“Kopala proved that was a false assumption,” Fenik reminded them.
Grisha made a noise low in his throat, and Shubin echoed it. Together, they sounded like growling animals.
“We’re going to get her, right?” Shubin asked.
Fenik spun to face the miner, taking in the giant coat and his skin, as dark as the mines in which he toiled. What interest did Shubin have in Tatiana? They’d been together, what, an hour at most, and he seemed to have laid some kind of claim to her.
And for that matter, why was Taras here? The vodyanyy, though predators, were nearly powerless on land. His presence would only hinder them.
Fenik glared at the two of them, and Taras lifted a lip in warning. “I know what you’re thinking, but I am not a weakness.”
Indeed, he’d plucked the thoughts out of Fenik’s head. “You’re not especially helpful.”
The man’s fingers curled, and he crossed his arms. “I will go with you.”
“It’s fine, Fenik,” Grisha interrupted their stare down. “Why are you arguing with them? If they want to help, that’s good. The more of us there are, the better chance we have of getting her out alive.”
“And what about us?” He winced as the words left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that, but the instinct to survive often overpowered his logic. He was used to shifting, flying, and hiding. It was his duty, as the last of his species, to stay alive until the right time.
He had no illusions about dying, but when he did, it would mean something.
The others didn’t answer him, but Fenik didn’t care. As he stood there, contemplating the moment he died, he started to wonder if maybe this was the something. Why else would he have been so drawn to the exchanged girl?
She was important. That was why he had the urge to help her. To save her.
For fuck’s sake, he was standing in front of a wall of poison and wondering how long he could hold his breath!
“We’ll need to go below ground,” Shubin said. “It’s our best chance.”
“Do you know a way?” Grisha asked.
Fenik extended his wings. The familiar weight and pull of muscles was reassuring. “Underground?”
“Long ago there were tunnels leading to their homes.”
“There were also trees,” Grisha said sarcastically. “What if they’ve all collapsed?”
Shubin reached inside his coat and withdrew an axe.
“Has that been there the whole time?” Grisha asked.
The instrument looked well cared for. The wood gleamed, like it had been oiled, and the blade was a dull black, yet when Shubin turned it, something embedded in the stone caught the dim light. “What is it?” Fenik asked.
“Diamond.”
He’d never seen that gem before and peered a little closer. All he could see was a pinpoint where the diamond was part of the stone around it. It absorbed the color and was a grayish black.
“It’s strong and chips away at the stone. If I were to ever find a larger one, I’d shape the entire thing into a blade.” Shubin’s eyes got a far-away look. “But that is very unlikely.”
“So we’ve all agreed then?” Taras asked. “We’re going to find Tatiana, and we’re taking the tunnels to get there.”
“Yes,” Grisha and Shubin answered at the same time.
The three of them looked at Fenik, waiting for his answer. “Bring us there, Shubin. Let’s get moving.”
25
Tatiana
The deeper into the darkness they walked, the sicker she felt. Even Kopala, who she couldn’t see, moved slower and stumbled more.
“What’s happening?” she asked. As she pulled the air she needed to speak into her lungs, she started to cough.
Kopala stopped, waiting for her to catch her breath before he answered. “There’s metal in the air.”
Tatiana put her hand over her mouth, as if that would stop it from going into her lungs. “Why?”
“It was an experiment,” Kopala said. “It got out of hand.”
Was this why Korolevstvo seemed to be dying? “How long has it been like this?”
“I’m not sure…” Kopala began, “Time—”
“Moves differently,” she finished the sentence for him. “That seems to be a theme here. Make a guess.”
“I don’t know,” he said. She caught a flicker from his blue eyes, as if he was scanning her from head to toe. “About half as long as you’ve been alive, or maybe a thousand years. That’s my guess.”
He turned away from her, but lost his balance and went down to one knee. Tatiana hurried to him and offered him her hand. “Are you all right?”
Ignoring her, he lumbered to his feet. “I’m fine.”
“I don’t want to be rude,” she said as he started walking again, “but why don’t you do that throw-y thing? Just like, pitch me toward where we’re going and then catch me. It worked well for you last time.”
“I can’t.”
She stopped walking, just for a second, to ponder his answer. Then it hit her. Of course he couldn’t throw her, he was weakened by what was in the air the same way she was.
“Ko—” She started to say his name, to apologize, but she couldn’t see him. “Kopala?” she called at a normal volume.
“Right here,” he said. There was a slight rustle, as if he was turning in a circle. “Shit. Talk to me.”
He couldn’t see her. Tatiana blinked and squinted into the night. “I’m here!” she called. “Here. Here. Here. Here.”
“Maybe whistle or something,” he said, but rather than be closer, his voice sounded farther away.
Licking her lips, she took a breath. She tried to breathe out, to make a whistle, but it was like she didn’t have enough air in her lungs. Her lips dried immediately, so she tried it again, but all that came out was a wavering breath.
Okay. She couldn’t whistle, but she could hum or something. The first song that popped into her head, she started. It sounded awful. Breathy and pitchy, and her voice shook.
