“I am honest to say, yes. I miss our chats in morning. I miss the late evenings by the waterfall while you sleep and we tell stories of our adventures when we are spies. We talk a lot. That was nice.”
I smiled. Win had recalled with great fondness their nighttime man-chats. “Win told me he loved talking to you, too, Arkady.”
“And do not tell him, but I do not miss him beating my pants at chess.” He laughed then sighed again. “Win has been good friend to me. But I want to be good friend, too, and all he ever want is to be with you, malutka. I would not be good friend if I am not happy for him, now that his wish come true, would I? So, Arkady Bagrov happy because he is happy.”
Like I said, Arkady only wanted the people he loved to be happy, even if his own happiness got lost in the shuffle.
“You’re the best friend ever, Arkady. To both of us, and Belfry, too. I take great comfort in knowing we’ll meet someday.”
“Oh, malutka, you want to come to Plane Limbo? Is no place for good girl like you. You must cross over and go into light. That is where people with beautiful, kind hearts go.”
That sentiment made my heart clench with love for him…and then it made me pause. Did Arkady think he didn’t deserve to cross over because of the life he’d led on Earth? He’d confessed to a lot of deeds he wasn’t proud of, but so had Win.
Did he think he’d be rejected? Would he cross if he were sure he’d find acceptance? Was it too personal to ask him how he felt?
I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject, so I did so tentatively as I took the exit for Seattle.
“Well, I’d like to think I’ll make a stop on Plane Limbo just for you. In fact, if you’re still there, I’m going to make a point of it, if I can control my journey to the afterlife. I don’t know if that’s at all possible, but I’m sure willing to give it a go if it means finally seeing your face.”
“Just to see me?” he asked quietly, his voice husky and low.
I was genuinely astonished by his surprise. “Of course, Arkady. You’re family. Sometimes you’re more family than my own family. I care about you as much as I do Win, just in a different way.”
“I am honored,” he answered, and I heard the emotion clogging his throat. Then he coughed to cover it. “But we do not worry of such things for some time, yes? You will have long, happy life with Win and wing-ed bat. Maybe even get your powers back in the process.”
He was changing the subject, and for now, I was okay with that. But I sure hoped there’d come a time when he felt comfortable enough to share his feelings on crossing over.
Either way, I took his cue. “Hah! I’m not sure that’d be such a good thing, Arkady. I mean, I wreaked havoc all over the place back home. You have seen the evidence of that, haven’t you? Besides, I’ve done all right without them so far.”
“Do you miss being witch, malutka?”
My sigh was wistful with longing, but I’m not sure if it’s longing for my powers, or the women of my coven and that feeling of community I could never share with Eb Fallers because they didn’t know witches were real.
“Sometimes. Yeah. Sometimes, I do. I miss my coven friends and some of our rituals. But if I hadn’t lost my powers, I wouldn’t have met you and Win, and I’d have missed out on this experience. I wouldn’t trade this experience for all the powers in the world.”
“What about this Baba lady? Has she asked something in return for such big favor?”
My stomach twisted into a knot, making me grip the wheel tighter. “Nope, but I feel like I owe her nonetheless. She did drop me exactly where I needed to be in order to save Win. I don’t know if we would have found him if she hadn’t. How could I not owe her?”
I still cringe at how lucky we were that Baba took pity on me, and what might have been if she hadn’t.
“She is formidable woman, yes?”
I nodded my head. If he only knew.
“Um, yes. Formidable is an understatement, and I’m sure there’s going to come a time when she wants payback. Though, I can’t imagine what she could want from me. I have nothing to offer that she’d be interested in.”
Though, I couldn’t help but feel like the other shoe hadn’t dropped yet. But I had other things to focus on so I tried not to dwell. Still, not hearing from her in the days since Win had been recuperating could be a little unnerving if I allowed myself to go there. So I didn’t.
“Do you know what I think, candy cane?”
