Page 90 of Spring's Arcana
I do not want to fucking think about that right now, thanks.
Nat’s arms relaxed; she studied the cup. Nurse Candy’s version of her old, smashed-in-a-landfill mug had been exactly right down to the chips and cracks she remembered.
This one was new and utterly unstained, not just a unicorn mug made in a factory somewhere but the veryquintessenceof unicorn mugs, its reality burning like a divinity. There was a stirring inNat’s backpack, and she knew without having to look that the knife was quivering in its wooden case, sensing another powerful object nearby.
Had Mom stolen them from Baba de Winter too? The cup felt impossibly right in Nat’s hands, though, impossiblygood. And strong.
“Who does this belong to?” She didn’t mean to ask aloud, but the horse apparently didn’t consider that question stupid. His big, iron-shod hooves landed delicately as he paced towards her; his nose dipped. He sniffed, deeply, warm velvet breath pouring over china mug and trembling hands.
“Smells like yours.” There was the equivalent of a shrug in his tone, and his withers twitched to underscore it. “Now we run again. Come, hurry.”
Give me a minute. Her legs were still noodle-soft. She traced the small gilt horn rising from the handle with a trembling fingertip, plain uncolored polish chipping free of her nail.
So Mom had hidNat’sstuff? Or her own, and now that she was sick it was her daughter’s?
You know better, Drozdova.A swift spike of pain lanced Nat’s head; she didn’t want to think about the implications.
Unfortunately, she was probably going to have to face any and all of them, sooner rather than later.
The backpack’s zipper made its old familiar sound and she rummaged, finding a safe place for the mug, wrapped in a pair of clean panties. She was going to have to do some laundry soon—or would she?
Did divinities have laundromats? If she found another Elysium would they wash her underwear? Was the divinity hotel a franchise?
She didn’t even know what day it was. Was it Christmas yet?
“Are you finished?” The horse’s tail lashed, and it put its head down again to eye her sidelong. “We should run again. Soon. Now.”
Christ, give a girl a chance to breathe. Nat’s shoulders hunched—what if she saw the man from Jay’s party, his nail-punctured hands and feet weeping, striding through this desert? Spending forty days out here might force you to turn sand into bread, or rocks into fish for a hallucinatory crowd.
“I’m going as fast as I can.” She was going to have to find a different way to blaspheme, that was for damn sure. “This isn’t exactly an everyday occurrence for me.”
“Not yet.” The horse’s laugh was cold foam under a bridge, gathering in rank gobbets as the current swirled.
Nat shivered at the mental image. She zipped everything up, shook the backpack slightly to make sure the contents would settle, and then had to work her clumsy peacoat-laden arms through the straps again. It wasn’t a bad bag, and was still giving signal service.
She’d thought of taking it to college, even. But Mom saidwhat do you need more school for, Natchenka,and so Nat stayed home.
You agreed to shut her up, Nat, and started saving up for an apartment on the sly. That’s when she got sick. You know it.
Did the Cup just belong to the closest Drozdova? Would bringing it back help her mother somehow; was the Heart just something to trade to Baba for… what? Protection, maybe against the Cold Lady?
Nat shuddered at the thought. Once she had everything settled and zipped she rose, telling her legs they were just going to have to deal with whatever bullshit was going to happen next since every part of her was along for the ride.
Quite literally.
The horse stamped. His hooves were really very big, and edged with sharp iron, too. One of those heavy feet, thrown out with the force of a long limb behind it, could cut through a skull like a hot blade through butter. His strong, sharp teeth glittered as he pulled back his lips and eyed her, a prey animal with a disconcertingly direct gaze. “Climb into my saddle, Drozdova. There is so much to see.”
Nat bounced on her toes slightly, making sure her bag was firmly attached. At least she didn’t have to worry about her feet; the boots were holding up to all this bullshit justsplendidly. “The way out here was pretty,” she agreed. “Does it look different going back?”
Another soft, flowing, inhuman laugh. A red spark lit in the horse’s pupil again, very far back. It was disturbingly like Dmitri’s gaze; if the animal called herzaikaNat might very well scream.
“I don’t know yet,” the horse finally said. “We haven’t been. But why go back? I can take you anywhere, beautiful one. All you must do is climb into the saddle and whisper in my ear.”
There has to be more to it than that. “That’s all?” Nat’s forehead wrinkled; she could feel her eyebrows reaching for her hairline.
“That’s all.” The horse’s tone took on a hard edge of glee. “Come, put your foot in the stirrup. I have such sights to show you, Drozdova.”
SHORTCUTS
