Violet Abyss (A Blushing Death Novel Book 7)

by Suzanne M. Sabol

  “I was hoping you’d say that. It’s been a very long time since I got to play.” Waving her hand, she turned. The full skirts of her gown almost floated across the stone floor as she placed the Chalice on the table against the opposite wall.

  Turning, Baba Yaga met my gaze. “You have a good, healthy fear of me. Too many humans have forgotten. But not you, maya derogaya.” My dear one. A strange endearment from the Serpent of Winter but I wasn’t in a position to question her. The chains binding me to the wall were slowly strung tighter, stretching my arms and legs to the point of pain. My muscles burned and a soft pop in my ears momentarily distracted me from the shot of burning aguish that scorched through me as my right shoulder was yanked out of its socket.

  “I’m not your dear one,” I said between clenched teeth, trying desperately not to scream in agony.

  “Not yet.” She chuckled and her eyes met mine before the room shook, dragging me back and forth against the hard, sharp edges of the mountain wall. Clothing and skin tore as I was shifted across sharp rocks at my back. A warm coating seeped down my back as blood oozed and the gator wound reopened. I couldn’t keep my eyes from tearing up at the pain. A slow smile crept across her face and from the corner of my eye, a moving film of black, red, brown, and yellow emerged from every corner of the room. Crawling and creeping across the craggy rock, millions of tiny legs moved toward me like a shroud.

  “This won’t work,” I cried a bit too sharply to be convincing. “I’m not afraid of spiders,” I hissed as they inched closer and closer making my skin crawl. I breathed in deep, taking in every scent that filled the stagnant air.

  “No? That’s too bad. Not even when they crawl into your nose and ear canal? Not when they lay their eggs inside your body?” She tsked at me, shaking her head. “You’re a better woman than I am.”

  In a muted roaring wave, millions of spiders from all directions collided into one large moving mass. They crawled up my legs, covering me in a swath of fur and legs. Under my clothes and across my skin, the prickling of moving appendages sent shivers up my spine. Then they reached my waist, higher and higher they climbed until tiny prickles of legs at my throat made my heart beat almost out of my chest. I took a deep breath, slammed my mouth closed and squeezed my eyes shut tight.

  It wasn’t until the first one crawled up my nose that I started to really panic. I blew hard through my nose to keep them out but there were too many and as I sucked one up higher into my nasal cavity and it squirmed around. I opened my mouth to cough and scream. Mistake. Spiders flooded my mouth and I thrashed, spitting and biting to keep my airways open. I didn’t care that the cuffs were burning against my wrists as I yanked and tugged. I didn’t care that my back was cut up from the sharp edges of the mountain behind me as I struggled. I didn’t care that with each movement, my shoulder burned with agony. All I could think about was a million little spider legs closing over me until I was completely consumed inside and out. I screamed again and something inside me broke. My magic roared to life in my defense, burning through my fingertips like a licorice scented fire. Dark fae magic ignited in me. Baba Yaga’s magic.

  I focused on that magic and the dark power it could summon. I did my best to ignore the millions of spiders crawling on me as it flared to life. I really really did. I focused on Josephine and what we’d practiced. It took longer than before and much longer than I’d hoped, but I shaped the dark magic in my mind, visualizing the long tunnel thick with the inky blackness of midnight. In my mind, I reached through the void, shoving my own consciousness down deep into the shadowy gloom where those beastly creatures lived in the Outer Realm. There, at the end, a single beam of light, then a second, and a third until I couldn’t distinguish one from another. As one, I called to them, tugging on the bond and asking for help. Like a swarm, their little ears perked up and their wings in multiple colors and hues fluttered with excitement, more pixies than I could count turned to face me as one swarm.

  “Come,” I whispered into the bleakness of that tunnel.

  A flash of light blinded me and with a ripple of power, I was sure had put a hole in my chest or my brain-I couldn’t tell which through all the pain, the room filled with pixies. Their wings flapped with a deafening roar in the quiet room like confined bats trapped in a cage. Giggling and chirping, the pixies dove for the spiders, picking them off with glee as they munched and ate them down. I coughed and spat, clearing my throat of the creepy bastards. The pixies, beautiful and terrible in their efficiency, devoured every last one until they turned on me, looking for more.

