Black Dalliances (A Blushing Death Novel) (17 page)

All eyes turned up to her as she stood from her perch on the bench. A giant mortar and pestle the color of midnight materialized from beneath her skirts.

Hopping on the mortar like a witch would ride a broom, she floated to the ground within ten feet of us.

A wave of magic rippled off of her as she approached, hitting me in the face so hard, I almost fell over. Damn! If the initial battering was just being in her proximity, I didn’t want to know what it was like when she actually used her magic. Dean’s steady hand on my shoulder kept me upright as the magic shoved and prodded at me, a wisp of shadow circling and claiming me into darkness.

“Fertiri, you say.” The witch scoffed. Discarding the mortar and pestle, she lumbered through the fire toward us, ignoring the flame as she approached.

Dean stepped completely in front of me, blocking the witch’s path. Stupid!

“Pup.” Baba Yaga growled a warning.

Dean growled back, a vicious and threatening sound.

The witch was too close for his liking. Hell, she was too close for my liking.

“Dean!” I placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think she means to harm us,” I whispered, not really believing it. The warmth of his power wrapped around me as a form of protection beyond the physical and Dean stepped away. Reluctant, yeah, but he stepped back just the same.

“I don’t like her,” he grumbled, shifting out of Baba Yaga’s way.

“I don’t like you either,” she said with a huff. Baba Yaga took the last few stiff steps to close the distance between us, towering over me by at least a foot. For an old hag, hunched over, she was huge.

I gripped my gun tight in my fist but it was Gladi in my other hand I knew would be the only weapon to stand a chance against Baba Yaga. She was too old, too strong, and still too widely believed in to be killed with mere bullets.

“He wants to keep me safe,” I said by way of an apology.

“But he can’t, can he?” She sniffed the air around me. Seeming to poke at my aura with her fingers, the witch stopped just short of touching the power that was just mine. “No. You are beyond the pup’s protection.”

“I don’t need someone to protect me,” I answered, throwing my shoulders back in determination.

“No?” she asked with a soft cock of her head, as if trying to make me out.

“No!” How many times did I have to prove to people I didn’t need them to protect me?

“Good,” she said, her Russian accent thick. “I’ll help you then.”

“Help me!” I wanted her far, far away from me and Dean. The longer she hung around, the more danger we’d be in.
Shit!
“I don’t need help,” I bit out through clenched teeth.

“Ah, but you do,” she said with a chuckle to her thick Russian words. “You are not armed for Likho. And now, the forest is shifting. You’ll not find your way,” she said, a smile as the trees uprooted themselves again and moved around her, shifting the entire look of the forest.

Damn it! She did that on purpose.

“I’m well-armed,” I said, careful not to ask a question as the trees rearranged themselves behind her. I also didn’t let her see my frustration. If she had some other weapon in mind, I needed to know. Worried, tired, angry, and cold, I was playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse without my full mental faculties with a witch that was probably older than the myths about her.

“Not properly,” she snickered.

“Okay,” I said, finally frustrated. “I’ll bite.”

She gawked at me like I’d sprung a second head as she took in my words and cringed at the expression.

“The weapon,” I said. “Why are mine wrong?”

“Ah,” she said with a sneaky smile curving her thin lips and exposing her toothless mouth. “Are you asking for my help?” she goaded.

A chill of trepidation ran up my spine and my gut twisted with dread. I’d let my anger get the better of me and now I was fucked.

My mind raced over our conversation, evaluating each and every one of her words. A wash of relief filled my stomach, settling the queasy feeling tightening my gut into painful knots. I let her see the cold depths in my eyes and gave her my best empty smile.

“I’m not asking. You offered to help,” I said, pleased with myself.

The witch’s cackle echoed through the empty forest with the shrill sound of her ancient voice. Goosebumps sped across my skin even under the Gore-Tex coat and too many layers to count as her laugh grated in my brain.

“You are Fertiri,” she said with a chuckle.

