“That’s just…great,” Anya sighed. “I will talk to Yvan and Aramis.”
“Don’t take too long.” Mama Lya got to her feet and headed for the door. Anya took the key from the coffee table and followed her.
“I’m not. I am going to wake Yvan up right now.”
“He is good man, Anyanka.”
“I know he is.”
“You’d best protect him better than what you’ve done so far,” Mama Lya said instead of a goodbye before walking down the carpeted hallway.
Yvan had taken a room across from Anya’s and she tried to ignore Mama Lya’s parting comment as she reached for the door. The brass handle grew hot under her hand as she pushed her power into the lock. The door clicked and opened silently for her. Shutting the door behind her, she padded softly through the dark rooms. The curtains were drawn but still left enough light for her to make out Yvan’s long body under the covers. She climbed in next to him and he mumbled something into his pillow.
“It’s only me, Yvan,” she whispered.
“What’s the matter?” Yvan opened one blue eye.
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Mama Lya told me that I’ve more people wanting to kill me.”
“You woke me up for that?”
“It’s the Conseil Neutres.”
“Why do they want you dead, shalosť ?”
“Because the Darkness are trying to recruit in their neutral city and killing off the ones who refuse to join them. I need to leave the city or they will hand me over to them.”
“I see. Well, the sooner we start looking for the sword, the better,” he said as he rolled onto his side to talk to her better.
“The sword…sure. The magic sword from heaven should be no problem to find.” Anya tried not to start crying at the thought of it.
“Don’t worry, shalosť, this is how it has to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“In all the great stories there is always a distressing damsel,” Yvan nudged her. “A heroic prince…that’s me, of course.”
“Of course,” Anya rolled her eyes.
“There is no one else of royal blood so it has to be me,” he argued. “Then there is the evil queen or witch…”
“Or in our case both…”
“There’s an ancient prophecy as well, so of course, there has to be a magical sword.” He was smiling as Anya started to laugh.
“I suppose when you lay it out like that it makes sense. It doesn’t get me any closer to the sword though,” she said, the smile dying on her lips.
“No, it doesn’t, but you have to have hope my little shalosť.” He brushed her cheek lightly before withdrawing his hand. “All the best stories end with evil being defeated, the hero and the magic sword triumphant.”
“What about the damsel?”
“She will live.”
“You think so? I wonder.”
“She will live.”
“In the stories, doesn’t she always end up marrying the prince?” Anya teased to lighten the mood but his eyes glazed over instantly. “I was only joking, Yvan! You look like someone stuck a knife in you.”
“The damsel would have to be very, very lucky to marry the prince,” he said calmly.
“She would be, considering how damaged the damsel will be,” Anya said as she stared at the canopy above her, “and she actually has to live first. There can be no thoughts of any kind of marriage before that is done. Death can really spoil plans that way.”
“Death has spoiled my plans once already, he wouldn’t dare do it again,” Yvan growled before letting the silence lapse.
“Yvan?”
“Anya.”
“I’m really sorry if what happened with the Groenn Skaer hurt you…in any way. I am sorry.” Long warm fingers laced with hers but he didn’t move to look at her.
“You need to apologise to yourself, Anya, not to me. You gave up on yourself. I understand what it’s like to have your life ripped apart, to see the person you love die horribly. But you cannot lie down and die, because the enemy will win.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Please tell me you’re not pregnant.”
“No, I’m not pregnant!”
“Then why do you sound so worried?”
“Because I don’t understand it! I found seeds in the bathtub when I cleaned it out of Trajan’s things.”
“They could’ve been in your hair or clothes.”
“No, they weren’t. They are red and…warm.”
“Have you told Aramis?”
“I wanted to tell you first.”
“Why? He’s your guardian.”
“But I love and I trust you above everyone,” Anya said. “You were with me in the beginning and I know that when I’m covered in mud and blood, you will be with me in the end. You’re the only person I can say that to with any kind of certainty.” He looked across at her, his blue eyes melting to a smouldering red.
