by Cat Adams
But just as she was making herself comfortable on the couch with the egg, the bag from the occult shop vied for her attention. She wasn’t going to do everything the woman suggested tonight, but a few of the things had made sense. It was just hard to take someone seriously when they were dressed like Morticia Addams, right down to the octopus fringe on the bottom of the dress and a black waist-length wig. But it couldn’t hurt to pour salt on the windowsills, and she liked the idea of putting down a layer of painter’s masking tape first, so the salt didn’t eat the paint or dry out the wood. The best thing she came across in the shop, though, was the big old iron ladle. It reminded her of some of the old incantations Baba used to do to rid someone of the “black lady,” the carrier of ill health and the evil eye. Since some of the other incantations had worked in the healings, perhaps this one could keep evil from the house.
She didn’t bother with the old tongue, for the moon and sun wouldn’t need to hear her. Plus, it had worked just fine underground without the words. Purpose and intent. Just like Tal had said. She climbed the stairs and walked up to Sela’s door, feeling completely foolish. She lit the sandalwood candle and let the smoke fill the hallway with a warm, earthy scent. Gradually, the embarrassment passed and she began to breathe slowly, let purpose fill her. When she spoke, it came out as a booming command that echoed down the hallway. “Black lady, why do you come here? You good-for-nothing, you mustn’t show yourself. You may not dwell here among the light. I give you three tasks.” She held up the dipper and then placed it on the floor next to the door. “One task—fetch water for me from far away, where people cannot tread.” Then she held up a tuning fork that had also come from the occult shop. “Second task, make the rocks hum, far from here where roosters don’t sing.” Then she held up a bamboo walking stick, a cheap one from the drugstore. “Third task, lean on this and travel to where the icy winds dance. Be gone and never return again.”
She felt an odd sensation, like her ears popping, and the air felt clearer. Ozone mingled in her nose with the sandalwood. “Wow, did that actually work?” And if so, what did it do?
All she could really do was hope for the best and cross her fingers. She went back downstairs and had nearly resumed her place on the couch when her stomach growled audibly. It occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten all day. Well, if she hoped to be able to do anything productive, food should probably be next on the list.
Sadly, the vegetables in the crisper weren’t very crisp anymore and, if the black squishy spots were any indication, not terribly healthy, either. She was sick to death of TV dinners and frozen pizza, but didn’t feel like cooking a real meal. That left the borscht her mom had insisted she take home as leftovers from Christmas dinner, even though Christmas hadn’t really happened yet. It was always fun as a kid to have two holidays—the school one and the church one. Christmas wasn’t actually held in the Ukrainian calendar until January because they still used the old Julian calendar. Plus, she loved ushki—the little mushroom dumplings, and Mom always put in lots, so it wasn’t a hard choice.
Soon the house was filled with the wonderful aroma of spiced beets, and her hunger kicked into high gear. She ate the entire container that she originally figured would last two meals.
Then it was back to the pysanky. By the time she looked up again, it was after midnight. The score was duszat–1, Mila—0. No matter how much she poked and prodded it, waved her hand over it or thought, yelled and occasionally screamed at it, the pysanka just sat there looking pretty, albeit a little charred.
I’ve got to get to bed or I’m going to be useless tomorrow. Or today, or whatever. That prompted a yawn. Closing her eyes made them burn, meaning she hadn’t blinked for too long again. It was a problem when she made eggs, so she recognized it, but it meant she definitely needed some sleep. She was halfway up the stairs when she heard a noise that sounded like the door handle being rattled. She leaned over slightly so just her head was out from behind the wall. That was exactly what that sound was. But it wasn’t merely that the knob was rattling, it was opening. Her eyes flicked to the control panel, to see the comforting red light. Great job, Mila. Arm the system, set the chain, and leave the stupid door unlocked!
She stood, transfixed, as the knob continued to turn. Finally, it began to inch open … and the beautiful, wonderful alarm panel started to beep. If she didn’t enter her code in thirty seconds, it would trip a silent alarm at the police station and let out an ear-splitting shriek that could raise the dead from the ground. Since she wasn’t armed, she’d wait to see if the person left or broke in. There was always that handy iron ladle in the hallway if it came down to it. Mostly, she was content to see what happened, and that seemed really odd to her. But the system needed testing anyway and she couldn’t imagine what could cause her to turn it off at this point.
“Mila? What’s that beeping? Are you okay?”
“Tal?” Her jaw dropped and her legs felt weak. The beeping increased in volume and speed, to let her know there were only ten seconds left. She raced down the stairs so fast that she didn’t remember touching the last three treads. Four buttons later and the beeping stopped and the system went back to standby. She looked out the small crack the chain permitted and couldn’t keep a smile from her face. “It is you. Hang on.” She shut the door so fast and hard it probably clipped his nose. And then the door was open and he was there. Just standing there staring at her as though lost for words. She motioned to the wall with her head. “New alarm system. Thought it would be a good idea … considering.”
There were bags under his eyes and his shoulders were slumped. Still-wet mud decorated his cloak and the small bag he was carrying in a way that made it look like he’d been crawling through a wallow. He didn’t take a single step forward but he did raise his brows and ask in a soft, worried voice, “Can I come in? Or are you speaking to me?”
