Magic Binds

CHAPTER 8

EIGHT HOURS OF sleep felt like pure heaven. I woke up and lay on the bed for a long time, happy to not move. Curran sprawled next to me. He’d come home after I went to bed. I must’ve been more rattled than I thought, because when he walked into the bedroom, I woke up, grabbed Sarrat, and made it two whole steps toward him before I realized what was happening, which earned me a round of applause and calls for an encore. Then he saw the scar and acted as if half of my face had been hacked off. He almost dragged me to the Guild’s medmage, but I threatened to stab him and I must’ve been vigorous enough to reassure him I was in good health. Of all the people I could’ve decided to marry, I had to choose him.

Afterward he took a shower and fell into bed next to me and we passed out in a happy exhausted tangle. Now I didn’t want to get up.

Teddy Jo would be here soon. Ugh.

I rolled out of bed. A hand fastened on my ankle and pulled me back in. I landed next to him. Gray eyes laughed at me.

“How’s my face?”

“The scar’s looking better.”

“It’s a scratch.” It’s good he didn’t see it before the medmage spent half an hour on it. According to Ascanio, he would’ve been able to see into my face.

“So, Julie’s home,” he said.

“She is.”

“Have you come to an agreement on Roland?”

“No. The only way to stop her from talking to him is to order it, and she called my bluff. I won’t do it.”

“She knows?”

“He told her,” I ground out. “She’s known for months.”

The look on Curran’s face was priceless. All cold concentrated fury. If he could’ve gotten his hands on my father in that second, Roland would regret ever learning Julie existed. I kissed him. I loved him for that.

“According to her, she’s gathering information on Roland for us,” I said. “There’s nothing I can do. I have to trust that she’s learned enough in the time we had her and that she’s independent enough to fight off his influence.”

“We need to do something about your father. Soon.”

“Yes. He called the house upset about the reception dinner.”

“I know. He called the Guild as well.”

“Really?”

Curran nodded. “He and I had a conversation. I told him that it was a bit late to play father of the year, but if he behaved himself, we would make sure to save him a seat at the wedding.”

I laughed.

The doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock. Eight. Too early for Teddy Jo.

“I got it!” Julie yelled. Quick thumps announced her running down the stairs. “Kate! Kate, it’s for you! Kate!”

The urgency in her voice jerked me right out of bed. I grabbed Sarrat and dashed out of the bedroom onto the landing. People filed into our lobby, carrying bolts of white fabric. A short Asian woman in a black dress looked up at me and arched her eyebrows.

I realized I was standing on the landing in a tiny T-shirt and underwear, holding a sword.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Fiona Katsura.”

Clan Nimble. “Why are you in my house?”

“I’m here to fit your wedding dress.”

“I didn’t—”

“Of course, you didn’t. You didn’t mean any disrespect.” Fiona put her hands on her hips. “Our family has been designing wedding dresses for three generations. We don’t just sew, we create art. Designers come all the way from as far as Los Angeles and London for a chance to look at our work. Customers take out loans to purchase one of our gowns. Your dress has been on our project desk for months, back when you were still the Consort. Many sketches have been made and rejected. Countless hours of thought and consideration went into planning. Four appointments have been made, the last only three weeks ago, appointments you have failed to keep, no doubt because of your busy schedule. So when a strange man calls the Keep, and asks if we have your measurements and notes on your dress, and inquires if we would be willing to part with whatever we had already made so he could have his tailor”—she said the word so sharply, I checked myself to see if I’d been cut—“finish it in time for the wedding, we all knew that there must’ve been some horrible misunderstanding.”

I would strangle Roman. There was no way around it.

“Well, ex-Consort, if you can’t come to our studio, we have brought the studio to you.”

“I’m sorry. I really am but I don’t have time to—”

Fiona narrowed her eyes. “Jun?”

A young Japanese man stopped by her. “Sister?”

“Bring the ex-Consort to me.”

“Curran!” I backed away from the railing. “Curran, help!”

Laughter exploded in the bedroom. Bastard.

I STOOD IN the middle of the floor, trying not to move while three of Fiona’s people, two young women and a man in his midtwenties who looked a lot like her and Jun, sewed me into a practice gown. Jun, Fiona’s brother and enforcer, positioned himself in front of me. The real wedding dress would apparently come later and, according to them, I’d have to do at least two more fittings. I could barely contain my joy.

“Please stop grinding your teeth,” Fiona said. “It’s very distracting.”

“This one or this one?” Jun held up two squares of lace.

They tried to make me pick one out of twenty different samples. I told them I didn’t care, so they resorted to the process of elimination.

“Left.” The one on the right clearly had been stolen from some grandma’s coffee table. “Teddy Jo will be here any minute.”

“When he’s here, you can go,” Fiona told me.

A needle poked my thigh.

“Sorry, ex-Consort,” one of the seamstresses said.