The sun inched its way above the tree line and the glimmer of light through the tall pines cast shadows over the forest floor. I couldn’t hide the fear making my palms sweat as the sun blared across the snow-covered ground. I just prayed Patrick was somewhere safe.

“You worry? The parasite and the pup are
your
power, not the other way around. They will destroy you in the end if you care for them. You’ll end like the last Fertiri if you love too much.” With a heavy sigh and a smile softening her black irises, Baba Yaga said, “Diana was a proper Fertiri. She understood.” Nostalgia crept into the witch’s voice, camouflaging her shrill tone with a wistfulness that sounded foreign and wrong from her toothless grin.

I wanted to ask but every question brought me closer to danger and I wanted out of this realm as clean as the freshly driven snow. My grandmothers had taught me better than to owe anything to Baba Yaga.

“You belong here with us,” the witch said with a thoughtful smile. “You are darkness inside. Like me.” She sneered as if she had a secret.

I didn’t like secrets, and I didn’t like the cold glare she focused on me. I wasn’t darkness or evil, no matter what she said.

“I help people,” I argued, but my own uncertainty quaked in my voice. Hadn’t I run for just the same reason? I’d run from the darkness inside and learned to accept that I was more than the monster. Maybe I was dark inside but I was more than that too. Shrugging her shoulders as if it wasn’t important, the witch ignored me. It didn’t matter to her and I didn’t care whether she believed me or not. I didn’t believe I was evil and neither did Dean. Patrick might at this point but that was for another reason entirely and we could sort that out after I got him back. I had to believe that everything could be sorted out, after I got him back.

Turning into the forest with her mortar and pestle following behind her like a faithful puppy, she lumbered away. She was leaving?

“Wait,” I called, suddenly desperate. “The weapon!”

She turned on me, an insidious smile tugging one corner of her mouth up. She waved her hand with a quick flip of her wrist and the ground rumbled beneath my feet, making me unsteady as I shifted to balance my weight. I shook and adjusted as the world moved beneath me. Rising from the smooth forest, a mountain formed and stretched into the clouds. Opening up, the ground split and tore as rocks collapsed, grass ripped, the world crumbled, and the air filled with its rich mossy scent of dislodged earth.

A cave stood open before me, its mouth a hole of pitch-black dark. My heart thundered in my chest and something about the unnaturalness of the darkness beyond the cave’s mouth tightened my gut with dread. The sun’s rays stopped at the edge as if even they were too frightened to enter.

“Look for the diamond in the rough,” Baba Yaga said with another shrill cackle. “That is the first piece.”

First piece of what?
I turned, but she was already gone. “Shit!” I gasped.

“Dahlia?” Dean asked.

I shook off my unease and turned to face him. His tanned brow was furrowed with concern and his broad shoulders were stiff, accentuating the hard line of his biceps folded over his bulky, muscular chest made even bigger by the Gore-Tex parka.

“We’re going in,” I said, glancing at the cave mouth. She’d told me to look for the diamond in the rough. I didn’t particularly like following Baba Yaga’s lead but she said I wasn’t armed properly. I’d walk through fire to save either Patrick or Dean and if Baba Yaga held the key, I’d follow her into Hell and back with a smile on my face to get it.

Dean stared around me to the cave mouth and then back at me. “You sure?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll get a torch,” he said with resignation.

A few minutes later, the camp was packed up. Each of us had a torch in our hands. We stepped into the darkness and a cold, arctic wind blew through my hair, biting my flesh through my clothes as if I wasn’t wearing them. As my skin turned brittle, my insides shivered at the unnatural cold sinking into my bones.

“I hate the Outer Realm,” Saeran grumbled as we stepped into the mouth of the cave.

Chapter 16

We trudged in silence for what seemed like hours as we drifted deeper and deeper into the dark, chilly abyss of Baba Yaga’s mountain. The soft echo of water dripped somewhere in the distance, making me shiver with unease. The cave’s ceiling and walls shrank gradually, closing in around us until the three of us were clustered close together walking single file.

