Mayan Blood (21 page)

“Where’s Peter?” Zanya pressed her back against the stone wall, keeping her eye out for Arwan.

“He followed Contessa into that alley. He told me I had to stay here.”

“What?” Zanya peeked around the sharp brick corner into the narrow, abandoned street. “You let him follow her alone?”

“I couldn’t stop him.” Tara was getting hysterical, and they couldn’t risk her making a scene.

“Okay.” She braced her hands on Tara’s shoulders. “Listen to me. Everyone else will be here in just a minute.” She pointed her finger at the ground. “Stay. Right. Here. Do you understand me? Do not move from this spot, or I’ll assume you’re in trouble.” She let go of Tara and stepped back. “I’m going to get Peter.”

Careful, quiet steps. That’s what she made, creeping along the damp, narrow alley. The tall buildings towered on both sides, snuffing out the sun and reducing the temperature enough to cause the tips of Zanya's fingers to tingle with frostbite. She spied into doorways that sat ajar, in bare windows, and down smaller walkways leading to dead ends. Calling out for Peter would only give away her position.

The element of surprise was the only thing she had in her favor.

“Poor girl,” a lustrous voice purred from behind her. Zanya jumped and spun to see a striking, red-haired woman standing in the center of the alley. “You honestly believe you have the element of surprise?” Her hazel eyes, accented by a corseted emerald-green dress, were more calculating than Zanya was comfortable with. It was Contessa. She knew it, without a shadow of a doubt, just like Renato said.

Zanya gathered her confidence, or at least the appearance of. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I must say. I am surprised to see you wandering the streets with no chaperone. A young lady with your exceptional abilities should use more discretion while traveling. You flaunt your powers as if no one would dare to rob you of them.” The chill in her tone was subtle, but unmistakable. Contessa’s eyes flickered with darkness, and her placid expression only deepened the fear gripping Zanya's throat. “Where are the rest of your comrades?”

Zanya swallowed in an attempt to restore moisture to her dry mouth. She had to play it cool or she’d ruin any chance they had of finding Peter, or convincing Contessa that helping them was in her best interest. “They’ll be here soon. In fact, you might know where one of them is right now. My friend Peter came up missing, and we’re worried about him.”

“Ah, the brown-haired boy with dark blue eyes?”

Zanya nodded.

“Yes, he followed me into the alley, spouting poetry of my beauty. Many men have presented me with ballads, although his were quite flattering.” Contessa’s pink tongue caressed her lips. “He shows promise to be an ambitious lover.”

After what Renato said about Contessa’s romantic life, there was no way that could be a good thing. But there was one offer Zanya could present that might be more appealing. “I have something more interesting, if you’re willing to make a trade.”

Contessa arched an eyebrow. “What would you have to offer that could bring me more pleasure than him?”

The only thing a woman with a chip on her shoulder would want. “Revenge on Sarian.”

The dark, rolling magic in her irises was visible even from where Zanya stood. Contessa’s features morphed and flashed with glimpses of something inhuman lurking just under her milky skin. “Heed my warning. If you plan to take the boy without fulfilling your proposition, you will be remorseful.”

Zanya shook her head. “I promise. I won’t go back on my word.”

Contessa’s eyes returned to normal, as did her porcelain skin. She studied Zanya. “Hmm. The word of a Stone Guardian. Very well.” Contessa removed a flawless hand from her fur warmer and pulled a key from the bust of her dress. “Any adversary of Sarian is an ally of mine.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Arwan

In Contessa’s kitchen, Arwan inhaled the aroma of spices as the witched poured each of them tea. The copper kettle in hand, she filled Renato’s cup.

His mentor seemed so calm. So reserved.

A slick of sweat collected on Arwan’s brow. He wiped it away and swallowed down the urge to heave.

Renato’s gaze flickered to him, and he gave a single nod as if asking if he was all right.

Arwan couldn’t respond. His muscles pulled so tight he could barely breathe. He blinked hard, trying to swat away the fog edging his vision.

Being around Contessa was agonizing. Her darkness sparked against his, instigating his natural instinct.

Arwan curled his fingers around the arms of the wooden chair he sat in, squeezing them as tight as he could. If Zanya was only aware of what dark urges were pouring through him, she would never look at him the same again.

Contessa’s sparkling eyes landed on him. Her gaze dragged over his body.

It was as if she wanted to taunt him.

His darkness flared and he looked at Zanya, his blood rushing with savage heat. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, remembering his mother’s face and the warmth of her smile. He reached for Zanya’s hand and squeezed it. The gesture seemed to catch her off guard, but she squeezed his hand in return.

She leaned close to him. “Are you okay?”

He forced a nod and then opened his eyes, regaining his focus.

Jayden stared down at the drink, his lips pressed together. Hawa, who mimicked Renato’s demeanor, sat across from him with her legs crossed and a casual tilt of her head.