Had she been mad at him? She couldn’t really remember anymore. Nor could she think enough to speak. She did the only thing she could think of—she launched herself at him, her lips and arms finding him at exactly the same time.
She heard the thump of the bag on his shoulder hitting the stoop and then his arms were around her, with the same fierce need that she felt. Her feet weren’t even touching ground so when he kicked his bag and stepped forward, she went with him. Another kick and the door slammed closed.
She pulled away after her lips, tongue, and hands had their fill, breathless and struggling to get her heartbeat back to normal. He smiled brilliantly and those deep dark eyes began to gleam with amusement. “I’ll take that as, yes, please come in.”
“Yes, please come in … and don’t spare the lips.” He apparently accepted those terms, because she found herself bent backward at the waist having the daylights kissed out of her. It wasn’t frantic this time, but instead slow and thorough. It weakened her knees and made things pull urgently deep in her body. “Will that do?”
She smiled and sighed. “That’ll do nicely. You came back.”
He nodded his head once, almost a bow. “I came back.”
Then she remembered and her words took on a worried tone. “Not just for your glove, I hope?”
His brows raised and he stepped back one more pace so that her hands barely reached around his neck. “You have my glove? Where’d you find it? I’ve been trying to track it for hours but haven’t had any luck.” She looked down and finally noticed he already had on a glove, and the opal rested nicely in the hole. He looked around for it eagerly and she felt a bit of sadness invade the happiness when she walked to where her jacket hung on the hook and took it from her pocket.
“Here you go. It was in Sela’s room. They came back while we were in Vril. Took all the eggs from the refrigerator, and left this stuck on the bed frame.” She really didn’t want to consider how it came to be stuck there, since … well, eww! With Vegre? “Is that all you needed? I have a bunch of new information, but I don’t want to tell you just to have you laugh at me.”
His face moved from amazed to stricken as he took the glove and then he picked up her hand and pressed it to his lips with eyes closed. It was less than a kiss, and more. Just that expression and action did more to lessen her annoyance with him than if he’d brought a dozen roses.
He kept holding her hand even after his lips left it. “You were right all along, so I want to hear anything you have to say. I want to stop Vegre, and the only way to do that is here in Denver … with you.” She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. “I have to warn you, though. I left without permission. I’m supposed to be gating to London just about now, but I needed to be here to prove you right, so I snuck out. I don’t know what they’ll do to me if they catch me. I can’t guarantee I’ll survive a king’s anger. The O.P.A. is part of the military, and they don’t treat deserters very well.”
He went AWOL? Just to prove her right? “Oh. Um, I—”
He shook his head and put a finger to her lips. “Don’t say anything. I made my choice, Mila. If it turns out we’re right, all will be forgiven … I think. But there’s a really good chance it’ll be forgiven, so I’m going with that.” He looked around the room, probably noticing all the small details that had changed while Bryan and the others were installing the magnets. “What’s been happening here? Why are you still even awake at this hour?”
He took off his cloak and heavy sweater to reveal a form-fitting uniform that looked like it was silk, but was too thick. The sleeves ended just below the elbow, leaving those lovely, muscular forearms bare. She pulled her drooling gaze away long enough to show him the eggs that people had delivered. A few of them started to glow the moment he was near. That’s when Viktor’s words came back to her and she slapped the palm of her hand repeatedly against her forehead. “He asked whether you were in the room when the first one went off, not me! The eggs respond to crafters, magicworkers, not the artist. Duh.”
It gave her hope, because the pysanky that had responded to Tal had mage symbols nearly identical to the ones she’d made for the Tree … and to the one on his arm. And since he didn’t have blood from any other guild, which Jason had mentioned, the others naturally wouldn’t react to him. She started lining up the eggs with similar patterns and yes—there were four of each. That would repair the other three Trees, plus the master Tree—wherever it was.
She yawned again, involuntarily and with her hands full she had no choice but to let him see the fillings in her wide open mouth. “God it’s been a long day.”
“What all have you done around here? It looks like you’ve been busy.”
She nodded, because she had been. She gave him a tour, including Sela’s door and the trip wire, and even explained what had happened when she’d said the healing incantation.
He picked up the iron ladle and shook his head. “I can’t imagine how it would work, but a great number of our spells are from the region. I bear a name from that stock myself, although I’m not aware of any full humans in my family tree. Just to be safe, though, I think I should cast a few protection charms on the doorway.”
He brought his hand forward, stiff-armed like she remembered Sela doing on that first day. “Oh!” Mila exclaimed loud enough for the sound to echo. Tal turned his head before he could cast. “That reminds me.” She told him all about her visit to the hotel with Candy, and seeing Sela. But especially seeing Sybil. “I’m afraid they might be planning to use her as a hostage in case you arrive.”
He let out a growl and drummed on the wall with his fingertips. “They’ll try to use her as leverage, at least. But finding the pysanky around the hotel has given us valuable knowledge. I think our best bet is to go straight to the hotel and see if we can destroy those eggs.”
