The beast made a snuffling sound, then got up and came toward her. She held her breath. It brushed along her hip, pushing its big head into her hand, then kept going, disappearing back into the thick. She exhaled, relief sweeping through her.
Glancing back the way she’d come, she saw the gates were closed. She took one more long look around, trying to take in the unfettered majesty of the place, and then she pulled out the map that would guide her to the Tree of Life.
Making note of a few landmarks, she started forward again. From where she was, there was no sign of the tree wall that she’d encountered at the entrance, which gave her the sense that the Garden was much bigger than she’d imagined. And every turn of the path brought more beautiful sights. A waterfall threw a rainbow into the air a few yards from the walkway. Some sort of tiny antelope drank from the pond below it. There were blooms the size of basketballs. Dragonflies that could have carried housecats. Trees that sported too many kinds of fruit to count.
She walked for a while, until she came to a crystal-clear pool of water surrounded by a few tall rock formations. Near one edge, water bubbled up, evidence of the spring at its source. The shape of the pool matched the one on the map, so she turned, walking around it. A trio of scarlet and emerald hummingbirds jetted past.
As she came around one of the rock outcroppings, the vegetation cleared in a circular area, almost like a natural arena. Long tendrils of ivy and flowering vines softened the edges of the surrounding rocks and a cloud of yellow butterflies fluttered through the space. At the center stood a grand tree, perfect in every way, from the thickness of its smooth, golden trunk to the deep, brilliant green of its heart-shaped leaves.
Small, apple-like fruit hung at even intervals, their skin so dark red they almost looked black and so shiny they seemed made of glass. She approached cautiously, unsure what to expect, but nothing impeded her progress. She reached out and touched one of the fruit. It was as cool and smooth as the glass it looked like.
The desire to eat one was overwhelming. Perhaps that was the nature of the tree? She took a few steps back. She didn’t have time to question anything. Mal could be here with Tatiana and Lilith at any moment. She needed a place to hide and watch, a place from which she could strike quickly in case either of them didn’t eat the fruit.
This beautiful, peaceful garden would be the final battleground and as much as she hated the thought of marring this perfect landscape, if it meant safety for her child, she would do it gladly.
She stared up at the tree. The leaves and fruit were so thick that beyond the first few branches, nothing else of the tree was visible. She smiled, nodding. The element of surprise often turned a battle early. With that thought propelling her, she grabbed the nearest branch and began to climb.
“You’re sure?” Tatiana asked. She kneeled on the floor of the sitting room where they’d rolled up the carpet to reveal bare wood. The scroll sat next to her, unfurled.
“Yes,” Mal said. “Turn part of your metal hand into a fountain pen, then use your blood to draw the portal. I’ve seen the comarre do it. I know it’s the way.”
Tatiana sniffed. “I hate that she was such a part of your life. You did kill her, didn’t you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Stop wasting time and get on with it.” Every moment with Tatiana was like a year away from Chrysabelle. All he wanted was to be with her again and have this nightmare behind them. Then he wanted to press his hands to her belly and feel his child within her.
“Why are you smiling?”
Damn it. He was. “I was thinking about how nice it will be when this is over with.”
Tatiana smiled back, tipping her head coyly. “Won’t it?” She lifted her metal hand and a fountain pen formed between her fingers, and then she lifted her wrist to her mouth and bit down. With a soft curse, she dipped the nib into the blood spilling from her vein.
“Make a circle large enough to step through,” Mal said.
“I know.” Tension edged her voice.
He let her continue without speaking again. She drew the runes into the center of the circle, stopping twice to reopen the vein in her wrist as it healed.
Finally, she sat back. “I don’t see how this is going to—bloody hell, look at that.”
The blood began to spread, filling in the empty spaces as it expanded. Mal nodded. “You did it.” Amazing, considering how little she liked following directions.
She got to her feet as the pen in her hand became fingers again. “Now what?”
“Wait…” Mal studied the portal. The blood touched the sides of the circle and a flash of gold gleamed across the surface. “There. It’s open.”
Her lids fluttered and her mouth opened. “Do you smell that? Like watermelon and fresh-cut grass and flowers.”
“And sunlight,” he added. The perfume flowing through the portal dug into his brain and picked out his few remaining memories of summer, a smell so rich and so rare it almost buckled his knees.
Beside him, Tatiana wept a single tear. She swiped at it. “I haven’t smelled that since… I don’t know when.”
He turned away, ignoring the wrenching longing that had come alive in his chest.
She opened her mouth.
“Wait.” A thought struck him. “How do you know it’s going to be night when we go through? It doesn’t smell like night to me.”
“It’s okay,” she answered. “The ancient one reassured me that the Garden becomes whatever you need it to be. I assume when we step through, it will change to night if it’s not already.”
“I hope you’re right.” Because if she was, the shift would alert Chrysabelle that they’d arrived and she’d be able to take cover until the right time. “Go ahead, call the little monster.”
“Mal.” Tatiana glared a warning at him, then put on a mask of happiness. “Lilith, my darling, come to me. We’re ready for our trip.”
Without hesitation, a sliver of shadow invaded the room and turned into Lilith. “I’m here.” Her eyes were round with excitement and Mal wondered how the Castus hadn’t realized that feeding their blood to a child would end up creating such a mad, twisted being. In a way, he felt sorry for Lilith. Her true family, her childhood, and her slim chance at some kind of normal life had been ripped away from her. He knew what that loss felt like from a father’s point of view, but did she? Did she remember anything of her life before she’d become a pawn in this horrific game?
Perhaps death would be a welcome end for her. “Thank you for obeying so quickly,” he told her. “Tatiana, why don’t you go first, then Lilith, then I’ll follow.”
“No,” Lilith barked. “I’m going first. It’s my present.”
Tatiana stepped back in surrender. “You go first, then.”
Mal pointed at the portal. He couldn’t have been more over this whole thing if he tried. At least Lilith going first was a great way to test if the sun was still up. “There. Go.”
With a flounce, Lilith tossed her head and stepped into the circle. She disappeared. Tatiana looked at him. “Maybe we could just erase the portal and be done with her that way?”
Mal raised one brow. “She can travel in and out of the ancients’ realm without effort. What would keep her from leaving the Garden that way?” Again, he pointed to the portal. “Hurry up, before she kills something on the other side.”
Sighing, Tatiana followed after her. As soon as she disappeared, he stepped through.
And found them waiting for him in the middle of a desert. At night.
“There’s nothing here,” Lilith grumped. She stuck her hands on her hips as she turned to look at him. “What kind of—” Her mouth rounded into a circle. “Look!” She pointed and he and Tatiana turned.
A set of gates to rival any he’d ever seen rose up from the sand and vanished into the evening sky. Walls made of trees joined the sides and rounded out of sight. The air in front of the ornately filigreed gates shimmered like a heat mirage and a soldier appeared. Not a soldier exactly. He’d never seen a soldier with wings.
The creature came toward them. Lilith hissed. The creature opened his mouth and roared at her, blowing them all back a few steps. Then he pointed a wicked, flaming sword at her. It spun on its hilt, the flames flowing