“Kopala!”
“Keep singing!” He sounded even farther than before. What was going on?
“Maybe you should sing!” she yelled.
“Stay where you are!”
She started again, losing the tune, but not caring. Without Kopala by her side, the darkness closed in on her.
She imagined the metal in the air like water, filling her lungs to slowly suffocate her. What would happen when she ran out of air? What if this had been Kopala’s plan all along? Bring her out here, poison her, and let her die.
He’d been so judgmental about Taras, but she should have asked to see his teeth. Maybe he’d been trying to throw her off by deflecting attention to Taras.
God. What if he was going to eat her?
“I don’t want to be eaten!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” His face suddenly appeared in front of her. She screamed and tripped backward. Her arms windmilled, and she grabbed the first thing she touched to keep her upright.
Kopala caught her hand, breaking her fall so when she hit the ground, it was a lot gentler than it would have been.
“Thanks,” she said.
“What were you talking about?” he asked.
Pushing her free hand against the ground, she propped herself onto her knees. “Nothing.” Ugh. She must have stuck her hand in a toadstool or something because slime stuck to her hand. Flicking her fingers, she heard the mucus-like substance slap against the ground. “Ew.” She wiped the remainder on her pants.
“Nothing will hurt you when I’m with you,” Kopala told her.
She stood, facing him. “And you?”
“Me?”
She nodded though he may not have been able to see it. “Will you hurt me?”
His features came into focus. Wide blue eyes, eyebrows lifted to his hairline. She’d surprised him.
“Tatiana.” He said her name slowly, like he was speaking to a child. “Are you afraid I’m going to eat you?”
> He didn’t wait for her to answer, but threw his head back and laughed. The sound disappeared into the darkness, but he took a breath and laughed again, and she felt her lips lift in response. It was pretty silly.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He continued to chuckle. And hold her hand. He tugged her, and it reminded her of the way the other guys held her hand. They too gave her little nudges and pulls when they wanted her to move.
They’d all held her hand, too.
“That is the funniest thing I’ve heard in…” He trailed off. “A very long time. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome?”
“Taras is the only one you should worry about. He is a meat eater, and I’m certain he’s eaten a human or two before. “
“I’m not human,” she reminded him. Though she wasn’t really like him. She wasn’t like any of the other guys. They had—magic—for lack of a better term. They shifted forms and even those who looked human, like Shubin and Kopala, had something about them that was different. For Kopala, it was his strength and speed.
For Shubin it was his… coat? No. There was something about Shubin that eclipsed all the others. Of all of them, he’d offered her his true name. Such an admission hinted he had an untapped strength and couldn’t be forced to do anything he didn’t want to do.
Was that it?
But no. Kopala had forced him to follow him.
“Here.” Kopala stopped, and she ran into his back.
She looked around but saw nothing except the back of his head. “Here’s what?”
“Listen?” he said.
“I don’t hear anything.” And then she did. It reminded her of being at a party, a quiet roar, with voices indiscernible from each other, and the ever-present sound of a running river in the background. “Is that the river?”
“It’s far below us under rock and dirt. It starts above ground before dipping below the earth. It goes to the very center of Korolevstvo.”
“And the rest?” she asked. “The voices?”
“Those are the people waiting for us,” he said, and he didn’t sound happy about it.
He dropped her hand and then pounded on something in front of them. Holy crap, was there a structure? She tilted her head back, trying to see, but she couldn’t. The blackness surrounded them and whatever they’d come to.
A shaft of light appeared. The small, vertical sliver grew until Tatiana was blinking against the brightness.
The form at the door was blurry, and her eyes physically ached as they adjusted. How long had they been in the darkness?
Kopala didn’t seem bothered by the light, and dragged her inside. The plunge from black to bright gave everything inside a surreal quality. Even the voice of the man came to her in slow waves.
Squinting, she tried to orient herself. They stood in a huge entryway and everything was white. White walls. White floors. The only thing that wasn’t white was the fire burning behind the man Kopala spoke with.
The man who met Tatiana’s gaze and blanched. More white.
“It’s not her,” Kopala said. “Where are they?”
Color slowly returned to the man’s cheeks as Tatiana’s vision cleared. Her head ached, and she couldn’t help squinting, but at least she could make out shapes and features.
“Things have changed. You’re bringing her to—”
“Yes.” Kopala’s profile was to her and he side-eyed her before speaking again. “Are you going to tell me, or should I walk around, calling her name?”
Whose name? The real girl’s?
“Tatiana,” she said. “You’re bringing me to her?” If it had been possible for a man to melt into a puddle, that’s what he did. His entire body went boneless as his knees hit the hard stone floor.
“I didn’t hear that,” he whispered. It was then, as he prostrated himself in front of them, that Tatiana saw the man wasn’t exactly a man. Though he was clothed, his legs bent oddly, as if the knee was in the back. And his feet weren’t feet, but hooves. “I heard nothing. I know nothing.”
Kopala glared at her, his jaw tight. “Please keep your mouth shut.”