“Don’t cry little one.” His voice, half Yvan, half firebird, made the hairs on her body rise. He reached over and touched her wet cheeks. “Your faith in us is humbling.”
“Gods know you have earned it even if I haven’t earned you.”
“I know the Álfr is important to you, Anya, but Yvan’s devotion to you will always be unshakable,” the firebird said. Yvan shuddered all over before the firebird receded, taking up its old place on his chest.
“Sorry about that. What did he say?” Yvan rubbed his forehead irritably.
“Nothing I shouldn’t already know. I should let you go back to sleep.”
“Harley said something about a Mardi Gras today. Would you like to go?”
“I barely got to see the city last time…of course, I want to go!” Anya shoved her pillow at him as she got up and hurried to get ready, her heart the lightest it had been in weeks.
***
There were drums thrumming so loud and so deep that Aleksandra felt their rhythm in the pit of her stomach. She’d lost Anya and Yvan in the dense drunk crowd but Mychal was still following her as she wove her way through. Somewhere along the way, a stranger had put plastic beads over her head and confetti was stuck to her hair and clothes.
She was laughing as little children threw feathers and sweets from a float, when a wave of nausea came over her. Aleksandra swayed and tried to spot Mychal. The crowd pressed in behind her, pushing her forward in the crush of bodies.
Aleksandra looked behind her and spotted someone watching her. A short man with dark skin was staring at her, the partygoers moving past him as if he had an invisible force field. His black eyes stared at her. Then his face started to change. His jaw hung slack, revealing long sharp black teeth. His nose and cheeks were rotting away, and his eyes were yellow and filled with hate. Aleksandra tried not to scream as he started to move towards her.
“Get out of the way!” she shouted and began pushing people away from her. She was knocked sideways and she only managed to stop herself from falling. The rotting man was searching for her, his yellow eyes burning a hole into her back. Aleksandra shoved her way out of the crush and started to run. She dodged her way past the people and stumbled into a side street before something hit her from behind and she fell to the ground.
“You can see me,” a voice hissed in her ear, foul hot breath burning her cheek. Aleksandra brought her elbow up hard, hitting it in the face. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed a broken brick that was holding down the lid of a trashcan.
“Stay away from me,” she warned. The rotting man spat black blood from his mouth.
“You pathetic mortal cannot hurt…” the creature’s threats cut short as a blade was shoved through his throat. It gurgled once before collapsing to the ground in a pile of rotting flesh. Mychal stood still, the silver spear extended. He flicked it once and it shrank down to its normal size.
“Did it hurt you?” he asked, looking at her for the first time. Aleksandra dropped the brick and ran to him. He held her tightly.
“No, I saw him. I saw his face…his real face!”
“Damn it,” Mychal muttered, “I’d hoped it wouldn’t happen to you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The demon marks can make you see them, but it makes them see you as well.”
“We need to find Anya and Yvan,” Aleksandra said as she swallowed her fear. Clouds above them grew dark and Aleksandra shuddered.
“What is it?” Mychal asked, his hand resting on her back to steady her.
“Magic…”she whispered as her lungs tightened. “This storm is not natural. We need to find Anya now!”
Anya shivered as she watched storm clouds roll over the city. She drank some of the beer she had been sharing with Yvan and went back to watching the parade. A sharp flick of magic whipped up the side of her face and she stumbled, Yvan catching the glass bottle as it slipped from her fingers.
“Anya, what’s happening?” Yvan looked around erratically. “The firebird is screeching.”
“I don’t know. There was…” Anya looked up and spotted a woman across the other side of the street. She was watching Anya, her eyes shining. “That woman, Yvan. She was in front of the shop last night.” The woman moved aside and someone appeared behind her. Anya felt the air leave her body as a head of silvery hair came into view. Yvan’s hand on her arm tightened. Yanka stood in a pale green dress and waved at them.
