Beautiful Salvation

by Jennifer Blackstream

  Chumana rubbed her temples. “I tire of you, little human. You cannot see what is so clearly right in front of you. I am meant to be with Death, not you.” She dropped her hands to her sides, throwing her shoulders back and fixing Aiyana with an icy stare. “You will die, here, tonight. And after you’re dead, I will lead Death back to his true path, and I will walk it with him, as I was meant to do.”

  She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. The stone beside her moved, a doorway appearing where once there had been only unbroken, solid rock. Pink and blue light streamed through the opening from a hidden room beyond, and a hunched figure emerged. It was impossible to guess the stranger’s height, given his stooped posture, and their body was obscured by the voluminous folds of the cloak. Two legs stuck out the bottom of the material, the only sign that whoever it was appeared humanoid in shape.

  “Yes, My Lady?” the cloaked newcomer rasped.

  “I’m leaving. See that this kitten is skinned and cooked. I will eat her tonight after I return.” Chumana tilted her head, tapping her chin with one slender finger. “And use that sauce Robert that you make so well,” she added, smiling sweetly at Aiyana.

  Before Aiyana could respond, Chumana held up her arms. Scales fell down her body like a rain of shiny beetles, coating her in the skin of her serpent form. Her black hair was flat against her body, the scales covering the ebony locks, pressing them against her body so that her final form was sleek and hairless. With a vicious flick of her tail, the goddess slid over the floor and vanished into the water with hardly a splash.

  Aiyana quickly turned to the cook, determined to fight. If she could defeat this servant, perhaps she could swim out of here. It was her only chance, the only way she could get back to land. If she could make it back, perhaps she could find Tenoch. The ghost might be able to get a message to Saamal. Tightening her resolve, Aiyana bared her teeth and prepared to leap at the stranger.

  The hood of the cloak fell back as the figure straightened, revealing a familiar face. The old man held up his hands and more blue and pink energy flickered to life in his palms, lighting up his features and confirming his identity. Aiyana’s jaw dropped.

  “Okomi?”

  The gardener’s brown eyes were warm and dancing with the reflection of the light in his hands. “Yes. My animal spirit saw Chumana pull you into the lake and notified me immediately. I came as quickly as I could.”

  “How did you get down here?” Aiyana asked, a tiny sliver of suspicion keeping her from giving herself completely over to relief.

  “Although I am unfortunately not able to manipulate the physical realm from here, it is a simple matter to manipulate the Dreamworld. My animal spirit was able to give me a detailed account of where the serpent had taken you. It was merely a matter of willing myself into a similar form to get down to her sanctuary. I found a room at the back of the cavern and discovered a human cook. He is a prisoner here, and after I explained to him that you had been taken, he knew immediately that the serpent would insist that he cook you for her dinner. In exchange for helping him escape, he readily agreed to help me disguise myself so that I might help you.” He held out his hands, offering her the magic in his grasp. “There is no time to lose. Here. Touch your face to the light. It will let you breathe underwater until you reach the surface.”

  “But I don’t understand. Is Chumana the fairy you sent me to see? What about Saamal, how am I to get him back now?”

  Okomi smiled. “Too many questions and not enough time. Take the power, Your Majesty, and go. All will be clear very soon.”

  Despite the nagging desire to understand everything that had happened, Okomi’s sense of urgency rekindled her own. Her heart beat faster as she imagined Chumana reaching Saamal first, what Saamal might do if he believed she was dead. Aiyana leaned down and did as Okomi told her, breathing in the crackling energy in his hands. It was like inhaling the sweet, sharp aroma of a eucalyptus, cool and refreshing. The energy reached down inside her and filled her lungs so fully, so completely, that she felt as if she’d never before taken a true breath.

  Okomi nodded at her and she leapt into the black water. The cold seized her for a moment, stinging her skin, but she gritted her teeth and pressed on. Her jaguar eyes were little better than human this far underwater, but she could make out the barest hint of light. She swam until she found the hole in the cavern that Chumana had brought her through. All the while she swam, Aiyana couldn’t help but imagine more serpent people, their bodies lashing through the water, their almost-human hands reaching for her, snagging her hair and her legs and dragging her back to the bottom of the lake. Fear ached in her heart and the warmth of tears welled in her eyes before being washed away by the freezing water all around her. She didn’t stop swimming until her face broke the surface of the lake.

  The spell inflating her lungs dissipated, leaving Aiyana momentarily gasping and clutching her chest. The withering sensation passed and she closed her eyes as she was finally able to take a normal breath of air. A stick broke to her left and her muscles seized, nearly sending her underwater. Lowering herself as far as she could without submerging her nose, she scanned the land around the lake quickly, making certain Chumana was not standing there waiting for her. She found no sign of the Spring Maiden, nor any other apparent threat. Gathering her determination, Aiyana swam as fast as she could for shore.