Contessa leaned over the table and poured a dollop of cream in Arwan’s tea. He avoided her gaze and instead stared into the steaming liquid, the colors twisting like a cyclone.

“What kind of tea is this?” Tara asked.

“It is a homemade blend of black tea, spices, bat’s blood, and eye of newt.”

Tara stared at her cup in horror.

Contessa snarled. “It is a mixture of cinnamon, cardamom, mint leaves, and clove, you puerile girl. Worry not, it carries no incantation.”

Renato was the first to sip the brew and set the delicate china cup back on its matching saucer. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Contessa. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated. But I believe we still have a small matter to clear up before proceeding.”

“Ah, yes. The boy. I will wake him momentarily.”

“Wake him up from what? What’d you do to him?” Tara’s probing clearly annoyed Contessa.

“Certain things are better not divulged, young lady.” She leaned back in her chair. “Although you are fortunate to have arrived when you did. I’ve been feeling rather…” She sighed and glided her fingers along her chest, “unsatisfied.”

Arwan coughed. He pressed his fist over his mouth, his chest heaving as Contessa’s carnal desire poured over him.

Zanya rested her hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you should go outside.”

“Yes, perhaps the boy dislikes my tea,” she said, grinning.

Tara crossed her arms. “Are you going to wake up Peter or what?”

Contessa stared at Tara for a moment, then turned her attention to Renato. “Does the girl always speak so obtusely?”

“I apologize. My pupils have no knowledge in the practices of black magic.”

“One cannot practice what they are. The state of someone’s being is far beyond the repetitive, mundane rituals of the pagan people. I do not practice dark magic, my dear gentleman.” She leaned forward with a devious grin. “I am dark magic.”

Zanya’s hand trembled.

“Yes, of course. My apologies. Nonetheless, I would like to know of Peter’s whereabouts and condition, if you would be so kind. I’m rather fond of him, and I take personal responsibility for his safety.”

Contessa sipped her tea. “Is that so? Yet you were nowhere to be found when he fell to his knees, pleading for my adoration.” She laughed to herself. “A man’s propensity to bring a lady to bed will never cease to amaze me.”

Tara shot out of her chair. “Are you saying Peter wanted to sleep with you?”

Contessa slowly placed her cup on the table. “Ah. You are the boy’s lover.”

Tara’s cheeks blazed a brilliant red. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Of course he is. Well, feel no ill emotion toward him. The choice was not his to make. He merely followed my direction, like a dumb, starving animal in need of nourishment.”

Arwan studied Marzena, who sat stiffly, focused on their host. He had never seen Marzena express such obvious rancor. The sharpness of her stares cut into Contessa, so much so that it caught her attention.

“Ah, Marzena. I nearly forgot you were here. It has been quite some time. You look well.” Contessa propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on top her laced fingers. “You simply must share your secret with me before you leave. After all this time, you don’t appear a day over ten.”

Marzena’s glare intensified.

“With all due respect,” Renato said, “you still have not answered my questions. Where is the boy? Is he safe?”

After a brief moment of silent taunting, she dismissed Marzena and sat back in her chair. “He is ignorantly sleeping in my chamber as we speak. No harm has come to him.” Tara let out a hefty sigh of relief. “Now, I was promised an opportunity. I wish to collect on it.”

Renato gestured to Zanya, who sat up straighter in her chair. “Sarian stole the stone of Muuk’Ich from me. We need to get it back. We came here because we think he’s hiding in the Victorian era with the stone, but we can’t go back that far, even with our timebender.”

Eyebrows arched and lips parted, Contessa perked up. “I was sure there was something special about the young man beside you.”

The light in her chest flickered on.

Contessa’s stared at it curiously and cocked her head. “So, you need my assistance in retrieving the stone?”

“No.” Zanya swallowed, her heart still pounding. It was so loud, Arwan heard it thumping against his ears. “We just need your help getting to when and where Sarian’s hiding. We’ll take over from there.”

Even Contessa’s laugh was alluring. Arwan cringed back in his chair as she let out a deep sigh. “And what makes you believe you are capable of recovering it from Sarian?” Her tone turned stern as she continued. “You are a group of highly untrained, asinine adolescents with an incompetent instructor.” The cups rattled when she slammed her fist on the table. “Hundreds of people over thousands of years have attempted to bring Sarian down. All of them have failed.”

“I don’t know if we’ll be successful, but it’s my job to protect the stone. It’s the only part of my mother I have left. I have to get it back.”

Contessa searched Zanya’s face. “I was acquainted with your mother before Sarian captured her. She was just as determined as you are to save her precious stone from that pathetic miscreant I once laid with. But pathetic or not, he is cunning and powerful.” She paused. “Have you given any thought as to how you are going to retrieve the stone without Sarian recognizing you?”

Zanya's eyebrows shot up, then shook her head. “Actually, no. I didn’t think about that.”

