Black Dalliances (A Blushing Death Novel) (20 page)

“What the hell?” I snorted in disgust. Dean shrugged his shoulders, and I glared at him. “Well, that’s helpful.”

I glanced around the room again. The only thing foreign was the three of us. I stared down at the chests with sudden realization making my heart thump in my chest. There were three chests and three of us. I wiped the blade on my BDU pants. They were already filthy and could probably get up and walk by themselves anyway, so what was a little blood?

Reaching over with werewolf quickness, I grabbed Dean’s hand and sliced through his skin with the blade before he had a chance to think or stop me.

“Dahlia,” he growled.

I smirked at him with a quick shrug of my shoulder and jammed the blood-coated blade into the lock. It popped, and I wiped Dean’s blood on my BDU’s, too. Giving him the same smug look he’d given me, I couldn’t keep from batting my eyes at him. His lips pursed in consternation but he didn’t say anything.

Dean plucked the topaz disc from the chest as all the snakes scurried away in a wide circle around the two empty chests, clearing a path for Saeran. Dean and I made our way to the third chest and chased the remaining slithering mass away.

“Your turn, Saeran,” I called over my shoulder and evaluated the last box. “Is that?” I asked, surprise-induced terror quaking my voice.

“Looks like a dragon,” Dean said, not understanding the implications. He hadn’t seen the other two chests. My heart beat a thunderous thump against my ribs.
SHIT!

A dragon. A fucking dragon! Really?

Saeran strode out into the now-snake-free floor, smug and superior.
Bastard!
He stepped up beside me and held out his hand. Dean had already healed and Saeran would be no different. Mine, however, stung like hell. I sliced the blade across his palm and coated the sharp edge of the diamond in his Fae blood. The Ewen blade hummed as the resonant magic in the room vibrated across my already sensitive skin. Saeran was powerful, more powerful than I’d known or suspected, and he didn’t seem to notice my hesitation as the tip of the blade hovered above the lock.

I forced the blade into the top of the last chest and popped the top open like a jack-in-the-box. Suddenly the snakes cleared, slithering back into the shadows and disappearing into the chamber walls. A passageway opened to our right as stone ground against stone to reveal a dark tunnel where solid rock used to be. Dean plucked the last topaz disc from the chest and snapped it onto the others, forming the pommel of Ewen’s weapon. My stomach tightened and my palms grew moist with my nervous sweat. I knew it was time to move on to the next piece of this puzzle waiting on the other side of that passage.

“Let’s go,” Dean said as he strode back to the tunnel we’d come through. Picking up my pack and his, Dean tossed Saeran’s pack to the fae across the chamber. Dean grabbed a torch from its mounting on the wall and strode up to me. “You ready?” Confidence shone in his dark green eyes. No doubt he smelled the fear on me.

I drew Gladi with a quick metallic clink of steel from its scabbard down my back and prepared for what was to come next.

“Sure, but I go first this time,” I said, striding to the next door, leaving them both to stand gawking behind me.

Chapter 19

Faerie, Present Day

“Just give her what she wants,” the tall man in Cossack attire begged just before splashing a bucket of frigid water into Patrick’s face.

The blood on his skin and clothes had hardened into a thin shell as his body healed and bled over and over again. The water wasn’t going to do any good. He needed a bath.

“It’s not in my best interests,” Patrick said, his voice flat and calm. He’d assessed the situation from every angle and his only option was to wait for his opening and escape.

Patrick was unsure how much more he could take. Last night’s torture had been particularly painful, excruciating, actually. Milagra, as Patrick had grown to despise her, had sprawled him out on a silver table, naked. His melting skin had burned against the silver of the flat surface. Bear traps coated in silver dug into his neck, biceps, and calves. She’d shifted to wolf and had proceeded to feast upon the soft tissue of his body, his delicate bits, and watch him heal, and then feast again.

“Surviving is in your best interests,” the Cossack bit out.

