Chapter 43

Anya stood in an ancient forest, the smell of decaying leaf litter and earth hanging heavy in the air like smog.

"Damn it, not again," she muttered.

Since Baba Zosia had torn apart what was left of Anya"s memory spell, she was dreaming so vividly that she wasn"t sure if it was memories or her own imagination. Trajan had been able to help her sort through some of them, but the lack of restful sleep was leaving her exhausted.

Anya looked up at the branches above her, and the leaves weren"t moving. There was no breeze, no sounds of birds or animals. Careful not to make too much noise, she walked softly, searching for a path.

The trees were eerie, covered in moss and shadow, so when Anya saw a patch of sunlight, she ran for it. The pine and birch trees thinned out to reveal a large clearing and a small cottage built of stone and wood. Smoke was drifting up from the chimney, and well-tended gardens filled with vegetables, flowers, and herbs surrounded the building.

"In the middle of the big dark forest lived an evil witch," Anya whispered as she approached.

As soon as Anya placed one foot on the house steps, the door opened, and a woman stepped out, a sword raised high and pointed directly at her.

"Hello. I don"t mean you any harm," Anya said quickly, her arms raised in surrender. The sword didn"t lower as a pair of piercing, angry green eyes stared at her. She knew those eyes and the silver hair held back in a messy braid.

"Who are you?" they both asked at once.

"My name is Yanka, and you are trespassing on my land," the woman hissed, wearing Anya"s famous "fuck off" glare.

"Shit. I"m Anya. I think, I mean I am… I"m your granddaughter about five times over," she answered quickly, edging back from the sword point.

After a long ten seconds, Yanka sheathed her sword and studied her with narrowed eyes. Yanka only looked around thirty-five years old to Anya"s reckoning, a scar running along her neck to her collarbone.

"What are you doing here?" Yanka finally asked.

"I"m dreaming."

"This isn"t the Land of Dreaming. It"s the Land of the Dead," Yanka said with a shake of her head.

Anya"s heart tripped. "I think I would know if I was dead."

"Would you? I didn"t. I thought I was dreaming too when I came to this place. I"m still waiting to wake up."

"I"m not dead," Anya repeated, needing to believe it.

"You hope." Yanka folded her pale, scarred arms and then pulled the sleeves of her dress down to hide them from Anya"s gaze.

"I need a drink," she said before turning back towards the door. "Wipe your feet."

Anya followed her through the shadowy hallway and into a kitchen. It was similar to the one she had back at the farm, with wooden cupboards and benches along one wall, a pine table, and a cast-iron stove.

Yanka wore a simple woolen dress and a soft leather girdle pressed with intricate designs. Anya watched her as she opened a cupboard and brought out a large jar of violet liquid.

"How long have you been in this place?" Anya asked, trying not to stare at her.

"Too long to remember properly now. I woke in the forest and found my way to this cottage. I repaired it and settled in to wait. The forest"

"Is frighteningly silent," Anya interrupted.

"I was going to say dangerous. You can"t leave the cottage after nightfall. I tried once and got this." Yanka put the jar on the table and lifted the hem of her dress. Wrapped around her left leg was a long, curving scar.

"Der"mo," Anya swore. "I"m sure I"ll wake up by nightfall."

Yanka lowered her skirt and placed two squat pottery mugs next to the jar. She sat on one of the three-legged stools and asked Anya to sit on the other one. A small knife appeared in her hand, and she deftly began to cut the wax seal.

"So you are of Ilya"s brood? I forget what name he gave himself," she asked.

"Ven?l?inen."

Yanka"s face screwed up. "A Finnish name to insult me further."

"Ilya was my grandfather"s grandfather," Anya answered politely.

Ilya"s brood, not her family. Trajan said that she and Ilya hadn"t been close, but Anya could hear the disapproval in Yanka"s tone. Yanka poured the thick liquid from the jar into the mugs.

"You have some magical ability, yes?" Yanka asked before sipping her drink. Anya did the same and was pleasantly surprised to discover it was blackberry vodka.

"Yeah, although I only found out about it recently, and I"m still learning," Anya replied.

Yanka"s eyes flashed with annoyance. "You should"ve begun your teaching when you were three."

"Eikki, my grandfather, thought it would be best not to teach me. Something about wanting me to have a safe, normal life."

And because I was too much like you, she didn"t add. Anya had known Yanka for a whole five minutes and was already intimidated enough to keep her mouth shut.

Yanka muttered a curse. "Fool! Magic isn"t something you can leave undeveloped, or it will control you and burn you up."

"Is that what happened to you? Baba Yaga told me that the magic had destroyed you."

"Baba Yaga"s a lying old cunt, but even I"m not sure what happened to me. As to what I remember…give me your hand."

"Why?"

"I"m going to show you something that your grandfather should have. The future," Yanka said, reaching across the table.

Anya drained her mug and took Yanka"s hand. The electrical zap of magic pulsed sharply between their palms when they touched, but Yanka didn"t let go. She began whispering under her breath, and images flooded Anya"s mind so fast she couldn"t discern what they were.

Then there was only flames and blood and screaming.

"Anya!"Yvan charged into Anya"s room as flames engulfed it. He could make out her body on the bed, writhing on the sheets, fire pouring from her skin. Yvan"s body lit up with the firebird"s flames and power, and he walked through the fire to reach her.

"Anya, wake up," he said urgently.

These are not ordinary flames. This is magic fire, the firebird said.

"It doesn"t matter what type of fire it is!" Yvan shouted, shaking her. "Anyanka! Wake up!"

"Yvan?" Anya opened a bleary eye. The flames still burned, and she started in fear, twisting about in her sheets.

"It"s okay, Anya. Turn the flames off.," Yvan said, clutching her face in his hands. "It"s not real. This is only your magic." Anya nodded and shut her eyes in concentration. Within seconds the flames slowly vanished, sinking back inside of her. The firebird withdrew back within Yvan at the same time until the room was back to normal. Anya collapsed in his arms, shaking and crying.

"You"re safe, Anya. Don"t cry," Yvan tried to soothe, rubbing her back. "You"re okay."

"Just a dream," Anya murmured over and over against his shirt.

"What happened?" Trajan strode into the room, his coat and hair still wet from being outside. Anya let Yvan go with a jerk, running to Trajan"s arms for comfort. Yvan carefully schooled his face as the sharp spike of jealousy pierced his guts.

"We saw the flames coming out of the window when we drove in. We thought the whole place was burning," Cerise said, her face white with worry.

"No, just me," Anya replied, her voice muffled by Trajan"s overcoat.

"How about we go downstairs and get you something warm to drink?" Trajan said, kissing her gently and driving the spike into Yvan a little further. "Why do you taste like blackberries?"