“It’s not how it looks,” Jenna said, although it was, a little. “I’m more worried about what will happen to me if I eat it. The tales are full of warnings for those who venture into the land of Faerie, and they almost always tell you not to eat anything.”
Mick snorted. “You can’t believe everything you read in fairy tales,” he scoffed. “Mostly those stories come from the fact that the food is so perfect here, nothing in the Human world ever tastes good enough in comparison.”
“Very reassuring,” she said. “Thanks so much.”
He gave her one of his crooked grins, flashing a dimple in a way that always made her heart beat a little too fast. “Seriously, there are certain plants that you should avoid, and if a faery offers you anything—food or otherwise—you should probably think twice about accepting it, but since you’re traveling with me, I can steer you away from anything dangerous.”
“Well, if you’re sure . . .”
“Nothing about the Otherworld is ever certain,” he said. But then he added in a practical tone, “We’re out of food from the other side, so if you don’t eat whatever we find here, you’re going to get awfully hungry. And so will your baby.”
She had to admit he had a point there. “I hope this is okay for you,” she whispered, rubbing her belly, and then she held her hand out for the not-apple and took a big bite. It tasted like vanilla ice cream with swirls of chocolate and caramel and a hint of amaretto. “Okay, I see what you mean about the problem with going back to eating regular Human food. And, um, can I have another?”
* * *
THEY traveled throughout the next morning without incident until they rounded a low hill and found themselves facing a giant lizard. Mottled blue and green in color, it almost blended into the mossy hillside; only its embroidered orange waistcoat and gleaming white teeth made it stand out from the background. That and the fact that it was over twelve feet tall and had smoke trickling out its nostrils.
“Eek!” Jenna said, grabbing Mick’s arm involuntarily. “Is that a dragon?” she asked in a quieter tone, hoping not to attract its attention.
Too late. “A dragon?” the lizard said in a deep husky voice, sounding indignant and slightly British. “Do you see any wings, young lady?” He glared down his outsized snout at her. “Dragon, indeed. How rude.”
Jenna could feel Mick’s chest shaking; she had a feeling it was laughter and not fear, and relaxed a little bit. Although not much, since the lizard was very, very large and she’d clearly already said the wrong thing. Not a good idea when facing a creature whose teeth were longer than your forearm.
“I apologize for my companion,” Mick said, sliding off the horse and executing a graceful bow in the lizard’s direction. His expression was perfectly composed as he helped Jenna down, too, but the corner of his mouth was twitching ever so slightly. “She’s new around here.”
The lizard huffed, causing more smoke rings to create curlicue clouds in the air above his massive head. “Ignorance is no excuse for rudeness, my lad. Dragon. Pfft. I will have you know that I am a descendant of the great gorgonopsid, the most dangerous lizard species that ever roamed the other side of the doorway. Dragons cower before me.”
“Don’t tell that to my friend Chudo-Yudo,” Mick suggested. “Although I am sure that lesser dragons find you very intimidating.”
“Hurumph,” the lizard said, apparently mollified for the moment. “Friends with Chudo-Yudo, are you? Then you know the Baba Yagas?”
Day bowed again, but Jenna could see the smile sliding out of his eyes, leaving them misty blue with sadness. “I know them well, sir. My name is Mikhail Day, and I am—that is, I was—the White Rider. My companion’s name is Jenna. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The lizard gave a brisk nod. “Bob.”
“Excuse me?” Mick said. Jenna wondered if the creature was ordering Mick to bow again, although it seemed an unlikely way to do so.
“Bob. My name is Bob,” the lizard repeated. “I have heard of the Riders, of course, but I rarely leave this valley. I believe you are the first one I have met.”
Jenna thought Mick looked relieved that Bob the lizard wasn’t familiar with the story of his current situation, although she would have felt better if the giant reptile weren’t completely blocking their path forward, and showing no signs of moving.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed to be in some distress before we came around the corner,” Mick said, undoubtedly thinking the same thing. “Is there anything we can do to assist you, before we get on our way?”
Jenna hoped that Bob’s problem didn’t have anything to do with wanting an unusual entrée for lunch.
Bob patted his waistcoat pockets, his long snout wrinkling so that his white teeth were even more obvious. “I seem to have misplaced my pipe, as it happens. I am quite desolated.”
Both Jenna and Mick swiveled their heads around, looking for the missing object, but there was nothing obvious to be seen.
“Isn’t a pipe rather redundant for a lizard who can breathe fire?” Jenna asked. “Not that I’m criticizing, or anything. Pipes can be quite distinguished.”
“Whatever is she talking about?” Bob asked Mick. “What does a pipe have to do with fire?”
Mick blinked. “Uh, you weren’t looking for the kind of pipe you smoke tobacco in? Or, I don’t know, a hookah?”
Bob’s tiny eyes narrowed even further. “What on earth would I want such a silly thing for? No, I am looking for my bagpipe. It is a lovely day, and I was in the mood to make a bit of music.”