Dean led, sandwiching me between himself and Saeran bringing up the rear. I’d rather have had Dean at my back but Saeran wasn’t leading the way into danger and Dean wouldn’t allow me to lead. So, here I was, stuck in the middle.

Dean stopped, and I stepped into a solid wall of muscle and bulk. His rich, musky scent filled my nose and a warm sense of home swelled in my being.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“The cave narrows again,” he said.

“So?” Saeran asked.

“Considerably,” Dean snapped.

Resting my hand on his back, his muscles rippled and tightened beneath my fingers. I wanted to touch him, just to make sure he was still there.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” I asked. Dean’s body heat seeped through his clothing and into my cold fingers but I could feel the tremble of his muscles as anger percolated under his calm surface.

“Thorns,” he said, his voice a soft growl vibrating through his back.

“Oh!” Peering around him, all I saw was the small circle of light flickering from his torch and darkness beyond.

“Shifting would be easier,” he said, his voice suggestive, his tone leading.

I knew where his mind had gone but I couldn’t shift. Saeran didn’t know I’d gained that power and Patrick needed to know first, if he was still alive. I squeezed Dean’s shoulder and shook my head just enough for him to see.

Sighing, Dean nodded and glanced behind me at Saeran. He tugged the shirt from his back and handed it to me, followed by the rest of his clothing. I tucked them tight in his pack and slung the additional weight over my shoulder.

Dean shifted as quick as smoke, shaking out his fur down his large body from head to tail. Running my fingers through his warm fur, I leaned down and slid the torch between his teeth. He snorted contentment through his nose as I scratched behind his ears and I laughed.

“Be careful,” I said, dousing my torch and filing in behind him on hands and knees.

Dean moved out first, illuminating the shrinking path before us by only a few feet. I crawled, following him into the darkness. At first, it wasn’t that bad. My hands, wrists, and knees ached from the hard surface but it was bearable. Behind me, Saeran grumbled in a language I couldn’t understand but I was pretty sure the tone meant he wasn’t having a good time either.

After another achingly long fifteen minutes or so, the first thorn pierced my calf and scrapped along my leg. “Ah,” I cried in a quick gasp, jerking back from the thorns. The pain was sharp and burned as the thorn ripped through the layers of clothing and into my flesh. Dean stopped in front of me with a soft, concerned whimper, nudging my shoulder with his snout.

“I’m fine,” I reassured him but the wound burned, sending a sharp fire through my veins that just wouldn’t ebb. The magic of Baba Yaga’s thorns blazed through my being and I wanted to cry out from the pain. “Shit, that burns,” I growled and motioned to Dean, urging him forward.

We crawled on. The thorns grew thicker, sharper, and longer. They pierced my flesh with their razor-sharp edges until I tasted blood from biting down on my lip so hard to keep from crying out, I broke the skin.

My face was stained with dirt and the tears I’d shed with each jab of those stupid fucking thorns. They caught in my hair, tore it from my head, sliced my clothing, and shredded my skin.

When I’d become part of the Pack after ingesting Danny’s
heart—thanks to Midnight Ash—I’d gained the ability to heal as the werewolves could. However, the wounds from the thorns weren’t healing. Baba Yaga’s magic seared through my veins until my heart pounded in my ears, tears streamed down my dirty face, blood coated my skin as I bled from a hundred little scratches, and my lungs ached with each breath I took.

Dean crawled on his belly, inching his paws forward. He’d been right. His thick fur was made for forest floors to keep briars, thorns, and prickles away from his skin. He crawled through the tiny opening without a scratch on him and I wished that I’d shifted with him, Saeran be damned.

I wanted to brush the tears from my cheeks but every move I made hurt that much more so I didn’t dare. Already covered in blood, the warm liquid seeped into my clothing and covered my skin in a thick, drying sheen.

Dean crawled ahead, leaving my eyes to readjust to the shroud of darkness that surrounded me. The light from Dean’s torch had disappeared beyond the pitch-blackness and my nose filled with thin, clean air. Dragging my tired, bleeding body through more thorns to catch up, I heard his voice echoing through the narrow cavern.