“What’s that?” I asked as I pulled off at the downtown Seattle exit.
“I think this Baba Yaga is good lady and she wants best for you. If she asks for favor, she will not be frivolous in the asking.”
Know what I think? I think Arkady secretly has a crush on Baba, and who wouldn’t? She was a hot tamale, even if she was stuck in the decade of big hair and Madonna.
“You could be right, and I’ll do whatever she asks because there will never be a time I won’t be grateful for what she did for me.”
Arkady blustered and clucked his tongue. “We have gotten off the track, yes? This is not what you are supposed to do today, malutka. Today you are to take day off and rest from your troubles. Today is about you, my cinnamon roll. Now, if I read map on dashboard correctly, GPS say your store with old, already-worn clothes is two streets up on the right. I shall go check on Zero and leave you to your peace. Call if you need Arkady, yes?”
“Thanks, Arkady,” I said with a smile and tried to set my sights on the vintage clothing store called One More Time.
While the idea of shopping in total peace had appealed to me an hour ago, now guilt set in and it was all I could do not to summon Arkady back.
But then I saw the store, a cute little shop nestled between a vintage hardware store and a delightful café featuring German food, and I felt that tingle I get when I know there’s new territory for me to explore.
There were three mannequins in the window, one with the cutest black Givenchy dress I’d seen in years, and that’s when my shopping juices really started to flow. Scarves adorned another in a colorful array of cheerful hues, and jaunty hats sat atop more mannequin heads.
Grabbing my purse, I threw my sunglasses up on my head, popped open the door of the car and hopped out, avoiding a puddle in a pothole.
The thrill of the kill had kicked into high gear, and I felt ready to take on the challenge. On a deep breath, I pulled open the glass door of the shop and stepped inside, the scent of mint and lavender and used Gucci greeting me, as did the youthful and smiley blonde clerk, who was parsing some clothing in a box.
And that’s pretty much the last thing I remember.
Chapter 3
I reached upward, stretching my arms, which for some odd reason ached so sharply, I almost gasped out loud. Strangely, my legs and chest ached, too. It felt like someone had tried to squeeze my body into a sausage casing.
Sheesh. I hadn’t grabbed that many dresses to account for being this sore, had I? Not that I could say I remembered ever grabbing any dresses at all…
Popping my eyes open, I didn’t stop to wonder why I had to open them to begin with or even where I was. All I could think about was the gorge Givenchy in the window of the store, and how I couldn’t remember what the price was so I could haggle.
I love, love, looove to haggle. It’s all part of my “hunt your prey” mentality. I take great pride in whittling away at a shopkeeper until I get the lowest price possible for a pair of Kenneth Cole’s (see 2013 and my two-dollar coup) or a Coach bag. Both of which I considered amongst some of the best of my greatest vintage shopping kills.
Yet, I don’t recall ever getting to see the condition of the Givenchy or what size it was. And hello, Margaret, why was I lying on the ground? And another thing…why the fluff was it so stinkin’ dark wherever the ground I lay upon was?
Now, my eyes were wide open—wide open, and still it was pitch black. So I blinked, and then I blinked again while I reached for my purse, which was no longer attached to my arm.
Panic wanted to crawl its way into my bones, but I staved it off and took a deep breath. There was an explanation for whatever was happening. There had to be.
I felt almost weightless as I reached out my hands to attempt to stand, but unsuccessfully touched nothing but air. As I rose, I did so without bracing myself against anything and wondered where the heck I’d go if I couldn’t see anything anyway.
I’m not sure where my head was at this point. I think my disorientation prevented me from doing the obvious before it hit me like a freight train that I should call out to Arkady.
“Arkady?” I hoped the fear I was feeling didn’t seep into my voice, but I can tell you this, the silence definitely resounded. “Arkady? Are you there?”
For sure my voice trembled that time, but the panic I’d kept at bay earlier became tangible.