A bagpipe. Oh, sure, that makes so much more sense. Jenna glanced around again and noticed what looked like a deflated green balloon peeking out from underneath a bush of almost exactly the same hue. “Is that it?” she asked, pointing in the bush’s direction.
“My pipe!” Bob cried in a clarion voice that shook a birdlike creature off a nearby branch. “There it is!”
He stomped over to the bush and pulled out a giant set of bagpipes that still looked small in his clawed hands. Instantly, he set them to his lipless mouth and took a deep breath, ignoring Mick and Jenna completely as he focused all his attention on the instrument. After a few discordant notes, a cheerful tune began to take form. As they rode on, carefully skirting Bob’s immense tail, they were followed by the droning sound for miles. Bob was actually surprisingly good, considering he’d never been to Scotland.
As they sat around yet another campfire that evening after a meal made up of things that bore even less resemblance to the food she knew than the apple she’d eaten, Jenna stared into the crackling black and maroon flames and gnawed on her lip as she worried.
“If you’re still hungry, I could probably find some nice roots by the riverbank we passed,” Mick teased. “Mind you, some of them insist on yodeling while you eat them, but you get used to that after a while.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “Very funny,” she said. “I’m just thinking.”
Mick scooted closer to her, so they were sitting near enough to touch, although they didn’t. In fact, Jenna had been careful to keep her distance as much as possible since the night they’d made love. Or he was keeping his distance from her. It was hard to tell. Better to think it was mutual.
“What?” he asked. “I can tell something is bothering you. If you’re fretting about our being seen by someone, I can assure you that I haven’t caught so much as a glimpse of anyone since we passed those first few small huts the day we got here. Plus Bob, of course, but he didn’t strike me as the chatty type. And as far as I know, none of the more predatory denizens live out in this direction. I think we’re pretty safe.”
“That’s not it,” Jenna said. To be honest, her biggest concern wasn’t that she might be in danger from any of the Paranormal creatures, no matter how odd and ominous some of them could seem. Something about having Mick around made her feel protected. At least from the more ob
vious threats.
“Then what is it?” he asked. “You’ve been quiet all day.”
Jenna put her hands over her belly, which seemed slightly rounder than it had been. She was surprised by how fierce she felt about defending this little being she hadn’t even met yet.
“I’m just worried about what being in the Otherworld might be doing to my baby,” she admitted. “They have all kinds of warnings on medicines and booze and cigarettes back home, but nobody seems to have put a handy label on the Otherworld listing possible side effects.”
Mick chuckled. “Well, we don’t get a lot of babies here, so they probably haven’t done enough studies to be sure. But I’m certain it’s okay. You don’t feel sick, do you?”
“Actually, I feel pretty good, now that I’ve moved out of the morning-sickness phase,” she said. “Oh!”
Mick shifted closer to her faster than she could see him move, leaning in but still not touching. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” Jenna said in a marveling voice. “I just felt the baby kick for the first time.”
His thick brows drew together. “Isn’t it a little early for that? I admit, I haven’t spent a lot of time with pregnant women, but I thought it started with a little flutter, and even that came later.”
Jenna pressed her hand against her belly, waiting to see if it happened again. “I’m pretty sure the fluttering thing is supposed to happen around the fourth month, and I’m not quite there yet. I don’t know about the kicking. Maybe I imagined it.” She rubbed her stomach again, as if doing so would encourage a response.
“To be honest, I had to abandon the one baby book I bought in order to make enough room for my grandmother’s journals and notebooks, so I might be confused about the timing.” There was a tiny movement under her fingers, subtle but unmistakable. “No! There it is again!” She giggled a little, both thrilled and slightly intimidated by the experience. “I have to admit, I don’t really know anything about pregnancy and babies. I was so sure I’d never need the information.”
Mick held out his hand hesitantly and then withdrew it again. He peered at her through the dim quasi-night. “It must be tough,” he said quietly. “Being pregnant when you never wanted a baby.”
Jenna shook her head. “On the contrary. There is very little I wanted more. Maybe because you always want what you can’t have, or maybe just because it is built into the genes, I don’t know. But I always avoided pregnant women because seeing them made me so sad and jealous. Petty, I guess, but there you have it.”
“I don’t think that’s petty at all,” Mick said, and there was something odd about the tone of his voice.
“Did you ever want children?” she asked.
“It was never a possibility,” he said, and she thought she recognized the tone now as the same slightly wistful note that used to color her own words on the subject, on the rare occasions she spoke about it.
“Why not? I can’t imagine there was a shortage of women who would have offered to be your baby mama.”
Mick grimaced, although she thought it was more for her use of silly slang than anything else.
“It’s not that,” he said. “None of the Riders could have children. Maybe it is simply that our father didn’t see fit to design us that way, but it is also true that Paranormal creatures usually can’t crossbreed with Humans, and they can only mate with their own kind to produce offspring. My brothers and I are the only ones of our kind, at least that we know of. Presumably other gods produced children as our father did, but we have never met any other demigods in all our travels.”
He ran one large hand through his long blond hair. “The gods usually only had children when they needed them for some particular reason, such as creating the Riders to be companions to the Baba Yagas. Apparently, doing so took a lot out of them, and most of them didn’t want to lose even a fraction of their power.”
