"That doesn't matter now," said Ben. "I still must go."
"We're going to need everyone once we get to Russia. We can't leave you behind," I said.
"Absolutely not," he replied. "I'm a danger now. What if that stuff gets into Santiago? Or Morwen?"
The short snort of air coming out of Morwen's nostrils illuminated us on her opinion of that suggestion. A few wary glances went in Santiago's direction instead. The look on her face worried me.
"Can you expel this thing from Ben? Or destroy it?" I asked.
"This red mist is unknown to me. I wouldn't know how to affect it," she said. "The Archivists have always kept their secrets well. Even I didn't know how they stored their information in the library. It's possible one of my sisters knew, but I've generally stayed away from Inverness unless absolutely necessary."
"One sister knew," I said, matching her gaze. "What was her name?"
It was a practiced shrug, one threaded with a lie. "Names are tools. She had many, just as I have, just as the others have."
I let the lie go. The relationships between the different versions of Baba Yaga were built on an agreement I didn't understand.
But she was right, the name didn't matter. I was just curious. I thought of her as Jaguar Woman. Maybe someday I would learn her taken name.
"You didn't know about the red mist, Santiago?" I asked.
"When I visited the library a long time ago, I remembered the presence of the Uthlaylaa, but nothing else. Once it entered the room, I remembered nothing until the exchange was finished," he said.
"Kat, I appreciate that you want me here, but until I can be rid of it, I'm too dangerous to keep around," Ben said.
"There's one rather large problem with that," said Morwen. "Where will you go? I cannot take you back, and there are no realms near here that are safe enough. And I still need to retrieve the information from Katerina so we might continue our journey."
"How will you do that?" I asked with trepidation.
Her lips quirked a smile. "Don't worry. I won't be digging into your mind like the Archivists." She dug into a pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. The vellum looked silky and plush, not at all like parchment.
"This is memory paper," she said. "It's made from mashed Uthlaylaa worms, among other things, which makes it very valuable—they do not give up their brood lightly."
"Brood? Those are their children?" I asked, horrified.
"Not yet children, but something that can be made into one. I'm not an expert on Uthlaylaa biology," said Morwen dismissively. "Place this paper against your forehead and concentrate on the information from the library. After a minute, the paper will brown, signifying the memory has transferred, and then I can accept it. Think of nothing else, unless you want me to know about it."
The paper was unnaturally warm, which knowing the source material made it rather disgusting. I summoned the memories that I'd gotten from the anwar e'e toche, concentrating so there was nothing else in my mind except that. There was a familiarity within them that I hadn't noticed before, but it was gone before I could identify it. At the last moment, I added another snatch of memory, something from our collective past.
After a minute, I handed the paper to Morwen, who unceremoniously crumbled it up and shoved it into her mouth. Chewing the paper took a while, but eventually she managed to swallow it with a grimace.
I wasn't sure it'd worked until Morwen smirked in my direction. "So that's what it looked like from your end?"
I nodded. "I didn't want you to think I'd done that maliciously."
"Apologies," she said, to the confusion of the rest of the group. Beside the location of the Jaguar Woman, I'd given Morwen a glimpse of what it'd looked like when she tried to swallow me whole.
Morwen's forehead bunched up as she considered the second memory, the one from the Jaguar Woman. Her lips parted into a little "O," which made my stomach flip.
"So that's what she was trying to do," said Morwen.
"You know where we need to go?" I asked.
The previous flippancy had been replaced with tight-lipped concern. "I do, but this path brings other risks."
"Can it get us to Russia?" I asked.
She nodded soberly. "It can and more. This path can take us anywhere and to any time."
"Any time?" asked William suddenly, speaking up for the first time. "That's impossible!"
Morwen snorted lightly. "You travel in my hut and think time travel is impossible?"
He seemed to recognize his mistake and quietly moved to the background. His cheeks were flushed.
"Isn't it impossible?" I asked.
"Impossible, no. Dangerous, yes," she said. "But if it is necessary, I will attempt it."
Ben had a fist to his lips, bouncing it against them softly in thought. "Does this require us to travel through time?"
Morwen had to think about it before answering. "We might be able to shade time without actually traveling through it. Like how a steam carriage can turn on ice without actually changing direction." She shook her head. "The truth is that I don't know and won't know until we get there, which is a journey of at least a couple of weeks."
Ben put his hand on Morwen's sleeve. "I can't stay in the hut."
She glanced briefly at his hand, but let it stay. "To take you somewhere safe would delay you another two months, or longer."
I spoke up. "The red mist only affected you while the Uthlaylaa was near enough to access it. It's a catalyst for them. You'll be safe in the hut."
His eyebrows rose slightly. "Are you certain?"
"You know I'm not, but it's likely, and that's the best we can do right now," I said. "It would work if we kept someone in your presence all the time, especially when you sleep."
His voice dropped to a whisper, not to be quiet, but in painful memory. "Some part of me remembers when it took control. I was watching from a distance, like through a telescope. Had it more time, it could have commanded me to aim my pistol at you and pull the trigger, I'm sure of it." His voice rose. "I wonder if you shouldn't push me out the hut and leave me where I land. It'd be safer that way."
