Dangerously Charming (18 page)

“Eek!” Jenna said, grabbing Mick's arm involuntarily. “Is that a dragon?” she asked in a quieter tone, hoping not to attract its attention.

Too late. “A dragon?” the lizard said in a deep husky voice, sounding indignant and slightly British. “Do you see any wings, young lady?” He glared down his outsized snout at her. “Dragon, indeed. How rude.”

Jenna could feel Mick's chest shaking; she had a feeling it was laughter and not fear, and relaxed a little bit. Although not much, since the lizard was
very
,
very
large and she'd clearly already said the wrong thing. Not a good idea when facing a creature whose teeth were longer than your forearm.

“I apologize for my companion,” Mick said, sliding off the horse and executing a graceful bow in the lizard's direction. His expression was perfectly composed as he helped Jenna down, too, but the corner of his mouth was twitching ever so slightly. “She's new around here.”

The lizard huffed, causing more smoke rings to create curlicue clouds in the air above his massive head. “Ignorance is no excuse for rudeness, my lad. Dragon. Pfft. I will have you know that I am a descendant of the great gorgonopsid, the most dangerous lizard species that ever roamed the other side of the doorway. Dragons cower before me.”

“Don't tell that to my friend Chudo-Yudo,” Mick suggested. “Although I am sure that lesser dragons find you very intimidating.”

“Hurumph,” the lizard said, apparently mollified for the
moment. “Friends with Chudo-Yudo, are you? Then you know the Baba Yagas?”

Day bowed again, but Jenna could see the smile sliding out of his eyes, leaving them misty blue with sadness. “I know them well, sir. My name is Mikhail Day, and I am—that is, I was—the White Rider. My companion's name is Jenna. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The lizard gave a brisk nod. “Bob.”

“Excuse me?” Mick said. Jenna wondered if the creature was ordering Mick to bow again, although it seemed an unlikely way to do so.

“Bob. My name is Bob,” the lizard repeated. “I have heard of the Riders, of course, but I rarely leave this valley. I believe you are the first one I have met.”

Jenna thought Mick looked relieved that Bob the lizard wasn't familiar with the story of his current situation, although she would have felt better if the giant reptile weren't completely blocking their path forward, and showing no signs of moving.

“I couldn't help but notice that you seemed to be in some distress before we came around the corner,” Mick said, undoubtedly thinking the same thing. “Is there anything we can do to assist you, before we get on our way?”

Jenna hoped that Bob's problem didn't have anything to do with wanting an unusual entrée for lunch.

Bob patted his waistcoat pockets, his long snout wrinkling so that his white teeth were even more obvious. “I seem to have misplaced my pipe, as it happens. I am quite desolated.”

Both Jenna and Mick swiveled their heads around, looking for the missing object, but there was nothing obvious to be seen.

“Isn't a pipe rather redundant for a lizard who can breathe fire?” Jenna asked. “Not that I'm criticizing, or anything. Pipes can be quite distinguished.”

“Whatever is she talking about?” Bob asked Mick. “What does a pipe have to do with fire?”

Mick blinked. “Uh, you weren't looking for the kind of pipe you smoke tobacco in? Or, I don't know, a hookah?”

Bob's tiny eyes narrowed even further. “What on earth would I want such a silly thing for? No, I am looking for my bagpipe. It is a lovely day, and I was in the mood to make a bit of music.”

A bagpipe. Oh, sure, that makes
so
much more sense.
Jenna glanced around again and noticed what looked like a deflated green balloon peeking out from underneath a bush of almost exactly the same hue. “Is that it?” she asked, pointing in the bush's direction.

“My pipe!” Bob cried in a clarion voice that shook a birdlike creature off a nearby branch. “There it is!”

He stomped over to the bush and pulled out a giant set of bagpipes that still looked small in his clawed hands. Instantly, he set them to his lipless mouth and took a deep breath, ignoring Mick and Jenna completely as he focused all his attention on the instrument. After a few discordant notes, a cheerful tune began to take form. As they rode on, carefully skirting Bob's immense tail, they were followed by the droning sound for miles. Bob was actually surprisingly good, considering he'd never been to Scotland.

As they sat around yet another campfire that evening after a meal made up of things that bore even less resemblance to the food she knew than the apple she'd eaten, Jenna stared into the crackling black and maroon flames and gnawed on her lip as she worried.

“If you're still hungry, I could probably find some nice roots by the riverbank we passed,” Mick teased. “Mind you, some of them insist on yodeling while you eat them, but you get used to that after a while.”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “Very funny,” she said. “I'm just thinking.”

