Here and there, enormous chunky-barked trees arched over the path, shading the way with dinner-plate-sized leaves in deep bluish-green. Where the mist cleared, sunlight filtered through in a dappled pattern and lit up an array of unusual fruits hanging from vines. Electric bright flowers bloomed everywhere and the scent wrapped around Chrysabelle like welcoming arms.
Birdsong, light and more musical than any she’d heard before, floated around her. The subtle buzz of busy insects hummed along in harmony. There was no sense of anything being afraid of her. She passed rabbits sitting near the path, but they just blinked up at her without running away.
A shadowy length of spotted skin rippled behind some of the foliage. A leopard emerged from a clump of tall spiked red flowers and sat, looking at her with a vaguely curious expression. Chrysabelle froze. This was no varcolai.
But it was the Garden of Eden. Wasn’t it supposed to be peaceful here? Everything in accord? “Nice leopard,” she whispered, keeping her hands very still at her sides.
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 comarré 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?”