Page 42 of Spring's Arcana
“I meant what I said,holy one.” If this kept going the night, so far very pleasant indeed, would be ruined. His private arrangement with the beldam had been exposed to gossip, and for that alone he owed Maria Drozdova a world of pain. He would fill his mouth with the blood of one of their kind, and he was entirely within his rights. “She sewed up?”
“I’ve half a mind to send her out with a few guards.” Candy glowered at him down her very fine button nose, suddenly lookingmuch older in the reddish neon overpowering the anemic porch light. Once, and only once, he had glimpsed her true age.
The only thing more terrifying than her antiquity was the ravaging beauty of that final form.
“You got some to lose, then?” Sometimes, he had to remind even this divinity of just who she was dealing with, and in this particular matter he wasn’t going to listen to any quarterbacking, on a Monday or any other damn mortal day.
Dmitri had handed something precious over for his own reasons, well and good—but Baba had let that little bitch steal not just from her but fromhim. From the thief of thieves.
It didn’t matter that he’d suffer what Maschka was enduring right now if he put it back in his chest instead of returning it to the old lady’s cabinet, it didn’t matter that it would suckle his strength and leave him no better than the mortal toys they played with while a new form of Dmitri, native to this fascinating country, discovered the joy of traveling his thiefways and was propitiated by his uncles and nephews.
OfcourseDima wanted to survive, and his agreement with Baba was still durable. But more important was the simple, essential truth: Maschka had stolen, from Baba but also from Dmitri Konets himself.
The insult, like many others, simply could not be borne. A thief avenged such slights, in the old country or in this one. Otherwise, he was no more than stupid carrion.
“I wonder what it would be like if we didn’t have an agreement.” Candy turned back to the door. “I tell you, Dima, I stand a lot but I ain’t about to stand this. If you let Maria eat her own, you and your kind will no longer be welcome in my domains.”
Thatwas a surprise. “Like to see you try to keep me out.”
“Oh, honey.” Candy raised her left middle finger over her shoulder, with a contemptuous little dart of bloody light flicking off the nail at the end. “Mine were once temples. And they will be again.”
“Temples over sewers,” he muttered, but not very loudly.
She was, after all, Cybele’s other face. Her guards, in disguise asa partly laughing concession to mortal conventions, might not be able to kill him.
But they could certainly make him suffer, and there was only so much of that a man actually pursued.
A BUSY NIGHT
It was the same black SUV, the same mountainous bearlike door-opener with mirrored sunglasses, and the same pillowy, gliding ride on what had to be expensive shocks, but Nat huddled as close to the door on her side as she could. Dmitri stared out the window, his index finger twitch-tapping the knee of his flayed, scorched, and stained trousers. At least he didn’t smell bad.
And at least neither did she. The stuff-that-wasn’t-iodine smelled vaguely spicy as it dried, with a medicinal tang. Slowly, the streets became plowed again—the route made no sense, but she was almost used to that now—and by the time things started looking familiar it had warmed before dawn. Thick feathery snowflakes drifted earthward.
It probably wouldn’t hurt to be polite, especially since the tiny green clutch holding her wallet, key, emergency twenty dollars, and phone had shown up, nice and conspicuous, in the middle of the seat when she clambered into the vehicle.
Everything in her backpack was probably gone or sitting in Coco’s dressing room, though.
Nat cleared her throat as the car wallowed through a right turn, and Brooklyn, the dozing familiar beast, swallowed them both. “Thank you.” Her voice was a gravelly whisper. “For getting me out of there.”
Maybe he deliberately misunderstood. “You left by yourself,zaika. Little rabbit running.” He didn’t turn, just kept staring out the window. “And Candy filled you up with news, didn’t she. Just remember, women like that lie sometimes.”
Women like that? You misogynist. “Everyone lies,” Nat corrected, too tired to think that perhaps, just perhaps, she shouldn’t rile up a man she’d seen shoot a sorcerer.
Sorcerers. Divinities. Hearts like big bloody gems. Belief. And Mom, brushing aside Nat’s breathless explanations, Nat’s lifelong attempts to make someone,anyone,listen or understand.
Well, I’ve always felt like an alien. This just makes it official.
“Da,everyone lies.” Dima turned away from the window. He studied her, from tumbled hair to painted arms, and nodded. “So she has some sense after all, this little girl.”
If he used that quiet, thoughtful tone instead of the grating, obscene glee, more people might listen to him.
Nat’s fingers ached, clasped bloodless-tight in her green-gowned lap. “I meant, thank you for getting me away from the sorcerer.” Amazingly, she didn’t stutter. “And yes, I do have some sense. I’m believing all this, aren’t I?”
“You can see it plain as day, though. Takes belief out of equation, but not by much.” He shrugged, and settled more deeply against the leather seat.
It was a night for terror and cryptic, lunatic conversations, but maybe she’d be home soon. “Did you ever not believe?”
“Lesson for you,zaika. Don’t ever ask one of us that.” His teeth gleamed, lips peeling back in a non-smile. “It’s not polite.”
