Dangerously Charming

by Deborah Blake

  Later, Day carried her to the bedroll as she yawned.

  “This place really is enchanted,” she said in a sleepy voice. “It makes the real world seem so far away. I don’t think I have ever felt so safe.”

  Day stroked her silky hair, now almost dry again. “It is you who are enchanting,” he said. “You are the most beautiful woman in two worlds.”

  “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls,” Jenna said, not sounding like she minded.

  In truth, he probably had. But he’d never meant it as he did now. Not that he would admit that to Jenna. It was painful enough to admit it to himself.

  “Hush,” he said. “Reality will come for us soon enough. Sleep now. I will guard you and keep you safe through the night. Rest.”

  He pulled a small wooden flute out of his saddlebags and started to play, watching her eyes flutter closed, inky lashes covering those striking blue eyes. It wasn’t until he was sure she was asleep that he allowed himself to sit very, very still and mourn for that which was only his for this moment out of time, and could never be more.

  * * *

  THE next morning, Jenna’s belly had grown again. It seemed as though whatever magic Gregori’s elixir had worked had worn off. Worse yet, it seemed as though her body had caught up with all the days of unnatural time it had missed, since it was considerably larger than when they’d gone to sleep. Day could see her struggling not to panic as they both stared at a tiny hand or foot pushing outward in the area near her belly button.

  They rode even faster to the location where Gregori’s map told them to look for the second key, the Key of Solomon. Not even a day’s ride from the troll’s tumbledown castle, their next stop might well have existed on a different planet. They came to a stop and dismounted outside a small, almost painfully neat house. Its wooden siding was painted a pristine white and the thatched roof had not one piece of straw out of place. Windows set with tiny faceted glass panes looked out onto a tidy lawn bordered on two sides by orchards, and the red door had a shiny brass knocker and an engraved plaque that read SMYTHE.

  Day and Jenna walked up the flagstone path and he rapped the knocker briskly against the door. The clomp, clomp, clomp of wooden clogs sounded on the other side and then the door opened. Day quickly adjusted his gaze about two feet below where he’d been looking.

  “Good afternoon,” he said politely to the dwarf who stood in front of him, a quizzical but not unfriendly look on his wrinkled, bearded face.

  “Whatever you’re selling, I already have it, I don’t want it, or I never heard of it. Go away, if you please,” the dwarf said. “It’s almost time for tea. Or anything that isn’t talking to strangers.” He started to close the door.

  Day blinked. “We’re not selling anything,” he said. “And we’re terribly sorry to bother you, but we’re searching for something called the Key of Solomon. I don’t suppose you are familiar with it?”

  The dwarf’s bushy brows pulled together, almost meeting over his doughy knob of a nose. “Of course I am familiar with it,” he said. “It used to be mine, didn’t it?”

  “Used to be?” Jenna said. “Did you give it away?”

  The dwarf looked as though he was going to spit, although he thought the better of it when he took in Jenna’s condition, and swallowed hard instead, his face turning an alarming shade of red that almost matched the open door behind him.

  “Give it away! Give it away!” he sputtered. “As if I would be foolish enough to do such a thing. Nay, missy, I did not give it away. I hid it to keep it safe, didn’t I? Hid it so well I might as well have thrown it into a bottomless pit, idiot that I am.” He smacked himself on the head so hard, the pointed green hat he wore wobbled back and forth. “Go away now. I have no wish to discuss my stupidity with traveling salesmen.”

  Day blinked again, feeling like he was missing something. “I’m sorry, are you saying you lost it?”

  “Pfft, lost it. I’m an idiot, but I’m not a moron,” the dwarf said. “Nay, I put it up in yonder tree, didn’t I?” he said, pointing to the tallest tree in his orchard. “No one would ever look for it there, I thought. And no one did. But then a damned fool phoenix built its nest in my tree, and cached the Key of Solomon away with all its other treasures. It guards that nest so well, my Key might as well be on one of the moons for all the good it does me.”

  The dwarf shook its head in disgust, putting one gnarled hand up to catch its hat before it slid off. “I gave up all hope of recovering the damned thing years ago. If you can take it away from that benighted bird, you’re welcome to it. Good day to you.” With that pronouncement, he shut the door briskly in their faces. They could hear him clomping off toward the back of the house.

  “Okay,” Day said, slightly bemused. “Let’s take a look at this Key-stealing phoenix, then.”

  He and Jenna walked through the meticulously straight rows of the orchard until they stood near the tree the dwarf had pointed out. There was no telling what kind of fruit it bore, since at the moment it was adorned by slightly prissy chartreuse blossoms in neat clusters of exactly three flowers per branch, but it smelled oddly like a mix of Brussels sprouts and juniper berries, so Day wasn’t entirely sorry to have missed the harvest.

  The tree was tall, and the phoenix’s nest high in its branches, but that wasn’t the worst of their problems. Not by a long shot.

  The base of the tree was surrounded by a circle of flaming scarlet-hued rosebushes, all of them seemingly burning without any harm to themselves, although there was no way to get to the trunk of the tree without somehow wading through the four-foot-high thicket of bright red flowers, snapping orange flames, and long, menacing thorns. The strange aroma of smoke and rose blossoms mingled together and hung in the air like a wall of its own.

  “Crap,” Jenna said, looking up through the branches to the large nest resting securely in a fork high, high up in the tree, and then at the merrily blazing bushes. “How the heck are we going to get the Key down from there?”

  Damn good question.

  “I have no idea. The last time I came across something like this, there was a slumbering princess on the other side.”

  Jenna gazed at him with wide eyes. “Are you telling me you rescued Sleeping Beauty?”

  Day shook his head. “Even I’m not that crazy. I kept riding and let some other poor schmuck impale himself in the name of true love.” He drew his sword. “In this case, I think we’re going to have to take the direct approach and just hack our way through.”

  Jenna opened her mouth to tell him that she didn’t think that was a good idea, but he was already part of the way in, holding the sword out in front of himself as he chopped at the branches so he wouldn’t get singed.

  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 s
ure 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.’”

  CHAPTER 21

  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.