Season of the Witch part 3

Usually, Calla does what I ask her to; not just because I’m basically her boss, but because she trusts my judgement and likes to keep me happy.  I sometimes worry about this, due to the danger of her forfeiting her own happiness as a result, but in general, I don’t have to worry about her disagreeing with or disobeying me.  So when I got up from where I had been crouched, squinting in the sudden morning sunlight (wherever I was, it was about ten hours ahead of the time back home), gagging and doing my best to keep down my dinner, and saw Calla getting up behind me, looking dazed...for a moment I was a little nonplussed.


After a moment of staring at her, I spluttered, “What the h-”
“I didn’t come here on purpose, I swear!” she interjected, holding her arms up placatingly, “I was just sitting there, and I think it pulled me in!”
Fact: Calla is well-known for her honesty.  She’s almost too afraid to lie.  Ever.
Fact: She also does not willingly throw herself into danger for a stupid reason, such as doing it on a whim.  There was no reason for her to come with me, and more than enough reason not to.
Fact: Baba Yaga probably has sources that could have told her about Calla; she very well might know about her already, and created that spell to make sure she came too, willingly or not.
Fact: there is a smell of extra magic in the air, and a few fragments on the ground which must have come from the portal-none of them belong to my assistant.
Conclusion: This is Baba Yaga’s fault.  Not Calla’s.


A few seconds later, my phone buzzed.  I got it out, and saw that it was a text from Xen.
The portal sucked Calla in with you-is she with you now?
Yeah, she’s here.
Going to try to send her home?
Debating that now.
I took a deep breath to calm myself, put on my protective sunglasses, put my phone away, and then asked, “How’re your portal opening skills?”
Calla winced.  “Not very good, I’m afraid.”
I shouldn’t even have to ask.  Of course she’ll have lousy portal skills.  But even if she had them, the old bat would probably have some other way of ensuring that she stays here.
I sighed.  “Okay.  Then, despite my wishes, it looks like you’re coming with me.”
Calla looked at me apprehensively.  “Are you-sure?”
I straightened my tie, and texted Xen, Going to just roll with it, and keep her with me.  “I’d rather it were otherwise.  Sorry, I do.  But Baba Yaga obviously wants to meet you.”
“Okay.”  Brushing a twig out of her hair, Calla came to stand by my side.  However, she was caught off guard when I abruptly turned toward her.


“Before we go anywhere, we need to establish some ground rules about when we get to Baba Yaga’s hut.”  I held up a claw.  “One: if at all possible, avoid looking her in the eyes.  Just don’t.  Or any of her minions, if such there should be.  There’s a very, very slight possibility that she doesn’t know about that power yet, and so much the better for us if she doesn’t.  Two (I held up a second claw): don’t touch anything unless you see me touch it first, and you’re absolutely sure it’s safe.”
Calla seemed about to say something, but paused.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You won’t like it.”
“Try me.”
“I-I was thinking that those criteria don’t necessarily go hand in hand.”
She looked down, blushing, but also trying to smother a giggle.  I made a miffed hmph noise, but conceded the point.
“Three (I held up a third claw): don’t eat anything unless absolutely sure it’s safe.  It’s a lot like rule two, and in fact can probably be considered a part of it.  But a fundamental rule of adventures seems to be having things come in threes, and that includes rules that the protagonists need to follow if they want to stay safe.  And besides, Baba Yaga claims that she’s no longer in the habit of eating children, but I’m not sure I trust her enough to believe that.  Got it?”
Calla gulped a bit when I mentioned eating children, but merely said, “Don’t look her in the eyes, don’t touch anything, and don’t eat anything.”
“Good girl.”