She nearly whimpered as her shoulders dropped. “I can barely move after everything that’s happened today, Tal. Remember that I was up hours before you, making pysanky.”
He stopped and looked at her then, really looked. She knew what he was seeing because she’d already looked in the mirror last time she went to the bathroom. Her skin was pale, and there were wide, dark bags under her eyes. Every inch of her felt like great weights were attached that she would have to drag forward with each step she took. “You’re right. You need sleep. Go to bed. I’ll take care of it. I can use a cloaking spell to avoid being seen by the hotel staff.”
She looked him up and down. “Um, have I mentioned that you look like shit, too? You have mud all over your cloak and there are bruises on your face and arms. What exactly happened to you on the way from Vril to here?”
He rolled his eyes and looked at one particularly nasty bruise near his elbow that also was covered with tiny abrasions, like it was a rug burn. “Sheer stupidity on my part, I’m afraid. I underestimated the security system at the library. The gate from the butcher shop still worked, but I didn’t want to wait until morning to get out.”
She winced. “You really didn’t go out the fire door, did you?”
He shook his head. “Thought about it, but it was locked. I figured a simple cloaking spell would be perfect to reach the front door or an employee entrance.” He chuckled with self-deprecation. “Not so. It didn’t occur to me that they would protect mere books with a laser grid that would trip a silent alarm.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow. Wouldn’t occur to me, either. So the cops came?”
He nodded. “Fortunately, they have no magicwielders on the force, or someone would have felt the spell. But in my hurry to leave, I slipped on a patch of ice and went face first into the street. Nearly got hit by a passing snowplow before I could roll out of the way.”
It was one of those stories that got funnier the more she tried to visualize it, so she forcibly banished it from her mind before she laughed openly. But she couldn’t erase the smile. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said with a shake of his head and frustrated chuckle. “In a day or two it’ll be funny to me, too. But for now it just hurts, and neither of us have the strength to heal it. So I think you’re correct that I should get some sleep, too. Let’s get the spells laid and retire.”
And let’s get the Mila laid, too. Before we retire. She didn’t say it out loud, because he had already returned to his casting pose. “Trywoha … ataka … bezpeka.” She saw color glow in the opal and felt a gentle wave of warmth flow over her. It was a soft, comforting sensation and made her mind a little fuzzy. But it was during that moment she noticed Tal’s birthmark glowing. But it flickered oddly in the middle, where it was only a shadow, rather than a solid line.
She didn’t want to distract him until he was done casting, but the moment he lowered his arm, she stepped closer and picked it up. “Does this always glow when you’re doing magic?” He nodded and she felt her brow furrow as she fingered the mark. The skin where it was faded felt different than the surrounding skin, and she suddenly recalled Viktor’s words. “Has there ever been a king named Reginald down there?”
He looked at her oddly. “That’s the king of Rohm, where I live.”
“Has he been king since before your parents died?”
Tal pursed his lips and shook his head. “No. His father, King Edward, ruled until I was about thirty. But Reginald’s had the throne ever since.”
She wasn’t really speaking to Tal, but her words reached air anyway, instead of just appearing in her mind. “Then why would he want to mutilate you?”
Now Tal pulled his arm away and looked at it, as though searching for whatever she was seeing. “What are you talking about?”
She let out a deep breath and tapped the side of her mouth as she thought. “When you went to get the scrolls at Viktor’s, he told me that he knew your parents and that the guild was thrilled when you were born because they had high hopes for you. But then Prince Reginald mutilated you and everyone was sad. Have you ever noticed the skin feels different where your mark is really faint?”
Now he was staring at it, too, and touching it lightly with a curious look on his face. “I have noticed that, but never thought much about
it. I can’t imagine why the king would do something like that. I’m not in line for the throne, and none of my family has even a drop of royal blood. Reginald’s family has reigned over the mages since the world was new, and became ruler of Rohm when Agathia was created. As far as I know, there’s never been an attempt to overthrow him, nor any scandals that might make him see me as any sort of threat. But—” He, too, was now musing out loud. “It would explain why I’m so long lived. Nobody has been able to adequately explain why a mage of my limited ability has existed for centuries. Normally, long life is reserved for the powerful born.”
That gave her an idea. “Well, Viktor suggested that I’d do your people a great service if I could heal you. But I haven’t a clue how. I would have thought that’d happen when I healed you earlier. But when I gazed you, I didn’t notice that area as needing healing.”
He shrugged. “I can do magic just fine. I’m not a particularly powerful caster, but I’m above most.”
“Still, if we could bring you up to full power, we’d have a better chance against Vegre and Sela. Right?” She shook her head, her thoughts growing muddy. “But my brain isn’t working right now, so let’s sleep on it and try a healing again in the morning.” She yawned again and this time it was catching. Tal’s mouth opened wide enough that she heard his jaw pop lightly.
He winced and rubbed the area. “Falling face first to the pavement didn’t help my physical condition. I may take you up on the offer of a healing in the morning. But for now—” He reached out his hand and wiggled his fingers, so she slipped hers into his waiting grasp. “I want to feel your skin against mine while I fall asleep.”