Dangerously Charming

by Deborah Blake

  “Well, clearly I was misled,” the faery said waspishly. “Magic. So unreliable.” She sighed, sounding put out. “There is something that is owed to me by a Human. You know how it is. I seem to have lost track of it. Her.”

  “How careless of you,” Day said. From the cabin behind him, he thought he heard a choking noise. He ignored it. “Whatever made you think you’d find it here?”

  “I was tracking the Human using some hairs I stole from a comb I found in her apartment,” Zilya admitted. “But clearly they were not her hairs. Or something else went wrong with the spell. I cannot imagine what; it has always worked for me before.”

  She peered past Day at the simple, unadorned interior of the cabin. “The Human world is so plain and so predictably ordinary. I cannot imagine why you would choose to stay here when the Queen invited you to live out the rest of your life in pampered indulgence in the Otherworld.”

  Day shrugged. “The court was too crowded for me. I prefer it here, where I can be by myself.”

  Zilya missed his pointed comment, or perhaps, chose to ignore it. Faeries tended to be insensitive at the best of times, and Zilya was even less empathetic than usual for her race.

  “But, Day, your life is so short now. Would it not make more sense to come home and be comfortable?”

  “I am comfortable enough here, Zilya, although I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” he said with sarcasm that also sailed over her fluffy silver head. “Perhaps you had best be off, to find whatever it is you’ve misplaced, since you clearly won’t find it here.”

  Zilya pouted prettily. “That is annoying. But I have time.” She smiled up at him, a coy glitter in her dark raven eyes. “Since I’m here already, perhaps we could pass a few hours together. You might find it amusing.”

  “I might not,” Mikhail said, not moving from his stance blocking the door. “I came here to be alone.” The fact that he wasn’t didn’t make the statement itself any less true. “I suggest you go back where you came from. There is nothing for you here.”

  * * *

  PART of Jenna unclenched as it became clear that Mick wasn’t going to turn her over to the faery. The sensible part, which said, Hide, keep your head down, keep your baby safe. But whether it was pregnancy hormones or the sheer hatred that had burned in her soul for years, ever since she’d learned who Zilya was and what she’d done to Jenna’s family, a howling voice rose up and drowned out anything that resembled rational thought.

  Before she even realized she was in motion, Jenna’s feet had moved her down the steep stairs to the loft and over the floor, her ankle barely slowing her down as she flew across the room, propelled by decades of rage and fear.

  “You bitch!” she shrieked, edging past Mick and shoving Zilya so hard the silver-haired woman fell on her ass and slid across the rain-slick yard. “How dare you use your stupid curse to put me in this condition and then follow me to steal my baby?”

  Jenna grabbed the first weapon she could find, a long piece of wood lying by the door, and swung it at the faery, who just barely ducked out of the way. “Haven’t you done enough damage already? You’ve taken the firstborn children from women in every generation of my family, stolen them away from the parents who loved them. My father drank himself to death when I was eight because of you!” Swing. “My mother had a heart attack when I was fourteen!” Swing. Zilya dodged, slipping on the mud, and Jenna went after her again. “The doctor said it was a fluke, but I know what really killed her—a broken heart, caused by you!”

  Another swing and then a massive hand closed around the end of the stick, just past Jenna’s fingers, and twisted it out of her grip. “Jenna,” Mick said. “Stop it. That’s not going to solve anything.”

  Zilya stood up, her apple green tunic and billowy emerald-hued wide-legged pants streaked with brown mud and her black eyes flashing. Fury contorted her lovely face as she raised both hands up in front of her, sparks sizzling from dark green nails.

  “No, indeed, it will not,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “How dare you, you puny Human strumpet? How dare you lay hands upon my person? Do you not know with whom you are dealing? I am one of the Fair Folk, as far above your ilk as the moon is above the dirt under my feet. I claim your child because it is my right, and nothing you can do will stop that from happening, just as nothing will stop me from making you suffer in the process for the impertinence of your attack upon my person.”