The hut was just a clearing away, surrounded by larch and ash trees.  It was made out of black wood, and despite being small, appeared much bigger, due to its standing on an enormous, gangly pair of chicken legs.  The side facing us had a set of steps attached leading up to a door, with two windows right above it, so that it looked kind of like they were wide, staring eyes.  On either side of the door were trees of some kind, which almost appeared to be growing out of the wood; gnarled, wild, twisted things that gave the house an even more freakish appearance than before.  The hut was surrounded by a fence made out of bones, with skulls placed on the tops of the posts for decoration.  As we got closer, I saw that the fence was just two skulls short of a full set-but based on what I knew, it was enchanted so that it always had at least one missing, depending on how many people showed up here, as an unspoken threat.  All in all, I was sure that the whole kaboodle was specifically designed to scare the willies out of small Russian children.


I glanced down at Calla, to see how she was handling this.  She was examining the house with a critical eye (the other one was impressed by it).
“Well, what do you think, kid?”  I waved a claw at the place.
She chewed her lip for a second, then looked around, as if to make sure we wouldn’t be overheard.  “It seems...it’s a little...ostentatious.”
I chuckled.  Calla gave a nervous giggle in reply.  Then she asked, more seriously, “Xen called her a witch.  Was that just intended as an insult?  Because even if it was, it also sounded like she was calling her by a title.  Shouldn’t she be a mage or alchemist?  Or-or even sorceress?”
“Well, she probably is one of those, but she goes by the title of witch.  And she’s so powerful that nobody argues with her about it.”
I straightened my shirt, actually tucking it in, and smoothed back my hair a bit-though leaving it just messy enough to be rebellious.  Show time.


We strode into the yard, marching up the dirt path until we got to the house.  I idly wondered if my next action would be taking a liberty, since Baba Yaga was probably the only one allowed to do it, but I reached out and scratched gently at one of the legs.  As I did, I chanted, “Izbushka, Izbushka, lower your door to me.”
The house stirred in a way that seemed almost surprised, but then, as I took a step back, it slowly bent its knees, until the stairs were just a hop away.
I glanced at Calla, pleased.
“Wow; that worked.”


I jumped onto the first step, giving the kid a hand up.  Though the stairs looked old and creaked when we stepped on them, they were quite sturdy.  We started to ascend them, when out of the blue the house began to rise again.  Of course there were no handrails, so we both lost our balance quite quickly.  I fell forward, landing on the hard wooden stairs, but Calla started to fall back, looking about to go over the edge-fortunately, she created a lasso that wound itself around the tree to the left of the door, and even though it bent and creaked dangerously, she was able to pull herself safely into balance.


As soon as the house, Izbushka, was standing up straight, Calla sat down hard on the steps, taking deep breaths to calm herself; I could hear her heart racing.  Mine wasn’t going that slowly either, so I had to join her in trying to relax, even though the fall wouldn’t have been able to hurt me.
“Stupid house,” I muttered.
“Careful,” Calla reminded me, “she might hear you.”
I was tempted to say, “Let her,” before pouring a larger torrent of abuse on both the house and the witch.  However, that would in all likelihood tempt fate to arrange things so that Baba Yaga would be standing right behind me and listening to everything I said, leading to an embarrassing (if not downright fatal) moment.  So I just shut my trap, and stood up.
“You all right?”
“I’m still a little shaky,” she admitted.  “But I don’t think I’m hurt at all.”
“Good.  That’s good.”  I offered her a claw up after giving her a minute or two to recover.  “Ready to meet her?”
Calla stood, taking a deep breath.  “What if she offers me something to eat?  Won’t it be rude not to accept it?”
“Try to discreetly use a spell, sense if there’s anything wrong with it.  Same if she offers for you to touch anything, or sit down, or anything like that.”
“Okay.  Then let’s go.”


We climbed up the remaining steps, which creaked ominously beneath our feet.  The door’s knocker, I saw up close, was shaped like a golden skull and crossbones.  There was a deep blue aura hanging around it, making me suspect that it was alive, and maybe would try to bite me or something if I touched it.  So I avoided it, and just pounded my fist (though gently-I didn’t want to break the wood) on the door.  At the third knock, fitting with the universal theme of three being the most important number ever, the door slowly and ominously opened.  It was dark inside, and I suspected that there was a spell present, because even with my nocturnal eyes I couldn’t see a thing.
“Come in, Chernobyl,” an aged woman’s voice with a thick Russian accent croaked.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and then stepped into the witch’s house.

