I should have had a sense of foreboding when I saw the letter for me on the table next to my dinner plate. I should have known the nerve-wracking horrors it would create for me and Calla. As it was, all I saw was a black envelope with my name written on it in bright white letters, and a seal on the front that looked as though it were made out of clotted human blood. Now, if it had been just a plain white envelope, then I would have had cause for alarm; those generally mean trouble. As it was, when I saw it I just thought it might be a prank letter from Morty or something, and so picked it up with no cause for alarm at first. Then I got a close look at the seal, and began to feel some misgivings; there was a picture of what appeared to be a mortar, with a pestle and a broomstick crossed in front of it. That reminded me of something, something important…
Then I opened the letter, and after scanning it, gave my assessment of the situation.
“Oh, heck no!”
I flung the letter back down onto the tabletop, prompting startled looks from Xen, Calla, and Phil. They jerked up from their respective dining activities and gave me the looks of frightened meerkats, attempting to assess if there was danger here.
“Sorry,” I said, picking up the letter from where it had landed in the gravy. As I pulled it out, it turned as clean and fresh as before. Typical.
“Who’s it from?” Xen asked, cleaning food off Phil’s face.
“Someone very important, especially in Russia.”
Looking very interested now, Calla asked, “One of the former czars?”
“Bigger.”
“Prime Minister?” Xen asked.
“Bigger.”
“Russia! Russia!” Phil proclaimed, evidently liking the sound of that. I smiled at the delighted way in which he said it, and at more evidence of his being an early talker, feeling some of my sudden black mood dissipate at his adorableness (even with gravy and pieces of shredded beef all over his face). Meanwhile, I noticed that Xen’s eyes were lit with both clarity and alarm.
“Her? She wants your help?”
“Indeedy-do.” I handed over the letter for her to see; she took it in curious claws, and read through it.
“What would she need from you? No offense, but she doesn’t seem like she’d need anyone or anything. Least of all a detective.”
“Yeah, I know. Do you think I should find out?”
“Even though you’re being cranky about it, I know you’re curious. So you probably should, if you’re to have any peace.”
“Sorry, but who are you talking about?” Calla piped up.
I cleared my throat, and then asked, “Kid, have you ever heard of Baba Yaga?”