I looked at Julie snickering in the corner. “Where is Curran?”

“Curran can’t be here,” Fiona said. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the wedding.”

“Who made that rule?”

“It’s tradition,” Fiona said.

“I don’t care about tradition.”

“Tradition is everything,” Fiona said.

“Julie, where is he?”

“He went out to check on the horses.”

“Really? He hates horses.”

Julie’s eyes sparkled. “He said it was very important for him to check that they were still there. And that he was also there and not here when you snapped.”

When I got out of this dress, I’d give him a piece of my mind.

“She keeps flexing.” The seamstress on the left said.

“How much difference is it making?” Fiona said.

“About an inch overall. She’s very muscular,” the man said.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not even here.”

The seamstress on the left pulled on the fabric. “If you want me to take up this slack and she flexes during the wedding, we’ll have a problem.”

“She’s a human,” Fiona said. “I don’t care how muscular she is, she isn’t going to rip it like the Incredible Hulk.”

“She won’t rip it, but it will skew this seam right here.”

Fiona frowned and tapped her pencil on her lips. “Let it go?”

The seamstress let go of the fabric and all five stared at my waist. Keep looking, it will do a trick.

Someone knocked. I turned.

“Do not move!” Fiona snapped.

Jun opened the door and Barabas stepped inside. He took in the scene and gave me a brilliant smile.

“Ah!” Fiona said. “Perfect. Unbiased opinion.” She marched over to me and pulled the fabric tight. “No slack?” She let go. “Or slack?”

“No slack,” Barabas said. “It gives her an almost hourglass figure. Kate, which way do you like it?”

“I don’t care.”

“The ex-Consort has been most uncooperative,” Jun said.

“I can’t imagine why.” Barabas grinned wider. “She’s usually the embodiment of patience and cooperation.”

Christopher stumbled into the house, walking backward, his eyes wide.

Something was wrong. “Christopher?”

He turned to me, his face shocked, the corners of his mouth slack with terror. “Thanatos.”

“What?” Barabas asked.

“Thanatos is coming.” Christopher’s voice shook. “The reaper of souls is coming to take one of you to the afterlife.”

Oh boy. “No, that’s Teddy Jo. He’s a friend.”

“Chris.” Barabas moved in front of the door. “Remember how we spoke about visual cues? Look at my face. I’m not upset. Look at Kate. She isn’t upset.”

“It’s okay, Christopher,” I said. “Teddy Jo and I have a business appointment this morning. He’s actually a nice guy. He’s coming to pick me up.”

Panic slapped his face. “No! Don’t you get it? He is coming for someone’s soul!”

And now the book burning made total sense. He clearly had a Greek underworld fixation.

“Deep breath,” Barabas said. “Calm . . .”

“He’ll take no one.” Christopher’s voice dropped deeper. “I won’t allow it.”

“Calm . . .” Barabas repeated.

Christopher jerked his hands up and shoved Barabas aside. The weremongoose flew across the floor and smashed into the wall to the left of me.

Oh shit.

Christopher’s body expanded, ripping through his clothes. He opened his mouth and his canines grew, curving down like vampire fangs. Red smoke spiraled out of his back. “Stay inside!”

He ran out the door.

“What the fuck?” Barabas charged after him. I grabbed the hem of my gown and ran after them.

I burst onto the lawn. Barabas spun around, searching the street.

No Christopher.

Nobody outside except Teddy Jo flying in from the west on his dark wings.

“Stop!” I yelled, waving my arms. “Stop!”

Teddy Jo waved back at me.

The gown tangled around my legs and I nearly tripped. I grabbed the hem and ripped the skirt all the way to my waist.

“What the hell was that?” Barabas snarled.

“I don’t know.”

“Where is he?” Barabas spun around.

“I don’t know.”

Julie dashed onto the lawn.

A piercing scream rolled through the air. Fear grabbed me into a tight fist, an instinctual deep terror rising from somewhere within, from the place where the primal fears of fire, darkness, and predators lived. Barabas let out an odd high-pitched chatter that no human mouth should have been able to make.

A winged shape swooped down from above, propelled into an eagle dive by enormous blood-red wings. Somehow Teddy Jo saw it and careened to the left, banking hard. The creature that used to be Christopher spread its wings, trying to slow, and landed on the lawn. He was muscled like an antique statue. He opened his mouth, his fangs glistening. Madness churned in his ruby irises.

“What the hell!” Teddy Jo screamed.

I rushed at Christopher. Barabas beat me by half a second, but before he reached him, Christopher beat his wings and shot into the sky. The weremongoose’s arms closed over empty air.

Christopher flew up and smashed into Teddy Jo. The angel of death threw his arms up trying to deflect the blow, but the impact of Christopher’s body knocked him sideways. If he used his flaming sword, Christopher was a goner.