“It can’t be her…” Yvan was saying, but Anya wasn’t listening. Yanka pointed to a boy standing out of Anya’s reach. Yanka started to flick her fingers and the child’s arms jerked erratically and started to move out onto the road. The engine of the next float revved loudly as Yanka beckoned it with her hand.
“Look out!” Anya shouted. She broke away from Yvan and started to shove people out of the way. Everyone was clapping and cheering, the trumpets blaring. Hands were raised for beads and no one saw the boy. She ducked under waving arms and ran out onto the street. The boy was dancing like a demented puppet as Anya grabbed him under his arms and carried him across the street. He stared up at her with wide eyes, Yanka’s temporary spell broken.
“Run!” Anya whispered. She looked up as Yanka and her companion appeared in front of her. Anya straightened her back, fists clenched at her side.
“Vnuchka, at last, we can talk.”
“You felt you had to kill a child in order to do that?”
“I had to get your attention.”
“Your friend couldn’t introduce herself?” Anya asked as she glared at the woman beside Yanka.
“Veruschka has been waiting patiently for you to return to this slum of a city.”
“She’s been killing people while she’s waited too.” Veruschka smiled cold and sharp.
“Only those who deserve it.”
“So what now, Grandmother? You kill me just as you did Trajan? Go ahead.”
“Don’t be so eager for death, Anyanka, it comes soon enough. I want you alive so you can watch when the world burns.”
“Do you think I’ll let you do that? You think I’m going to stand there and watch? You have been sleeping too long, you old…” Yanka’s hand whipped out and grabbed Anya’s throat. Her hand felt strangely insubstantial against Anya’s skin but the pressure was there.
“What makes you think you’ll have the power to stop me?”
“I’m not as powerless as you think and I fucking hate you.”
“Oh? Where was your power when I took Trajan’s heart?”
“Where was yours when you tried to get into my dreams? You aren’t even here right now. Your power is as weak and pathetic as you are.” Yanka’s eyes flared with rage before they went blank. A golden red light flashed brightly through her. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, the illusion shattering as fire tore through it.
As Anya slumped to the ground gasping for air, she saw a glyph drawn on the concrete in blood, as she watched it smouldered into ash. Veruschka yowled as the spell broke and Yvan made to grab her. She lashed out as her hand morphed into a paw, long claws tearing open Yvan’s arm as he tried to block her. Fire exploded from his other hand and Veruschka bolted back into the crowd.
“Fire! Fire! Everybody move!” Anya shouted as people panicked around her. Yvan ran after Veruschka, but by the time Anya caught up, he was holding a bundle of empty clothes.
“She’s gone,” he said as he dropped them. “One minute she was there and the next…”
“She was a fucking cat,” Anya finished.
“Yanka was an illusion. I thought we could’ve had her then.”
“Or she would’ve had us,” muttered Anya. “I didn’t think anyone could use magic over such a long distance. I saw something written on the ground where she had been standing. Maybe…”
“We should ask Aramis, he knows more about her power than anyone else.”
“There you are!” Aleksandra and Mychal appeared from a side street. “There was a huge surge of magic…I thought…”
“You thought right. Yanka decided to say hello.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Only me,” said Yvan as he held up his bloody arm. “I don’t feel…” He stumbled and Anya steadied him.
“Careful, they are deep.”
“It’s not that. They…” Yvan pushed her out of the way and vomited all over the ground.
“Oh shit,” Anya cursed. “Mychal, help me! We need to get him back to the hotel. That bitch, Veruschka, has poisoned him.”
By the time they got him to his room, Yvan was vomiting blood. “Go and find Aramis!” Anya shouted at them as she got Yvan into the bathroom. She helped him out of his ruined shirt and got the extra towels from the cupboard. Yvan screamed as she held his arm under the bathtub tap to try to clean some of the blood away.
