Playing With Fire

by Adrienne Woods et al.

  “No,” Baba Yaga spat out the words along with a salvo of saliva. “Not you. Her.” She dipped her pointy chin toward me.

  Aileen licked her lips, glimpsing nervously from the Baba Yaga to me. “My cousin is still an apprentice witch, Baba Yaga. I’m not sure if she will be able to perform the spell—”

  “Her”, the crone interrupted, this time while pointing a finger eerily resembling a chicken bone at me. Then, without offering so much as another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, dragging the chained girl behind her.

  I stared after the witch and her captive as they disappeared back into the crowd.

  Aileen let out a breath she had been holding. She grabbed the table so hard her knuckles turned white.

  “What is it?” I asked in a timid voice.

  “This isn’t good.” Aileen’s lips formed a thin line, and she shook her head. “Baba Yagas can’t be trusted, Kieran. Never. And this one wants you to go to her cabin, her turf, the very place where her powers are the strongest, on your own, to perform a ritual you scarcely know how to.”

  I was a little offended. I’d made hex bags a thousand times before. Granted, never using human skin, but it wasn’t that different, was it? “I know how to make a hex bag, aunt.”

  When Aileen turned to me, I saw the veins throbbing in her neck from anger. “You’ll have to cut the skin off her arm, Kieran. Without flinching, without showing fear, because if you do, that hag will use it against you. Can you do that?”

  “I…” The words died on my tongue. Can I?

  “Then, you’ll have to make a hex bag, but for what purpose? To heal? To protect?” Aileen shook her head more vigorously. “I doubt it. You don’t make hex bags out of human skin because you want to protect someone.”

  “She wants to curse someone.” I’d already gathered that much the moment the witch asked me for a hex bag from human skin.

  “Not just any curse.” Aileen sighed. She looked twenty years older since had returned. “If a Baba Yaga can’t do it herself, without needing our blood, then this curse must be terrible.”

  “Why did you not refuse?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

  Aileen bit her lip. “You don’t say no to a Baba Yaga.” She grabbed a handful of hex bags off the table. “Come on, let’s pack up. I don’t want to be here a moment longer.”

  I looked at her, trying to read her. I was terrified, but she looked even more scared, her hands trembling while she cleaned up our table.

  “She can’t… curse me…. Will she?” I asked, even though I was terrified of the answer.

  “A Baba Yaga can do whatever she wants,” Aileen replied. “If she wants to curse you, she can, no doubt about that.” She grabbed my shoulders, staring straight into my eyes. “We’ll have to tell your parents, Kieran. About the Baba Yaga.”

  “No,” I protested immediately. Mother and father would be furious if they found out my little trip to Hexagon had me gotten into this kind of trouble—even worse, they might forbid me from ever going here again.

  “There’s no other way. I’m sorry, but I’m not sending you to the hut of a Baba Yaga on your own without telling your parents about it.” I had never heard Aileen so serious before, and there was no hair on my head that doubted she would go through with this, no matter what I said to persuade her.

  “But…”

  “No ‘but’. This is final. And please, please, don’t try to stand up against the Baba Yaga tonight. Whatever she says, just do it. No matter how terrible the curse she wants, go ahead with it. You don’t stand up against a Baba Yaga and survive, not even if you’re one of us.” Aileen’s voice broke, and she hugged me close, nearly crushing me in her grip.

  I felt her heart slam as fast as a rollercoaster.

  “Why do you think she asked me to come? Why just me and not both of us?” I had to admit I would feel a lot better if my aunt could come with me.

  “I don’t know.” Aileen clenched her fists. “But if there’s a reason for it, then it’s not a good one, trust me.”

  I did. Glancing over my aunt’s shoulder, my gaze rested on the table of Jadis and her mother, and I wondered if maybe the tarot cards’ prediction was right after all.

  Chapter 6

  Mother was still yelling at Aileen, and Father looked like the Grim Reaper himself. He was sitting at the dining table, staring at a mug of coffee that probably went cold a long time ago, treating it as if it was the most interesting object in the entire universe.