  “Very good,” Baba Yaga twittered as she clapped her hands in amusement. Stepping forward through the horde of pixies, the ancient witch shooed them away and forced them back into nothingness as if swatting a pesky fly. “I am pleased with you devooshka.”

  “Pleased enough to give me the Chalice and let me go?” The quaver in my voice was too telling. I was exhausted and still feeling every ache and pain I’d acquired. My throat hurt from coughing up spiders, my sinuses burned from trying to snort them out, I was starting to lose feeling in my fingers, and I just wanted to go home.

  “Nyet,” she said simply and snapped her fingers.

  Bright white flames erupted from the center of the room. Out of nothing and feeding on nothing, the fire grew. Heat licked at my skin and sweat beaded over my entire body. My wrists beneath the cuffs grew slick as my sweat mixed with the blood I’d shed. In the center of the flames, Baba Yaga stood. Watching me, she cocked her head as if waiting for the pony to perform a trick.

  That’s when I understood. That bitch was testing me. I’d never wanted to kill someone so much in my life. Baba Yaga needed me, which was true, so maybe she wouldn’t kill me. I honestly wasn’t sure about that. But she wanted to see what I’d learned. If I was worthy. She wanted to see how strong I had become. The fucking BITCH!

  Embodying the cool power of the grave, I could use Patrick’s icy power. I’d done it once to freeze a horde of zombies where they stood but it had been raining and I’d used the preexisting environment. There was nothing here to use and the fire was quickly eating up the oxygen. My head felt light, my heart raced, and my vision grew cloudy around the edges as the oxygen left the space. She would keep feeding it until I burned to death or gave in. She was an asshole like that.

  In a flash of brilliance or oxygen deprivation-I’m not sure which, I gathered the last of my mental capabilities, drew on the Fertiri magic binding Patrick, Dean, and myself together and forced a blood wall into existence. I shaped it, stretched it, and forced it wider until it encircled the fire in a blood-red dome. I’d never controlled it like this before. I’d thrown it up and then released it. I’d never tried to bend the size and shape with my will. Ever so slowly and painfully, I shrunk the dome down until the blood wall blinked into nothingness and the flames disappeared with it. Once the fire was out, leaving behind the blackened remnants of scorched stone, Baba Yaga stepped closer to me. Nose to nose, she met my gaze.

  “So much power in such a fragile human.”

  “Are we done yet?” I snapped, frustrated, tired, and hurting.

  “Why in such a hurry?” she asked teasingly.

  “You know why,” I snarled. She knew I needed to be back, helping Dean and Patrick with Konyam. I had to rescue Ev and deal with Varick. There was still so much to do and I didn’t have time to be playing Baba Yaga’s silly game of cat and mouse. Plus, this just sucked and I wanted to go home. And she knew it.

  “Da, da. Your puppy,” she spat as if Ev didn’t matter.

  “Yes,” I hissed. “My puppy, and my friends, and the people I love. They’re all back there fighting without me.” I jerked against my bonds, tugging on the chains bolted to the craggy stone wall. I was stretched too tight and my muscles and joints ached with the pressure as my body dangled just a few painful inches off the ground.

  “They’
ll need to learn to survive without you,” she said with a smile.

  “I want my Chalice,” I said. It was mine, I could feel it in my bones as the memory of its power flashed through me. Baba Yaga may have it, but she would never be able to harness its magic. That’s why she needed me.

  “This is another reason I like you, devooshka. You are terrified. I can smell it on you like the delicious scent of rotting flesh. But you don’t let it show. That is why you are so valuable. What do they call it? Scratty?”

  I narrowed my gaze at her, furrowing my brow in confusion until her attempt at a colloquialism finally clicked in my mind. “Scrappy?”

  “Da, scrappy! I like it.”

  “I’m glad,” I snorted, thrashing against the chains again.

  “So eager to leave when there is so much I could teach you.” She shrugged as if my presence in her mountain meant nothing to her. She snapped her fingers.

