My Trojan Horse Majesty (The Russian Witch’s Curse #5)

18. Izzy

Chapter 18

Izzy

M y dad died fourteen years ago.

He was a great dad. He loved me, he loved my siblings, and he adored our mother. His death wrecked our family, like a bowling ball barreling down the alley to knock all the pins in different directions. My brother Ethan completely changed his mind on the kind of future he wanted. My mom became obsessed with resurrecting her career and earning enough money to take his place. She almost turned into a robot—she scheduled everything to the minute, like if she could be everywhere and do everything, we might not notice that he was missing.

But we did notice.

Losing Dad felt like a bullet had punched a hole in our hearts, the blood just draining and draining and draining.

For our entire family, really.

Mom’s the heart of our family, but Dad held her heart together, and after he died. . .I guess my analogies sort of don’t hold up, because it sure felt like her heart was turning to stone. If you had told me a dozen years ago that my dad was Mom’s soulmate, that he was her only perfect match in all the world, I might have believed it. Mom certainly acted like that was true after he was gone.

But then we moved from Houston to the middle of nowhere, and Mom met Steve.

He wasn’t anything like our dad.

I mean, sure, they were both men, but where Dad was polished and well-spoken and sophisticated, Steve wore dirty cowboy boots and lugged two forty-pound grain bags—one over each shoulder—half a mile to the barn without a thought. To do the same task, Dad would have found a dolly and carefully stacked them and slowly wheeled it out, all the while ensuring nothing could scuff his shoes.

Actually, Dad never would have moved grain bags in the first place.

Mom was very happy with Dad. She was prim, polished, and well-educated. Everyone always called them a power couple. But she was happy in a completely different way with Steve. She was relaxed, and she laughed louder. Her eyes lit up brighter, somehow.

Sometimes I wonder whether she loves Steve more , which would be kind of crappy since he’s not really my dad. Or maybe it’s good, since he’s here with her now. I don’t know, really, because when she was with Dad, I was pretty small. I didn’t know any different. Maybe she was just as happy in a different way. But ever since she met Steve, and I could tell she was happy with him, I guess I haven’t really believed in soulmates.

The whole idea’s kind of ridiculous to me.

One person in all the world who’s your perfect match? Somehow the fabric of who and what you are just meshes with theirs in a way it can’t with anyone else on earth? I’ve seen my mom’s happiness and joy and life fit well with two very different men in two very different places, so that must all be nonsense.

I just don’t buy it.

“A soul match?” I snort. “Please.”

“You don’t even know what it means,” Lechuza says.

“The idea that there’s one person who’s just perfectly suited to make you happy?” I arch an eyebrow. “Only one person in the world who can complete you? I know that doesn’t exist.”

“You’re right.” Lechuza strolls closer very slowly. “That nonsensical thing you just said doesn’t exist. A soul match isn’t that. It’s something very different.”

“We’re listening,” Leonid says.

“Sit.” Lechuza points at a log. “You two sit there, fold your hands on your laps, and close your mouths.” She wanders closer, peers over the edge of the crevasse that Leonid opened up when he was fishing that blue rock out of the earth. “Sit!”

Her shout shocks me into compliance, and I drop to my bum. Leonid’s right beside me, but instead of folding his hands on his lap, he takes mine in his.

“See?” She shakes her head. “Even now, you reach for one another.”

“He can’t access his powers without touching me,” I say. “I’m like a handgun he feels better while cradling.”

Lechuza rolls her eyes. “Nice analogy. You’re so American. But a soul match isn’t one person in an entire universe. It’s, maybe, one in ten million. There are plenty of people in the earth’s current population that might be a very, very snug fit with your personality. People you complement in every way that matters.”

“But he was born in the eighteen hundreds,” I say. “So?—”

Lechuza’s eyes spark. “Yes, and you little idiot, if you expand the search parameters to include past, present, and future, there would be thousands of matches. Now shut up, and listen.”

I close my mouth, but I don’t like her tone.

“ You are an abomination.” She jabs a finger at Leonid. “Humans shouldn’t be using our powers at all, and we ought to have roasted Yamauba for what she did.”

“Why didn’t you?” Leonid asks. “If it was so wrong for her to share her powers with a human.”