The man on the ground shook, his fingers curling against the floor as he pressed his forehead against the stone. He rolled it, repeating over and over. “I heard nothing. I know nothing.”
“Okay,” she replied softly.
Grabbing her roughly, Kopala dragged her to a double staircase. It led down, toward the muted voices. With each step, the voices got louder, as did the sound of the river.
“Is the river beneath the house?”
He didn’t answer.
“How far are we going?”
“Do you remember when I told you to shut up?” he asked. “Is your mind so small it cannot hold a simple direction for more than thirty seconds?”
“So you can tell time!”
He spun around, his face tight and angrier than she’d seen it. “That is what concerns you? I’m leading you to people who may kill you the moment they set eyes on you. And my reference to time is what you wish to speak about?”
“What do you want me to talk about?” She hated the way her voice shook.
Some of the tension left his jaw, and when he spoke again, it was softer. “No talking at all.”
Great. That left her alone with all of the frightening scenarios her mind could create.
The staircase went on forever. It made long, lazy circles as it led down. They turned a corner and Kopala suddenly coughed.
Then it hit her. Rot. Decay. It smelled like a port-a-potty had been overturned and then left in the noonday sun for a week before the door was opened. And then it was left a little longer.
Like it had a mind of its own, her mouth opened to ask, “What is that?” But she shut it with a snap. He’d said not to talk. She wouldn’t talk.
Holding up a hand, Kopala glanced back at her and his meaning was clear. Don’t move.
She nodded, and he turned around, slowly creeping down the stairs. His footsteps were silent. They had to be within a flight of their destination because Tatiana could have screamed and no one would have heard her over the cacophony of voices.
There was a sharp turn of the stairs and Kopala went around it, disappearing from view. Tatiana stood on her tiptoes, stretching and arching to see him.
He returned a second later, his face pale and his lips tight. She opened her eyes wide, begging him to tell her what it was, but he shook his head. He leaned close, lips nearly touching her ear and whispered, “Close your eyes.”
Drawing back quickly, she stared at him, trying to convey, “What the fuck? Are you crazy?” Did he see how steep these stairs were? Did he want her to break her neck?
He sighed and leaned close again. “Please.”
Biting her lip, she studied his face. He held her gaze when their eyes met, waiting for her answer, and so she nodded—again—despite her annoyance.
He took her hand, lifting it to her face and covered her eyes with it. She got it. Keep it there. She lowered it as he took her other hand. Okay.
He wasn’t going to let her fall. And he didn’t want her to see something.
Tatiana returned her hand to her face and let him guide her down the stairs. With each step, the smell got worse and the noise got louder.
It became overwhelming, so pungent and thick she was afraid it would stick to her clothes. God. She could taste this smell.
If she lived a hundred years, she would never, ever forget it.
Kopala touched her shoulder, pushing a little as if he was trying to move her closer to one side. She shuffled her feet along the stairs until the wall was at her back.
He pressed into her, like he was trying to make himself small as well, and together they stepped down.
One.
Another.
Oh God. She wasn’t going to make it. She was going to throw up. Kopala must have felt the same way because he stopped. He panted, heaved, and then got himself under control again. He took a step but
slipped.
Tatiana’s eyes popped open as she tried to catch him and keep herself from falling. As she did, she saw a figure lying across the stairs.
At first, she just saw long red hair and pale white skin, and she took a step toward them, to help them to their feet. Then she saw a pool of red, splashed over the stone walls like someone had tripped, and spilled their wine. It dripped down the stairs. Or it had, long ago. Now it was just a deep red stain.
Her mind took each snippet of information and pieced it together, but it still didn’t make sense to her. Until she saw the woman’s face.
She’d seen it once before, but she’d never forget it.
Every muscle in her body froze as she stared at the body of the rusalka who had made her. Her eyes were open, the blue milked over. Her lips were purple and open, like she’d been screaming.
No.
If the rusalka was dead…
She turned her horrified gaze to Kopala who was whispering something to her. His voice was muffled and then all at once it came to her. “Look at me, Tatiana. Don’t look at her. Look at me.”
She tried not to, but the rusalka was a magnet and her gaze was drawn to her, again and again. “That was—”
The voices below them cut off. It was as if they’d been played on a record and someone lifted the needle. The silence was so quick, so complete, that she swayed.
Kopala held up a hand, telling her to be quiet, be still, and she nodded. He held both of her arms, turning slightly as he looked down the stairs.
Tatiana could only stare over her shoulder at the form of the woman who’d given her life. Essentially, that was the body of her mother.
Oh, God. That was the smell. It was the body of the rusalka who made her, left to rot on the staircase leading down to a party.
In that moment, Tatiana knew one thing: the girl she’d replaced was not at the end of the staircase. The only thing waiting for her was death.
26
Tatiana
Kopala stepped in front of her and withdrew his blade. It reminded her of stones she’d seen at Shubin’s, black and sharp. He held it in front of him easily, like it was an extension of himself.
Forge and Fire Page 14
