“How are you doing?” he asked.
“I am well,” Gregori said. “And you?”
“I am also well,” Day said. It was a dreadfully stilted conversation, far removed from their previous cheerful banter, and it made his heart hurt to have it. Especially since he knew they were both lying about being fine. Neither one of them was any such thing. He thought it might ease the uncomfortable situation a little if he provided a distraction from the elephant in the room that was their last horrible shared experience.
“Jenna is here searching for the answers to a riddle,” Day said, a little desperate. “She has to break a curse that has been passed down in her family for years. I told her that you were the wisest, most knowledgeable person I knew, and that you might be willing to help her solve this puzzle.”
“Still running to the rescue, I see,” Gregori said. His flat tone made it impossible to tell if he thought that was a good thing or a bad one.
“Barbara made me,” Day explained.
“Ah. That does put rather a different complexion on things. So, tell me more about this curse.”
Jenna gave him the specifics, including the general details of everything that had happened since she’d stumbled onto Day’s cabin in the woods. There were a few nonpertinent specifics that she left out, for which Day was grateful. His brother didn’t need to know about their one passionate night together—it would just confuse the issue and make him think that Day had an emotional involvement, when he didn’t.
“Zilya, eh?” Gregori said when Jenna was done. “I never liked her. But then, I find most of the Queen’s court less than appealing, no matter their physical attractiveness.” He lifted one shoulder in a minute shrug. “I would be happy to assist you, if I could, but as you can see, I have no resources in this hut. It was designed as a retreat, not a library. I’m afraid I am not going to be much help to you.”
For a moment, a shadow slid across his face, and Day knew exactly what he was thinking: now that he was no longer the Red Rider, he was of very little help to anyone. Day recognized that look as one he saw in his own mirror every day, and he wanted to beat his fists against the wall until they were bloody to punish himself for having done this to his brother. But that would change nothing.
“I brought my grandmother’s books and journals with me,” Jenna said, sounding less discouraged than Day would have expected. “They’re out in the saddlebags on Day’s horse. He said that you might be able to get an idea from taking a look at them.”
Gregori’s expression lightened, intrigued as always by a puzzle to be solved. “That does change things. You should have said so from the start.” He rose from the table with one smooth motion, not using his hands. Day was gratified to see that at least physically, Gregori seemed to be back to his old self, although he seemed perhaps a little sad and tense underneath.
“My bad,” Day said, meaning a lot more than the omission. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Gregori gazed at him steadily with his dark eyes. “There is nothing to forgive, brother. Nothing at all.”
For a moment, it was all Day could do not to weep, although whether from guilt or relief or both, he couldn’t have said.
“Well?” Jenna demanded, breaking the mood. Probably on purpose, bless her. “Are we going to solve this riddle or not?”
“Definitely,” Day and Gregori said in unison, and each one’s mouth curved up in a tiny smile. It wasn’t much, but suddenly Day felt better than he had in months.
* * *
“THAT’S impossible,” Jenna said the next morning.
Mick yawned from his bedroll across the room, and Gregori opened one eye from where he sat cross-legged near the sleeping salamander.
“It’s the Otherworld,” Mick said, still not quite awake. “Nothing is impossible. But, that being said, what are you talking about?”
Jenna pushed aside the blanket and sat up, pointing to her stomach. “This,” she said. She’d been able to tell something was off as soon as she woke up, even before she moved.
Mick blinked a couple of times and rubbed his eyes. “Is your belly noticeably larger than it was yesterday? I swear, you look about five months along now. The baby is growing as fast as a turnip. That’s impossible.”
Jenna glared at him. “That’s why I said it.”
Mick turned to his brother, who looked completely unperturbed. Even though Jenna had already figured out that this was a normal state for him, it made her kind of cranky. Hormones, maybe. Or else it was a side effect of waking up in a strange world with her baby growing at an alarming rate.
“It is unfortunate,” Gregori said calmly. “But not completely unexpected, given the odd way that the Otherworld can affect Humans.”
“Will it hurt the baby?” Jenna asked, trying not to sound as anxious as she felt. The tiny hut suddenly seemed claustrophobic and she had to tamp down the desire to run screaming out into the pseudo-daylight and all the way back to the dubious safety of her own familiar life.
“I think it unlikely,” Gregori said. “I suspect that time is simply moving faster for you than you can perceive. If you weren’t pregnant, you wouldn’t have noticed it at all until you returned home. But if you aren’t experiencing any pain or discomfort, I would assume the baby is fine.”
Just growing at the speed of light. Great.
“Would you take a look at her, Gregori?” Mick asked. He turned to Jenna and explained, “My brother has always had a knack for healing, which came in pretty handy, considering how often the three of us ended up getting into fights.”
Gregori shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry. I cannot. I no longer have my connection with the universal energy that gave me the healing gift. Apparently I lost it along with my immortality.” He shrugged, trying to make light of it, although Jenna could see the sadness in his eyes. “Since we will no longer be brawling so much on behalf of the Baba Yagas and our own entertainment, I probably won’t even notice it is gone.”