Anger flared behind Contessa’s eyes. “You are an unprepared warrior, stumbling into a fight. Did you not think it would be necessary to veil your identity? Have you given your strategy no consideration at all?”

Zanya shifted in her seat, her cheeks flushed. “I guess I haven’t.”

Contessa passed her hand in front of Zanya's face. She gasped and gripped her chest.

Arwan knelt beside her, her heartbeat pounding in his ears. “You’re going to make her heart explode.”

“If she cannot endure a simple masking spell, she will indubitably fail at her mission, and you will all die.”

“Masking spell?” Zanya wheezed.

“Yes. It will keep Sarian from seeing you for who you truly are, but only by appearances. Make no mistake that he is clever. You must remain inconspicuous.”

“Deep breaths,” Arwan said softly, stroking his thumb over her knuckles.

Zanya drew in slow, steady breaths until her heartbeat slowed to a safe pace. “What do you want in return for your help?” she asked.

“In return? Why, I simply wish to bask in the satisfaction of doing a good deed for a deserving friend.”

Arwan’s muscles coiled even tighter. From the little he had learned about Contessa, she’d do nothing for free.

“You don’t want anything?” Zanya said.

She must have been thinking the same thing as him.

“That, and a lock of your lovely hair.”

Zanya tucked a silky wave behind her ear. “My hair?”

Arwan returned to his chair. “No.”

Contessa ignored him completely. “The choice is yours.”

“No, no, that’s fine.” Zanya gathered a lock in her fingers. “Do you have scissors?”

“You’re not going through with this,” Arwan said. “We don’t know what she will do—”

Contessa reached across the table, grabbed a chunk of Zanya's hair and yanked it out of her scalp. Zanya yelped and pressed her hand over the sore spot. Contessa tied the strands into a knot, and tucked them into her sleeve.

Arwan fisted his hands. After spending so much time with Drina, there was one thing he knew about a witch. Never give her blood or hair.
Never
.

Zanya rubbed her scalp. “Now that we have that cleared up, would you mind waking up Peter?” She paused before spitting out another word. “Please.”

“A deal is a deal.” Contessa tapped her fingers gently on the table. Moments later, a door creaked open, and Peter stumbled out. His eyes wide open, he ran his hands along the doorframe, and then the wall.

“His vision will return soon. It is merely a side effect.”

“Peter!” Tara ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.

Contessa handed Zanya a glass vial containing a multicolored liquid. “This is to be used as transport. You must throw it to the ground and shatter the vial at your feet. Stand in the mist as you hold a mental picture of the location and time in which you wish to go. Take caution not to allow your concentration to falter during the process. You must keep a clear destination in mind. You have only one, so use it wisely.”

Zanya stood and slipped the vial in her jacket pocket. “Thank you, Contessa. Your generosity is really appreciated.” She hesitated, then extended her hand. “I hope you consider us friends.”

It was clear Zanya was being smart—keeping a valuable person in their corner in case they needed her help again in the future. That didn’t stop Arwan from hating the idea of the temptress touching Zanya. Even to shake her hand.

To his relief, Contessa ignored her gesture completely. “Before you go, allow me to bestow some words of advice. Trust no one. Make no commotion to draw attention, and complete your task as hastily as possible. Every minute you spend there is another opportunity to be spotted.

“The masking spell covers only the guardian.” Contessa waved her hand over the table, producing a sack of gold coins. “You may use these as currency. They are extremely valuable and should cover your needs with excess.

“Sarian will only be found living among the affluent. Do not waste your time searching the towns or villages. But most importantly.” Her tone became grave. “Do not underestimate Sarian’s abilities. He grows stronger by the day. His magic is far more powerful than you realize.”

Contessa dolloped a clear ball of spit in the palm of her own hand, then smeared it on the table. She traced a symbol in it with her finger. “Farewell.” She flicked her saliva at them, spittle speckling their cheeks.

The cozy kitchen transformed into the rainy streets of a dark Victorian town.

Arwan stood beside Zanya, who stood with rigid shoulders and wide eyes. A horse-drawn carriage bounced past them while the driver shouted, his whip clapping against the air.

Arwan grabbed Zanya’s wrist and pulled her onto the sidewalk. She stared after the wooden cart as it disappeared into the fog. Her legs buckled. Arwan caught her around the waist, his own strength returning now that they weren’t near Contessa anymore.

Hawa buried her fingers in her hair. “Holy. Shit.”

“I second that.” Jayden zipped up his sweater against the bitter cold.

Hawa searched around them. “Where are Peter and Marzena?”

Jayden glanced around. “And Tara.”

Zanya spun in a circle. “How could Contessa forget them?”

“I’m not sure she forgot,” Renato said. “I have a feeling she intentionally left them behind.”

“Why would she do that?”

Jayden scoffed. “I don’t think Contessa likes Tara very much. Her or Marzena. And Peter was still recovering from whatever she did to him.”

Renato inspected their surroundings. “We need to find a place to sleep, and some more appropriate clothing.”