Yaga's Blood (Root and Myth Book 1)

by Katya Kolmakov

  Mira looked at the photo. Her Mom was about her age in it; and based on what he’d told her, Mira assumed that the red haired, widely smiling Yana in the picture was sixteen. The photo was probably cut out of a group one, just Yana’s face and shoulders, dressed in what looked like a uniform of some fancy private school - a white shirt, a tie, and a dark blue jacket.

  “Where did you get this?” Mira asked, her eyes roaming her Mom’s face.

  She didn’t have her phone with all the photos inside, and this young, unfamiliar Yana was the only one she could look at now, and she just needed to see her Mom’s face!

  “I stole it.” Bessemer answered in a low voice. “We only saw each other once after she let me out. I came to her room, and we… talked. She threw me out. Called me a monster.” He gritted his teeth. “Got that right, didn’t she?”

  He softly covered Mira’s hand and took the pendant. His eyes dropped onto the photo, and Mira saw his lips twist.

  “I asked for a lock of her hair. It’s a powerful talisman, something of a person who committed an exceptional deed for you. I told her I would use it some day to find her. I guess I didn’t lie.” He closed the locket and put the chain back on. “She obviously didn’t believe me. And on the way out, I nicked the photo. It was her school picture.”

  He met Mira’s eyes, and his face grew standoffish.

  “A picture preserves the magic in the hair. The image of a person carries the same energy.”

  He sounded very defensive. Mira decided to let him off the hook. He looked so tense and embarrassed that she was worried he’d get a stroke, or something.

  “Now what?” she asked, and he cleared his throat.

  “And now the blood.”

  He took the cork from Mira’s hands and poked his finger with the needle. One drop went onto the lock of Yana’s hair. He carefully lowered the string inside, and tightly settled the cork in the bottle neck.

  He lifted the compass, and Mira saw his eyes focus on the copper hair.

  “Run the road to her feet from my heart,” he whispered. “Lead me, by my thought, by my fire, by my tear, by my spirit, to the one I bind myself to.”

  The needle inside twitched, and then Mira saw the string tense. It looked rigid now. Bessemer carefully passed the bottle into her hands and started the car.

  ***

  The job given to Mira turned out much easier than she expected. Once they crossed the perimeter, the string, which looked more like a stick now, started twitching. And then the needle moved, tapping on the glass from inside, clearly pointing at a certain direction. Bessemer didn’t seem to stop pressing the gas pedal into the floor even for a second, and was blatantly ignoring red lights.

  “Right!” Mira shouted, and he jerked the wheel.

  The knuckles on his hand were white.

  “Left!”

  The truck whirred, tires squealed, and Mira squeezed her eyes for a second. She immediately forced herself to look, but she had nothing to worry about. The string remained as stiff as before.

  They were driving through the city, the weather surprisingly warm and sunny, and everything looked normal. As if she wasn’t sitting in a truck belonging to a folklore character, holding a magical device in her hand.

  “Right!”

  The compass was leading them to the South-West of the city, beyond Kenaston, into the industrial parts.

  “Is it still working?” Bessemer barked, overtaking some tiny sedan.

  Mira caught a glimpse of the driver’s terrified face.

  “The string is still hard,” Mira answered.

  “It’s not possible! It should be wearing off by now.” Bessemer stretched his hand blindly, and Mira placed the compass on his palm. “Is something wrong with it?” he muttered and quickly looked at the bottle. “What the hell? Has it been like this the whole time?”

  “Yeah. It’s very stable,” Mira answered, and he passed the compass back to her.

  She saw his throat move, he swallowed with difficulty.

  “Just keep watching,” he muttered.

  They were almost at the perimeter again, when the needle started thrashing, banging into the glass, clanking loudly. Bessemer hit the brakes, turned the wheel sharply, and tucked the truck into the nearest parking spot.

  “Why is it doing it?” Mira eyed the bottle.

  “It means we’re near. Get your backpack,” Bessemer ordered, grabbing his messenger bag.

  He jumped out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. Mira followed. They spent the next twenty minutes pretty much running around, between some warehouses. The compass was in Bessemer’s hand now, alternating between mad clanking and actually pointing at a direction.