  Hot, rank breath, reeking of death and decomp saturated the cavern. I gaged on the stench as a deep rumbling growl reverberated off the closed cavern walls. Large paws with claws as black as midnight dug at the ground and I scanned up . . . and up . . . and up until my brain short-circuited with what I saw. I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, I’d killed a dragon for fuck’s sakes. But I was tired and not really prepared.

  A large dog with calico fur in rich browns, oranges, and stark whites and four bright red eyes stared down at me. White, foaming saliva drooled from large, sharp yellow teeth in both mouths. A two-headed monster dog snarled back at me. Yep, two fucking heads.

  “Orthrus,” Baba Yaga called, stepping up beside the two-headed dog and stroking down its neck. The monster dog drew back its lips, snarling at me as it inched closer. “Poor thing. Suffered millennia upon millennia at the hands of the sluagh and Hades. They had such fun with him.” She petted him again, scratching behind his ears. “Isn’t he cute?”

  “Not the word I would use,” I answered carefully.

  The dog growled again and took a step closer.

  “Are you hungry Orthrus? Did you need a little human snack?” Baba cooed.

  The two-headed dog inched closer and his disgusting breath turned my stomach as it filled the air. The closer Orthrus got, the more his rank breath overtook every other scent and became the only air I could breathe.

  Without thinking, my wolf moved forward in my mind and a soft growl vibrated in my chest. If that damned dog attacked, there wasn’t a thing I could do to keep him from eating me. My wolf, however, wouldn’t give up without a fight and neither would I.

  My eyes turned silver and shone as bright as day in the dimly lit cavern. My growl deepened as silver burst from my fingertips into sharp claws. I fought my wolf’s desire to shift into her form. I knew, the way I was strung up, if I shifted, it would hurt much worse, doing more damage than I could heal and still fight. I’d be more vulnerable than I already was. I also knew that this game Baba Yaga was playing wasn’t physical. She wanted me to use my power, my mind, and who I was.

  Meeting the dog’s gaze, both of them, I stared him down until he knew exactly which one of us was dominant. I made the monster dog see me and my wolf.

  Slowly, his lips fell and the snarl died. He cocked one head and then the second in opposite directions. Dipping one head close, he sniffed from my feet up. Inhaling deep, the dog took in my scent. When he reached my hands and sniffed the claws extended from my fingers, he darted out his tongue and licked the blood from my arm.

  A soft, submissive whimper echoed in the cavern as the monster dog backed away and laid down, his heads at my feet. He snorted once from each nose and glanced from me to Baba Yaga and back again.

  The ancient witch clapped her hands and shrieked with delight. The cuffs snapped open, and I fell unceremoniously to the ground. My knees crashed to the stone floor and I caught myself on my left hand before I cracked my head open, favoring my right shoulder. The monster dog licked my face with both tongues and I sighed in resignation. I was going to need a shower anyway. Why not be covered in smelly dog spit too? My legs were wobbly as I got to my feet. My arm shook and I cradled it against my body. My heart raced, pounding ferociously in my throat. Just to top it off, my lungs burned from the fire, the rank dog breath, and the exertion of being strung up. All things considered, I was alive so I felt pretty good.

  “Are we done?” My voice was deep and husky, my throat still sore from the spiders. Anger made each word sharp as I spoke through clenched teeth.

  “For now,” she chirped.

  I opened my mouth to say something bitchy and biting. Before I could, the cavern blinked out of existence. In a moment, I was back in the French Quarter. On my hands and knees. With the gleaming, golden chalice resting in front of me, I found myself on a pile of rubble where Celeste’s apartment used to be.

  Chapter 41

  “Patrick!” I called, my voice hoarse as sirens blared in the background. “Dean!” I couldn’t hide the panic making my voice sharp. I snatched the Chalice up and on unsteady legs, got to my feet on uneven ground.

  “Here,” Dean called in a gruff, strained voice.

  Turning and trying not to fall on my ass, I caught a glimpse of Dean hauling large chunks of debris over his shoulder and tossing them aside like they were pieces of trash.