The anguish at the loss of control was evident in his gaze, so I gave him one of his patented winks, hoping for a smile, and said, "No more talk about that. We'll watch you and that'll be good enough."
"Thank you, Kat," he said, and then added after a pause, "I hope."
The group broke up after that with plans to return in a couple of hours to share a meal. William escorted Ben to his room for a change of clothing. Santiago went back to his room immediately, probably to take another shot of his curse-inhibiting potion. Brassy lingered for a while asking questions about the Library of the Dead, before I informed her of my exhaustion and plan to wash my face and take a brief nap, so she disappeared deeper into the hut. Nasrine had been reading an old book with a cracked binding and returned to her perch on the couch, while Morwen was nowhere to be found when I turned to ask her a question.
The view resumed its place on the wall, showing the hut marching across an alien, desolate landscape. We passed orange pools outlined by inky azure rocks that almost looked like salt crystals, except for the smoke hovering over their surfaces. The night sky was choked with stars, flashes coming frequently, their unearthly source, I could not fathom.
When my knees wavered with exhaustion, I returned to my room, finding it empty, with no sign of Brassy. The brass bowl on the table was filled with water, so I washed my face with a hunk of old linen, relishing the feel of cleanness around the backs of my ears.
Finished, I realized that I wasn't as tired as I thought I was, so I searched for my first edition of Myths of the Old World. I planned on comparing it against my experiences in Inverness, but it was missing. I wondered if Brassy or one of the others had it.
Disappointed, I lay on the huge bed with the soft covering and laid my head upon the pillow, sinking into it like a warm bath. My eyelids wavered a few times before I let myself succumb. Sleep was immediat
e, and blissfully dreamless. I wasn't sure how long I'd slept, but I woke with a frown on my face, instinctively listening for something I'd heard while I was out. Climbing to my feet, I made for the door, finding the hallway longer than I remembered on the way in. Before, there'd been a short turn and another door on the other side that went into a storage room. Now, the hallway was longer and the other door missing.
As I moved to investigate, three steps out of the door, a woman's scream reverberated through the hall. Without thinking about the potential danger, I rushed forward, bouncing around the turns until I came upon the dead body.
Chapter Eighteen
The hallway formed a "T" with Brassy standing on the far side and the face-down body laying at the juncture between the two passages. The dusty blond hair, vest, cream shirt, and dark breeches sent a shock of horror through me. I knew who it was instinctively.
I rushed to the body and Brassy met me in the middle. Another person came from the base of the "T," startling me into confusion.
"Ben?" I asked, then glanced down and realized my mistake in identifying the body.
Ben crouched down next to me and together we turned the young man over. William's glassy eyes were rigidly open as if he'd been surprised when he died. A quick check of his pulse confirmed his fate. There were no signs of how he'd died, only a stiffness that bordered on rigor mortis. His arms were straight along his sides, ending in fists.
Ben Franklin stared at me with equal amounts of worry and fear. The others arrived moments later, Nasrine coming from Brassy's hallway, Santiago appearing behind me, and then a few seconds later, Morwen from the same direction.
"Is that William?" asked Nasrine.
Sober nods answered her question as we stood around the body in a circle.
Morwen spoke first. "What happened, Ben?"
Ben opened his mouth, his lip quivering with uncharacteristic hesitation. "We were returning to the main room when he spied something down the hall. He ran to pick it up and then seemed to notice something else around the corner. I moved to follow but found the hallway empty when I came to the location he'd just been at. I spent the next five minutes wandering the hallways looking for him, or even looking for somewhere familiar. That's when I heard Brassy's scream."
"Very convenient," said Nasrine.
"He wouldn't ever do that," I barked at her.
Nasrine stared back incredulously, her arms waving wildly. "Did you not just tell us earlier that he's a danger?"
Ben motioned for calm. "It's okay, Kat. I'd suspect me, too."
Ignoring Nasrine's glare, I asked, "Do you remember everything? Do you have any gaps in your memory?"
"I'm fine," he said, biting his lower lip pensively, "but that doesn't help us with this. We need to approach this logically, carefully."
What he hadn't said was that there was a murderer among us. That one of us couldn't be trusted. The image of death in the snow came back to me.
"It could be any one of us," I said.
Nasrine made a dismissive out breath. "Why can't you see it's Ben? You said the red mist went in him and that the Library of the Dead wants what's in your head."
"I'm not saying that it couldn't be Ben," I replied too loud, letting the moment get the best of me. "But he's not the only one."
Brassy spoke up quietly, as if her words might break glass. "I don't want to be trapped in this place."
"You're defending him because he's your friend," shouted Nasrine, the hair around her face gone wild. "They were supposed to be together. How convenient that they got lost!"
"I'm defending him because he's the best hope we have of getting through this, and by this I mean making sure that our beloved world isn't overrun by an invasion of monsters," I said. "And how do I know you're not deflecting blame because you're the murderer? I saw you in my room poking around before we left Philadelphia."