Lechuza laughs. “Share? You think she shared them, like you’d hand someone half an ice-cream sandwich?” She lowers her head. “She slept with a human—the great and handsome Rurik—and then she made children with him. And then, that human, that arrogant, powerful, stupid, perverse human, he cheated on her.” She looks ready to burn something down. “Baba Yaga or Yamauba or whatever name she’s chosen lately, got just what she deserved. A broken heart.”

“So that’s why you didn’t punish her?”

The pep in Lechuza’s step dissipates some. “Well, not exactly.”

“You did it too.” I can tell by her expression. “You couldn’t really fault her, because you. . .” I clear my throat. “You were also guilty.”

“I certainly never slept with a human.” She spits. Then she focuses again on the crevasse. “I’m going to clean this up. Give me a moment.” She tilts her head, sets her feet, and spreads her arms wide. Then she heaves, and the ground trembles slightly, and the two sides of the mountain groan and rejoin. She wipes her brow. “Idiot human, using ten times as much power as he needed.”

“I’m new to using earth,” Leonid says.

“You split that mountain with a combination of your other powers.” She snorts. “If it wasn’t so clumsy, I’d actually be impressed. I tried to slap a governor on you, and you went ahead and accepted the shackles, leaning into the bond.”

“What is the bond, exactly?” I ask.

“You show up here, stomping around with your poorly aligned energy in my part of the world.” Lechuza shakes her head. “He was bound to notice the signature was wrong, and I knew it would wake him up. I went to confront you—to kick you out—but I could sense her.” She points at me. “Your stupid great-great-great-whatever grandmother would surely have shown up to defend you if I evicted you.” She tsks. “Just as stupid now as she was back then. I didn’t want to fight her, so when I saw you there, just bumbling around, I took my chance.”

“To do what, exactly?” I ask. “So what if our souls align? Bonding someone to their soulmate stops them from being able to use magic?”

Lechuza laughs. “You idiots know so little that all your questions are wrong.”

“I wonder whose fault it is when the children are ignorant,” Leonid says.

“I can see why she likes you.” Lechuza spits. On the ground. Like some kind of. . .redneck. “Soul matches aren’t one-in-the-universe, but they’re rare. Things don’t just happen. Isabel Brooks came by the exact location where you were at that moment, when I was also present and looking for a way to mute you for a reason. So when I realized you were a soul match, I pushed a little harder.” She beams. “But the soul match wasn’t what allowed the bond to exist.” She walks around me, searching my face or body for something. “No, I could bond him to you because of who and what you are, Isabel.”

“What is she?” Leonid’s eyes light up. “Is she like me?”

Lechuza laughs. “The mold was broken when you were born, beautiful boy. No, she’s something very different.” She crouches down in front of us, and this time, she whispers. “My mistake wasn’t in loving a human. It was in loving a devil.”

I blink.

“While Baba Yaga was fooling around with Rurik, she begged me for a favor. She asked me to distract her horseman, Thanatos. Or you may have heard him called by the name Hades. At first, I thought I’d fail in coming to her aid. But then, the more time I spent pursuing him, trying to distract him. . . He and I. . .” She stands. “Let’s just say we were something like a soul match.” But her smile’s very smug.

“What does that have to do with me?” I ask.

“You’re my great-great-great whatever.” She shrugs. “Thanatos’ dark energy and my light energy combined to make children who could not work magic—no mess to clean up—but were nevertheless created by equal parts light and dark. That’s why Baba Yaga and our other sisters couldn’t get mad at me. But you do carry within you the dark and light magic from both sides, and I pulled loose just enough of a thread of it to tether this one to you.” She blows a kiss to Leonid. “You’re welcome.”

“Why would you do that, though?” Leonid asks.

“To keep you from waking up the pain in my mountain, Xolotl. Or weren’t you listening at all?” She gestures at Leonid, but looks at me. “So he’s gorgeous, but sadly as dumb as a bag of rocks, huh?”

I laugh.

“Now that I’ve explained everything , linked both of the bumbling idiots who were spraying magic all over, and cleaned up your mess, I’m leaving. I have things to do. Don’t make any more messes for me to clean up. I have my own things to take care of. Got it?” She pivots.

“Wait,” I ask. “How can we break the bond?”

She pauses, looking over her shoulder. “Now who’s the dumb one?” She shrugs. “You’re soul matches whom I’ve joined magically, tying his light to your dark.” She shakes her head. “You don’t break it—joined till death.”

Then between one breath and another, she’s just gone .