Ash to Embers (Courting Shadows) (35 page)

"Dwarves that get off on tricking people into dying, not real big fans of the human race."

"Pleasant," he said. "I get the feeling that most of the Fae aren't avid supporters."

"They deal."

"What do crones do?"

"Whatever they want." Tian sighed. "They're seers mostly. Look, Baba is older than human civilization and the old ones have serious hang ups about etiquette. Be polite, hell, go for formal if you have to speak with her at all. And don't stare." Sio frowned and shook his head, but Tian held up her hand. "Trust me you're going to want to."

"At least you have an idea of what we're getting ourselves into," Sio muttered as he followed her up the terraced grass steps that led up to the square. Tian stopped and turned around.

"I have no clue what we're getting ourselves into, Sio. I've seen Baba once and it was when she came to visit Eamon. The best I can do is relay the lecture I got. Believe me, you have no idea how much I hate that."

She turned around and started walking again before she did something regrettable. As they hit the flat stone expanse of Union Square she started talking again. It wasn't as if they had a whole lot of time left.

"Never ask her about the fact that her servants are invisible, it's dangerous, and for fucks sake don't say thank you."

"The phrase 'Thank you' counts as basic politeness."

She glanced back. The steady drizzle had weighed down his hair and the sodden strands flung droplets onto the contours of his face and the beginnings of his five o'clock shadow. The intensity of him meant that staring too long felt like slipping consciousness.

"You don't say thank you to the Fae," she said. "Ever. It's an admission of debt and owing debts in Faerie is one of the fastest ways to get yourself killed. It's like baring your throat."

To his credit Sio only nodded his assent, even though she could see that he was digesting this new bit of information, chewing over the fact that she'd said it to him. Tian began to back away, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. She could feel the chill of his skin through the soaked shell of her jacket.

"No gratitude," Sio said. "Anything else?"

Tian leaned forward. "Promise me something." His eyebrows shot up as if she'd surprised him.

"What?"

"Swear to me, no matter what happens, you won't make any deals with her on your own."

"Tian...I..."

He frowned, considering the ramifications. Sio didn't look happy. He was going to be downright pissed about the fine print when it came up.

"Please."

"I won't make any deals with her on my own today, and not until I have a good idea what I'm dealing with. Will that work?" He took to negotiation like a fish to water.

"I guess it'll have to," she said, tossing out a rueful grin.

"Good, then you have my word."

"Good."

Sio was honorable. He'd remain true to the letter of his promise. All other bets were off. Tian beat feet towards the Dewey Monument. The stone pillar towered in the center of Union Square with the goddess of victory perched atop, lording over the bustling consumers. The monument was the less than modest entrance to Baba Yaga's domaine.

Tian glanced up with resignation and settled herself against the far side. The "don't look here" glamor was so strong at this section of the base no one noticed them.

"Turn your back to the forest," she said, reaching out and beckoning Sio closer. He moved in, eyes burning with enough self-assured heat to make her jittery. He slid both arms around her waist, pressing her against the rock hard contours of his body.

"Turn your front to me," she finished, choking around the last flighty stragglers of breath that had yet to evacuate her chest.

Sio leaned down. His lips were millimeters away from her skin when they slipped through the membrane between worlds. Stone became permeable grating for a sand storm second against their skin. When the scouring was over they were trapped inside a claustrophobic windowless box that could have doubled as a studio apartment in the Tenderloin.

Sio's hands were spanning her lower back. She dug fingers into his obliques as if the death grip would lend enough friction to avoid blatantly groping him. A loud grating preceded a series of clicks. The corroded metal plate gave way beneath them. It was a short drop, five feet, maybe seven. Tian hit the metal surface below and stood. She glanced at Sio who looked startled, but was otherwise no worse for the wear.

They were standing on a ledge leveled by precious metals that had been melted down and reformed into a glittering cap. It was one of many. The asymmetrical chunks of rock spread out in front of them forming a trail, separated from one another by a series of deep fissures. The glittering path led to the warped remains of an elegant stone building that must have been 'relocated' during the 1906 quake. What exterior elements of the structure that had remained intact were illuminated by the electric blue phosphorescence of the glow worm shit covering the walls of the cavern around them.

