Season of the Witch part 15

Using the well that was in the nearby woods, a few heat spells, and lots of soap, Calla was able to take a nice warm bath, as well as wash her filthy clothes.  Then, with her hair still wet and unbrushed, she hurried to make dinner, as it was almost the hour when Baba Yaga would announce that she was hungry.  Calla had not yet done anything to make the witch cross, and she was afraid of what would happen.
Luckily, there was no complaint from Baba Yaga, who (as usual) devoured the roast chicken and potatoes and rolls, eating whatever Calla did not get hold of first.  Mentally the girl was resigning herself to another quiet night, perhaps with a phone call to someone back home, when Baba Yaga suddenly said, “You did not kill the vodyanoy.”


Calla jumped, and after composing herself, admitted, “I did not.”
“Why not?  He could have drowned you.”
“I’m not a killer,” she said quietly.  “Once was enough; I don’t need more blood on my conscience.”
Even without looking up from her plate, she could feel those red eyes staring at her.  She just scooped up a piece of chicken with her fork, and bit into it hungrily.  It really was good chicken; soft and chewy, without that horrid dryness that white meat tends to get.  Calla would not dare to call herself the best cook in the world, but she at least knew how to handle meat.


After another silence, the witch asked, “You enjoy talking with him?”
“Well enough.  He doesn’t know about much besides the pond, but he’s a good enough soul.  Just very lonely.”
Baba Yaga made a bit of a sniff, and continued masticating her own enormous piece of chicken.  Then she swallowed, and spoke again.
“How about that young man whom you talk to sometimes when I’m asleep?  You enjoy talking with him?”
Calla felt her cheeks grow warm.
Of course she knows about him.
“Y-yes.”
The witch smiled widely.
“He’s a very precious young man, then.  Even if you haven’t told him about the blood bond.”
Calla’s shoulders and neck felt warm this time.
“How do you know that?”
Baba Yaga shrugged, and stabbed her fork into a potato.  “I can see into people’s hearts, myshka.  It’s something you will learn too, if Chernobyl does not get the sword and you’re around long enough.”


The heat burned more fiercely; she’d thought she was growing numb to the idea, but hearing it spoken aloud in the witch’s pronounced Russian voice somehow brought all the pain back with a vengeance.  Calla tried to hold it in, but she had to squeeze her eyes shut and take a gulp of water so that she would try not to cry in front of this woman.
Baba Yaga continued, relentless.  “Even if he does win, if you go home and are no longer in my service, what are you planning to do about your young man?  Will you want to bond him with a vurdalak as well?  Or another of the Folk?  Because otherwise, he is going to grow old and die long before you even start to taste old age.”
Calla stared at the old woman’s plate, unable to look at her face.  “I haven’t really found a solution-”
“That is because you’re young and inexperienced!” she snapped.  Then she used a bony finger to reach over and raise the girl’s chin, forcing her to look at her face.  Though not at her eyes; Calla resisted that urge.


Baba Yaga smiled at her, teeth glinting in the light.  “I might be able to help you.”
Internal alarms went off in Calla’s mind.  But she forced her face to go blank, and asked softly, “How?”
Baba Yaga nodded over to the black sunflower.  “Do you know why I keep this?”
Calla said, “I know it possesses some sort of powerful magic.”
She nodded eagerly.  “Yes, yes!  The sort that kings have quested for, and alchemists wasted their lives trying to find!  Each of those seeds grants the one who eats it one hundred more years to live!”
So, sort of a plant version of the Holy Grail.
Calla managed to keep a straight face and not giggle at her internal commentary.
The witch went on, “If your young man were to eat these, there would be no fuss over age difference.  You could be happy with him.”
“What would your price be?” Calla countered.
The reply was succinct: “Become my apprentice.”


While Calla was still trying to digest that, she said, “You would not have to live here.  You could go back to your home in America, and solve your little problems with Chernobyl, assuming he gets back.  But you would come here every so often, and I would teach you what I know.  And every month, if you had learned well and been a good pupil, I would give you one of these seeds to give to your love.”
Slowly the mage sat back in her chair, blinking and searching for the words she wanted.  Finally she settled on, “Why?”
Baba Yaga said, “Be specific.”
“Why do you want an apprentice all of a sudden?  And why me, of all the people in the world?”
The witch shrugged.  “Call it a whim.”  Then she stood up, cramming the last of the chicken into her mouth and gnashing it to shreds with her iron teeth.  “At least consider it, myshka.”