“Just a few more feet, baby, and you’re out,” he encouraged from what sounded like a wide-open space ahead and just out of reach. The scent of fresh water hit my nose. My heart pounded a ferocious beat in my chest, thundering against my ribs. I wanted to be out of the dark, out of this damned tunnel, and free of Baba Yaga’s thorns.

I reached through the tight hole lined with long, jagged thorns for salvation, not caring that they would rip the flesh from my bones. I knew Dean was human again and free of the thorns and that’s all that mattered. With him on the other side, there would be no more pain.

Squeezing through the hole coated in long, sharp thorns and slicing me up with each inch, I forced my body through an opening that wasn’t quite big enough. Dean clutched me under my arms, digging his fingers into the soft, wounded flesh around my shoulders and yanked me out. He clung to me in a tight hug, pressing my worn, bloody body against his warm nakedness.

“Are you okay?” he growled against my ear.

“Fine,” I breathed but my voice hitched in my throat as I held back the sob. Rearing back, he brushed my sweat-dampened hair from my face, smearing dirt, tears, and blood across my cheek.

“Mmm,” he groaned, not believing a word I said. “Sit,” he ordered.

I knew better than to argue with that tone. Collapsing down onto the ground next to the tunnel entrance as Saeran wiggled his way through, I filled my lungs with thin, cool air. I was exhausted and hurt like my entire body was burning just below the surface.

Dean dug out his clothing from the pack and slid back into them as Saeran slumped down next to me, seeming exhausted. Picking up the last remaining torch, Dean followed along the wall. He reached up and extended the light farther throughout the cavern as he went. One after another, he ignited each torch mounted along the walls and filled the room in a soft orange glow.

A small lake sprawled out before us, fed by several tributaries sprouting from holes in the mountain. Trickling water echoed across the high ceilings of the cavern we rested in as the lake rippled with the flow of water. The chilled air was saturated with the moisture from the underground lake and in the far corner of the cavern was a glittering white hill, reaching almost to the top. The mound sparkled in the glow of the torch light like crystals piled high.

After Dean circled the lake, he sat on the ground in front of me, ignoring Saeran beside me. He held the torch out, close to my face. The heat from the flames almost burned my skin but I didn’t care. It was nothing compared to the searing pain of Baba Yaga’s magic setting my blood on fire. Dean’s face was a grim line of anger and frustration as he evaluated me.

“You’re not healing,” he growled.

“I can feel that witch’s magic in each and every scratch, too,” I grumbled.

“She’s mixed her magic with your blood. What is she up to?” Saeran whispered, almost to himself.

Dean clasped my hand in his, forcing my palm open with his strong, thick fingers. He dropped a few tiny, crystallized rocks into my hand. I stared up at him with a question furrowing my brow. 

“What is it?”

“It’s the mound, has to be millions of these,” he whispered, closing my grip around them. I felt the burn as one of them touched an open wound and the pain of the crystal touching an open would made me jerk back in anguish.

Rough and heavy in my hand, I sniffed them but my mind was still fuzzy from pain, exhaustion, and fear. I finally gave up when my nose didn’t get me the answers I wanted and licked them.

“Salt?” I asked, staring at the mountain of sparkling rocks sitting like a giant white elephant in the cave. “She did say look for the diamond in the rough,” I huffed, exasperated.

“What are we looking for?” Saeran asked, dipping his hand in the water and splashing the cold liquid on his face.

“A weapon of some kind,” I said.

Dean glanced over at the hill of salt. “It’s two or three stories,” he said, his voice a warm grumble in my bones.

I sighed. Of course this wasn’t going to be easy. “It’ll take a while to sift through.”

“We should rest,” Dean protested.

“We should take stalk and regroup,” Saeran added.

“We don’t have time,” I snapped.

Dean growled at me, the sound rumbling low in his chest before he crawled back into the hole, head first. He ripped the thorn vines from the walls of the tunnel and tossed them into a neat pile behind him. Digging in his pack, he plucked the lighter from his pocket and lit the small pile of vines to a flickering blaze. I stared into the flames as Dean returned to his pack and removed the first-aid kit.