The two winged shapes spun in the air, ripping at each other, black wings and blood-red wings slapping against each other again and again.

Another scream. Terror gripped me, crushing my ability to think. It couldn’t be . . . Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

Teddy Jo fell from the sky.

I jumped one way, Barabas jumped the other, and Teddy Jo crashed between us like a rock. He rolled to his feet, huge wings sweeping the ground. Blood spattered his face and chest. Above us Christopher flew up, getting ready for another dive.

“That’s an avatar!” Teddy Jo snarled at me. “Damn it, Kate!”

“I didn’t know! Where is your sword?”

“I don’t have it! I can’t fight him without the sword.”

Of all the times to not bring the flaming sword.

“Get inside before he hurts himself!” Barabas pointed at the door.

“Himself?” Teddy Jo turned purple in the face.

Christopher plummeted from the sky and landed in front of the doorway, blocking the entrance with his wings.

The car. It was our only option.

“Stay behind me.” I put myself between Teddy Jo and Christopher and began moving sideways toward the Jeep. The back row of seats was down. If he folded his wings, he’d fit.

“Chris.” Barabas approached Christopher, his arms raised, open palms up. “Hey. It’s me. Calm down. It’s okay.”

Christopher pulled his wings to him, covering himself completely. The wings snapped open and he took off into the air. The wind blast knocked Barabas off his feet.

“Run!” I pushed Teddy Jo toward the Jeep.

He sprinted across the lawn. Christopher swooped over him. Teddy Jo landed by the Jeep, pressing against it. I covered him, trying to block Christopher’s access. Julie crouched next to me. Teddy Jo pushed us aside and dashed around the car, wedging himself into the narrow space between the two vehicles. Christopher dived at him, but the gap was too narrow. He flew up, circling. I saw his mouth open and clamped my hands over my ears.

Christopher shrieked and the world drowned in fear. My thoughts scattered . . .

So afraid . . .

Have to run.

. . .

I heard myself screaming.

Barabas was screaming next to me, abject terror turning his face into a bloodless mask. Julie was on the ground, curled into a ball.

Curran leapt over the seven-foot fence and ran to me.

“Help!” I yelled.

He looked up, his eyes following Christopher back and forth as he circled us in the air. Curran’s muscles tensed. He gathered himself, jumped up as if shot out of a cannon, knocked Christopher out of the air, and landed on top of him on the ground.

Christopher tried to rise. Curran’s body twisted into warrior shape, packing on muscle and pounds. He strained, keeping Christopher down.

I threw myself on him, adding my weight to Curran’s. Barabas landed on the other side, clamping Christopher’s left arm. Julie grabbed Christopher’s leg.

“Christopher,” Barabas called. “We’re all safe. You don’t have to hurt anyone. Nobody’s in danger . . .”

Christopher snarled, baring his fangs, and stood up, heaving all of us up with him.

“Curran!” I yelled.

“I’ve got him.” Curran’s body thickened again. He was almost completely lion now. Hundreds of pounds of weight, but Christopher was still standing.

“Chris!” Barabas called.

Christopher screamed. Every nightmare I’d ever had came together and punched me in the face.

. . .

I had to stay. I had to hold him down. I had to or he would kill Teddy Jo.

I had to protect Teddy Jo.

Tears wet my cheeks.

Behind me Maggie shot out of the house, barking at the top of her lungs, and bit Curran’s ankle.

“Julie,” he growled.

She let go of Christopher, grabbed the little dog, and carried Maggie back into the house. Every muscle in my body shook under the strain of keeping Christopher down.

A rider on a black horse galloped up and dismounted.

“I’ve got this,” Roman called out. “I’ve got this!”

He reached between us and stuffed a clump of dark fabric into Christopher’s mouth.

Christopher flailed. My legs left the ground and I swung free above the grass.

Roman’s staff opened its eyes. He thrust it into the ground. Magic shifted around us.

“Syra mat zemlya, ne dershi ty ego!”

Christopher sank into the ground up to his hips. Curran grabbed his right arm, while Barabas wrapped himself around his left.

“That ought to do it,” Roman said. “Greeks and their wings. Flying here, flying there, screaming their heads off, scaring the horse.”

The fashion division of Clan Nimble applauded from the doorway. Nice of them to help.

“Christopher,” Barabas called. “Christopher!”

Christopher ignored him.

Sometimes an educated guess is the best you’ve got. “Deimos?”

Christopher’s face snapped toward me.

“Deimos?” Barabas asked, his voice hitting a high note.

“Son of Ares, the Greek god of war, and Aphrodite, the goddess of love.”

“A god?” Barabas asked. “What is he a god of?”

“Terror.”

Christopher stared at me. If looks could kill, I’d be down on the ground breathing my last breath.

“How?” Curran asked me.