Morgan, if Baba Yaga wanted to make you her apprentice in exchange for a way to make Nathan live longer, what would you say?
Calla tapped out the text message after cleaning up the remains of dinner, and sent it before thinking, Wait.  That might have been a very stupid idea.  I think she is going to freak.
She was right. Morgan’s first text was a question mark, followed by one comprised only of exclamation points. 
What are you doing with Baba Yaga? was the third.
...It’s for a case, Calla replied.
You and Tristan get the strangest cases.
I know.
Let me think about it a minute.


Calla waited anxiously, curled up by the fire, which she had built up a little bit.  It wasn’t necessarily that cold, but it made her feel a bit more secure.
Finally the response came. I don't know that I would now, but that's because of the blood bond. If you had asked a year ago, the answer would have been yes.
Even if it meant he’d have to watch his parents grow old and die while he stayed young for longer than he was supposed to?
That would be his decision to make, not mine.
She nodded slowly, even knowing that her friend couldn’t see her.  Then she leaned her chin in her hand, staring at the fire.
Her phone vibrated.
Are you okay?
Calla typed back, It’s kind of a long story.
I'm listening.
This is a text message.
You know what I mean…
After a hesitant second, she texted back, Tristan has to steal a sword from Koschei the Deathless or I’m going to be Baba Yaga’s prisoner.
Wow.
Yeah.
Any way I can help?
I doubt it.  But thanks anyway.


Had she been more secure regarding her emotions, Calla might have jumped to Baba Yaga’s offer with a lot less hesitation.  But she wasn’t.
To the best of her understanding, she loved Lars.  But was it enough to make her want to make him immortal?  After all, they were still in the process of getting to know each other.  And frankly, sometimes she was afraid that he felt more passionately for her than she did for him.  Or, to put it a bit more positively, he depended on her more than she did him.  Probably because she was one of the first people he’d cared about outside his group of homeless children.
Is that really a healthy relationship, then?  Maybe we’ve jumped into this whole thing too quickly...so is it really worth preserving his life for longer, especially because it wouldn’t be fair to Rosie?
Relationships are hard.
I wish Tristan was here, so I could talk to him about this.  He’d know what to do.

TANSTAV part 29

Chapter 8 part 3

At about 11 a.m. I woke up.  I groggily opened my eyes, and saw Xen setting the table, her back to me.  Quietly, I started to get up, and sneak up on tiptoe.  Hey, I can never resist that sort of thing.  I was about a foot away, when Xen spun around and demanded, "When were you planning on telling me about Calla's other vision?!"

Needless to say, the query caught me slightly off guard.  After a moment of nervous hesitation, I asked, "Why'd she tell you?"

"She didn't mean to," she replied.  "It happened to be in her thoughts at the exact moment when I accidentally looked her in the eyes."  She sighed.  "Tristan, why didn't you tell me?"

"I was afraid to.  I didn't want to upset you.  And we already had that thing of you being potentially captured on our hands."

"And you didn't think that I'd be upset when I found out?"

"Well, actually, I was kind of hoping you wouldn't.  Find out."

"Oh, I would have, one way or another," she said, smiling grimly for a moment.  Then, serious again, she took my face in both hands, and forced me to look at her.

"Tristan, don't do that.  Don't try to hide the truth from me.  That hurts me even worse than if you'd just come forward with it right away.  I love you.  If something bad's going to happen to you, I want to know about it."

"But what about if I'm trying to hide your birthday presents or something?" I protested, after a moment.  Somehow, I'm never able to keep up the seriousness of situations for long.  It's a gift and a curse.  However, it did the trick.  Xen smiled.

"Okay, in that kind of situation, then I give you permission.  But only then!"

Then, staring me in the eyes, she demanded, "Promise?"

"Yes, dear."

"Tristan!"

"Yes, I promise.  Cross my heart, liver and kidneys, and hope to be smashed if otherwise."

Satisfied, Xen's hands transferred themselves from my face to the back of my neck, as she hugged me.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"From what I saw, her vision sounds pretty bad.  She thinks it means you're going to die."

"Hey, her last vision didn't turn out like she thought.  Sure, I don't like the sound of it, but I'm not going to let it affect me too much.  I hope.  Where is Calla, by the way?"

"Hiding in her room.  She's scared that you'll be mad at her for accidentally showing me."

I sighed.  You'd think after so many weeks in my company, she'd know she had nothing to fear from me.  Then again, her life had been pretty screwed up until now, so maybe she couldn't help having a little paranoia.