Maybe he was with Win. Of course he was with Win. When ghosts wanted privacy, they had the ability to tune you out—it was rather like going into another room and closing the door.
When Arkady asked for private time with Win or vice versa, I gave it to them in the same way they gave me privacy when I asked. And I never called on them unless there was an emergency—like a glacier in our backyard.
Fat lot of help he’d been with that, by the by. I think that’s the hardest I’ve heard Arkady laugh since we met.
Forcing myself to think rationally, I’d asked him to babysit our super spy, so that had to be what he was doing and why he couldn’t answer. No reason for panic over that, right?
But while rational was a perfectly fine state of mind, I could find no rational explanation for where in all of blazes I was. Where on Earth is there a place this void of light but maybe a sensory deprivation tank, and if that’s where I was, I sure wouldn’t be able to stand up—which I’d done just fine, thank you very much.
So what do you do when you’re in a pitch-black void of nothingness and can’t reach your only afterlife contact?
Do you remain paralyzed with fear or do you get a grip and find your way out, Stephania Louise Cartwright?
You find your way out because you’re no wimp.
Inhaling deeply, I fought to remember the last thing that happened before I landed here, wherever here was, and the last thing I remembered was entering the vintage store and salivating over a Givenchy while a perky blonde clerk separated clothes.
But that truly was all I remembered. All well and good, but what now? I had no purse, I had no cell phone to call for help because I’d left my cell with Win, and the bigger question—was there even a signal to be had in this dark hole anyway?
Next rational thought, please.
Move, Stevie. See if you can move forward or backward without hitting anything.
So I did just that. I took a small step forward, my hands outstretched, unable to even see my own fingers in front of me.
I didn’t bump into anything, and I’m not sure if that was a plus or a minus at this point, but I took a few more steps and still didn’t crash into anything. Yet, I didn’t feel like that was a good thing at all. All this nothingness was unnerving to say the least. No walls, no furniture.
Anxiety began to rear its ugly head once more as I projected all the crazy possibilities about what could happen to me if I didn’t figure out where the devil I was. For instance, dying all alone due to starvation and lack of sunlight.
But I checked myself and decided to call out again on the off chance someone might hear. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it sooner, but it made me feel a bit stupid. If an armchair critic were watching me stumble around in a movie in this black void right now, they’d be throwing gobs of popcorn at the screen, for sure.
Clearing my throat, I croaked, “Hell…hello? Is anyone here?”
Nothing. And when I say nothing, I mean absolutely nothing. Not even the hint of air or so much as a breeze. Not a single sound. In fact, it was so quiet, I only heard my heartbeat in my ears and the sound of my harsh breathing.
But then Win was in my head. “Stephania, gather yourself and call out again. Remain calm and keep your faculties about you.”
Another inhale/exhale later, and I called out once more. “Heeelllooo! Is anyone out there? Can you hear me?”
Still more of nothing.
Clenching my fists, I began to inch forward again, my arms outstretched, my feet shuffling. As I moved forward, I kept right on talking, and if someone didn’t answer me soon, I was going to start singing.
If there was a living soul less than a million miles away, they’d take notice soon enough because their ears would begin to bleed.
Thinking of the idea someone might be watching this play out—because let’s face it, I was once a full-time witch—made my skin crawl. Just because I couldn’t practice the art of witchcraft didn’t mean I was totally disconnected from all of it. Adam Westfield was a prime example of just how connected I remained.
Wait. You don’t think…
Could Adam be responsible for this?
I blinked. But how? It was one thing to find a way to leave a plane and possess a body, but was he now capable of transporting someone else?
Now my eyes narrowed. Transport. Hadn’t I done a transportation spell in the height of my panic during Win’s disappearance?
Sweet petunias. Had I done this?
Oh, c’mon. Of all the spells to actually work, this is the one that came out on top? No. That couldn’t be. Someone was up to something, and I was going to find out who was behind this.