“Watching her throat be slit by The Blushing Death would be much more fun,” Patrick snarled, a smile working its way across his face.

He could feel her. If he buried all the pain away and focused on anything else, he could feel Dahlia in his gut. She was pissed about something and scared out of her mind but determined. She was getting closer, her emotions growing stronger with each step toward him. She was coming for him, coming for all of them.

“My Milagra is a fierce one,” the Cossack said, but Patrick heard the inflection in his tone, regret. He understood regret well enough that he wouldn’t mistake it in another.

“Your Milagra . . .” Patrick cooed with triumph. After who knows how many days and hours in this stinking hellhole of a palace, he’d found a weakness. “Is a beast,” he bit out.

“She wasn’t always,” he said. His accent grew thick with mourning for the woman Milagra had once been.

Patrick didn’t care. He wanted that woman’s blood coating his throat as her heart gave its final beat.

The Cossack stared at him with pain in his dark eyes. “Likho finds everyone’s weakness, sooner or later.” The Cossack’s voice hitched as a shadow ran over the man’s eyes.

The guilt in the lines at the corners of the Cossack’s mouth and the increase in his pulse rate flared in Patrick’s consciousness. What did he care if the woman had been tortured or worse? Dahlia had suffered and come out on the other side just fine. But then again, she hadn’t, had she? Watching the Cossack as he shivered in remembrance, a realization washed over Patrick and turned his stomach.

“You’re the reason she suffered?” Patrick growled. The man’s eyes jerked up to meet Patrick’s gaze. “The reason she’s a beast!”

“I’m the reason she finally gave in to him,” the Cossack mumbled, shame dropping his gaze.

Patrick tugged at the silver manacles at his arms and wrists. Silver spikes dug into his back, searing his insides as he tried to wriggle from their grasp. He didn’t care how much it hurt. He couldn’t let them hurt Dahlia, using him against her. He wouldn’t let her be the victim that monster had made Milagra.

“I’ll rip your throat out before I let any of you hurt Dahlia,” Patrick snarled.

The Cossack closed the cell door behind him and locked it tight. Staring through the small window in the solid oak door back at Patrick, the Cossack choked back tears.

“I couldn’t stop him. You’ve already given Likho what he wants, and he’ll use it against you,” the Cossack whimpered.

The light diminished as the man left with his torch in hand, taking the only light source with him. Patrick’s eyes adjusted to the dark and he watched the rodents and insects scurry back to dark corners, giving him a wide berth. It had been a long time since he’d been locked in filth. He wasn’t sure how long the vermin would keep their distance. When he got out of this damned castle and back to Columbus, he’d make sure his flanks were covered on all sides from now on.

That included Dahlia.

Settling against the spikes on the wall, Patrick allowed the silver to kindle in his flesh. The pain cleared his mind. He needed to strategize and get the hell out of here before that monster had a chance to get his clutches anywhere near Dahlia. Because she was coming.

Chapter 20

I breathed deep but the heat from what lay ahead burned my skin, my lungs, my throat, and my eyes like walking up to a volcano. My heart thundered in my ears but I couldn’t stop. There was no turning back now. Gripping Gladi tighter in my hand than was practical, I took another step forward. Dean had the torch behind me with Saeran pulling up the rear but I didn’t need the light. A soft orange glow emanated from the room ahead and heat rippled across my cheeks. Another twenty feet spread out before me. Such a short distance until the tunnel ended and all hell broke loose.

A warm hand slid over my shoulder and squeezed. “You don’t have to do this,” Dean whispered. His strong, rigid body pressed against my back, and I closed my eyes to absorb his comfort.

Taking a deep breath, I cleared my mind, burying the fear deep. There in the depths, beneath the fear and pain was the quiet in the storm that was my safe place. The familiar peace spread like wildfire through me, eating up everything else. My muscles tightened. My shoulders dropped and my chin rose, solidifying my resolve and setting my reflexes on edge as I let instinct take over.