  “Where’s Patrick?” Glancing around, I didn’t see him anywhere and my heart began to thunder in my ears as I panicked. Dean grunted as he tossed another handful of bricks over his shoulder.

  “About six feet down,” Dean groaned with another load.

  “What?” I shrieked as I fell to my knees and started digging with my good arm.

  “Place caved in on him when he went to get people on the first floor.” Dean took one look at me, my drooping shoulder and clutched me with both hands. “Take a deep breath.” Before I could ask why, he shoved my shoulder joint back into place. Fire burned for a moment and then eased.

  “Thanks,” I sighed, and Dean turned back to digging out Patrick.

  One brick at a time, I flung the building over my shoulder. My lungs burned once again as I breathed in dirt, plaster dust, and disintegrated mortar. My fingers throbbed, I broke my nails down to the quick, and I cut my flesh as I dug through remnants of what used to be people’s homes. My knees ached from kneeling on uneven ground as sharp edges and rebar dug into me. None of that mattered.

  “Patrick! Patrick! God damn it! Answer me!” I shouted, angry at him, at me, at Dean, and at the world. I could still feel him in the pit of my stomach but I couldn’t tell if he was okay, in pain, or on the verge of death. And that scared the hell of me.

  “Pat, answer her before she has a stroke,” Dean growled.

  “I’m,” Patrick croaked, sounding distant and muffled, “I’m okay.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered as the knot in my stomach loosened. I reached down to grab more bricks but my hands were shaking.

  “Baby, I’ll get it. Step back a minute,” Dean said, his voice a quiet plea. Meeting his gaze, for the first time, I really looked at him. His face was covered in white dust and sweat drenched his shirt and pants. His gray T-shirt was covered in blood and dirt. I was pretty sure some of it was his blood but there was someone else’s blood too. I leaned back and collapsed on my ass, clutching the chalice against my chest.

  “Besides the shoulder, you all right?” Dean asked, mentally feeling his way down our mate bond.

  I nodded and focused on the hole he was digging. “Yeah. Reopened the gator wound though. Baba Yaga is a bitch, by the way.”

  “Knew that already.”

  A strong, alabaster hand covered in blood and dirt reached up through the rubble and I thought my heart might stop. Reaching out, I grasped Patrick’s hand in mine and pressed my face against it. In the background, police sirens grew louder and I knew we were a few minutes away
from being caught in a whirlwind of humans and paperwork.

  “Hurry,” I hissed. “We’re running out of time.”

  “I know. I know,” Dean growled as he reached down through the mess of brick, plaster, and steel with both hands. “Help me,” he growled and I leaned in to grab what I could. “Not you,” he barked at me.

  “Oh,” I snorted, a little annoyed at the sharpness of his tone.

  “I’m trying,” Patrick growled from underneath God knew what.

  “Damn it!”

  I gasped at the language. Dean never swore. His shoulders tightened and he gritted his teeth as he ripped Patrick free.

  Tugging on both their shirts, I got to my feet. “Come on, let’s go before the cops show up.”

  Dean cradled Patrick against him with something clutched in his arms as we hobbled away and toward the SUV. Dean dug the keys from his jeans pocket and tossed them to me. I hit the unlock button on the fob and jumped in the driver’s seat. Dean helped Patrick into the back seat and climbed in behind him.

  “Is he hurt?” I asked.

  From the backseat, soft groans and sharp hissing echoed in the silence. I started the engine and drove away from the curb. The two of them were mumbling back and forth, keeping their voices intentionally low so I couldn’t hear what they were saying. The bastards.

  “Hey,” I shouted, giving the brakes a pump to send Dean slamming into the back of the front passenger seat. “Answer me!”

  “Sweetheart,” Patrick called, his tone strained. “I am not mortally wounded and will recover. But please refrain from any more sudden stops. I would appreciate it. .”

  A weight lifted off me and suddenly I could breathe again. We were okay. We had come out okay. “What the hell happened?” Glancing back in the rearview mirror, I caught Dean’s angry glare.

  “Konyam,” Patrick snarled. “When Baba Yaga stole you away with the Chalice, he . . . lost his temper.” Patrick groaned as I turned the corner and waited for the gate to open at the mansion.