Beautiful? Sure.

Romantic? Not exactly.

"Was this loose change?" Sio asked, inspecting the floor.

Tian glanced down and shrugged. "Works great for traction."

The markings showed through, registering as coins in multi-hued patterns on the encrusted flat surfaces. Each chunk of stone boasted similar frosting and the metal twinkled merrily in the nightshade lighting. Tian wondered if her heartbeat would ever return to a normal rhythm as she threw herself at the nearest flagstone. It was a pathetic and wholly transparent attempt to avoid that dangerous moment between conscious thought and emotion. Thank the fucking Queen of Night that it worked. She was across in a couple of long strides, then came the jump followed by a hard landing on another unforgiving metal surface.

Rinse. Repeat.

Tian hurled herself forward, focusing on the effort of the movement. Sio was keeping up as if he were unaware that the pace wasn't humanly possible. Rinse. Repeat. The binding should have prevented that, but she was past worrying about it. Their problems were big enough already.

Rinse. Repeat. Don't think.

"We're lucky it's not charmed," she said, still sprinting.

"How's that?"

"Charmed metallurgy was a dwarf thing." She clenched her jaw with an audible pop, irritated by her own nervous chatter.

"And then they, what, changed their minds?"

Tian shook her head.

"We're not what we once were," Sio answered for her.

It was exactly what she'd been thinking, but hearing it from him was eerie as hell. "Don't let any of the old ones hear you say that."

Their progress toward Baba Yaga's residence was slower now, more cautious. As they got closer it was hard to miss the signs of dilapidation wearing heavy in the aging structure. The building had been beautiful once. It still had a melancholy appeal, though beautiful would hardly be the word that came to mind. The flames in the entryway guttered, threatening to go out as she and Sio approached. A cold sweat spurned by the uninvited skeletal fingers of unease trickled down her spine. Tian gritted her teeth, resisting the sickening tendrils of a self-destructive impulse that called for blood and battle and death. No doubt that last part would be coming along soon enough.

As they reached the edge of the entryway the fire of welcome went out and they were plunged into the underworld blue light of the glow worms. Sio moved up behind her until his back was pressed flush into her own as he surveyed the space they'd passed through. Tian didn't blame him, but found it difficult ignore the chill that he was bleeding through her jacket, through the nylon of the shoulder rig, into her skin as if all the rest didn't happen to exist. She was clenching her jaw so hard that if she weren't Fae she'd need a shit load of dental work when this was over.

The whispers came next, hundreds of them, disembodied voices echoing off the rock only to rebound and slide unpleasantly across her skin.

"State your business, killer."

The air felt tepid, stale, as if they'd cracked open a tomb. Tian gritted her teeth, as invisible fingers tugged the strands of her hair and caressed her face.

"I seek counsel. We're here to request audience with Baba Yaga."

A series of rapid whispers so low they were almost subliminal burst from nothing. "As you wish," one of the voices drawled next to her skull.

Tian shuddered and rubbed her ear, inwardly cursing the lost battle of composure. The desire to fight back was so strong, so instinctual she bit down on her tongue to curb the impulse. Seven loud popping sounds were followed by seven small fire balls that burst from the brasiers to the sides of the entrance. The flames burned in every impossible color except for the warm yellow of natural firelight.

"Follow then, little sparrows..."

"Follow deep into the darkness..."

"Deep into the night..."

"Stay on the path..."

"Stay close to the light..."

"We who lead you are but shadows..."

"And seven bearers of the bright."

The voices chanted, more joined in, too many wraith-like whispers to keep track of.

"I know their names," Sio said. There was a note of emotion in his voice that Tian couldn't place. The servants roared in response, a deafening swarm of hornets.

"With the binding you shouldn't be able to hear them at all."

Tian turned to look at him. His features were accentuated by the shadows thrown off in the flickering witch lights.

"That's comforting," he said.

"I'll bet."

The divine sensation of ravens' wings and liquid sparklers fluttered in her chest and behind her eyes. The sharp moonlit metallic flavor of silver spread over her tongue. Tian's blood felt carbonated as it pulsed through her veins. She stood there squinting at Sio until he nodded to the lights behind her.