  “How could you bring her there!” Mother shouted at Aileen. “You know how I feel about places like Hexagon.”

  “Dozens of witches go there every week,” Aileen defended herself. The two of them were standing up next to the dining table, Mom throwing insult after insult at Aileen, which the latter tried to deflect. “It’s a perfectly safe place. You’re just overreacting.”

  “Maybe for witches like you, but it’s far from safe for my daughter. A Baba Yaga, Aileen! A Baba Yaga!” Mother threw her hands in the air, exasperated.

  Aileen squinted her eyes at Mom. “What do you mean with ‘witches like me’?”

  Mother paused for a second and sighed. “Adult witches, Aileen, that’s what I meant.”

  Technically, I was an adult. But witches only graduated in the arts midway their twenties, sometimes even their early thirties, depending on the witches’ capability. As to my own status, being just nineteen, I was still classified as a fledgling witch.

  Aileen huffed. “Hexagon is a good place to learn things. How our world works, for instance. I went there all the time when I was younger. I never once, not in a million years, expected a Baba Yaga would show up there, let alone cause trouble for us.”

  “Yet that’s exactly what happened!” Mother yelled. “And now she wants to see her, on her own.”

  They were talking about me as if I wasn’t there, even though I was sitting in the corner of the room, watching the entire spectacle.

  Given the fuss they were making about it, I was terrified to go to the Baba Yaga’s cabin and help her with that forsaken ritual. But on the other hand, I was getting pretty annoyed that for the millionth time, none of them seemed to take my opinion into account, or even bothered to ask about it. On top of that, they instantly assumed that I wouldn’t be able to do it.

  Objectively speaking, I knew I was nowhere near the witch my sister had been, but did they have to rub it in every time?

  I touched the choker around my neck, feeling the exact spot where Arthan had bit me last night. I couldn’t feel the bitemarks through the fabric, but I knew where they were, felt them on my skin. It felt comfortable to think about that. A moment of peace, of feeling… safe… strangely enough.

  Father coughed, clearing his throat. Mother and Aileen promptly quit their quarrelling and turned toward him.

  I dropped my hand back to my lap, pushing the memories of last night as far to the back of my mind as I could.

  “Regardless of who is to blame, or whether or not Aileen should’ve taken Kieran to the Hexagon,” Dad said, “a Baba Yaga’s wish cannot be denied. Kieran will have to go and perform the ritual.”

  “We can’t let her go on her own!” Mom’s voice sounded shrill. “I’m not going to lose another daughter.” Her voice cracked mid-way through the sentence, and she started sobbing.

  “If the Baba Yaga wants to see her and only her, then there’s no other way,” Father said. “Still, even a witch such as the Baba Yaga has to show some respect to our family. She knows what hurting our daughter would cause, and she will not risk it.”

  “What if she does? Why would she ask for a fledgling witch to go on her own, to perform such a complicated spell?” Mother asked. “It makes no sense. We can’t let her go.”

  “And risk the wrath of a Baba Yaga?” Dad raised an eyebrow. “You know we can’t refuse.”

  Mother’s gaze turned dark, and she slammed her fists on the table, staring right at my father. If I were him, I’d be trembling in my
boots right now—Mom only looked like this when she was furious.

  “You’re a coward,” she spat at Father, each word sounding like venom. “You were a coward then, and you’re a coward now. I won’t let her—”

  “Stop!” I yelled before thinking about it.

  Mom turned toward me, the fury burning in her eyes now directed toward me.

  “Stop it, please!” Now I had started, I couldn’t stop. “I’ll go. I’ll perform the ritual, and I’ll make sure not to anger the Baba Yaga. Please don’t argue anymore.”

  Mother stared at me for what seemed like an eternity. The longer she looked at me, the darker the look in her eyes. Then, she abruptly turned around and walked away, leaving Dad, Aileen and I alone in the dining room.