  And then he suddenly stopped in front of a very sketchy looking building, with boarded windows, and grass growing in front of the front gate. The compass was going nuts, and Bessemer jerked the cork out, silencing the device.

  “Kosh?” Mira asked in a hissing whisper and saw him slowly creep up to a low window.

  The glass was cracked and dirty. He squatted, staying out of the field of vision of anyone inside, and peeked.

  Mira dashed to him, and pressed her back to the wall near him. He looked at her and pressed the finger to his lips. Mira bent down and sneaked a peek as well. It was dark inside, but then she could hear some rustling. And the darkness didn’t feel empty.

  Chapter 6. Yana

  Bessemer pointed at her, then the ground under her feet, then at himself, and then at the window of the warehouse. She grabbed his sleeve and gave it a decisive jerk. Seriously, she wasn’t going to let him barge in there and leave her behind!

  Bessemer looked inside again, and then started backing up. His hand firmly wrapped around hers, he pulled her after him. They jogged to hide behind the next warehouse. He stopped and started rummaging inside his bag.

  “There’s definitely a Magpie there,” he whispered quickly. “I can sense it move. And something else. They’d leave a foot soldier as well. I can take it out, but you’ll have to at least distract the Magpie.”

  So, he wasn’t leaving her behind. And apparently, she was supposed to distract an illusion-creating spirit of sorts, while he’d be fighting a ‘foot soldier.’ Is this the code for a monster? Most likely.

  “What sort of a ‘foot soldier?’” she asked frantically. “Another shishiga?”

  “No, shishigas are only corporeal at night, and only the strongest of them. I suspect a vourdalak.”

  “A bit of clarification would be nice,” Mira hissed at him.

  He finally found what he was looking for - and Mira gawked at the pouch and two long wooden stakes he held in his hands.

  “The pouch will disarm the Magpie. It moves fast, but the most dangerous thing is that in a dim light, it can almost take the shape of a person you know. And it’s spent enough time with your Mom, it might look very convincing. Once you go in, you have to be sure what you’re looking at. Open your hand.”

  Mira obeyed, and he shook a pinch of some herb on it.

  “Is this oregano?!” she asked in disbelief.

  “It is Origanum Vulgare, harvested among the stonehedges in Cornwall,” he answered sarcastically, pouring some on his hand as well. “And yes, it’s oregano. Also known as dushica, ‘the mother’s grass.’”

  He exhaled forcefully and met her eyes.

  “If you don't see the Magpie, it’s moving in the shadows. As soon as you catch anything from the corner of your eye, throw the oregano at it. It’ll just run back to its master.” He then lifted a stake in front of her face. “This is for a vourdalak. It’s basically a dead person, pumped with magic. It walks, it fights. It’s strong and fast. Think of it as half-zombie, half-vampire. You have no chance to kill it, so don’t engage it.”

  Mira gritted her teeth, struggling to keep her nausea under control, and nodded jerkily. She took the stake. It had a long sharp end, and Cyrillic letters carved into it.

  “Your Mom is on a mattress by the wall, to the left, ab
out two hundred feet in. We come in, and I take care of the vourdalak. You need to get to your Mom. The Magpie won’t fight you. You might hear voices, some people you know. Don’t listen, get to your Mom, and get her out. And remember, make sure it’s your Mom you’re looking at.”

  “Alright...”

  He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ve killed hundreds of vourdalaks in my time. Just get to your Mom. You might have to drag her out, I doubt she’s conscious. And, Mira?” He suddenly smiled at her. His blue eyes were warm, and he had little wrinkles in the corners. “You’ve animated an obereg ragdoll and fought a shishiga. You are Yana Krapiva’s daughter. You’ll do just fine.”

  Mira only managed another convulsive nod, but the pep talk worked. She grasped the stake tightly, and Kosh patted her shoulder.

  “Ready?”

  He gave her another encouraging smirk, and once again she had only a nod for him.

  ***

  He slowly pushed the door open, and Mira stepped inside after him.