Mick scooted closer to her, so they were sitting near enough to touch, although they didn't. In fact, Jenna had been careful to keep her distance as much as possible since the
night they'd made love. Or he was keeping his distance from her. It was hard to tell. Better to think it was mutual.

“What?” he asked. “I can tell something is bothering you. If you're fretting about our being seen by someone, I can assure you that I haven't caught so much as a glimpse of anyone since we passed those first few small huts the day we got here. Plus Bob, of course, but he didn't strike me as the chatty type. And as far as I know, none of the more predatory denizens live out in this direction. I think we're pretty safe.”

“That's not it,” Jenna said. To be honest, her biggest concern wasn't that she might be in danger from any of the Paranormal creatures, no matter how odd and ominous some of them could seem. Something about having Mick around made her feel protected. At least from the more obvious threats.

“Then what is it?” he asked. “You've been quiet all day.”

Jenna put her hands over her belly, which seemed slightly rounder than it had been. She was surprised by how fierce she felt about defending this little being she hadn't even met yet.

“I'm just worried about what being in the Otherworld might be doing to my baby,” she admitted. “They have all kinds of warnings on medicines and booze and cigarettes back home, but nobody seems to have put a handy label on the Otherworld listing possible side effects.”

Mick chuckled. “Well, we don't get a lot of babies here, so they probably haven't done enough studies to be sure. But I'm certain it's okay. You don't feel sick, do you?”

“Actually, I feel pretty good, now that I've moved out of the morning-sickness phase,” she said. “Oh!”

Mick shifted closer to her faster than she could see him move, leaning in but still not touching. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing,” Jenna said in a marveling voice. “I just felt the baby kick for the first time.”

His thick brows drew together. “Isn't it a little early for that? I admit, I haven't spent a lot of time with pregnant women, but I thought it started with a little flutter, and even that came later.”

Jenna pressed her hand against her belly, waiting to see if it happened again. “I'm pretty sure the fluttering thing is supposed to happen around the fourth month, and I'm not quite there yet. I don't know about the kicking. Maybe I imagined it.” She rubbed her stomach again, as if doing so would encourage a response.

“To be honest, I had to abandon the one baby book I bought in order to make enough room for my grandmother's journals and notebooks, so I might be confused about the timing.” There was a tiny movement under her fingers, subtle but unmistakable. “No! There it is again!” She giggled a little, both thrilled and slightly intimidated by the experience. “I have to admit, I don't really know anything about pregnancy and babies. I was so sure I'd never need the information.”

Mick held out his hand hesitantly and then withdrew it again. He peered at her through the dim quasi-night. “It must be tough,” he said quietly. “Being pregnant when you never wanted a baby.”

Jenna shook her head. “On the contrary. There is very little I wanted more. Maybe because you always want what you can't have, or maybe just because it is built into the genes, I don't know. But I always avoided pregnant women because seeing them made me so sad and jealous. Petty, I guess, but there you have it.”

“I don't think that's petty at all,” Mick said, and there was something odd about the tone of his voice.

“Did you ever want children?” she asked.

“It was never a possibility,” he said, and she thought she recognized the tone now as the same slightly wistful note that used to color her own words on the subject, on the rare occasions she spoke about it.

“Why not? I can't imagine there was a shortage of women who would have offered to be your baby mama.”

Mick grimaced, although she thought it was more for her use of silly slang than anything else.

“It's not that,” he said. “None of the Riders could have
children. Maybe it is simply that our father didn't see fit to design us that way, but it is also true that Paranormal creatures usually can't crossbreed with Humans, and they can only mate with their own kind to produce offspring. My brothers and I are the only ones of our kind, at least that we know of. Presumably other gods produced children as our father did, but we have never met any other demigods in all our travels.”

He ran one large hand through his long blond hair. “The gods usually only had children when they needed them for some particular reason, such as creating the Riders to be companions to the Baba Yagas. Apparently, doing so took a lot out of them, and most of them didn't want to lose even a fraction of their power.”

Jenna was so astonished, she could feel her mouth drop open, and she had to force herself to shut it with a
snap
. “But mythology is full of stories about the Greek gods mating with Humans right, left, and center,”

Mick rolled his eyes. “Oh, well, the Greeks,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“If you don't mind my asking,” Jenna said, not wanting to raise a sore subject, but too curious not to, “did you and your brothers mind not being able to have children of your own?” She sure as hell minded—every single day until the impossible happened.

“We never discussed it,” he said, as if it was normal for such an important topic never to have come up in centuries spent together.

Men.