"They're moving."

"Then so are we," she said, spinning on her heel in a forced effort to look away from him.

The electric adrenaline of the Goddess presence didn't abate as she moved away to follow the bobbing balls of multihued fire. The haunting sounds of a concert piano wafted in delicate phrase from deep below them. The room they were standing in had the high ceilings of a bank or a cathedral, though it was difficult to say with any surety what the building had been. The witch lights reflected off of the wealth of precious metals in the walls, illuminating the room in their immediate vicinity, leaving the shadows to hang heavy in the space above. Stalactites dripped like icicles out of the darkness until they grazed the stalagmite formations on the floor, forming columns that had been carved by an expert hand and elegantly inlaid with an intricate brocade of gold and fire opals. The opulent pieces of furniture they passed were covered in thick plastic slip covers that reflected the lights and the indistinct forms of the bearers with all the yawning clarity of funhouse mirrors.

The witch lights circled, dancing in the shadows, moving forward toward a jagged staircase at the end of the hall. Even in darkness the thing looked more like an Escher print than any form of useable construction. Invisible hands prodded Tian forward with childlike impatience. She and Sio followed onto the landing of the staircase, and at the insistence of the invisible menagerie they began to climb. The music grew louder, swelling, stealing the air around them with its haunting beauty. Tian ascended, oddly touched, amid the hypnotic dance of the flames which were inexorably drawn forward on the strings of soul stirring melody. She had seen the pixies dancing in the moonlight once, but that had been a raucous, joyful, manic, sort of thing. This dance had a melancholy sense of loss that resonated.

They came to a short stretch of broken hallway that zigzagged off into the darkness. Sio's hand brushed her own as they walked. It was only a light contact, unintended, but the result was irrevocable. The metallic taste in her mouth amplified, and the glittering tips of a hundred wings shivered under her skin. The Goddess was pleased. The sensory overload was a perfect complement to the otherworldliness of the moment, the lust tempered by the peaceful edge of heartbreak that blossomed like a blood stain. Tian followed the shining balls of witchfire down a large department store escalator. The thing looked shady as hell, a broken-down misshapen assortment of random metal gears and pieces, but it ran like a handmade Swiss watch. The grated brass steps descended at an alarming rate, lowering them soundlessly lest it interrupt the seamless clarity of the piano's melody and the soft slightly accented voice floating up from the inky darkness.

The fires clustered around the mouth of the escalator where it bottomed out into a wide room that sat an inch deep in water from the bay. The witchfire orbs dropped, finally feeling the effects of gravity. They ignited and spread around the outer edges of the space. Light spilled upward, reflecting off of the golden floor, reflecting off of the moonlight shades of nickel and platinum that adorned the walls rising high into the domed ceilings and depicting the night sky with crushing realism.

The illusion of freedom.

The piano sitting in the center of the room was at least six times the size of the small female who was perched on the bench in front of it. The crone turned to look as if Tian had spoken aloud. Shit, maybe she had. Sio was watching her with an inscrutable expression.

"If concept is illusion then what is true, but the sky above, and the wind that is blew," Baba Yaga said.

It appeared that no answer to that was required, which was a good thing because Tian didn't have one. Baba Yaga hadn't stopped playing and her fingers flexed and retracted over the ivory keys with the familiarity of a lover. The extra joints gave the crone's hands the unsurpassed ability to pluck the rectangular bars in a flurry of motion, creating notes of unrivaled resonance and perfection. The music brought itself to a close in stages. The final notes lingered in the air like a waking dream. No one spoke.

Eventually Baba Yaga sighed, breaking the silence. "So very few visit of their own volition."

The crone's tone was wistful and the low melody of her voice echoed in the acoustics. Her accent gave the sentence a gentle rhythm that shuffled under the surface of a smokey rasp that curled through the syllables. Her voice wafted in mesmerizing ebb and flow through the dimly lit room. "So very few visit that I've found silence has long since become tiresome. Speak up, dear guests, lest you seek to offend."