Dangerously Charming (22 page)

For a moment, it almost seemed as though it was going to work.

Then Jenna's heart filled with dread as she noticed the briars growing back up behind him, jagged thorns entwining to fill in the spaces he'd just cleared.

“Mick! You have to get out!” she yelled, but it was too late. The path behind him closed and fiery branches crept toward him, a few reaching out to wrap themselves around each booted ankle.

He hacked even faster, but Jenna could see the moment when the first thorn sank itself into the flesh of his arm, another grabbing at the wrist that held the now-useless sword. Flames spread up his clothing and nibbled at the edges of his long blond hair.

Mick struggled wildly, but she could see the panic rising in his eyes like a tide of madness as he felt himself being engulfed. She wasn't sure if his hoarse cry of agony had more to do with the inferno and sharp thorns that currently attacked him or the memories of the last time he was so helpless.

“Mick! Mick!” Jenna didn't know what to do, couldn't stand the idea of him dying in pain and terror because of her. She tore at the briars with her bare hands, trying hopelessly to reach him, tears of frustration and grief streaming down her face.

The tears sizzled when they touched the velvety red roses, and the wall of thorns quivered silently and then disappeared.

Jenna gazed around in amazement. One minute they were
fighting for their lives amid a living wall of writhing, burning branches and daggerlike thorns, and the next Mick stood a few yards away from her, completely unharmed. Only the lingering scent of rose petals remained behind to prove the wall had ever been there.

Mick patted at himself wildly, checking for the charring and wounds that had been there only moments before. His breathing was labored and his face pale; it took a clear effort for him to gather together the remnants of his shredded nerves, and even when he was done, Jenna could see the tremor in his large hands.

By now she knew him well enough to be certain that he would rather be torn apart by giant thorns than be seen by her in a moment of weakness, so she ignored his shaking and allowed him the space to pull himself together, when what she really wanted was to run to him and hold him close.

“Was it just an illusion all along?” she asked, staring pointedly at the tree and not at him.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Illusion it might have been, but I suspect it would have killed me nonetheless. It was a test. Apparently, you passed it.” Another breath. “I did not.”

“All I did was burst into tears,” Jenna said. “I don't understand how that was helpful.” She finally took another couple of steps closer. He was pale, but seemed otherwise back in control.

“It's
why
you burst into tears that seems to have made the difference,” he said, gazing at her thoughtfully. “I suspect if you had been crying for yourself, you would have burned up with me. Instead, you saved me.” He sounded both grateful and a tiny bit resentful, no doubt more comfortable doing the rescuing than being rescued. “Is the little turnip okay?”

“I think so.” Jenna put her hands protectively over her belly. In the moment, she had just reacted. If she had had more time to think it through, would she have risked her baby to save Mick? She had no idea.

She didn't want to think about it either. “We got past the first obstacle, but there is still the phoenix itself to deal with.”
She pointed up at the nest, proud to note that the finger she used was hardly trembling at all. “What do we do now?”

“Well,” Day said, thinking out loud. “The phoenix is entranced by music; maybe we can use that somehow to lure it off its nest.”

“Great,” Jenna said. “You can play your flute and distract it while I climb up and grab the Key. I was a great little tree climber when I was a kid.”

Day choked back a laugh and looked pointedly at her belly, which today resembled that of a woman closer to six months pregnant than three or four, or whatever she actually was. “I'm not sure that's the best idea,” he said. “Under the circumstances.”

She glanced down at the large bump under the peasant blouse she'd picked up on their last shopping trip before leaving the Human world. She'd figured she would need something expandable. She'd had no idea how much. “Oh. Right. Good point. But unfortunately, I can't play a flute.”

“Oh,” Day said. “That's a problem.” He thought for a minute. “I don't suppose you can sing?” he asked hesitantly. He'd once had to jump from a second-floor balcony after questioning a woman's ability to sing. Mind you, her voice could have cracked glass.

Jenna shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I mostly sing in the shower and when I'm driving alone in the car, but the neighbor's cat seems to like it when I serenade him.” The twinkle in her eye was the only thing that gave her away.

“Fine,” Day said. After all, what did they have to lose? Worst-case scenario, he played the flute and the seriously pregnant woman climbed a very tall tree. “Let's hear something soothing, then, fit to entrance a Key-stealing bird.”

Jenna smiled at him and lifted her face to the sky. When she started to sing, the purity and sweetness of her voice almost knocked him off his feet.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found, was blind, but
now I see,” she sang, the clear piercing notes rising up like dust motes in a ray of sunshine. “'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear. And grace my fears relieved. How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed.”

Up above them, the huge nest shook as a glorious red-and-orange bird appeared, its feathers flaming as it rose into the air and then sailed gracefully down, coming ever lower until it was perched on a nearby stump. As it listened with an intent look on its beaked yellow face, chirping along melodically, Day grabbed the closest branch and began to climb.