Jenna was so astonished, she could feel her mouth drop open, and she had to force herself to shut it with a snap. “But mythology is full of stories about the Greek gods mating with Humans right, left, and center,”
Mick rolled his eyes. “Oh, well, the Greeks,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Jenna said, not wanting to raise a sore subject, but too curious not to, “did you and your brothers mind not being able to have children of your own?” She sure as hell minded—every single day until the impossible happened.
“We never discussed it,” he said, as if it was normal for such an important topic never to have come up in centuries spent together.
Men.
“No?”
“I was always a bit sorry, myself,” Mick said, looking down at the ground as though it held some fascinating clue to the questions of the universe. “I like children. I’ve enjoyed being around the Babas in training when they were young. You’d never believe it to see her now, but Barbara was cute as a button.”
He sighed, and added so quietly she barely heard it, “One of the things I regret the most about everything that happened is that now I won’t be able to watch Barbara’s little Babs grow up. I just don’t feel right being around the Baba Yagas anymore, now that I’m not a Rider.”
“But you could still be a friend,” she said.
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Why not?”
“It just doesn’t,” he said, as if the last bell had tolled on the subject.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she said, not able to understand how he could walk away from brothers he’d spent over a thousand years with, when she would do anything to get back the one she’d never even had a chance to meet. Not to mention the Baba Yagas, who seemed as close as family. “And stubborn.”
“And you’re butting your nose into something that is none of your business. Just drop it.”
Jenna put her hands over her belly and patted it gently, then they both sat in silence, staring into the fire and thinking their own thoughts until it was time to curl up in their bedrolls to sleep. More separate than ever, alas.
CHAPTER 17
EVENTUALLY, they arrived at the edge of a small lake. The landscape was sere and silent, with few birds and little wildlife. There were some reeds and cattails, which actually made a quiet purring noise as Day petted them in passing, and some dry grasses, but not much else other than rocks and sand. Near the shore was a small brown hut with windows that looked as though they’d been made from some kind of shell, like an iridescent bubble stretched not quite flat.
There was no smoke rising from the chimney; in fact, no signs of habitation at all. The hut could have been deserted for years, and Day began to worry that they had made the long trek for nothing.
“It doesn’t look like anyone is here,” Jenna said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. It was that kind of place where hushed tones felt appropriate. Her face fell. “What do we do now?”
But as they approached the hut, the curtain hanging over the low doorway was swept aside and a slim, handsome man stepped out. He was of medium height, with long ebony hair pulled back in a tail, a Fu Manchu mustache, and dark slanted eyes set in a face with flat cheekbones that reflected his Mongolian heritage. As always, his expression was calm but closed, giving Day no hint as to what was going on behind those dark eyes. He still wore the head-to-toe red clothing he’d always favored, but he’d traded in his leathers for loose silk trousers and tunic, and instead of boots his feet were bare.
He and Day stared at each other for a minute, and then Gregori said, “It took you long enough, brother,” and held the curtain aside to invite them in. Day heard Jenna let out a sigh of relief.
The interior of the hut was as austere as the exterior. It couldn’t have been more than about twelve feet square and most of that space was empty. The walls seemed to have been formed out of some kind of mud, smoothed more or less flat, and the
floor was rough wooden planks covered with woven reed rugs. In contrast to the usually colorful Otherworld, it was a monochromatic brown and tan, although not unpleasantly so. Peaceful, Day would have called it. Neat, certainly. A nice cave to hide out in, even, if one was in the mood for hiding. He knew the feeling.
Gregori pulled a couple of flat cushions from a plain wooden chest for them to sit on at a low stone table, and poured tea from a kettle sitting on a tiny stove. Day could see a tiny orange salamander curled up underneath the stove, keeping it hot, which was undoubtedly why they didn’t see any smoke from the chimney. Salamanders were elemental creatures, usually volatile and hard to control, although this one seemed as content as any hound sitting at his master’s feet.
Other than the chest and table, there was only a low platform in one corner that probably served as a bed, if the thin blanket resting on top was any indication, and a curved wooden bench near the stove. Even for Gregori, who tended toward the simple and unadorned, this place was drastic. Peaceful it might be, but Day found it bleak and depressing. Hopefully his brother did not, since he seemed to have chosen to be there of his own free will.
Once they were all seated around the table, Day waved his hand to make the introductions. “Jenna, this is my eldest brother, Gregori. Gregori, this is Jenna.” He stopped for a second, stymied as to how to refer to her. “We’re traveling together for the moment.”
Gregori raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t say anything more than, “Welcome. It is very pleasant to meet you. Is this your first visit to the Otherworld?”
“Technically, my second,” Jenna answered. “I went with Mick and Barbara to see the Queen briefly, a little while ago. But I didn’t get to see much of the lands here. Traveling through them this time has been . . . interesting.”
“I would expect so,” Gregori said. “Although there is very little of any note out here at the far reaches.”
Day appreciated that his brother was being gracious to Jenna, but he thought he detected a note of strain in his voice.
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