  We all stood in silence, until Dad spoke. “That’s brave of you, Kieran. But be careful please. Nothing a Baba Yaga says or does can be trusted.” He gestured for me to come closer. “I’ll teach you how to use the bird bones to track down the Baba Yaga’s hut.”

  He opened his hand, and I put the purse the Baba Yaga had given me on his palm. So, the package contained bird bones. I knew the Baba Yaga had a connection with birds, in particular chickens, given that according to the lore, her hut stood on chicken legs and could thus move from one place to another.

  “Next, we’ll go over the ritual and how it needs to be performed,” Dad continued. “It’s important that, as long as you’re in the Baba Yaga’s presence, you don’t show any fear. If something goes wrong during the ritual, just continue as if everything is all right.”

  “I will wait for you at the edge of the forest.” Aileen’s voice was so soft I barely heard it.

  I stared at the purse filled with bird bones, remembering the raspy voice of the Baba Yaga, how terrifying she had looked, and how carelessly she had treated the girl in her charge.

  I thought I was walking in the lion’s den when I had made a deal with a vampire, but now I felt as if I was walking straight into a dragon’s lair.

  Chapter 7

  The moon was rising in the sky, a slim crescent of light barely illuminating the path in front of me, meandering through the forest. The bag of chicken bones felt like lead in my hands, and my heart practically jumped out of my chest.

  “You’ll be fine.” Aileen didn’t sound convinced, but she squeezed my shoulder to show her support.

  Dad was there too, a silent presence, looking as grim as ever as he stared ominously at the forest.

  I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. This was it. From here on, I had to throw the bird bones, cast the spell, and follow the trail, all on my own.

  The forest was enormous. You could get lost in it, even during the daytime. At night, it was ten times as threatening. A lot of witches came here to perform their spells, but usually only during the full moon. In the light of the waning moon, you would hardly see anyone performing spells. This was the time for wickedness, of dark spells, of curses.

  “Hold on.” Father pushed something in my hands. “It’s a protective pendant. If you spin it three times, we will come help you.”

  I stared at the pendant. Didn’t Samantha have a similar one? A lot of good it did to her, given the condition she was in.

  “But… What about not going against the Baba Yaga’s wishes?” I asked while lifting the necklace and inspecting the jewel. The pendant was a light green color, almost lime.

  Dad scratched his neck. “Only use it when you absolutely need it, when there is no other way. I would rather not mess with a Baba Yaga but if the alternative is something bad happening to my daughter…” He didn’t continue, but I knew what he wanted to say.

  I hugged him briefly, and then turned back toward the forest. As I stared at the dense canopy of trees, I wondered about Samantha. She wouldn’t be scared. My sister had been fearless. Powerful. Strong. She faced everything head-on.

  While I tried to be more like her, fear coursed through me, stronger than my own resolve. I balled my hands into fists.

  You’ve faced vampires, Kieran, you can face an old woman too. With superpowers. Who happens to be a Baba Yaga.

  Taking a deep breath, I opened the small rope around the purse the Baba Yaga had given me earlier. The bird bones rattled inside the bag. With a swing, I tossed the contents of the bag onto the ground, and whispered “Illuminate”, the words my Father had taught me earlier.

  The bones jumped into place, forming an arrow that led straight ahead. I stepped forward, and the arrow of bones moved along, showing me the path ahead.

  “Be careful!” Aileen shouted after me. “Remember: don’t trust the Baba Yaga! No matter what.”

  “I won’t,” I replied, hoisting my backpack on my back and following the path of bones into the dragon’s lair.

  * * *

  ***

  * * *

  I must’ve been walking around for hours. At least, that was what it felt like as I followed the enchanted bones, further and further into the forest. It was so dark now that I could barely see ahead; luckily, I had remembered to bring a flashlight, or I would’ve been completely blinded.

  Then, the bone path led me to a clearing where, surrounded by a circle of mushrooms, commonly known as a witch’s circle, loomed the Baba Yaga’s hut.