His biceps strained as he moved from branch to branch as quickly as he could, trying to find the most direct route up to the nest. Bits of twig scratched his hands and caught in his hair, but he kept moving. Below him, Jenna started in on “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” and the emotion in her voice as she sang the bittersweet old spiritual distracted him so much he missed a handhold and almost fell out of the tree. He could only hope the phoenix was just as distracted.

Finally, he drew even with the nest, its slightly charred interior still smoking a little where the phoenix had been sitting. The mass of closely knit branches, no doubt culled from some reasonably fireproof shrub, was filled with shiny bits and pieces. From where he hung precariously from a limb that ran parallel to the crook of the tree where the nest was situated, Day could see a tarnished brass pocket watch, a gold spindle, a pair of jeweled hair combs, and yes, a faceted gem hung on a thin chain that looked like a match to the other Key they'd taken from the troll. This one was larger, rougher in cut, and a rosy peach color rather than the bluish green of their previous acquisition, but Day was pretty certain he'd found what they were looking for. He certainly didn't see anything else that fit the bill.

Thanking his mother silently for bringing him up to believe that a gentleman always had at least one handkerchief on him at all times, he reached into the smoking embers of the nest's interior and wrapped the piece of cloth around the
necklace, careful not to touch any of the surrounding area with his unprotected flesh. He thought he heard a tiny chiming sound as he picked it up, but he couldn't be sure.

Then he tucked the handkerchief into his back pocket and shimmied rapidly down the tree. Jenna wound up her song, then bowed gracefully in the direction of the phoenix. Day braced himself in case the creature realized that it had been robbed, but it only bobbed its head in return and flew back up to its perch, leaving one glowing feather in its wake. Cautiously, Day picked that up too. Luckily, it had cooled off quickly; phoenix feathers were too rare to leave behind. Besides, he rather thought it might have been a purposeful gift, in thanks for the entertainment.

As they beat a hasty retreat, Day said to Jenna, “You have an incredible voice. That was just wonderful.”

A hint of pink crept across her cheekbones, and Day thought, not for the first time, that it didn't seem as though she'd gotten many compliments in her life. He would have liked to have remedied that, if things had been different.

“Thanks,” she said. “My grandmother used to go to church pretty regularly, and she often dragged me along with her. I didn't get the religious part, but I always liked the music. Who knew it would come in so handy for dealing with magical creatures.”

Day smiled at her. “Music has a magic all its own,” he said. “Especially when you sing it.”

Jenna ducked her head, as though to hide her answering smile. “That's great, but did you get the Key of Solomon? I'd hate to think I put on that show for nothing.”

Now far enough away from the orchard that he figured it was safe, Day pulled out his prize and unwrapped the cloth to show it to her. Less flashy than their first acquisition, it mostly looked like a chunk of pretty rock on a flimsy silver chain, and Jenna's face reflected her disappointment.

“Are you sure you got the right thing?” she asked. “That looks even less like a key than the first one.”

Day shrugged. “It was the only piece in the nest that looked like it had even a possibility of being what we were looking for. But if you want to climb up there and check for yourself, be my guest.”

From the way she stalked off toward the horse, he was guessing she wasn't interested in taking him up on his proposition.

“You're welcome,” he muttered, sucking on a scratch. “Next time I'm letting you go up in the tree and I'll sing. I'm pretty sure I remember all the words to ‘Froggy Went A'Courting.'”

IT
took them a few more days of traveling to reach the place on Gregori's map that they hoped marked the location of the third and final key, the Key of Zoroaster. Every night Jenna considered curling up with Mick when they set up their bedrolls, and every night she wound up sleeping on her own. It was as if the magic of the oasis had only worked while they were within its enchanted confines, and now that they were back in the less secluded environs outside its borders, their previous awkwardness toward each other had returned.

It didn't help that she was waking up each morning a little bit larger than when she'd gone to bed the evening before. She could no longer find a comfortable position to sleep in, no matter how many times she rolled from side to side or onto her back, and she kept having to get up in the middle of the night to pee. When she did get to sleep, the baby would shift or kick and wake her right back up again.

Mick clearly tried to locate the most accommodating places for them to camp, but she was starting to dream about
actual beds and running water with a passion she'd previously reserved for chocolate.

Also, there was apparently no chocolate in the Otherworld, which just made her crabby since she'd been craving it for days. Truth be told, almost everything made her crabby, including Mick, which was hardly fair and she knew it. She'd dreamed her whole life of being able to experience the magic of pregnancy, and now a different kind of magic was stealing away days and weeks and months and compressing what should have been a long and wonderful journey into a few short moments. That wasn't fair either, and yet it wasn't as though she could complain, since she'd made at least this particular choice herself.

