“What is this, hematite?” I ask, bending over to pick one up. To my surprise, the metallic pewter sphere quickly jumps off of me, rolling back along the path on its own accord. “Don’t tell me those are sentient too.”
“Shadow stones,” Death says without glancing at me. “They are linked to my blood, as well as Lovia’s and Tuonen’s. They operate on intentions. In this case they provide a path to the castle. When I’m not here, they will purposely lead others astray. That, along with the wards in place and a couple of rockhounds, means the mountain lair remains a secret in the land.”
“I’m sorry, but mountain lair?” I repeat.
“You got a better name?”
“Castle Grayskull?” I offer. “I mean, that was the first thing off the top of my head.”
He doesn’t react to that. He may have a fondness for the classic movies of my world, but I’m going to assume he’s never watched Saturday morning cartoons. Suddenly an image of Death as a child fills my head, him sitting on a couch in skull and crossbones pajamas, slurping from a bowl of cheerios and watching He-Man. Inexplicably, he also has facial hair. I have to bite back a smile.
We follow the slippery shadow-stone path for a few more minutes, leading us through the dark forest and up to the sheer cliff of the mountainside where it disappears into the mossy earth. There’s nowhere else to go except up, and while I’ve been known to rock it at a climbing gym, I’m not about to scale something of this magnitude.
Then Death waves his hand in the air, a pewter key dangling from his fist. It catches the light as if the sun is shining on us and suddenly the air in front of us shimmers, then parts like a curtain, revealing a narrow staircase of slick black steps that lead up the mountain side, which is further back than it first looked.
Now that was magic.
Death looks at me over his shoulder. “It’s a steep hike to the entrance. Do you need a hand?”
How gentlemanly of him to ask, I think grimly. Out of stubbornness I shake my head. “I can handle it.”
He studies me for a moment, then nods before heading up the steps.
They’re even steeper than they looked, and made of a glassy rock, like obsidian. I go up a couple, trying to keep my balance as my boots slide back and forth, and I’m just about to eat shit when Death is suddenly beside me, moving faster than my eyes can see, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me up against him.
For a moment I forget that the man seems to hate me, and that I’m being forced to marry him. For a moment I forget about everything except how natural it feels to have his body against mine. Despite his armor, I can feel his heart beating, which in turn makes my chest grow warm, for heat to flare through me. I’m not sure how I’m going to survive marriage with him if my body is always going to react this way around him.
“This is the second time today I’ve saved you from falling to your demise,” he says roughly. “You can thank me, you know. You’re already in my debt as it is.”
He hasn’t let go of me, thank god, because I’m pretty sure I’d fall backward.
“Thank you,” I say. It sounds weak even though I mean it.
“You know, part of me wonders what would happen if I let go,” he muses darkly.
Uh, no thanks.
“I’m being serious when I say thank you,” I say quickly, my fingers gripping his coat. “You’ve saved my life. Twice in the same day.”
“What I mean is that I have a feeling you’d save yourself,” he goes on. A look of quiet awe comes through his eyes. “You don’t quite realize how you shine when push comes to shove. I saw what you did with that selenite knife. That blade doesn’t cut for any mortal, and yet you were able to sever Louhi’s tongue like it was a sheet of paper. You threw the knife and it pierced her wing like a leaf. You shouldn’t have been able to do that, Hanna, not to anyone, but especially not to her. But, when it came down to it, you did.” He shakes his head. “And yet you still don’t believe you belong in this world.”
Then he turns, his hand firmly at my waist, and pulls me up the rest of the stairs, my feet barely touching the steps, until we reach a large metal door. Still holding onto me, he slips the key into the iron lock and turns it. The door opens with a threatening moan.
I’m not sure what I was expecting with his mountain lair, but it’s a lot smaller than I expected. From what I can see there is just a narrow hall with impossibly high ceilings, giving the feeling of walking through a keyhole itself. The faint light from outside the open door does little to illuminate where the hall leads.