Mick let out a strangled groan and stood up with his fists clenched at his side. “Why didn’t you tell me? That connection with universal spirit was a huge part of who you were. No wonder you seemed so strained.”
“I am fine,” Gregori insisted. “It is nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” Mick said through gritted teeth. “I did this to you. I’m responsible for you hiding out in this shack on the ragged edge of nowhere. I am so sorry.”
“I don’t hold you responsible,” Gregori said. “Brenna did this to us. Only she is to blame, and she paid the price for her crimes. It is what it is. There is no point in continuing her work and torturing yourself over that which cannot be changed.”
Mick shook his head and stalked out of the hut, flipping the curtain over the door aside so abruptly it continued to flap even after he was gone. Krasivaya’s hoofs clattered on the rocky soil outside and then faded into the distance.
Stunned, the other two stood in silence.
“Do you think he’s coming back?” Jenna asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Who can say?” Gregori answered, as calm as always. “Each of us fights our own demons these days. And none of us seems to be doing it very well, or at all gracefully.”
But after a moment he added in a more gentle tone, “I would not worry. My brother has never been able to walk away from a woman in need.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Jenna said. “I think he’s trying to learn how.”
* * *
WHEN it became clear that Mick wouldn’t be returning any time soon, Jenna finally turned away from the window where she’d been watching for him, rubbing her back where it had begun to ache. Gregori, who was sitting cross-legged on the stool, gazed at her with his fathomless black eyes.
“Which bothers you more?” he asked. “Fear for my brother or fear for your babe? Clearly, you are troubled.”
&n
bsp; Jenna sighed. “Obviously, I’m worried about Mick. He’s beating himself up with guilt for everything that happened to you all. But he’s a grown man and I suppose he’s going to have to work this out for himself.” She rubbed one hand over her newly enlarged belly. “I’m a lot more concerned about what this rapid growth means for the baby.”
Gregori shook his head, rising gracefully and coming over to stand in front of her. “I believe what I said before, that the child—and you—are unlikely to come to any harm from this phenomenon, no matter how disconcerting it might be.”
“It’s not just that,” Jenna said. “Although god knows, that would be enough. But when we went to see the Queen, she made Zilya promise to leave us alone. For now. Once the baby is born, she can claim it. I thought that meant we had almost six months to find a solution, but if the baby continues to grow at this rate . . .” She clasped both hands over her belly, trying hard not to give in to despair. But one hot tear escaped to creep down her cheek.
“Ah. That explains much. And changes everything.”
Jenna jerked her head up to look at him, surprised by the bleak tone in his voice.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
He gave one of those minute shrugs again and turned his back on her to walk over to the chest against the far wall, tension visible in the set of his shoulders. The chest creaked open and he knelt there silently for a moment, rummaging around its interior before pulling out a small packet of what might have been herbs, a wide-bottomed glass flask, and a sharp-looking knife.
Jenna could feel her eyes widen as he placed everything on the floor in front of the little stove and gestured for her to take a seat on the cushion he put down next to it. A whispered command to the tiny orange salamander woke it from its doze, and it turned in circles rapidly until its heat flared into renewed life.
“What’s all that for?” she asked, settling onto the cushion. Her changing center of gravity was hard to get used to, and she almost tipped over and slid right back off. It wasn’t so much that the physical differences were dramatic, but that her body barely felt like itself anymore. She assumed it was easier for the average expectant mother, since the changes were more gradual, but she still wasn’t quite sure how they did it. She’d find out for herself soon enough. Too soon, in fact.
“I told Mikhail that I was no longer able to use the universal energy to heal, and that is quite true.” His lips compressed into a thin line momentarily, before he gathered himself together and went on. “However, I do have a few other limited options at my disposal.”
He placed the flask on top of the stove, a flat thin pottery disk sandwiched between it and the direct, albeit subtle heat generated by the salamander. It peeked up at Gregori, a small forked tongue darting out as if to taste the air, surprising intelligence in its glowing yellow eyes, before giving a minute sneeze and retreating to its spot underneath.
“Sorry, Ziva,” Gregori said, bending down so he was at the same height as the fiery orange creature. “I know the herbs tickle your nose. Don’t worry; this won’t take long.”
“His name is Ziva?” Jenna said. She hadn’t realized it even had a name. “And what are the herbs for?”
“Her name,” Gregori said absently, tapping a minute portion of a powdery substance into the flask and adding a splash of water from the kettle sitting next to his hand. He swirled the mixture together and then popped a cork into the top, so the flask slowly began to fill with a misty vapor the color of a blue jay’s feathers.
“Right, sorry. Her name.” Jenna wasn’t sure how you were supposed to be able to tell a male salamander from a female one, and wasn’t about to ask. “It’s pretty.”
“The word translates to ‘living’ or ‘alive,’ near enough,” Gregori said. “Which a salamander certainly is.” He turned back to face her, his visage revealing nothing of the thoughts behind it. “As for the herbs, I’ve thought of something that might help, if you’re willing to trust me.”