Gods couldn’t manifest except during a flare. “I have no idea. Deimos must’ve been inside Christopher and he saw Teddy Jo, recognized him as Thanatos, and lost his mind.”

The Johns Hopkins psychiatrist did say Christopher would need an incentive to want to heal. This was not what I had in mind.

Teddy Jo pushed the two Jeeps apart, marched out, and punched Roman in the jaw.

Okay. The world had really gone insane.

The volhv stumbled back a couple of steps. “What the hell was that for?”

“You know what for.”

“I didn’t take it.”

“No, but he did.”

“I wasn’t involved in any of that. It’s your own fault. If you hadn’t chased after naked women at night, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“I thought she was in danger,” Teddy Jo ground out.

“Sure, you did. Keep telling yourself that.”

Teddy Jo took another step forward.

Roman’s dark eyebrows furrowed. “Watch it, birdie, before I break those wings off. I already got one of you. I have no problem adding another.”

Nice to know that in a crisis his Russian accent evaporated. I stepped between them. “What’s going on?”

Teddy Jo waved his arms. “What’s going on is I was flying here to meet with you and you sicced the son of Ares on me. I’m a demigod. That’s a full-out avatar. How is he not disappearing?”

“Nobody knew he was an avatar. You triggered his transformation. It’s not my fault you left your sword at home.”

“I didn’t leave it, damn it all to Tartarus!”

“Baby,” Curran called, his voice saturated with controlled exertion. “Take Teddy Jo and go. Christopher isn’t going to calm down until you leave.”

I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and figure out what was going on with Christopher. But he was right. Christopher wouldn’t calm down until Teddy Jo was out of sight and striking range.

I ran inside, pulled off the dress, threw it at Fiona, and ran upstairs. Two minutes later I was back, wearing my normal clothes, Sarrat on my back.

Teddy Jo held out a leather swing on chains. “Sit.”

“You said a harness. That is not a harness. That’s a playground swing.”

“What if she falls?” Roman asked.

Teddy Jo’s eyes bulged a little. He was at the end of his patience. “If she falls, I’ll catch her.”

“That’s it.” Roman thrust the staff at me. “Hold him. I’m coming with. I’ll be needed for negotiations anyway.”

Teddy Jo rolled his eyes.

“I’m not taking chances with this wedding. She’s going to walk down the aisle, and I’m marrying her and Curran.”

Teddy Jo looked at me. “You’re having him officiate at your wedding? Do you know what he does?”

“Could you please have this discussion somewhere else?” Barabas asked.

Roman stretched his arms and popped his neck, as if about to take a swim. “Take care of my horse, please.” He planted his feet, took a deep breath, and exhaled. “I hate this part.”

Bones crunched. Roman threw himself on the ground. Black feathers exploded and lay flat, and a raven the size of a human stared at me with brown eyes.

Holy crap.

I hugged Curran, who was still holding Christopher-Deimos in an arm lock. “Love you, I’ll be back soon. Don’t let him drink any blood.”

“Get into the swing,” Teddy Jo said.

Christopher strained, screaming into his gag. I wedged myself between Barabas and Curran and hugged him. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

He continued to struggle against Curran’s hold. He had Christopher’s face and Christopher’s hair, but aside from that nothing else remained. Christopher was gentle. The creature that fought so hard Curran’s muscles bulged keeping it down was anything but gentle. I really hoped I hadn’t watched the person I knew as Christopher die in the transformation.

Julie dashed out of the house. “Sienna called.”

Damn it all. “What did she say?”

“Beware the dragon.”

Well, wasn’t that a cherry on top of my morning.

FLYING WAS OVERRATED. Heights were very overrated. Flying with wings was probably less overrated when said wings belonged to you, but when you were dangling in a swing that bopped up and down every time the angel of death carrying you beat his wings, you reached a new level of appreciation for walking. Walking was amazing and awesome, and I really wanted to do it again as soon as possible.

“Kate,” Teddy Jo called out. “How are you going to ride a pegasi? You’re terrified of heights.”

“I’m not. I just don’t like them.”

“You really, really don’t like them.”

Thank you, Captain Obvious. I stared straight ahead. Looking down made every hair on my body stand on end. I had to do it. There was no other choice.

Unfortunately looking straight ahead was boring, so I kept coming back to trying to process the whole Christopher thing and failing. If he were Deimos’s avatar, he shouldn’t have been able to exist. I couldn’t quite get around that.

“Do you want to tell me what happened to your sword now?” I shifted my grip on the chain. If I squeezed any harder, my hands would cramp up, and I needed my hands to hold my sword.

“I was flying home,” Teddy Jo said. “It was dark. I saw a naked woman stumbling along the road below me. I landed to see if she was okay. She told me a monster was in the woods. I pulled out my sword and then I woke up in the mud, in the middle of the forest. A voice told me to bring you to the same spot within three days so a bargain could be struck.”