“Yes I do,” I said through gritted teeth, letting my cold resolve fill my voice.

His hands slid down my arms to my elbows then down to my hips.

“There’s my girl,” he whispered against my ear from behind me, and I could hear the smile of approval in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, stepping away from his welcoming heat. I strode toward the scorching fire beating down on me from the fire-breathing monster lurking in the next chamber.

I stood at the edge of the tunnel, and Dean stepped up beside me. Saeran remained behind us, peering between our shoulders.

At a beast crammed in a tight space.

“Aspis,” Saeran whispered in awe.

“What?” I hissed back. I really hoped that
thing
couldn’t hear us. Its back was turned to us as it scrapped at the ceiling to break free with sharp scales finning along its spine. It didn’t like being confined any more than I did.

“Aspis was banished with the Unseelie court too long ago to remember. It’s a dragon,” Saeran whispered.

“I can see it’s a fucking dragon,” I snapped. The thing was huge, possibly four stories, crouched in a tiny space of only two or three stories. Its scaly, cobra-esque head and neck scraped the ceiling. Standing on two bulky crocodile legs, its body was long, slender, and covered in scales the color of bleakness with white eyes that shown like flashlights into the darkness. Its tail whipped about with the beast’s agitation, slamming against each wall as it twisted and turned to escape. Long and almost the entire length of the dragon’s body, the Aspis’ tail had a sharp point at the end in the shape of an arrowhead. Wings spanned the entire room and probably twice its body length. It snorted in frustration and let out a breath of fire that consumed the small room and sucked the limited oxygen from the cavern.

I drew my Smith and Wesson from the holster at my back. I knew it couldn’t be that easy but I’d feel stupid if I didn’t try. Plus, if I could kill it without engaging the bastard, all the better. Raising my tired arm up, I aimed. I set the Aspis’s eye in my sights and squeezed the trigger. The cavern exploded in a thunderous roar of gunfire, piercing my ears with the echo. The bullet hit the Aspis dragon’s eye and bounced off. The damned bullet ricocheted off of the cavern walls, barely grazing my arm as it hit off the stone floor until finally dropping with the loss of momentum.

“That’s not going to work,” Dean grumbled beside me.

No shit, Sherlock!
I slipped the gun back in its holster and breathed the warm, stale air left in the cavern.

The beast roared in frustration, a shrill almost bird-like sound that echoed off the mountain walls. From the force of its cry, the rocky cavern rocked and crumbled as dust and chunks of mountain littered the ground. The beast’s now familiar cry pierced my ears, sending a sharp pain straight through to my brain. His mouth opened, exposing the long, forked tongue. Cobra-esque incisors at least a foot in length and dripping with the dragon’s saliva vibrated with his scream. And I was going in there.
Well
. . .
hell!

“Its bite is fatal,” Saeran said.

“No shit,” I bit out in frustration, and much too loudly.

The beast turned on us, releasing another ear-piercing scream that rattled my teeth in my head. I shoved Dean and Saeran back into the tunnel and dodged the other way as the dragon’s head snapped in our direction. I rolled, my Gladius gripped tight in my hand and the Smith and Wesson in the other. I came back up on my feet, squeezing the trigger, capping off three shots in rapid succession. The bullets bounced off the hard scales, banging from wall to wall until they finally lost momentum and fell. I’d managed to dodge them but it had been close.

“Dahlia!” Dean snarled.

“I won’t do it again,” I said. “I promise.” I had to get that damned dragon’s attention away from the narrow passage. There was nowhere for them to go. I imagined dodging both bullets and the dragon then shivered. Maybe I could live through one or the other, but definitely not both. Now that the dragon’s focus was solely on me, I shoved the Smith and Wesson back in the holster and gripped the sword with both hands. If anything was going to work, it was Gladi. Her ancient magic radiated up my arm, humming with anticipation.