I went to her door, bearing some of the French toast Xen had made.  I knocked: DUM-dum-dum-DUM-dum!  After a small, hesitant second, I heard the reply: dum DUM!  I opened the door, and held out the French toast; Calla timidly took the plate.

"You're not mad?"

"Nope.  It was inevitable."

"I'm sorry I didn't hide it better.  I know you didn't want her to worry.  She doesn't want you to die."

"Kid, we'll worry about it when it happens.  Now, eat. You're about to shrivel up like a broom straw."

Smiling at the impossibility of my simile, she tucked in.

Upon analysis, we at the station discovered that the blood sample on the palette knife was O negative (which means the person could give some to everyone-how sweet!), belonged to a mage, and whoever it belonged to had no prior records, since we couldn't match it with anyone in the files.  In short, a whole lot of nothing.  Sure, I didn't expect a name and address, but it would be nice if we could get something to go on!  It would also be nice if we could get some better forensics people, and could solve world hunger, but we can’t have everything.  I paced the lab, racking my brains for answers.  Calla and Xen, who had accompanied me, sat at the table where the evidence was placed and watched me silently, though I could tell they wanted to know the answers just as much as I did.

How does this fit together? I asked myself.  If Jessup's not the one who kidnapped those people, who did?  And what was he doing there, if not kidnapping the senator?  And why would someone who could kidnap a senator want a homeless Fonin, anyway?  How-

"Something's not right about this."  Calla's voice interrupted my thought process.  I looked up, and saw that she was holding the surveillance tape, frowning.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"There's something in here," she replied.  "It's blocking out part of the tape.  If I can just-"

Placing her hand on top of it, she made a pulling motion, sending in part of a spell at the same time-and something came out of the tape, clinging to her hand!  It was a clump of magical aura, red and black!  Calla pulled, and tugged, until finally, she had a gigantic handful.  She scrutinized the tape, which she held in her other hand, and gave a nod of satisfaction.

"There, that's better."

I was temporarily dumbfounded (no comments from any of you wise guys reading this).  Then, regaining my composure, I went forward, and scooped Calla up in a bear hug!  At first she went stiff with fright, but upon realizing I meant her no harm, she relaxed.  Then, setting her down, I snatched up the tape, and hurriedly put it into the player.

This time, a few minutes before 8:30, something definitely happened.  Jessup was lying on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling, when suddenly, who should appear in his cell but our old friend, Mr. Shadow.  To my surprise, when Jessup looked up and saw the shrouded mage standing there, there was no delight, or even anticipation, on his face.  He looked surprised; maybe even a little frightened.

"Who are you?" he demanded.  "What-"

The shadow man waved one of his cloak sleeves, presumably his hand as well, and the demon was cut short.  His eyes were suddenly glazed over, and he got up from the bunk.  He slowly walked over to the shadow man, who grabbed him by the wrist.  Then they vanished, soundlessly.

For about five minutes, the tape showed an empty cell.  Then, finally, both the demon and his captor rematerialized.  Jessup still had that glazed-over expression; the shadow made a gesture with his sleeve, and the demon slowly staggered back to his bunk.  He sat down, and stared fixedly at the shadow man.

"You will remember nothing," the shadow hissed at him.  "You will think you have done nothing but lie there all morning, napping."

Slowly, Jessup nodded.  Then he lay down on the bunk, and shut his eyes.  The shadow glanced up, and though he was wearing a hood, I could tell he'd seen the camera.  He gestured at it, and then vanished.  I presumed that was when he'd put the spell into it concealing part of the tape.

Everything was becoming clear to me.  Whoever that was must have taken Jessup, and after hypnotizing him, made him step on the grass, in order to set up a blind!  Unless, of course, this was another trick by Jessup, to throw me off the track; I wouldn't put it past him.  But as I've said before, I think I'm a pretty good judge of character.  This time, it hadn't looked like he was faking things.  I looked at Xen and Calla, and I could tell they saw the renewed determination in my eyes.

"Calla, can you do something else for me?"

"What?"

"Can you touch this knife, see if you can tell who the person is whose blood is on it?"

"I-I'll try."

Reaching out, she picked up the knife, touching one finger into the by-now dried blood, and began to concentrate.  She didn't have to concentrate long.  Her eyes widened, and she looked me in the eyes, showing me who it was.

I said, "You have got to be kidding me."