  Her pulse thudded so hard in her throat she nearly gagged, her mind torturing her with images of the serpent woman rearing up out of the water and dragging her back down into the dark depths. The fur on her back stuck out painfully, every nerve in her body tensed in preparation to fight off an attack. By the time she pulled herself back onto land, her entire body was trembling.

  “Flower goddess my furry tail,” she ground out, digging her claws into the grass and imagining it was Chumana’s neck. She grunted as she hauled herself out of the lake, scrambling onto dry land. “Little human. Pathetic.” Her fear receded like last year’s snowfall and rage took its place, swirling inside her like a summer storm. The sun streamed down on her, lighting up the world and chasing away the memories of the darkness under the water. Her courage grew under the warm rays and she glared up at the sky as if she could see Saamal. “I can’t believe you ever had anything to do with that…woman!” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. She couldn’t get Chumana’s voice out of her mind, couldn’t wipe away that insipid smile on the Spring Maiden’s face as she’d talked about being kidnapped by the Black God. She crushed her own thoughts before they could torment her with thoughts of Saamal with Chumana, his hands on her body, his mouth…

  Aiyana grabbed her hair in her hands, pulling sharply to tear her mind from her own foul imaginings. That was the past, it was all in the past. Thinking of it now would serve no one, it would only please Chumana to know she’d gotten to her. Aiyana gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t give that miserable snake the satisfaction.

  She sprang to her feet, viciously swiping at the dirt on her clothes. Her skirt was heavy enough to give the impression it was carved from stone, waterlogged and caked with mud as it was. Every bead that had shone so beautifully when she’d made it was now clogged with earth. She’d lost her cloak at some point, most likely during her impromptu swim. She was in no state to present herself to her future husband—a god.

  “Oh, let him see me like this,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “It’s his fault I’m in this state to begin with. Let him see the consequences of his poor taste in ex-lovers.” Pausing, she lifted her head. “I’m talking to myself.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, wringing out the water she could. “I suppose that’s a bad sign—talking to one’s self.”

  “I’m listening too.”

  The voice came from directly behind her. Aiyana whirled around, her heart in her throat, her claws extended and ready to tear to shreds whoever had dared to sneak up on her. “You!”

  Tenoch’s eyes widened and he stilled, hovering beside her like a deer cornered by ravenous wolves. �
��What? What did I do?”

  “Did you know about Chumana?” Aiyana demanded, the question coming from out of nowhere. She furrowed her eyebrows, but didn’t take her gaze off Tenoch. “Well?”

  The ghost eyed her like she’d grown a second head. “The Flower Maiden? Of course I know of her. I assume you’re referring to her time as the Black God’s consort?”

  “Don’t speak to me about that.” Irritation sharpened her voice to a fine point. “I know all about it, and I don’t want to hear anymore. Believe me, when I see Saamal again, I’ll—” Her earlier plan flew back to her mind and she tried to grab him by the shoulders before she remembered his incorporeity. Tenoch quirked an eyebrow at her, but she ignored him. “Can you travel to the physical plane?”

  The ghost leaned back, eyeing her warily. “Yes. But I can’t take you if that’s what you mean.”

  “No, but I need to you go to the physical plane and find out what happened to Saamal, then come back here and tell me.”

  The ghost crossed his arms. “You’re still intent on—”

  Aiyana screamed her frustration to the sky, the high piercing cry of a jaguar. The ghost’s eyes bulged and he held up his hands.

  “Okay, okay,” he said hastily. “I’m going.” He turned and a moment before he disappeared, muttered, “You two are a perfect match.”

  Chapter Ten

  “There has to be a god you haven’t pissed off. Someone who would put aside the bickering in the spirit of helping the people?”

  Saamal rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No, Adonis. As I have tried to explain to you, this is the time of the Fifth Sun. It is my rule, I am responsible for this land and this people.”

  Adonis scowled. “So the others would just let them die.”

  “Yes. And after they die, the next deity with the power to create will step up and start over.”

  “This is insane.” Adonis stared at him, red eyes like banked coals. “How can you be so accepting?”

  Anger sparked in Saamal and he sat up, shocked and pleased when the room only spun slightly and his muscles were once again obeying his commands. “I do not accept it, Adonis. This was supposed to be the final sun, the final world. Nothing in my mirrors told me that this world would end.”

  “So maybe it won’t!” Adonis waved the heavy text in his hand at Saamal, one of the more complete compilations of Mu’s history that Kirill had left for him when he’d returned to Dacia to sleep. “What about your brother the Feathered Serpent?”

  Saamal looked away, concentrating on flexing the muscles in his hands, improving his circulation. “During his reign in the time of the Second Sun, my brother was making a fool of himself, letting the people grow weak and complacent.”

  Adonis closed his eyes, letting the book sag in his grip. “And you…”

  “Plied him with alcohol until he became a drunken fool and…made some foolish choices. He exiled himself in shame and that ended the time of the Second Sun.”