I moved in a tight circle around the room, avoiding the beast’s head and razor-sharp tail. With limited maneuverability, the dragon’s large bulk and ill-proportioned body cowered in the small space giving me time to move. I could use that to my advantage. Gladi’s magic warmed my hands, responding to me in a way the sword didn’t respond to anyone else. She was ready for blood, for the carnage, and for violence. She was excited, feeding off my adrenaline and the monster I hid inside. She and I understood each other.

I darted in and swiped a clean line across the belly of the beast. Black blood oozed from the wound and the dragon squealed a horrifying shrill cry of pain, sending shivers across my nerves and a chill across my skin. I moved back on instinct and slammed back into the cavern wall, avoiding the slashing talons of its shorter front arms by inches. The Aspis fell to all fours and I jumped from the reach of its jaws, not thinking or processing as I leapt away. I finally tucked into a ball and somersaulted to the beast’s hind legs.

The dragon’s long neck snapped around, chasing my quick movements until its head was only inches from my face. Its white eyes narrowed on me and smoke puffed from its enlarged nostrils, filling my lungs with the heat of his breath and singeing my eyes and eyelashes. I should have moved, dove for cover but something in my gut told me to stay put and not move an inch. I lived when I listened to my gut. So I froze where I crouched. No matter how much it hurt.

My heart jumped into my throat.
The dragon is going to kill me. Chomp me into little bits and make little
nom, nom, nom
sounds as it does it. Fuck! This is it.

Gladi vibrated in my hands to the point of pain, as if to remind me of who and what I was. I was Fertiri, I was Eithina, and I
was
The Blushing fucking Death. I would not be eaten by a fucking dragon!

Gripping the sword in my hands, I smiled, a malicious twist of lips up at the beast.

“Come and get it, you sonovabitch,” I snarled.

Rearing back, the dragon took in a deep breath through its enlarged nostrils.

“Oh, shit,” I huffed and dove for cover.

The dragon released a breath of flame that roared in my ears and heated my skin inside the BDU’s. My eyes watered and my lungs filled with heat instead of air, burning in my chest as I struggled back to my feet.

“Sing!” Saeran yelled from the tunnel.

Barely able to breathe let alone sing, I coughed, “What?”

“Sing,” he repeated.

“Do it,” Dean commanded. He sounded close, too close actually. I turned to find he’d inched out into the cavern, making his way around the wall and avoiding the dragon. Shit, he was going to jump on the dragon’s back.

“Don’t!” I called, panic making my voice rasp as I coughed again. It was the first time since I’d walked into the dragon’s den that I’d stopped long enough to think and fear anything. I was prepared to die, but I feared Dean’s death. I wouldn’t be able to live through either Patrick’s or Dean’s death.

“Sing, and I might not have to,” he bit out. His body was rigid with each step and his jaw clenched in a hard line of stone as he shifted to the balls of his feet. Beads of sweat glistened off his bald head but those were the only signs he was scared shitless.

I started singing in my own version of sultry. I let the notes fly out, gathering hot stagnant air in my lungs for each line. Singing a song I’d loved since childhood, I belted out the lyrics. I was a sucker for old black and white movies from the 40’s and had grown up on them with my dad. The song just poured out of me as if I’d heard it yesterday.

The dragon swayed with each additional note in my voice and went stiff and immobile as the lyrics flowed from me. I started the second verse, louder and more confident as the dragon’s eyes glazed over.

The beast dropped to the ground onto its belly with a heavy thud of muscle, flesh, and scales. I kept up, feeling the music in my bones and the hum of the sword in my fingers as the ground shook around me. The dragon rolled to one side and pressed its cobra-like ear hard against the ground as I sang.

Whipping its long, scaled tail up as I started another verse, the Aspis jammed the arrowhead tip into his other ear. Blood rushed from its head from the self-inflicted wound but I kept singing, watching as the dragon scrunched its eyes shut, trying to drown out the sound.

