Chapter 5 Lore
FIVE
Lore
THE HANDSOME—AND exceptionally talented—spider assassin had gone preternaturally still when he first saw the rock the fairy godmother from hell had given me.
I didn’t need to possess any extraordinary powers of deduction like my favorite detectives to realize whatever I held wasn’t the portal stone he’d mentioned.
He’d tried hard to convince me to hand him the stone without being obvious about it, but there was no way I’d give him the one thing I knew could bring me back home to my family.
Dreaming of embarking on a fantasy adventure was thrilling from the safety of my room, but I was quickly discovering that living it was a bit of a nightmare.
I never had to worry about actually being impaled by giant spiders in Bellington. I’d give anything to be back there now, with the exception of handing over the one object I knew could bring me home.
There was no guarantee that the sociopath would take me with him.
I gripped the stone in my palm, trying to summon the same warmth I’d felt from it back in my village while the quiet assassin watched in that unnervingly intense way.
Nothing happened.
I peered back at him, hoping for any hint of how I was doing, but he might as well have been carved from marble.
His expression was completely closed off and void of any warmth.
I’d read enough fiction to know the villain always turned up the charm right before he double-crossed the heroine.
Thus far, I wasn’t in any danger of swooning.
This man was as friendly and approachable as the mythical ice dragons I’d grown up reading about.
He did have all the physical trappings of an exquisite antihero, though, right down to his beautiful, ruthless features.
I needed to be on guard while we were stuck in this predicament.
The last thing I needed was for my fiction-loving brain to kick on and start imagining him as the leading love interest.
He kept that frosty gaze locked on mine as I struggled to wake the not-likely-a-portal-stone up. It wasn’t the easiest thing to ignore.
I kept trying to focus on the matter at hand and not think about his little slip and all the terrible things it could mean.
He’d called Bellington my realm, not his.
Gods only knew who he was or where he came from. If I let myself start freaking out over that, I’d end up in the fetal position and I didn’t want to be that vulnerable in front of him or Jessa Maya when she returned.
It had been more disquieting than comforting to see another woman. Which was odd, but something had been off about her, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was a nagging sense of déjà vu that made no sense.
That feeling of foreboding persisted even now.
A prickle of unease traveled down my spine the longer the silence stretched between us and the stone remained as magical as a lump of coal.
“How does the portal stone work?” I finally asked. “It’s not coming to life like the first time I held it.”
Something flashed in his face, much too quickly for me to read.
“Concentrate on your home and picture yourself being there. The magic will do the rest.”
I closed my fingers around the stone and waited for the telltale sensation I’d felt before. The warmth, the shadows streaming out…
I imagined my small village, then shifted my attention to my library. I spent so much time there, it was easy to envision the space.
Every time I unlocked the door and stepped inside the small, squat building, I felt the same sense of wonder that I had as a girl when my parents took us there.
I could see the slant of warm afternoon light that illuminated the worn shelves, mismatched wooden chairs gathered around a coffee table and fireplace like old friends, and the hush that wrapped around me like a favorite quilt.
I wasn’t thrilled about potentially dragging this ice king there with me, but sacrifices needed to be made.
A few minutes ticked by. I squinted.
We were still in the cabin.
“Is it possible it got broken on the trip?” I asked, flipping the damned thing over, searching for any cracks or hairline fractures.
The assassin shocked me by leaning in and wrapping his hand over mine, his warm, calloused fingers brushing against the stone in my grasp.
“Empty your mind. I’ll transport us back.”
I raised a brow at his clipped tone.
He ignored me and closed his eyes, no doubt attempting to get the magic rock to work.
I wanted him to succeed, so I refrained from silently cursing him for his surly attitude.
A minute passed. Then another. The rock didn’t get the message that he was impatient and possibly a serial killer.
It remained stubbornly inactive. I could almost believe it was tormenting him on purpose. An odd kinship sparked in my chest at that. I doubted many people ever challenged him.
His jaw ticked.
He wrenched his eyes open and glared at the stone.
I gave him a few seconds to come to terms with his annoyance and did my best to not stare at the ridiculously toned chest he had.