“No?”

“I was always a bit sorry, myself,” Mick said, looking down at the ground as though it held some fascinating clue to the questions of the universe. “I like children. I've enjoyed being around the Babas in training when they were young. You'd never believe it to see her now, but Barbara was cute as a button.”

He sighed, and added so quietly she barely heard it, “One
of the things I regret the most about everything that happened is that now I won't be able to watch Barbara's little Babs grow up. I just don't feel right being around the Baba Yagas anymore, now that I'm not a Rider.”

“But you could still be a friend,” she said.

“It doesn't work that way.”

“Why not?”

“It just doesn't,” he said, as if the last bell had tolled on the subject.

“You're being ridiculous,” she said, not able to understand how he could walk away from brothers he'd spent over a thousand years with, when she would do anything to get back the one she'd never even had a chance to meet. Not to mention the Baba Yagas, who seemed as close as family. “And stubborn.”

“And you're butting your nose into something that is none of your business. Just drop it.”

Jenna put her hands over her belly and patted it gently, then they both sat in silence, staring into the fire and thinking their own thoughts until it was time to curl up in their bedrolls to sleep. More separate than ever, alas.

EVENTUALLY,
they arrived at the edge of a small lake. The landscape was sere and silent, with few birds and little wildlife. There were some reeds and cattails, which actually made a quiet purring noise as Day petted them in passing, and some dry grasses, but not much else other than rocks and sand. Near the shore was a small brown hut with windows that looked as though they'd been made from some kind of shell, like an iridescent bubble stretched not quite flat.

There was no smoke rising from the chimney; in fact, no signs of habitation at all. The hut could have been deserted for years, and Day began to worry that they had made the long trek for nothing.

“It doesn't look like anyone is here,” Jenna said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. It was that kind of place where hushed tones felt appropriate. Her face fell. “What do we do now?”

But as they approached the hut, the curtain hanging over the low doorway was swept aside and a slim, handsome man
stepped out. He was of medium height, with long ebony hair pulled back in a tail, a Fu Manchu mustache, and dark slanted eyes set in a face with flat cheekbones that reflected his Mongolian heritage. As always, his expression was calm but closed, giving Day no hint as to what was going on behind those dark eyes. He still wore the head-to-toe red clothing he'd always favored, but he'd traded in his leathers for loose silk trousers and tunic, and instead of boots his feet were bare.

He and Day stared at each other for a minute, and then Gregori said, “It took you long enough, brother,” and held the curtain aside to invite them in. Day heard Jenna let out a sigh of relief.

The interior of the hut was as austere as the exterior. It couldn't have been more than about twelve feet square and most of that space was empty. The walls seemed to have been formed out of some kind of mud, smoothed more or less flat, and the floor was rough wooden planks covered with woven reed rugs. In contrast to the usually colorful Otherworld, it was a monochromatic brown and tan, although not unpleasantly so. Peaceful, Day would have called it. Neat, certainly. A nice cave to hide out in, even, if one was in the mood for hiding. He knew the feeling.

Gregori pulled a couple of flat cushions from a plain wooden chest for them to sit on at a low stone table, and poured tea from a kettle sitting on a tiny stove. Day could see a tiny orange salamander curled up underneath the stove, keeping it hot, which was undoubtedly why they didn't see any smoke from the chimney. Salamanders were elemental creatures, usually volatile and hard to control, although this one seemed as content as any hound sitting at his master's feet.

Other than the chest and table, there was only a low platform in one corner that probably served as a bed, if the thin blanket resting on top was any indication, and a curved wooden bench near the stove. Even for Gregori, who tended toward the simple and unadorned, this place was drastic.
Peaceful it might be, but Day found it bleak and depressing. Hopefully his brother did not, since he seemed to have chosen to be there of his own free will.

Once they were all seated around the table, Day waved his hand to make the introductions. “Jenna, this is my eldest brother, Gregori. Gregori, this is Jenna.” He stopped for a second, stymied as to how to refer to her. “We're traveling together for the moment.”

Gregori raised an eyebrow at that but didn't say anything more than, “Welcome. It is very pleasant to meet you. Is this your first visit to the Otherworld?”

“Technically, my second,” Jenna answered. “I went with Mick and Barbara to see the Queen briefly, a little while ago. But I didn't get to see much of the lands here. Traveling through them this time has been . . . interesting.”

“I would expect so,” Gregori said. “Although there is very little of any note out here at the far reaches.”

Day appreciated that his brother was being gracious to Jenna, but he thought he detected a note of strain in his voice.

“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.”

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.”