  Jenna stood frozen in place, hands stretched protectively over her belly as she watched the magic streak from the ends of Zilya’s fingers, knowing that the faery was right and there was nothing she could do. Just as her grandmother could do nothing, and her mother could do nothing. Why had she thought her willingness to fight would make her story’s ending any different?

  CHAPTER 4

  DAY didn’t stop to think—not about his vow to stay away from women in trouble, not about the fact that he was no longer immortal, and quite likely as vulnerable to Zilya’s magic as the Human she had launched it toward. He just moved, stepping in front of Jenna right before the sparkling silver lights could hit her, a noise like a growl slipping out past bared teeth.

  Instead, the magical energy impacted against his broad chest and then simply . . . fizzled, and disappeared. He didn’t know which of them was more surprised, him or Zilya. From behind him, Jenna gave a tiny squeak, one hand reaching up to grab his shoulder.

  Well. That was interesting. Completely unexpected, somewhat puzzling, but definitely interesting. He reminded himself to give the incident more thought later, when he wasn’t caught between a stunned and frustrated faery and a furious Human woman trying to defend her unborn child.

  Zilya drew herself up and gave Day a wintry look. “That shouldn’t have happened,” she said, sounding equally baffled and put out. “You should be writhing on the ground in agony. And what was with the glowing eyes?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” he said. “But then that’s life: full of unexpected disappointments.” He should know. And what the hell did she mean about his eyes glowing? Must have been something to do with the magic or maybe a trick of the light.

  Jenna stepped out from behind him, eyeing the faery with wary caution. “What did she do? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said shortly, still fairly amazed that it was true. He nodded his head toward Zilya. “What did you do? Or at least, what was that blast supposed to accomplish, before it hit me instead of its intended target? Surely you weren’t trying to kill her; that would defeat your purpose, wouldn’t it?”

  He stayed alert for any more attacks, ready to step in front of Jenna again if necessary. But for now the faery seemed to have given up on magic, although her fists were clenched at her sides and the furious look in her eyes gave him no illusions that she would simply walk away.

  “Of course I was not going to kill the stupid girl,” Zilya snapped. “I was just going to place my mark on her unborn child, so there was no chance of her slithering out from under the curse. Not that she could anyway, but still, no point in taking chances, is there? I may have added a tiny extra twist to show her what happens to people who attack faeries.”

  She scowled at Day. “Now that you’re not immortal anymore, it should have worked on you too.” She didn’t look as though she would have been sorry if it had. “You shouldn’t have interfered. This is none of your business, White Rider. Now stand aside and let me get on with it.”

  Day could feel Jenna tense beside him, and he smothered a sigh as all his good intentions slid away. He was going to have a very pointed conversation with the universe later.

  “I’m sorry, Zilya, but I can’t do that.” He crossed his arms. “How about you just give up this curse thing instead and go get a different hobby. Maybe take up needlepoint. You’d like it; you get to jab a piece of cloth repeatedly with a sharp, pointy object.”

  The faery ground her teeth. “This is not a ho
bby, Mikhail Day, nor is it your place to tell me what to do. The Queen has given me leave to continue; you have no right to stand in my way.”

  “The Queen of England knows about my curse?” Jenna said in a loud whisper. “I don’t understand.”

  Zilya rolled her eyes. “The Queen of the Otherworld, you ninny. Did your ancestors teach you nothing?”

  “They taught me right from wrong, which is clearly more than yours taught you,” Jenna said, chin held high. If things hadn’t been so serious, Day might have laughed. Or possibly applauded. The woman might be in way over her head, but she had spunk, he’d give her that.

  Jenna turned to Day. “My grandmother told me about the land of Faerie; is that the same as this Otherworld? Granny never said anything about a Queen.”

  “The High Queen rules over all of the Otherworld and its denizens whether they reside on that side of the doorway or this,” Day explained. “She is very beautiful, very powerful, and somewhat . . . unpredictable.”