Rocking back and forth to keep the sound of my voice out, the dragon’s belly, covered in thick black blood from my first strike, was exposed. From the neck down to its legs, the entire underbelly of the dragon was open for my strike. This was my chance.

I sang like my life depended on it, which it did. All of our lives depended on my voice being clear and strong. Dean came up behind the dragon. In tandem, we inched up, closer to the beast.

Swinging Gladi high in the air above my head, I sang the final verse. I brought the blade down across the dragon’s thick neck, sinking Gladi’s sharp edges through the tough scales and severing the dragon’s head from the rest of its body in one clean stroke.

Thick, black blood coated the sword, spraying me, the walls of the cavern, and the ground. The blood singed my skin as if the fire was in the dragon’s blood itself, and I hurried to wipe the spray from my face. Gladi was happy, content, and humming with delight. The magic shooting through me from the ancient blade felt renewed, almost as if it had gained strength from the kill.

I dropped my hand to my side, the blade still clutched in my grip and stumbled back. The dragon was dead. Its blood seeped onto the cooling stone ground and steam rose in wafts from the oozing fiery liquid.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Dean ground out.

“Slay a dragon? No argument here!”

He was quiet for a long moment as he breathed in the cleaner air. The heat dissipated and he relaxed. We’d both survived and he released the tension in his shoulders. I couldn’t relax. Who knew what Baba Yaga had in store for us next? A dragon had pretty much topped my list of
shit-I-would-never-see
, so I was all out of ideas and patience.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” Dean teased as he met my gaze over the dragon’s dead body.

“Shut up.”

I took a deep breath and tightened my grip on the sword hilt. Stepping up to the dragon, my nostrils filled with its foul, dank smell of fire, fishes, and wet mildew.

“Nicely done,” Saeran said, striding across the cavern.

“Thanks for the help!” I snapped.

“I am here to aid you,” Saeran bowed, his eyes never leaving mine.

“That tidbit could’ve come sooner,” Dean growled as his fingers extended claws extended from his fingers.

“Perhaps, but we have all survived. There is no telling what would have happened with the information coming too soon.”

“Enough,” I almost shouted. I was tired of the secrets and being a pawn on a board where I didn’t even understand the game.

I met Dean’s gaze and faced the dead dragon before us. There was something missing here and bickering wasn’t going to solve the puzzle. Slaying a dragon hadn’t produced the last bit of the weapon and there was nothing left except the dragon itself.

“What?” Dean asked as he circled the corpse to stand beside me.

“The heart.” I sighed in realization. “I need the heart.” I brought the sword up and swiped a clean line across the dragon’s chest. Its flesh tore open and dark black blood oozed from the wound. The fleshy bits slid out, plopping onto the ground in a sick, wet splash of gore. Before I had a chance to change my mind, I shoved my hand into the dragon’s body.

The flesh and blood was gooey and scorching hot as I dug. I gasped at the sensation of my flesh burning as my eyes watered and I bit down on my bottom lip to keep the sob of pain from escaping.

The dragon’s dead body squished around my arm. It was as if my flesh was melting from my bones and all I could do was root around inside the dragon’s gut, swishing aside soft organs, wet flesh, and hard tissue.

The damned heart had to be there. I hadn’t just burned all my damned skin off and the inside of my lungs for nothing. My nails scraped across something rock hard as I dug through the soft mucilaginous flesh inside the corpse. Sinking my arm in as far as my bicep, I reached my fingers deeper, trying to find that hard item again as it slipped through my wet fingers.

The scent of my burning flesh stank and turned my stomach as it willowed up into the air but I couldn’t think about it. There was no way I was removing my arm from the chest of a dead dragon, just to shove it back in. I had to get the heart as the third chest had depicted. It was now or never.

I shoved my arm in up to my shoulder and rammed my fingertips right into something hard, like a rock, stubbing all of my fingers and breaking my fingernails down to the quick.
Awesome
! My Eithina growled in my mind at the pain but I was almost there. I couldn’t stop now.