  There was no mistaking it for anything else. The wooden cabin was small, with three windows on the side I saw first, and just a single door and window at the front. It had a chimney and a small tower on top of it, that could barely host one room. The most distinguishing part about it, though, were the chicken legs sprouting from underneath the hut. A wooden ladder led to the door. Light glowed from inside the windows.

  Ding dong, the witch was home.

  She’s just an old lady, Kieran, calm down. She probably only wanted to ask you for this job to teach you a lesson since you were a bit snarky toward her. There’s no hidden agenda. Just be super-duper-nice, and she’ll let you go unharmed.

  Although, by the looks of the slave-girl she’s dragging around, she doesn’t exactly seem like a nice old lady…

  The blood gushed in my ears, and I had to take a few deep breaths to calm down.

  Then, gathering my courage, I crossed the distance toward the ladder and stepped on it.

  Around me, the wind seemed to pick up, waltzing through the trees. Suddenly, my jacket didn’t keep me warm anymore; I felt cold to the bone.

  Step by step, I felt colder and colder, as if the world was turning to ice and all the warmth was draining out of me. My teeth chattered, and all my senses told me to climb back down and return to the regular world, far away from wicked sorceresses and their chicken-leg-houses.

  I finally reached the top step. The door towered above me, despite its normal appearance looking as threatening as a door straight to hell.

  Should I knock, or just barge in? Maybe best to knock.

  I held my fist in front of the door, hesitating.

  You’re a freaking Silvermane, Kieran. Great-great-granddaughter of the infamous Selena Silvermane. You’re not a third-rank witch, you’re almost like witch royalty. Get it together.

  I knocked on the door. Knock. Knock.

  “Who is there?” The gruff voice answered from inside.

  “Kieran Silvermane,” I replied. “From at Hexagon.”

  The door suddenly flung open, and I nearly fell down the ladder. The witch, her grey hair now tied into a knot, looked down at me, sniffing the air around me. “You’re late.”

  She moved away, back into the cabin.

  Unsure of what I should do, I climbed further, and hoisted myself up until I stood inside the door frame.

  Heat came from the stove at the back of the cabin, so warm I felt like a chicken roasting above a fireplace. The whole cabin looked like I had travelled back in time at least a few centuries. A wooden canopy bed stood in the corner. Bookshelves stocked with ancient tomes lined the walls. The wooden beams from the ceiling were decorated with a variety of herbs and meats. A table stood in the middle of the room with
three chairs, and opposite it stood an armchair with a small footstool. Next to the armchair stood a mortar and pestle, two items traditionally marked as typical for a Baba Yaga to use.

  The girl sat next to the table, chained to it. She looked as meek as a lamb. What magic, if any, was making her this docile? She barely looked up as I answered. From this close, I could take a closer look at the collar around her neck: it was decorating with ancient symbols I couldn’t quite place, almost like runes.

  “Close the door,” the Baba Yaga said, and I immediately did so.

  The old woman huffed. “Well, get to it then. I don’t have all day.”

  I sat down next to the girl and started unpacking the materials I needed from my backpack. A knife, once drenched in the blood of our ancestors—in reality, they had filled a basin with water, spilled a few drops of Silvermane blood in it, and then rinsed the knife in the water. The required herbs, some deadly belladonna to give strength to the curse, a few drops of water from a pond in which someone drowned, a small branch from a dead tree. I rolled out the towel I had packed in my bag and carefully placed each item on it.

  The Baba Yaga stared at me curiously while I prepared for the ritual. She leaned closer, uncomfortably close, and smelled the air around me.

  “A whiff of death,” the witch said, more to herself than to me. “Smell of a coffin on you, blood witch.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant, and if it even was a question or not, so I didn’t respond but focused instead on putting all the ingredients in the correct order I would need them.

  The Baba Yaga came closer, inspecting me as if I was a rarity in a freak show. She sniffed my hair, her nose poking against my skin. Then, she inhaled and smelled my neck, awfully close to the two bitemarks I had received last night.

  “Wicked things you’re doing, blood witch,” the harpy stated, still lingering in my neck.