He yanked my hand roughly, jerking my arm to him as he scrunched the sleeve of the coat and layers up my arm. He twisted my arm around, counting the scratches crisscrossing my limb. Dabbing at the scratches with antiseptic from the kit, he ignored me as I held my breath with each stinging press of the cotton.

“I don’t like this. You’re still bleeding,” Dean said. He was used to me healing just as quickly as he did and concern etched deep in his furrowed brow.

“It burns,” I said, cringing. I didn’t know why I wasn’t healing but I had a feeling Baba Yaga and those stupid thorns were behind it.

“What’s next?” he asked, glancing over at Saeran.

The Fae King’s skin was clear and clean, free of scrapes and scratches just like Dean. I was the only one who wasn’t healing. Perfect!

“Damned Baba Yaga,” I whispered.

“Suggestions?” Dean asked, his voice indignant as his patience wavered. Concern shadowed his eyes, lighting those familiar irises with the vivid bright, clear, blue of his wolf.

My Eithina wanted to shift, sleep in the warmth of his wolf, rest, and heal. I couldn’t let her have what she wanted. Patrick needed us.

I peered over at the gigantic mountain of salt and sighed. “Whatever we need is in that pile. Baba Yaga wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of cutting me up without me having to dig in that damned salt. Just to rub it in and cause me more pain,” I huffed. This was going to hurt like a sonovabitch if I couldn’t find a way around it. I stared at the narrow flame and then glanced over at the lake. “It’s too bad we couldn’t dissolve the salt.”

“We might be able to do just that,” Saeran said, a concentrated look on his face. “If we can get that fire bigger and hotter, I can reroute the water over it and onto the mound.” Saeran tossed his long hair over his shoulder, crossed his legs in a yogi position, and relaxed by the fire.

“You can control water?” I asked, surprise making my voice an octave higher.

“Water and vegetation,” Saeran confirmed.

“That fire will have to be scorching to dissolve the salt on contact,” I said.

“It will be virtually impossible to get the water that hot,” Saeran added.

“Maybe not,” Dean tossed another vine on the fire. “Can’t hurt to try.”

Dean crawled back into the tunnel to rip more vines from the walls. He wouldn’t let me help since I still wasn’t healing and he didn’t want me anywhere near those thorns. I tried to relax, since he wouldn’t let me do anything else. It wasn’t working. I wasn’t the type to relax. The magic of Baba Yaga’s mountain felt uncomfortably familiar and I squirmed to shake the niggling feeling in the back of my head. I attempted to clear my mind and find my peace, find myself in everything that surrounded me. I missed the calm that filled me when Patrick was near, when I killed. All I felt was the heat of Dean’s power and the burning of Baba Yaga’s magic searing my insides.

My fingertips tingled with heat and power, making my bones hum with Dean’s energy as it tried to chase the chill away. I released the breath I’d been holding in a heavy rush of air to erase the unease percolating in the pit of my stomach. The flames danced and grew as my breath caressed the fire and the soft orange glow flickered white with my exhale.

Shit!

Dean piled more vines on the fire and I sat quietly, centering my power. I concentrated on the fire and Dean’s heat, drawing it into my center, mixing it with my energy, Dean’s essence, and Baba Yaga’s magic still flowing through my blood. I stilled myself with Patrick’s control, spindling all of it together inside me into a giant ball of energy I could control.

I opened my eyes and exhaled again across the flames. They danced higher, growing white-hot as they licked the air at my eye level.

“What’d you do?” Dean asked in awe.

I turned, whipping my head around to meet his fixated gaze behind me.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

“We’ll figure it out later,” he said, throwing more vines on the flames.

Drawing in another breath, I blew the fire hotter until the heat burned my eyes from proximity and I had to move back.

“Are you ready?” Saeran asked, standing at the edge of the lake. Glancing back at us over his shoulder, the fae King’s body went rigid and tall in the soft glow of the torchlight.

“Go!” Dean barked.