Was she? She trusted Mick, and Mick clearly trusted his brother. Besides, she was so far out of her depth, she might as well be in the Bermuda Triangle. “What are we talking about here?”
“Did Mikhail happen to mention anything about my mother?” Gregori asked, flipping his long dark ponytail over his shoulder to keep it away from the stove.
“Um, he said she was a powerful shamaness,” Jenna replied. “But to be honest, I’m not quite sure what that means.”
Gregori gave a brief laugh, his tan face brightening. “Yes, well, where my mother is concerned, I am not sure anyone really knew what that meant. She pushed the boundaries well past what the term normally encompassed.”
He took the flask off the heat and set it aside for a moment while he continued, “A shamaness can be many things. It is the female term for a shaman, who is generally considered to be a priest or spiritual leader of some kind, or a medicine man, or both. They are often believed to be able to heal and predict the future. Sometimes they do magical work. My mother was all that and more.”
“She sounds impressive.”
Gregori snorted. “She was scary as hell, to be honest. Not that she meant to be. Iduyan was gentle with the sick, kind to the beasts of the forest, and a wise leader. She was also so far along her spiritual path, she had left most of her humanity behind her well before I was born. I have always suspected that I was an unwelcome surprise from her dalliance with Jarilo; children are messy and emotional and hard to control, none of which are conducive to a spiritual practice. Certainly no man, god or Human, ever tempted her to take such a chance again, that I know of.”
“Huh. It doesn’t sound like she was likely to be a warm, fuzzy mom.”
“Hardly.” Gregori shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong—in many ways, she was a fabulous parent. She taught me many things, not the least of which were many techniques of healing and meditation, and also helped me to hone my bond with the universal energy she worked with so well. But I quickly learned to be silent and stay out from underfoot when she was busy with more important things.”
“More important than her own child?”
“You have to realize that by this time, my mother had become a great spiritual leader. A select group of disciples had gathered around her, creating a small but dedicated community, all of them with powerful abilities of their own. She spent most of her time either teaching or off on her own meditating or speaking with the spirits. It wasn’t that I was unimportant; merely that her work was so much more. What she achieved was unparalleled in Human history.”
“Sort of like being raised by Gandhi, I guess,” Jenna said, feeling sorry for him. Her family life was starting to look positively normal, compared to the stories he and his brother told her.
“Gandhi crossed with Einstein and mixed with Merlin,” Gregori said with a small smile. “Please do not think I am complaining in any way. It was a great gift to be born to such a woman and raised in that community. But we are straying from the point, I fear.”
Jenna stared at the flask dubiously. “Right. That.”
“As you say: that.” He tapped the side of the flask and the smoke inside slowly started to transmute from blue into a dark indigo, and from that to a lighter lavender color. “Much of what my mother did might be considered by some to be a form of magic, although she despised that label. I still carry some of the remedies and elixirs she made so long ago, and none of them have ever lost their potency, from what I can tell. I use them infrequently, since I have no way of replacing or re-creating them, but this mixture could prove effective in slowing your baby’s growth, at least temporarily.”
Jenna’s eyes widened. She wasn’t sure which part of this impressed her more—the fact that he might be able to help her control her bizarre situation or the fact that he was willing to use up some of his precious, irreplaceable supply of remedies handed down from his mother in order to do it.
�
�Could?” she asked doubtfully. “You don’t sound very certain.”
“This particular elixir was designed to return a body to its rightful rhythms,” Gregori said. “It was purposely made to work on a wide variety of conditions; whether or not it will do so in this case remains to be seen. Additionally, even if it does work, I have no idea how long the effects will last. Normally, it would remedy the issue and the problem would stay fixed. But it was created for use on the other side of the doorway. Here you will be fighting the energies of the Otherworld, and I am not certain there is any potion made that can do that for long.”
“Oh.” None of that sounded terribly encouraging. “Are there any negative side effects I should worry about?”
One slim shoulder rose and fell. “I suspect it will do either what you wish, or nothing at all. But there are no guarantees.”
When are there ever? “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do this.”
“Very well.” Gregori took the now-cooled flask and pulled out the cork rapidly. In almost the same moment, he used the knife to prick his finger so that three precise drops of blood fell into the mixture. Instantly, the lavender mist turned green, then pink, then condensed into a ball, so that when he tipped the flask over, a single pink pellet, about the size of a large vitamin, lay in the palm of his hand.
“Ow,” Jenna said. And, “Ew. That has your blood in it.”
Gregori sighed, clearly unimpressed by her squeamishness. “A shaman activates a medicine with his or her own vital energy. Normally, that could be done by channeling the universal energy, but since I can no longer access that source, the fastest and easiest alternative was a bit of my own essence. Believe me, three drops of blood is nothing.”
For a moment, his eyes were bleak, lost in the past, and Jenna remembered what little Babs and Mick had told her about what the evil Baba Yaga, Brenna, had done. That made this small gesture mean even more, and she certainly wasn’t going to waste it.
“Right,” she said, holding out her hand. “Do I just swallow it?”
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