  Memories of that particular episode held a certain shame now that they never had before. His brother had always been a little timid, a little too concerned with the methods to ever get a proper end result. Saamal had merely wanted to make his weaknesses a little more apparent, wanted others to see what he saw. Now that he looked back, he wondered if maybe his brother hadn’t had something to teach him. If perhaps he’d judged him too quickly. He shoved those thoughts away. They would do him no good right now.

  Adonis shook his head and returned his attention to the book. He flipped through a few pages and Saamal noted with amusement that Kirill’s severe handwriting decorated the margins.

  “What about Tlaloc? God of storms, he could be helpful.”

  Saamal cleared his throat. “Chumana was his wife.”

  The book slammed closed and Saamal’s eyebrows shot up. Adonis whirled around and stalked across the room to flop down into the overstuffed chair beside the fireplace.

  “I know every kingdom has its quirks,” Adonis muttered, “but this is ridiculous.”

  “Indeed it is. So why don’t we forget this whole mess and do what we should have done in the first place?” a feminine voice asked.

  The sound of Chumana’s voice made Saamal’s blood run cold. He jerked his head around to face her, anger rushing through him in a welcome surge of adrenaline. He barely remembered his weakened state in time to keep from leaping from the bed and risking humiliation in front of his enemy. “How did you get in here?” he demanded, letting his disdain show on his face and in his voice. He remembered the option of using his death curse on the Spring Maiden and let the threat of it fill his eyes, though he didn’t speak it out loud.

  Chumana smiled. “Now, now, is that any way to greet your future bride?” She swept into the room, her blood red dress flowing behind her like a tide of blood, rubies rustling against one another in intricate patterns woven into the train. “I came in the front door, as any lady does. It seems your precious jaguars are otherwise occupied, and the briars that were so terribly unwelcoming in years past have…died.”

  Saamal kept his face impassive, trying not to betray his dread as Chumana’s power filled the air, pressing against him like an obnoxious cloud of perfume. He couldn’t stand, couldn’t risk falling to his knees in front of his former lover. His body was recovering, but he was far from full strength. Anger simmered inside him as her dark gaze flickered over his body, far more familiar than she had any right to be after all she’d done. Her eyes traveled over the bed, pausing on the space where his feet were—or would have been if he’d still had two. She tilted her head and Saamal fought not to flinch, afraid to move lest she realize the lumps under the blankets were not the shape they should be…

  Before Chumana could open her mouth to give voice to the growing suspicion in her eyes, Adonis stood up from his chair. He snapped his wings out to the sides, the sharp crack of leather jerking the goddess’ head toward him, her eyes widening slightly. Saamal observed with hesitant interest as Adonis drew himself up to his full height, raising his wings in a gesture Saamal now recognized as an attempt to intimidate.

  “Is this the beauty you promised me?” Adonis’ voice came out low, raspy, the voice of a demon calling from between the bed sheets. He flexed his clawed hands, tilting his head to the side so the firelight from the wall scones played over the sharp ebony points of his horns. His eyes were alight with demonic fire and his skin was flushed a shade of crimson that darkened with every passing second. He smiled at Chumana, baring his sharp teeth.

  Saamal opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for what to say and not wanting to give away Adonis’ game—whatever it might be. Adonis ignored him anyway, the full weight of his gaze boring down on Chumana.

  “You are the Flower Maiden, are you not?”

  “I am,” Chumana answered finally, her eyes locked on Adonis, wariness in the way she held her body, as if ready to run at a moment’s notice. For all the nervous tension in her body, her voice remained steady.

  “Would you like to be deflowered?” Adonis flashed his teeth, dragging his gaze up and down the goddess’ body in an obvious assessment. “An incubus could do such sweet damage between thighs such as yours.” He flexed his hands again, taking a small step in her direction.

  Chumana’s lips parted and she took a step back, a flicker of fear flashing through her eyes before she managed to fix her face into a goddess’ mask of indifference. “Who are—?”

  Suddenly her attention landed on Aiyana’s body across the room. Whatever demand she’d been about to make of Adonis died. Her green eyes glittered as she studied Aiyana’s body, her gaze as sharp as a falcon’s.

  “She’s not dead,” Saamal snapped, unable to hold the words back as his anger fought to get the better of him. The stump at the end of his left leg throbbed as he shifted underneath the blanket, fighting the urge to slide off the bed and lunge for the Spring Maiden. “

  “I can see that,” Chumana murmured. She frowned. “But why?”

  Some
thing about the confused look on her face grated against Saamal’s skin. Adonis took a step closer to Chumana, but the goddess ignored him this time.

  “You are not welcome here, Chumana,” Saamal seethed, not liking the way the goddess was staring at Aiyana. “Leave now.”

  “We both know you have no power to force me out, Saamal.”

  Saamal stiffened. He’d chosen that name after losing half his power, after he’d ceased spending time with Chumana. It was a name he went by among those who had never known him in his other form, a name he used among his people now that he was no longer ruling over them as their all-powerful deity. Chumana had no reason to know that name unless…