“Hey! Whoever you are, I’m onto you. You hear that? If you’re out there, and this is some creeptastic game you’re playing with me, I’ll sing. Oh yes, I will! I’ll sing the entire Backstreet Boys discography if you’re messing with my head, and boy oh boy, won’t you be sorry?”
I cocked my head and listened for anything—anything at all that would suggest there was someone else around—but that infernal silence greeted my ears, and this time it virtually pulsed in the blackness.
Putting my hands on my hips in frustration, clearly having made it to the angry stage of this adventure, I hissed my next words as a warning.
“Listen up, this is your last chance to show your face. If there’s someone out there, getting their jollies from scaring the pants off me, nice try. I was never afraid of the dark. Never. I’m an ex-witch. We live for the night, buddy. So reveal yourself now and I promise not to laugh at your attempt to make me shake in my boots.”
Crossing my arms over my chest in a defiant gesture, I tapped my toe. Ironically, for all the nothingness surrounding me, the ground beneath me was solid.
Letting my head fall back on my shoulders, I rasped a sigh because there was only more silence.
“All right,” I called out. “I warned you, pal. Here it comes. Prepare to have your ears cry real tears.” Throwing my head back, I opened my mouth wide and began to sing. “You are my fire—my one desiiire!”
As I sang, I plodded onward with absolutely no idea where I was going or if I’d bump into something. “I never wanna hear you saaay, I want it thaaat way!” I gulped in some air and yelped upward into the nothing, “You like that? How ’bout some more? ’Cause I’m just getting started! I know ’em all.” Clenching my eyes shut, I began the next song that came to mind. “Looking back on the things I’ve done—”
“Stevie?”
“Now let me show you the shape of my heart!”
“Steeevieee!” a voice hollered, cutting through my caterwauling.
Instantly, I stopped at the sound of a booming voice, my heart in my throat. Told you I could make ears bleed far and wide, didn’t I?
Whipping my head around, I summoned my courage and asked, “Who’s there?”
As though a curtain were being pulled back, the velvety darkness parted in whispering ripples, and a soft, welcoming light greeted me seconds before an enormous shadow emerged.
I peered into the diminishing darkness, a sense of incredible peace flooding my entire body as I witnessed the muted colors of the
fractured light, seeping into my bones, sinking into my soul.
“Hello?”
I blinked.
Then I blinked again, but words failed me.
No way.
No way I was really seeing what I was seeing.
“Stevie?”
My legs went soft, my knees turning to butter. How could this be?
“Is that really you?” I heard the deep rumble of a voice ask.
I swallowed, my throat tight. This had to be some kind of trick. Because if I was seeing what I thought I was seeing, and it wasn’t some kind of cloaking spell or a grand illusion…then…
“My malutka! It is you! Come to Arkady Bagrov!”
Chapter 4
As I stared into the light surrounding this big hunk of a man holding his arms out to me, as I took in his sharply squared jaw, his perfectly groomed goatee, his barrel chest, his tapered waist, and the sheer enormity of his size, my breath caught.
“Arkady?” I squeaked, before I made a run straight into his arms, launching myself at his wide chest.
Now maybe you might think that was a stupid move on my part. Maybe, had I been in my right mind, I might have, too. Simply because, in my right mind, in my typically cautious mind, I might have questioned whether this was really Arkady or someone was toying with me via a cloaking spell, and here I was running straight into the arms of who knew what.
But I was so glad to see something—anything but the pitch black of nothingness—I made a break for it before I could stop myself.
Thankfully, I didn’t regret my haste. Arkady enveloped me in his embrace, the bowling balls he called biceps flexing against my back. He gave me a tight hug, pressing his cheek to the top of my head and patting the top of my spine with his big paw.
“Oh, my malutka! How is this possible? How?” he asked, his gravelly voice tight with checked emotion.
Witches Get Stitches Page 3