“What kind of voice?”

“Female. Very beautiful.”

“And what does this have to do with your punching Roman?”

“His god took it.”

“You think Chernobog took your sword?”

“I don’t think. I know. Look down.”

We’d been flying north toward the Chattahoochee National Forest and then over it. I locked my teeth and looked down.

A black stain spread below us. Massive trees, so dense you couldn’t see through their crowns, stood shoulder to shoulder, their leaves such a dark green they looked black. A narrow road snaked its way around the black woods.

“Did you talk to Roman about it?”

“Yeah. He says he doesn’t know why that happened.”

“If Chernobog wanted to talk to me, why didn’t he use Roman?”

“Nobody knows that either.”

“Why does he want to talk to me?”

“You keep asking these questions. I gave you all of the information I have.”

“Anything you can tell me about the woman?”

“She had blue hair.”

Ahead of us the enormous raven that was Roman swooped down.

“Hold on,” Teddy Jo said.

“I thought I’d throw my arms up like on a roller coaster.”

“Your funeral.”

“Better not be. I die, you might never get your sword back.”

We dived. Wind whistled past my ears. The ground rushed at us.

Below us, the raven twisted back into a human.

The ground hurtled toward me at an alarming speed.

We are all going to die . . .

Six feet above the grass I decided to take my chances. I jumped out of the swing—the ground punched my feet—and rolled upright.

Roman clapped.

“What the hell?” Teddy Jo asked, landing. “I would’ve set you down.”

Legs unbroken, arms unbroken, and best of all, solid ground under my feet.

“I’m okay.”

Roman laughed.

“Don’t laugh.”

“Can’t help it.” The smile slid off his face. “It might be the last time. Nothing good will come from your entering this forest. This isn’t a place where normal people are welcome.”

“I should be right at home, then.”

“I’m serious, Kate. Here the old powers rule. Elemental powers. It’s not too late to turn back.”

“It’s always too late,” I told him.

“Do you remember how to talk to the gods?”

“Don’t ask for anything, promise nothing, and accept no gifts.”

Roman sighed. “We shall go, then.” He headed into the woods. We followed, picking our way through the underbrush along a narrow trail.

“Why didn’t Chernobog tell you that he wanted to talk to me?” I asked. “It would’ve made things a lot simpler.”

“He did,” Roman said. “Sometimes he wants things and I talk him out of it. I thought we had agreed to let you be. You have enough on your plate.”

“Your god went around you,” Teddy Jo said.

“He did. I tried to tell him it’s a bad idea, I tried to tell Kate it’s a bad idea, and nobody listens to me. And so here we are.” He waved at the darkness in the woods.

“You didn’t try very hard to talk her out of it,” Teddy Jo said.

“I respect her,” Roman said. “She knows what she’s doing. If she says she wants to talk to my god, then so be it. Besides, if Chernobog wants to talk to you, he’ll find a way.”

Speaking of respect . . . “I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Oh?”

“Did you send my father a wedding invitation?”

“Of course I did.”

“Did you clear it with me?”

Roman bent an eyebrow at me. “You weren’t available.”

Around us black woods crowded the path: black trunks, black leaves, black roots. You’d never know it was noon and a few dozen feet above us, the world was bright and full of sunshine. Here darkness ruled. There was something primal about it. Something primitive and old. Things with narrow glowing eyes stared at us from the black brush. This forest gave me the creeps.

“My father called me, all offended on my behalf that the wedding dinner isn’t sufficiently feastlike.”

“Umm,” Roman said.

“Curran is also now offended because my father referred to him as a pauper.”

“Umm,” Roman offered.

“And then you called over to the Keep and offended the dress designers, so they hunted me down this morning and invaded my house.”

“You do need a dress.”

“You’re not a wedding planner, you’re a menace. Stop planning my wedding.”

“I’ll stop when you start.”

“There is nothing to plan.”

Roman turned to Teddy Jo on the trail next to him. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”

“What does this wedding look like in your head?” Teddy Jo asked me. “Is it like the family gets there and then this Russian shows up and marries you?”

“Pretty much.”

“No,” Teddy Jo said.

“It’s my wedding. It’s for me.”

“No, your wedding night is for you. The wedding is for everyone else.”

“I told her,” Roman said. “Weddings require preparation. It’s a significant, hopefully once-in-a-lifetime event where you swear to love and cherish another person, not casually but through thick and thin. It’s a promise that is meant to be kept forever. Honestly, Kate, do you want to get married? It’s a serious question.”

I sighed. “I want to get married. And maybe I would like to be there to pick the flowers and choose the dress and select the menu. But war is coming. My future is on fire and I have to put it out if I hope to have any future left . . .”

They weren’t in front of me anymore.