When he’d leaned over to hold the stone, he’d inadvertently brought that wall of muscle mere inches from my face, and it was difficult to ignore.
With definition like that, he would definitely be a villain in my romantic fantasy adventure stories. It was practically a criminal offense to look like a god and have the attitude of a sinner.
I made another mental note to not get on his bad side. He could probably snap my neck and bury my corpse without breaking a sweat.
“Lore?” He snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
If I had a dagger, I might have stabbed him with it.
Instead, I grabbed his tunic and tossed it at him.
Even injured, his reflexes were unlike anything I’d ever seen; he snatched it from the air before it hit him in his beautiful chiseled face.
He arched a brow but dutifully shrugged his gore-splattered shirt back on.
I released a breath. Thank the gods that was taken care of.
“You were saying?” I asked brightly.
A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he considered the stone again before responding. “Does any of this feel… strange?”
I waited for him to crack a smile for obvious reasons.
He didn’t.
He held my gaze, waiting.
“If by ‘this’ you mean falling through a portal, being attacked by Jurassic spiders, then ending up in a cabin in the woods with a nameless, mortally wounded assassin who miraculously healed in under an hour seem odd?”
I tapped a finger against my lips, feigning contemplation. He could not be serious now. Of course this was strange.
In fact, we’d crossed so far beyond strange, I was wondering if we’d created a new state of mind altogether.
Now that I wasn’t focused on staying away from the death spiders and he was awake and we were not magically back in my village, the shock was wearing off. I was seconds away from diving into the deepest end of the insanity pool and floating around there until reality came back.
“No, it’s just another normal evening in my world. Why, are you feeling like it’s a bit strange?”
His attention fell to my mouth and lingered.
If we were in a book, this would absolutely be the time he’d quip about my smart mouth.
For a moment, he looked like he was about to do just that.
Instead of playing out that secret fantasy I didn’t know I had, he brought that icy glare back up, respectfully staring into my eyes.
I released the breath that had suddenly lodged in my throat; the tension had been glorious there for a second.
“When you used the stone on the mountaintop, what were you imagining?” he asked.
I lifted a shoulder. “My parents’ house.”
“Does this look like your family’s home?”
I shook my head. “When nothing happened, I started to think of where I’d feel safe. The next thing I knew, I was picturing a cabin in the woods, far from giant spiders.”
He stared at me for an extended beat.
“Do you recognize this particular cabin?”
“Is that really important right now?”
He simply arched a brow, waiting. Gods, he was infuriating.
If he wanted to play out his own fever dream, I’d humor him.
While his general attitude left much to be desired, he did take a spider leg to the gut for me. If that wasn’t deserving of a quick ride on the delusional train, I wasn’t sure what was. Plus, I was a little concerned about my brief conversation with Jessa Maya earlier.
I looked at the room with a critical eye.
Honestly, there had been a few peculiar things I’d stuffed into my mental “to deal with later” file. It was obviously time to open it.
“Everything here is very close to a book I’ve read.”
Jessa Maya’s name, her moon-pale skin and crimson hair, even the forest and meadow of sweet grass were identical.
In the story, legend claimed her hair was the color of her victims’ blood. She wasn’t exactly human; she was a redcap. A murderous goblin.
One of the more creative aspects of the novel was how instead of dipping her cap in blood, she dipped her locks in, and her hair grew darker the more she killed. Though she did also drink the blood, so there was some confusion about how the magic actually worked.
The woman I’d met here had medium auburn locks, which, if we were insane and were going by the author’s world-building, would be a little concerning.
I finally brought my attention back to his. “That’s strange, right?”
He didn’t look surprised by the revelation; if anything a grim sort of resolve set into his features.
“What happens in the book?” he pressed.
I glanced out the lone window, nibbling my lower lip.
“Well…” It struck me that this would be an awkward plot summary, no matter how I tried selling it. Best to give as little information as possible. “Jessa Maya has a bit of a murdering addiction.”
“And?”
I grimaced. “She’s a cannibal. Well, technically, she’s a goblin. She looks human, though, which is why I think she gets confused for a cannibal.”
His brows shot up.