Her eyes and mouth widened, the air turning to ice between us. "I was merely a little curious while I was waiting. Nothing sinister. And who's to say that you aren't the one who murdered William? Has anyone seen her for the last hour? Don't forget that it's her countrymen that started this war."
"I'm not—"
Ben raised his voice. "She's proved herself again and again, so I can tell you that Katerina is above reproach."
"Would you care to elaborate?" asked Nasrine.
The others looked in my direction, their questioning glances a blow to my heart. Did they still not believe my allegiance to America and the Enlightenment? Was my Russianness too much for them to overlook?
"I must refuse, for the information is too sensitive to share," said Ben, "but know that she should not be questioned."
Morwen stepped away from the group, headed down the hall, for once not disappearing when I looked away.
"Stop right there, Morwen," I said. "You're a part of this too."
She spun on her heel, her chin snapping with the precision of a general, blond hair whipping ferociously. "You dare question me? Who brings you through the hidden places of the multiverse to your goal? You would not be here if it weren't for me."
The words burned my ears, but I spoke again. "Apologies, Morwen. There's something I've been worried about since our trip to Gallasid. I'm afraid you might have gazed too long at a Yolgothi, right before we returned to the hut. I even saw a flash of something in your eyes later on, as if you were seeing them again up close."
"You think those rotted piles of garbage could hurt me?" she asked.
"I can only go on what you told me," I said.
"Fine," said Morwen. "Shall we unearth demons for any of these others? Let us put all our eggs in this one fragile basket."
Brassy spoke again, quietly. "William did die."
Nasrine turned on the former bawdy girl, grabbing her glass arm. "Katerina, you remember what I told you about the origin of this arm."
"The glass golem?"
Nasrine lifted Brassy's arm as if it were an exhibit at trial. "She admitted that it sometimes does things on its own. Could she have killed William?"
Her eagerness to find someone to blame stuck in my throat, but I swallowed it down so I could observe dispassionately.
"Care to name anyone else as the killer?" I asked coldly.
The collective gaze turned to Santiago, who held his hands up. "My curse is not a mystery. But I've been taking my potions. I'm no danger to you all."
"Still," said Nasrine, "if you lost control."
His eyes held the smoldering embers of a predator, content for the moment.
"In some ways," said Ben, "we're all suspects in poor William's death."
"But how did he die?" asked Brassy, who had reclaimed her arm from Nasrine and moved to another location in the circle.
"That's a good question," said Santiago.
"You'll not cut into that body in my hut," said Morwen.
Brassy crouched on her heels. "There's something in his fist."
She wrestled with the closed fingers for a moment, until she peeled one back enough to release the object firmly in his grasp. As she tugged it out, a wave of recognition traveled around the room until all eyes were on the owner of the handkerchief that had been used to clean a bloody blade after the battle.
Santiago.
Chapter Nineteen
Within the hour, Santiago had been placed in a cage in a room that appeared upon Morwen's command. She tucked the silver key into an inside pocket of her long coat.
He hadn't protested the accusation, nor the general consensus that he should be sequestered. No one could meet his gaze, so they didn't see the way he studied them, but I was watching.
After that, we carried William's body down a flight of stairs, the first of their kind I'd seen in the hut. I was curious to the reason since Morwen normally placed the necessary rooms within a short walk of the main area.
We left the body in a cave covered in uneven ice that looked like clear blue lava flows. The space went back a ways into a chilly darkness. Morwen didn't menti
on the purpose of the room, and her tight-lipped countenance invited no questions.
Back in the main room, the members of the expedition, minus Santiago, milled about restlessly. Everyone made poor company, the murder of William heavy in the air. An hour later, despite our promises to stay in groups, we each departed one by one.
Last to leave, I went back to my spacious quarters to find both Nasrine and Brassy's belongings absent. I went to find Ben Franklin, but he wasn't in his room either.
Taking a circuitous route back to Santiago's jail, I heard flute-like sounds coming from another part of the hut. I hoped it was Ben trying to sooth his injured heart. He'd taken the death of young William hard. Once we'd finished laying his body in the ice room, he'd stood and stared at the body for a long while before we could convince him to leave.
When I returned to the cage, Santiago was seated in the corner, long arms hanging over his bent knees. Pale hair hung over his hawkish eyes that flickered around the room as I entered.
"Come to taunt me?" he asked sharply.
"Nay," I said. "I don't believe you're the murderer. In fact, besides myself, I think you're the least likely to have done the deed."
"Why is that?"
"If it would have been you, then William's body wouldn't be markless. You'd have torn it to bits," I said.
He stared at the floor. "I guess you would know from your visits to the mausoleum."
"When you're not affected by your curse, you're quite an affable companion."
His head rose. "Then why did you say nothing?"
"When a mob has a mind, there's no dissuading it," I said, then shook my head. "I'm sorry, Santiago. Once they saw the bloody handkerchief in William's hand, they'd made up their minds."
"I must have dropped it," he said with a heavy sigh.
"That might have been what William saw. If Ben was telling the truth," I said.
He reacted strongly. "You suspect Ben?"
"I didn't want to at the time, but I have to entertain the idea that the Uthlaylaa might have a way to affect him here," I said.
The Queen of Dreams (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 6) Page 12