I clamped my mouth shut. The two men had disappeared. I stood alone. Ahead of me the trail nearly vanished too, all but melted into a bog about fifty feet wide. On both sides, black water slicked blacker mud. Massive black trees bordered the bog, their branches braiding high above me like the fingers of two hands interlaced into a single fist.

Apparently, Chernobog wanted privacy for this conversation. Calling for either Roman or Teddy Jo would do no good. This was his forest and he made this happen. I could stand here, at the edge of the bog, or I could move forward and get on with it.

I stepped into the mud. It squelched under my weight with a wet sucking noise. Step, another step, a few more . . .

Something watched me from the depths of the woods. My skin felt too tight from the pressure of its gaze.

When alone in a dark forest waiting for an audience with an evil god, the most prudent course of action is to be quiet and wait. “Prudent” wasn’t one of my favorite words.

“Hello? I’ve come to borrow a cup of sugar. Anybody? Perhaps there is an old woman with a house made of candy who could help me?”

“Marrying for love isn’t wise.”

The voice came from somewhere to the left. Melodious, but not soft, definitely female and charged with a promise of hidden power. Something told me that hearing her scream would end very badly for me.

I stopped and pivoted toward the voice.

“Marry for safety. Marry for power. But only fools marry for love.”

When a strange voice talks to you in the black woods, only idiots answer.

I was that idiot. “Thank you, counselor. How much do I owe you for this session?”

Mud squelched. Small twigs broke with dry snaps. Something moved behind the trees, on the very edge of my vision. Something dark and very large.

“Love fades. Love is beauty, youth, and good health. Love is sharing a moment in time. Bodies fatten, sag, and wrinkle.”

And she kept going with her spiel. That’s the trouble with ancient gods. No sense of humor.

A long sinuous body slithered behind the trees, enormous, taller than me, wide like a dump truck. It didn’t end; more and more of it kept coming, sliding through the bog. The voice was on the left, the slithering darkness on the right.

“Youth passes you by, and before you know it, the two of you are walking two different roads. Then comes pain, disappointment, and often betrayal.”

“Fascinating,” I said. “Is there a point to this, or did you go through the trouble of stealing Thanatos’s sword to discuss my impending marriage?”

Brush rustled. The massive creature slid behind me, circling the rim of the bog. Peachy. Just peachy.

I turned to follow its movement. A large bird sat on a thick tree branch above me and to the left. Her long feathers draped down into a silky plumage that shifted between indigo, blue, and black. Her head was human with a shockingly beautiful face framed by a mane of blue hair. A gold crown sat on her head. Her chest was human too, with perfectly formed breasts.

Sirin.

I stood perfectly still.

Of all the mythological birds in the Slavic legends, Sirin was the most dangerous. Like Veles, the god who was her father, she was born from magic and the very essence of nature and life, the arterial blood of existence, unbridled, uncontrollable, and as unpredictable as the weather. Sirin, burevestnik, the storm bringer. And seeing her always meant one thing: many people would die.

She looked at me with big blue eyes.

“Hello, burevestnik,” I said. “Will there be a natural disaster or a battle in my future?”

She laughed, raising her wings, and peeked at me through the gap. “A battle. A bloody battle.”

The dark thing behind her slithered forward. A huge black beak came into the light, followed by a reptilian face the size of a car, its obsidian scales gleaming slightly. Two tentacles streamed from above its beak, like the mustache of its Chinese counterpart.

Aspid. One of Chernobog’s dragons. His tail was still lost in the woods somewhere behind me. He had to be hundreds of feet long. All of my skill with the sword wouldn’t be able to stop it. This was the old magic. The type of magic that existed when my father was young.

Aspid stared at me with big golden eyes, his head rising. Massive paws with claws as big as me sank into the black mud of the bog. I saw the beginnings of folded wings draped over his shoulders, the array of emerald, sapphire, and diamond scales on their surface catching what little light there was.

Sirin smiled, fluttering her wings. Veles must’ve lent his bird-daughter to Chernobog. They were related by marriage.

“Why did you come?” Sirin asked.

Honesty was usually the best policy. “Because my friend was in trouble.”

“You’re still human enough to have friends,” Sirin said. “Perhaps we will bargain with you after all.”

“What do I have to do to get the flaming sword back and walk out of these woods with Thanatos and Roman unharmed?”

“Roman has nothing to fear here,” Sirin said.

I kept my mouth shut. I had already asked my question. The less I spoke, the better it was for my health.

“Will you bargain with us, Daughter of Nimrod?” Sirin asked.

Bargain with the God of Destruction and Absolute Evil or the giant dragon eats you. No pressure. “I’ll hear you out.”

The darkness binding the trees parted. Magic swelled, like a cold black wave about to drown me. Roman emerged from the bog and moved toward me. The staff in his hand turned into a huge black sword. His eyes glowed with white, so bright his irises were invisible in the whiteness. A dark crown rested on his brow; its tall spikes, shaped like razor-sharp blades, stretched a foot above Roman’s head.