Her rapidly advancing pregnancy was harder and harder to adjust to, and she was starting to worry about the health of the baby. It was difficult to imagine how this kind of insane growth could be good for her daughter, no matter what Gregori had said.

“You're brooding,” Mick said, his breath stirring the small hairs on the back of her neck as they rode along a pale orange stream filled with speckled blue fish that swam backward instead of forward. Jenna could identify.

“I'm not brooding,” she said. “I'm just thinking.”

“Right, thinking dark, grim thoughts in a circular fashion for hours on end,” Mick said. “Where I come from, we call that brooding. And you've been doing it for days.”

Jenna sighed, sagging back against him for a minute to try and relieve her aching back. “I'm sorry. I'm just worrying. About the baby and, you know, everything else.”

“The baby is fine,” Mick said, taking one hand off the reins and putting it on her stomach. A tiny foot kicked as if in agreement.

“Nobody likes a wiseass,” Jenna told her stomach. “I wouldn't start taking his side if I were you.”

Mick chuckled, patting the foot. Or hand, or whatever it was. “Look, I know this has to be scary, but there aren't any
signs that the rapid pregnancy is having any ill effects on either you or the baby. You should stop worrying and just enjoy the experience.” The foot kicked out again.

“Oh, shut up, Turnip,” Jenna said, but she rubbed the spot affectionately anyway. She couldn't believe Mick had her calling her unborn child after a root vegetable. “Besides, that's part of the problem.”

“Sorry? You lost me.”

“I've been wanting to be pregnant my entire life, even knowing it wasn't possible. I used to spend hours imagining what it would be like: each little change, every step in my unborn child's development. I didn't know all the facts, of course, since I avoided learning any more than the minimum, but still, I would lie in bed at night and wonder about what it would be like to feel a baby growing inside me for nine months. And now it's all rushing by at the speed of light.”

To her embarrassment, Jenna started crying. Not just subtle little tears that streaked delicately down her face one at a time, but great heaving sobs that shook her whole body and poured over her cheeks as though someone had unleashed Niagara Falls.

Mick let her cry for a few minutes, tightening his hold around her and handing a handkerchief over her shoulder. He didn't try to tell her she was being silly, which she greatly appreciated. Just rubbed one hand up and down her arm and let her get it out.

Finally, she snuffled and blew her nose, tucking the now-sodden scrap of cloth into her pocket. “Sorry. I didn't mean to make a scene.”

He laughed softly, gesturing around the deserted countryside. “Hard to make a scene when no one is watching. Besides, you're entitled. I hadn't thought about that aspect of things. I guess I just figured that most women would be happy to have the entire experience over more quickly, since it looks so uncomfortable.”

Jenna wiped her eyes. Mick might be a kind of Paranormal
superhero, but sometimes he was such a guy. “There are probably some women who feel would that way,” she said. “Sadly, I'm not one of them. Mostly, though, I can't help worrying if spending most of her gestation time in the Otherworld is going to affect my little girl somehow. What if she keeps growing so rapidly once she's out of my womb? Could that happen?”

“I don't think so,” Mick said, but he didn't sound sure. “If Gregori is right, then the baby is somehow manifesting the odd effects of time in the Otherworld in a more obvious way than would happen to someone who is already mature. Which would mean that once she is born, we will know that we've missed about six months on the other side. He seemed to believe the whole thing was actually likely to be a mechanism that is keeping her safe, rather than something that might hurt her. Whether she will continue to age faster after that, even Gregori didn't venture to guess.”

“Oh,” Jenna said. “You know that just confused me more, right?”

“Don't worry,” Mick said, patting her shoulder and then loosening his hold on her. “I don't understand it either. Most Humans who come to the Otherworld seem to age more slowly, not more rapidly. But I know little Babs did the opposite. She was brought here when she was a baby, and when Liam and Barbara rescued her, she looked as though she was about five years old, even though only a year or so had passed since she'd been kidnapped. Like we said, time can be unpredictable in the Otherworld.”

“Maybe it affects children differently,” Jenna pondered. “This is just crazy. How can I not worry about this stuff?”

There was a marked silence from behind her.

“What?” she said. “What aren't you saying?”

“I think we have bigger worries, that's all.”

“Bigger worries than how fast my baby is going to age once she's born? Seriously?” Jenna tried not to hyperventilate at the thought she might end up giving birth in the middle of
a strange land with no doctors and no hospitals. “Oh Lord. You're worrying about the actual labor, aren't you?”

“Shit,” Mick said. She could feel the muscles in his thighs tense where they curved around hers. “I hadn't even thought about that. I don't know how to deliver a baby. Shit. Maybe Gregori will know someone. It's not exactly a skill set that's in high demand on this side of the doorway. Some Paranormal creatures still have babies on occasion. Like Brownies. Maybe we can find a sprite to help.”