Season of the Witch part 2

Calla’s eyebrows scrunched together, and then raised.  “She’s real too?”
“Oh, yeah.  She’s real, powerful, and dangerous.”
“And she-and she wants you to come solve a case for her?”
“That’s not exactly what she says, but-oh, here.”  Xen passed her the letter.  For those of you readers who are irritably wishing for me to just say what’s in it already, you may read along with Calla.

Dear Chernobyl,


I need your help.  You must come to my cottage at once; this letter, when burned, will open a gateway.  Time is of the essence, so I suggest you do it soon.


I await your arrival.


Typically for her, the note was not signed.  I sighed.  As much as I knew that I didn’t trust the old witch, Xen was right about my curiosity being piqued.  If she claimed to need my help, then it had to be something big.  Maybe.  People with that level of power can afford to obsess over extremely petty things; just read the ancient Greek myths sometime.  Nevertheless, the idea that it could be important meant that I really, really wanted to go and find out.


“Why does she call you Chernobyl?” Calla asked, passing the letter back to me.
“It’s Russian for Wormwood.”
“Whoa, really?”  My assistant chuckled.  “That’s kind of appropriate, actually.”
“Very funny.”  I smiled as I went to the cupboard, and grabbed the matchbox.  “I don’t know when I’ll be back.  It depends on what she wants.”
“Why can’t she just come here?”
“It’s complicated, kid.”
“Do you have to go now?”  Xen gave me a slightly pleading look.  I immediately felt guilty; even though she was used to my job taking me off into dangerous situations on short notice, it definitely wasn’t easy on her.  Especially now that we also had a baby to look after.


I set down the matchbox, and put my arms around her.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.  “Should I wait until tomorrow?”
After hugging me back for a second, Xen placed her palms on my chest, gently but firmly pushing me away.
“She’ll probably just get cranky and retaliate somehow.  You’d better strike while the iron is hot.”
“Xen-”
“I’m fine,” she lied.  Seeing my expression, she amended, “Okay, I’m not fine, but that’s not important at the moment.  Go see what the old witch wants.”
My heart stung, even though I knew she was trying to do what was best at the moment, and I promised myself that I’d do something about it the first chance I got.
“Should I-” Calla began.
I quickly jumped in, turning and pointing a decisive claw at her.
“You are definitely not coming.”


Calla looked both confused and hurt, and I regretted the abruptness in which I had spoken.
“Why not?” she whispered.  It sounded almost like she was about to cry; maybe a bit of an overreaction, but she just wasn’t used to me talking to her like that.
I slowly crossed to the other side of the table and plucked Phil out of his seat, cleaning him off as I explained.
“Sorry I said it like that, kid.  I didn’t-it’s not that I wouldn’t want your company.  But I don’t think it would be safe for you.  Baba Yaga has this bad habit of collecting rare and interesting objects.  And to her, that includes people.  I think that if she knew about your eyes, she would all too happily add you to that collection.  It seems a lot easier in the long run if you just sit this one out.”


The hurt was still there, but now that she better understood the situation, it had faded somewhat.  Calla nodded.
“Okay.”
“If I need your help, I’ll text you.”  I extracted the washcloth from between Phil’s fangs, and handed him to Xen.
“Okay.”  My assistant sat down, combing her hair with a few fingers.
I kissed my wife goodbye, trying not to think that I was like Hector just before he went back outside the walls of Troy.
“I’ll let you know what happens, okay?”
“Okay.  And try not to start another international incident, would you?  We don’t need Russian spies as well as British ones persecuting us.”
“You kidding?  Baba Yaga won’t need to hire any flunkies to persecute me, she’ll just-”
A claw covered my mouth.
“Try not to start anything.  Capisce?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Thank you.”  She lowered her claw, and kissed me once more for luck.  Then I struck a match, and set the letter on fire.  Instantly it began to glow, and the ashes formed a portal which sucked me up, up, up and away…