The volhv stopped before me.

Whatever made Roman himself was no longer there. The creature that stood in front of me wasn’t Roman. It wasn’t even human.

Chernobog didn’t manifest. He possessed and his priest was his willing vessel.

Someone had to speak first. Clearly, he wasn’t going to.

“Why am I here?”

Aspid slithered forward and coiled around me.

“You will fight a battle,” Roman-Chernobog said in a voice that was at once deep and sibilant, the kind of voice that should’ve belonged to Aspid, who was twisting his enormous body around me. The magic in that voice chilled me to the bone. “Let the slaughter be in my name and I will return the sword and the Greek to you.”

Careful. That way lay dragons. Literally. “What benefit would you derive from this?”

“Power.”

Okay. “Could you be more specific?”

Aspid’s coils drew tighter, bumping my back. I pushed at the massive scales with my hand. “Stop. I’m trying to speak to your father. I’m not going to agree to anything until I understand the nature of the bargain.”

“People worship lighter gods because of the gifts they hope to receive,” Sirin said from her perch. “They worship darker gods because of fear. For that fear to stay alive there must be punishment when respect is lacking. But one cannot punish when one’s followers are few. There is an imbalance.”

Now it made sense. Roman had complained before that he wasn’t invited to any namings, births, or weddings, but the volhvs of Belobog and other lighter gods were. Gods like Chernobog and Veles were getting the shorter end of the stick. That created an imbalance, one that Chernobog felt pressure to correct.

In ancient times Chernobog wasn’t so much worshipped as appeased, because if the ancient Slavs forgot the appeasement, he would remind them. Atlanta was a hub and it drew people from all over the South, but even so, the population of Slavic pagans was too small for any effective punishment. If he decimated them, it would take even longer for the balance of power to be restored. He’d be shooting himself in the foot.

But if the battle was dedicated to him, each death would boost his power. That was a hell of a thing to promise.

“Do you understand, human?” Sirin asked.

“Yes. I’m thinking. Do the souls of the dead killed in Chernobog’s name belong to him?”

“I lay no claim to the souls,” Roman-Chernobog said.

“How would this dedication take place?”

“My volhv will consecrate the field to me.”

I looked at Sirin. “What is Veles’s role in this?”

“Veles lays no claim to the field or lives lost on it. For now.”

I faced Roman-Chernobog. “If we consecrate the field to you, every death upon it becomes a human sacrifice.”

Sirin snapped her wings. Aspid opened his beak, his golden eyes staring at me. Apparently, the fact that I wasn’t a complete idiot was really surprising.

There was no way out. If I declined the bargain, neither I nor Teddy Jo would get out of this swamp. If I died, my father would take the city and crush it.

If I took the bargain, I’d be making a business arrangement with the God of Evil. No good ever came from making deals like that. No good ever came from making deals with gods, period. Especially when what he was asking for wasn’t mine to grant.

What should I do? How do I make the best of this mess? I wished I could’ve asked Roman for advice, but I highly doubted Chernobog would let me do that and even if he did, there was a pretty obvious conflict of interest.

“What if there is no battle?”

“There will be a battle,” Sirin said. “First, you will fight for your lover. If you win, you will fight for your heir. You will not survive. One of these battles will end you.”

“Maybe I’ll patch things up with my father.”

“You will not,” Sirin said. “Beware, Daughter of Nimrod. I have seen your death and it is a horror you cannot imagine.”

Awesome.

“Decide,” Roman-Chernobog said.

I would need ammunition against my father. The Witch Oracle had foreseen the battle, Sirin had foreseen the battle, so the battle would be happening. Curran would die. Atlanta would burn.

Consecrating the ground to Chernobog and feeding him the power of all those deaths . . . There was no darker darkness than this dragon winding around me. This would have far-reaching consequences. There hadn’t been a large-scale human sacrifice in the world for years. I would be opening a door that so many good people had fought to keep closed. I would be giving Chernobog a foothold in Atlanta.

But I’d be an idiot to turn down his offer. I wouldn’t even make it out of the swamp. It was my responsibility to defend the people in my land. It was my burden. I had to do whatever I could to make them safe. My father was an immediate danger. Chernobog was a distant, vague future threat. I didn’t need anyone’s permission. I could do it.

“Decide,” Roman-Chernobog repeated.

I raised my head and looked the god in the eye. “No.”

Aspid hissed.

“You’re asking me for something not in my power to give. I guard the land. I do not own it and I do not own its people. They pray to their own gods.”

“Then you die,” Roman-Chernobog said.

“If you kill me, my father will take over the city and all the lands around it. He doesn’t suffer any competition to his power. The witches and volhvs are afraid of him and oppose him. He knows this. Right now, your worshippers live in the land I guard. I don’t make any demands on them. They worship whoever they choose. Once my father comes through, that will be over. Most of those who honor you will die in that battle. Those who survive will be punished and enslaved for opposing my father. If you kill me, nobody in Atlanta will be left to say your name.” I looked at Sirin. “Tell him.”