Despite her concern, Jenna had to stop herself from laughing out loud. Now Mick sounded like he was going to start hyperventilating. Definitely a guy, even if he did occasionally turn into something large, furry, and light green.

“Hopefully, we'll find the third Key and solve the riddle and get me home before the baby is born,” she said, trying to reassure them both. “Right?”

“Right,” he said. “Because otherwise we're running out of time a lot faster than we thought we would. The Queen told Zilya she could claim the baby two weeks after it is born, if you haven't solved the riddle by then. We thought that gave us six months, but at the rate you're growing, we may only have a few days, and then the clock starts counting down.
That's
what I've been worrying about.”

“Shit,” Jenna said, no longer feeling the slightest inclination to laugh. “Is that two weeks here or two weeks back in my world? And how will we know?”

“I have no idea,” Mick said. He gave the reins a little flick and Krasivaya picked up her pace. “Either way, we need to hurry. Hopefully, Gregori will meet us at the third Key as planned and have some kind of good news from the Queen. She could decide to penalize Zilya for skirting the rules, even if she didn't technically break them. But we can't count on that.”

Jenna put one hand protectively over her baby, knowing Mick wouldn't let her fall. She knew they were running out of time, but no matter what happened, she wasn't going to
stand passively by and hand her child over to Zilya. Jenna was not going to be like her mother. She would fight the faery, fight the Queen, fight everyone in the Otherworld if she had to in order to keep her baby safe. They were going to take her child away from her over her dead body. Literally, if need be.

*   *   *

THEY
rode through lands that transitioned from desert dunes to vivid green rain forest, and then turned into rolling hills that might have been somewhere in England if the grass hadn't been purple and the cows—or whatever it was that grazed in the open fields—had fewer legs and smaller horns. Cottages the size of shoe boxes gave way to thatched huts that could have housed entire families of giants. And probably did. The odor of Otherworld manure made her wrinkle her nose; apparently, even here, nothing could make
that
particular smell less pungent.

Actual paths started to appear in the previously trackless meadowland; Day began to worry about being spotted as they grew closer to something that resembled populated areas. He unrolled the scroll and peered over Jenna's shoulder at the map his brother had drawn in meticulous black lines.

“I think we're getting close to the location of the third Key,” he said, trying to ignore the scent of her hair as it blew into his face. It was a kind of sweet torture sitting this close to her every day and then not being able to touch her at night, but he didn't blame her for keeping her distance when she could.

He still had no idea how to control the beast he became when he felt she was threatened, and he couldn't be completely sure the change wouldn't happen under other circumstances. They both knew that their journey together was only temporary; she was probably smart not to let things get any more complicated than they already were.

“What's that?” Jenna asked suddenly, pointing at what looked like the tip of a white tower poking out of a mass of
smoky gray shrubbery. “Please tell me it isn't another wall of thorns, I'm begging you.”

As they drew closer, Day got a sinking feeling he was about to get nostalgic for their previous challenges. “Worse,” he said. “I'm pretty sure it's a maze. I'm guessing that the owner of the third Key takes its possession a lot more seriously than the troll and the dwarf did theirs.”

Jenna twisted around to look at him, her nose wrinkled. “What's the big deal? There's usually a trick to figuring out a maze, like taking every other left turn, or something. I'm sure we can figure it out.”

“This is the Otherworld, Jenna, not Hampton Court in London. There's no friendly groundskeeper to come fetch you out if you get lost, and there are likely to be a lot of unpleasant surprises. Whoever owns that tower in the middle is sincere about discouraging unwanted visitors.”

“Oh.” She looked thoughtful, but not as discouraged as he would have liked. Day tried scowling at her, but she just shook her head.

“No,” she said, as they got closer to the entrance.

“No, what? I haven't even said anything yet.”

“No, I won't stay out here.” Her pale face set into a stubborn look he was beginning to become all too familiar with. “No, I will not wait with the horse while you wander around in a potentially dangerous maze trying to find the Key
I
need to solve
my
riddle. So, no.”

Day ground his teeth. “Do you hear yourself? ‘Potentially dangerous.' You're making my point for me. I will manage a lot better if I don't have to worry about you.”

Jenna smiled up at him sweetly. “You mean the way you managed that rose barrier without my help?”

He was pretty sure he was going to break a molar. “Jenna—”

Her smile melted away. “And what if those
biesy
creatures catch up with us while you're inside the maze and I'm out here?” She slid off the horse and stood on the ground, her arms crossed in front of her chest, blocking the narrow path
into the maze. “You really think I'm safer on my own than I am with you? Or that you are more capable of solving this task by yourself than we are as a team? Michael Day, you have a serious problem. And we're not going one step farther until you and I talk about it.”