“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” Anya said over and over as held a towel over his arm. “Aramis…Aramis will be here soon and he will know…” She grabbed a fresh towel and as she moved the bloody one away, she saw the black worms. They were buried in the wound like sticky maggots.
“What the hell?” She pulled one from his arm and tossed it into the tub where it wriggled. Yvan groaned and slumped heavily on the tiles, his eyes rolling back into his head.
“No, no, no!” Anya sobbed as she knelt over him, “Don’t you fucking dare try to leave me.” Placing her hands over his wound, Anya summoned her power and let it roll out of her. Burning white light poured from her hands and she screamed with effort as she forced it into the wound. The black worms charred as they tried to squirm from him. In her mind, Anya saw the tendrils of poison that had moved through his body. She drew them back out, her magic sucking them to her and burning them as they surfaced. When the last of the blackness faded, Anya saw Veruschka collapse on the floor of a motel, the artificial neon sign out of the window advertising cheap rooms.
“Anya? Anya?” A voice was shouting, calling her back into her body. Aramis stood in the doorway of the bathroom. The glowing light from her hands faded back into her and she moved them from Yvan’s arm. The black worms were gone but the wound was still in need of stitches. She put her head on his chest and heard the deep thrum of his heartbeat.
“Where’s Cerise?” she asked as she sat up. “This needs seeing to.” Anya placed a towel under Yvan’s head.
“What happened? Aleksandra wouldn’t say and…” Anya ignored him, bending over to kiss Yvan softly. She got to her feet, the taste of his blood in her mouth.
“Watch over him, Aramis,” she said, “there’s something I need to do.”
“Anya, you can’t…” he made to reached for her but hesitated when she glared at him.
“Don’t touch me. You will stay here and watch over him. Make sure Cerise sees to his wounds.”
“What are you going to do?” he called as she took Yvan’s leather jacket from the chair and put it on, covering the blood on her shirt. Downstairs, she hailed a cab.
“I need to go to a hotel.”
“What’s the name of it, hone
y?” the cabbie asked.
“I don’t know. It’s about a block from a place called Legba’s Ladies?”
“The garage?”
“Yes, it has a glowing orange sign. That’s all I know.”
“I know it, ma’am, but it’s a total dive. They rent rooms by the hour there. It’s a front for hookers or drug dealers.”
“Take me there.” Anya gave him a hundred dollar bill when they pulled up fifteen minutes later and he took it without question.
Anya walked past the desk clerk and up the stairs covered in dirty grey carpet. Sending out her magic, she felt Veruschka’s mind and followed it like a GPS signal to the third floor. Anya flicked her fingers at the door, buckling it and spraying chips of wood everywhere. She walked into the dark room, her eyes scanning.
“I thought you wouldn’t have it in you to try again today,” Veruschka’s eyes reflected in the light as she moved next to the window. Long claws grew out her fingers like deadly knives. “Nothing to say? How is your little friend?” Anya didn’t reply, standing still. Veruschka pounced, her arms out in front of her. Anya raised a hand and the shifter stopped in the air. She hissed and squirmed but Anya held her aloft. Veruschka tried to shift and yowled in pain.
“I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” Anya said as she walked towards her.
“Yanka will kill you for your impertinence.”
“She can try, but she won’t hear about it from you.”
“You don’t have it in you to kill me, little witch.”
“If you had harmed anyone else, I might have let you live,” Anya said as she calmly fed more power towards her. Veruschka’s arms and legs stretched out far enough that they cracked. “But you made the biggest and last mistake of your life by laying your filthy claws on him.”
Anya’s power filled Veruschka’s mouth muffling her scream as her limbs were ripped one by one from her body, her head landing on the carpet with a heavy thud. Anya took a tea towel from the kitchen and picked something up from the carpet. As she stepped through the door, she waved her hand and the wood remade itself behind her.
Rise of the Firebird Page 14