The look on her face said she already had.

“You asked me here to bargain. Let me bargain with you.”

Silence fell. This was the part where I would get eaten. I’d make it as expensive for them as I could.

“What do you offer?” the god said.

“If you agree to help us crush my father’s forces, I will invoke your name before the troops gathered in front of me. I will tell those who fight with me that you will be present, so they can witness your power for themselves. I’ll make sure that they know your name so they may choose to pray to you. If your power is as great as the power your volhv has shown, that battle will bring you many converts. I will not make this bargain with any other god. No matter how much aid Belobog or Perun offers me, I will reject it. I will not go to their volhvs for help and I won’t seek their counsel. You will be the only Slavic god on the field that day. You will be honored, feared, and remembered. Years from now, they will tell legends about this day and your name will be spoken.”

Silence.

The god’s eyes shone brighter. “Done.”

Darkness swirled around Roman and withdrew back into the forest. He blinked, as if waking up, his massive sword again a simple staff, and his head bare.

Aspid hissed and slithered to Roman, the serpent dragon’s huge head level with him. If he opened his mouth, he could swallow the volhv in one gulp.

Roman shook his head, clearing it.

The dragon opened his mouth, his teeth like long curved sabers. Oh crap.

“Roman!” I started toward them and sank into the mud.

Aspid’s long serpentine tongue flicked out and wound around the volhv. I sped up, splashing through the bog. There was no way I could make it through all this muck in time.

Roman blinked again and smacked Aspid’s nose with his hand. “What did I say about kisses? No kisses unless invited.”

Aspid’s tongue contracted. He pulled Roman into his mouth.

I sprinted.

“Yes, I love you, too,” Roman said from inside the forest of teeth. “I need to go now. Come on.”

The dragon opened his mouth and put Roman back into the mud. The massive serpent looked at me, hissed, and slid into the forest, his obsidian body going and going . . . It would be comical if it weren’t so damn scary. I glanced behind me. Sirin was gone.

“Happens every time,” Roman said. “He misses his father. I’m a substitute until he sees Chernobog in the next flare.”

“You have a weird life.”

“Look who’s talking.” He shrugged. “It’s not that I’m that evil, really. I’m just beloved by evil things.”

A sword wrapped in black canvas rose from within the bog hilt up, like some strange flower. I gripped the hilt. It was cool to the touch. Huh. The last time I’d used it, I’d had to get special gloves and wrap the hilt in three layers of cloth. I pulled the sword free. Some people pulled swords out of stones and went on to rule Britannia. I pulled a sword out of the mud and tried not to think about what I had done.

“This way.” Roman started through the woods. “Well, that was fun.”

“I did the best I could,” I told him.

“Not questioning that.” He dragged his hand over his face. “My uncle will have to be told. Professional courtesy. This is going to really upset the power apple cart. That’s why the Dark God didn’t use me.”

“Why?”

“Because if I had known what he wanted, I would’ve talked him out of it. You have no idea the shit I’ve stopped.”

“He wanted the whole battlefield dedicated to him.”

Roman grimaced. “I know.”

“At least this way, once he is on the battlefield, he won’t be claiming human sacrifices.”

“It won’t be him,” Roman said. “It will be me on the battlefield channeling his power.” He grinned. “I will be a battle volhv. This will be my first time. I’m excited.”

“I didn’t mean to rope you into this.”

“I didn’t mean to bring you into a scary swamp. Things happen.”

“How often are Sirin’s predictions wrong, Roman?”

“Do you want the true answer or the one you can live with?”

“That often, huh?”

He nodded.

The trees parted. Teddy Jo stood in the middle of the road, looking confused. The sun was to our right. We’d lost a few hours somehow.

He saw us and shook his head. “I’ve tried going through the woods twice. I keep ending up on this road.”

“I believe this is yours.” I pulled the fabric off the sword. The blade burst into flame. I tossed it at Teddy Jo.

He caught the blade. His whole body realigned itself, standing straighter, taller, his shoulders wider, the color of his skin brighter. Teddy Jo a second ago was a pale shadow of the one standing in front of me now. I never realized how much the sword meant. And he’d let me borrow it once to pull a prank on Curran.

“What did you trade?” he asked.

“Nothing important.”

He glanced at Roman.

“I’ll tell you later,” the volhv said.

“Nothing important,” I repeated. “Let’s get home. Tell me about the pegasi, Teddy Jo.”

He held out the swing and I wedged my butt into it. Now we had to go home and sort out what had happened to Christopher. If he was even Christopher anymore. At least we’d gotten the dragon out of the way. Thank the Universe for small favors.