  She thought they’d be creeping in, and she was ready to strain her hearing, and keep her eyes open, like he’d told her. But it all started really quickly. Something shifted by the wall to her right, with the same hollow rustling, and she thought she saw her Mom’s long copper curls, and the puffy yellow vest Yana loved so much.

  Then something large and terrifying leaped at them from the black depth in front of them, and there was a growl, chilling and menacing, which turned Mira’s spine into a rigid pole for a second. And Kosh swirled, wrapping his long arms around the body of the attacker, and the two of them flew somewhere to the left.

  “Mira!” Her Mom’s voice rang from the right, and Mira dashed in the opposite direction.

  And then the darkness thinned out, her pupils probably dilating from adrenaline pumping into her blood, and on her left she saw an old mattress, and the slumped form of a small body on it.

  “Mira, here!” the voice came again, from the right.

  Something fluttered in Mira’s peripheral vision, and she turned sharply and threw the dry pieces of oregano she’d been clutching in her hand. She heard a pained, infuriated hiss. The Magpie - nothing but a shadow, with uneven borders, like a ragged black cloth - retreated into the darkness. Mira ran up to the mattress, and dropped on her knees.

  “Mom?” she called in a choked small voice and stretched her hand forward.

  It was her Mom, her clothes dirty and torn, but Mira couldn’t see any blood. She grabbed Yana’s shoulder and rolled her on her back. Yana’s eyes were closed, and her face looked dead pale, like the wax from a cheap candle.

  “Mom!”

  Mira looked behind her, towards the noise thundering through the warehouse. Two bodies were tangled on the floor, and then the monster - Mira couldn’t see it well, it seemed to shimmer like Kosh’s snakes - threw Bessemer off itself. Kosh flew backwards, but remained in control of his body. Mira saw him roll, and rise, first on one knee, his palms pressed into the dirty floor, and then he straightened to his full height. She couldn't see his face, the skull was glowing on it again. His jaws moved, and Mira guessed that it was a scowl - or maybe, a grin. The snakes at his feet hissed, menacingly, and as if mocking. And then the darkness around him thickened and shivered. Giant wings opened behind his back, made of that very darkness. They looked like the stylized wings of a raven, with longer, blade-like feathers on top. He snarled something in Russian, and the vourdalak charged at him.

  Mira couldn’t tear her eyes from the two black shapes. She watched as Bessemer leaped into the air. The two bodies met with a deafening thud, and then crashed on the ground, still intertwined, and moved on the floor. They were too fast for Mira to follow, a series of attacks, and blows, and retreats. The sounds were animal-like - roars, and screams, and then of something tearing - and then a cry of pain. Suddenly, something cold brushed at Mira’s hand.

  “Mira...”

  Mira whipped her head and met her Mom’s widened eyes. Bessemer’s orders popped up in Mira’s head, and she wrapped her arms around Yana, and started pulling.

  “Mom, we need to leave! Mom, can you get up?”

  Yana stirred, her hands clawing at Mira’s arms - and then the second vourdalak jumped towards them, from somewhere under the tall ceiling of the warehouse.

  “Yarina!” Bessemer’s voice rolled through the emptiness of the building, bouncing off the walls, and Mira saw her mother roll onto her side awkwardly.

  The second vourdalak was just about a hundred feet away from them, and Mira finally had a good look. It looked like a person, a man in jeans and a t-shirt, and Mira thought she could even see white sneakers. The man’s body was surrounded with the same darkness, shimmering and wavering, which hugged the person like a diving suit. The darkness shape had an ugly animalistic muzzle, and longer arms, with clawed hands that were swinging below the human hands like mittens that kids have hanging out of their sleeves on a string. The shadow form had a hunch, and spikes seemed to protrude out it, in a ridge along its spine.

  It growled, and Mira lifted her hand with the stake in it. She could feel her Mom move nearby. Yana grabbed Mira’s arm, squeezing painfully, pulling at it, trying to get up. Mira wanted to see where Kosh was, but she could still hear blows, and something scraping, and the first vourdalak howling. And then Yana straightened up, and only then Mira noticed that her Mom had taken the stake out of her hand.