  The faerie snorted. “That is putting it mildly. But I assure you, she knows of this curse and has not forbidden my continued actions. If you will not hand this Human over to me, I insist we go before Her Majesty. She can tell you herself.”

  She glared at Day. “You might have been one of her favorites once, but you no longer have any standing in Her court. Do not think that she will allow you to interfere. You are nothing now. A failure who let down the Baba Yagas and the Queen, and dragged his brothers down with him. She will not listen to you. Best to simply give me the girl and walk away. Then you can get back to what life is left to you, in whatever peace you can find.” She gave him what she probably thought was a sympathetic smile, although it bore less resemblance to such a thing than a shark bore to a guppy.

  Day drew in a deep breath through his nose, trying not to give in to the waves of anger and despair that threatened to overwhelm him. “No,” he said. “I will not.”

  Jenna started to speak, and he shook his head. “There is no point in arguing with her. She has the right to demand that we present our quarrel to the Queen. And since this concerns you most of all, we’re all going.”

  Her eyes widened. “I’m going to the land of Faerie to meet the Queen?” She stared at him. “Wait—you know the Queen of Faerie? And what’s that thing she called you, a White Rider?”

  “The Otherworld,” Day corrected automatically, “and it is a job title. One that no longer applies.” And didn’t add out loud, And let’s hope that Zilya is wrong about the Queen being on her side in this, or you may be sorry you ever went.

  * * *

  JENNA wasn’t sure how they were supposed to get to this mythical Otherworld; she only knew it was next to impossible to find a doorway that led from here to there. Her grandmother had been the only one in her family to ever make her way there, although it had been before Jenna was born and the older woman rarely spoke of it. But Jenna knew her grandmother had searched for years and finally stumbled upon an opening somewhere in Ireland. They’d gone back to try and find it again after Jenna turned eighteen, but the place had been empty and useless, nothing more than a mossy green hill like hundreds of others they saw on their trip.

  Zilya had apparently arrived on a gorgeous dappled gray mare, who trotted out of the woods at the faery’s whistle. Mick shook his head and went to fetch their own ride, which turned out to be a shining white Yamaha motorcycle with gleaming chrome and fringed white saddlebags.

  “Um, we’re going to the Otherworld on a motorcycle?” Jenna asked. This hadn’t been in any of the fairy tales she’d ever read.

  Mick patted the bike as if it were alive. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll be perfectly safe on my bike. She could go to the moon and back without so much as loosening a lug nut.” He paused and gave Zilya a worried look. “I assume you plan to take the fast route?”

  The faery shrugged, leaping onto her horse’s back effortlessly. “Of course. What other way is there?”

  “Is there a problem?” Jenna asked. Other than the obvious one.

  “Probably not,” Mick said. “Almost certainly not.” He didn’t sound as confident as Jenna would have liked. “Zilya’s horse and my motorcycle are both magical. They have the ability to move faster than should be possible in this world, as if they could pleat up the miles and simply skip the inconsequential ones. I can’t really explain it any better than that. The thing is, it isn’t usually done with Humans on board. Certainly not pregnant Humans. I’m not completely sure what effect it will have on you. Probably none, but I can’t be positive.”

  Oh, great. “Will it hurt my baby?”

  Zilya let out a great gusty sigh. “Would I allow it if I thought the child would be endangered? It is mine, after all. Get on Day’s steed and let us be on our way.” She wrinkled her pert nose. “You would think that people who have such limited lifetimes would be in more of a hurry.”

  * * *

  THE journey was mostly a blur to Jenna, but it definitely seemed to go by quickly. Mostly she just concentrated on holding on to Mick, her arms wrapped around his slim waist, head pillowed against his broad back as the wind whistled in her ears and the miles flew past. She could smell the musky scent of the black leather jacket he wore, and the hot tar and dust of the road, sensing more than seeing the ripple of his muscles underneath her arms as he leaned into the curves. Finally they eased to a halt under a stand of huge pine trees overlooking a large body of water.

