“I did.” I answered her last question with honesty while ignoring her first question. I wasn’t about to bargain with an ancient witch. My gut said she didn’t want to hurt me, but I wasn’t banking on that.

“You, Little King,” she shouted out in broken English. “You are in my kingdom?”

“I am here at Dahlia Sabin’s request. She has engaged me to assist her in retrieving Patrick Cavanaugh,” he answered, gazing up at the old witch without a flinch of fear or uncertainty.

“
Igun
!” she shouted in fury. The trees quaked and the ground shook with her anger.

“Don’t lie to her,” I commanded.

“The Fae cannot lie,” he said, too confident for his own good or ours.

“Maybe, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. Even I could smell that,” I snarled. “Whatever your agenda is, which I can probably guess, remember, Patrick is mine. I won’t let you jeopardize him. Do you hear me?” I shouted, turning the full force of my determination on Saeran.

“I am aware or your priorities, Fertiri,” he said with a curt bow of his head.

“Fertiri!” Baba Yaga squealed li, clapping her hands in front of her face and stomping her feet in delight.