  Yana started walking towards the monster, slowly, and Mira rose to her feet as well. Unlike Kosh, who clearly fought with magic - his hands would fly up in the air, and something invisible would hit his opponent, and throw it back - Yana just walked, the stake held confidently in her hand.

  And then something hollered to their right, and Mira didn’t know if it was Kosh winning, or Kosh hollering. Before she knew it, he leaped on the vourdalak in front of Yana, like a giant bird, and a gush of air from his wings slashed Mira across the face. The vourdalak turned at the last moment and met him with its claws open. There was a short cry, the wings disappeared, and Bessemer’s human body fell on the ground with a thud.

  Yana slid along the floor, in some sort of a freakish ninja move, her body outstretched, taunt, and purposeful. The stake went up and into the vourdalak, into its left side, under the ribs - and up. It screeched and wrapped around Yana - and fell on the floor, disintegrating into grey dust, with blue flames dancing around it.

  The flames went out, and Mira ran through the room. The black smoke still swirled and slithered along the floor around the remains of the monster, but she could already see the shape of her mother’s body. Yana looked like a ragdoll, a small dark heap of clothes and limbs on the floor, one arm sticking out under an unnatural angle.

  “Mom! Mommy!”

  Mira dropped on the knees near her, and stretched her hands, but didn’t dare to touch the woman. Something could have been broken. Isn’t there a rule about not moving people with internal bleeding?! What if there’s internal bleeding?!

  “Yarina!” Kosh shouted, trying to rise in his corner. “Mira, is she alive?!”

  “I don’t know!” Mira screamed back, and placed her shaking hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Mommy...”

  Yana stirred and groaned.

  “Mommy...”

  Everything was blurry in front of Mira's eyes, and then Kosh was in her field of vision. He stumbled towards them, keeling on one side, his left arm hung as if there were no bones in it.

  He dropped on his knees, pressed the right hand into Yana’s upper arm, and rolled her on her back. Her eyes opened slowly, and she frowned, trying to focus on him. There was blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth.

  “My girl...” she rasped out. “Where’s Mira?”

  “I’m here, Mommy,” Mira squeaked, and Yana’s eyes shifted.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Mira shook her head frantically, and Yana tried to rise. Kosh supported her with his healthy hand between her shoulder blades. They all shifted, sitting up,
adjusting their legs and arms. And then Yana opened her embrace, and Mira pressed into her with a sob.

  “It’s OK, solnyshko, it’s OK.” Yana whispered, and stroked the back of Mira’s head. “I’m here.”

  “Mommy...” Mira hid her face into her Mother’s shoulder.

  Everything was familiar - the bony shoulder, the copper curls tickling Mira’s noise, and even the smell of lilacs was here. Yana’s strong slender arm went around Mira, comforting and calming.

  “Hello, old man.” Mira heard Yana greet Kosh over Mira’s shoulder, and he chuckled.

  Mira peeked and saw him sitting on the floor, blood covering the right side of his face. He gave Yana a surprisingly shy smile, his white teeth seeming even brighter in contrast to his black beard and his broken lips.

  “Hello, little bird.”

  Yana patted his shoulder awkwardly.

  “Where’s your horse?” she asked, and he vaguely gestured towards the exit from the warehouse.

  They all rose, Yana and Kosh groaning, Mira clinging to her Mom. The woman swayed, and ended up leaning heavily on Mira while they walked. Kosh hurried ahead to start the car.

  “Fancy wheels...” Yana joked, and then cringed, pressing her hand over her ribs on the right side. “The filth grazed me a bit.”

  “Grazed you?” Kosh grumbled, opening doors for them. “You took out a vourdalak. You shouldn’t even be standing now.”

  Mira jumped onto the front seat, and watched Kosh carefully lead Yana to the backseat. The truck was so high that he had to hoist her in like a kid. He could only move his right arm, but it was enough. Yana’s head hardly reached his clavicles, and she was also exceptionally slight.

  Yana lay down on the seat, and Mira couldn’t stop staring at her. The most surreal thing was that - except for the black goo smeared on her, her own blood, the dirt, and the stake she still had in her hand - Yana looked completely normal. She was wearing her usual skinny jeans, Timberlands, baggy black sweater, and her bright yellow puffy vest.