  “Did that last sign say ‘Saranac Lake’?” Jenna asked, still feeling as though the world was spinning her around like a chunk of ice in a blender. She slid off the bike, barely able to stand. “That should have been about an hour’s drive from where your cabin is, and I would have sworn the trip only took fifteen minutes.”

  Mick’s handsome face swam in and out of her vision, concern written across his features. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” she said, and then bolted on wobbly legs behind the nearest tree where she lost everything she’d eaten for the last week. At least that’s what it felt like. Eventually she staggered back out to where Mick was standing waiting for her patiently.

  “I take it back,” Jenna said. “Definitely not fine. Can we take the slow route when we go back, pretty please?”

  Day nodded grimly. “Absolutely. I’m sorry, Jenna. I wouldn’t have taken the risk, but I didn’t want to let Zilya get too much of a head start on us, talking to the Queen.” He glanced around, and pointed toward a break in the bushes that might have been some kind of animal trail. A wisp of light green tunic could just be seen at the edge of the path, along with the swish of a horse’s tail. “Speaking of which, she’s already headed toward the doorway. If you can walk, we should get going.”

  “I can walk,” Jenna said. She pulled herself up straight and they started moving. “Do you think she made us travel this way on purpose, knowing it would make me sick?”

  “Anything is possible,” he said. “Faeries are notoriously devious. But most likely she just didn’t care one way or the other, as long as she was sure it would make you uncomfortable and not truly ill.”

  He stopped, and Jenna stopped with him.

  “What?” she said.

  “We’re at the doorway,” Mick said, pointing at what looked to her like a small waterfall cascading musically over a serrated stone cliff. “I hope you don’t mind being wet for a minute.”

  Before she could ask him what he meant, he’d pulled her into the waterfall itself. The sensation of brisk, freezing cold water shocked her briefly, and then she was warm and dry again, standing inside a cavern that glowed with an unearthly light. The ceiling was a scant two feet over her head, and the figure standing in front of them was so tall, the tip of his helmet almost touched the granite roof.

  Jenna blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dimness inside the rock walls. Then blinked again, just to be sure, but the huge man still wore shining black armor, a
nd held a silver sword as if he knew how to use it. Strange runes seemed to shiver in the stone wall behind him, appearing and disappearing when she tried to make them out.

  “Mikhail Day,” the guard said in a deep voice that echoed through the cavern. “You are free to pass through any portal to the other side, but who is this who travels with you, and what is her business in the Otherworld?”

  “Didn’t Zilya tell him we were coming?” Jenna whispered, resisting the impulse to hide behind Mick.

  “There is a ritual to these things,” Mick whispered back. “Faeries tend to be very ceremonial and stick to tradition. Think of it like crossing the border into Canada and being asked if you have anything to declare.”

  “I declare I’d like to go home,” Jenna muttered, but she stood next to him and gazed calmly at the guard as though she did this every day and twice on Tuesdays.

  “My companion, Jenna, is here to visit the Queen at court,” Mick said in a formal tone. “At the behest of the faery Zilya and with my consent. I will vouch for her behavior while in our world, and guarantee her return to her own world when the time comes.”

  The guard nodded and moved closer to Jenna, allowing her to see the details of his pointed ears and yellow slitted eyes. “Very well,” the soldier said. “Put out your arm, if you please, miss.”

  Jenna glanced at Mick, who nodded his head, so she held her right arm out in front of her. It was barely shaking at all.

  The guard put what looked like a chunky lapis lazuli bangle around her wrist, clicking it shut with a decisive snap. The stone began to glow with a gentle warmth, throbbing in harmony with Jenna’s heartbeat. She found it strangely comforting, although she couldn’t have said why.

  “The bracelet will keep you safe from the sometimes erratic effects the Otherworld’s shifting time can have on Humans,” Mick explained. “If you had been traveling with a Baba Yaga, or even me, back in better days, you wouldn’t need it, since our ability to travel back and forth between the worlds would carry over to any who traveled with us. The bracelet’s charm will make sure you come out at more or less the same time you came in, give or take a few hours.”