The Witch Who Came In From The Cold Season 2, Episode 4: Earth and Salt, Fire and Mercury © 2017 text by Serial Box Publishing, LLC.
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ISBN: 978-1-68210-138-4
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Written by: Cassandra Rose Clarke
Cover Illustration by: Mark Weaver
Art Director: Charles Orr
Lead Writer: Lindsay Smith
Editor: Juliet Ulman
Producer: Julian Yap
The Witch Who Came In From The Cold original concept by Lindsay Smith and Max Gladstone
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The Witch Who Came In From The Cold
The Cold War rages in the back rooms and dark alleys of 1970s Prague and crackling beneath the surface of it all is a vein of magic, raw and waiting to be tapped. Covert agents from the CIA and KGB are fighting two wars: one between the United States and the Soviet Union, and another between ancient magical societies, the Consortium of Ice and the Acolytes of Flame.
Previously on The Witch Who Came In From The Cold
Tanya learned that the young Host she recruited for the Ice last season, Andula, is now being groomed by the Flame. Edith and Gabe discovered Dom’s old hideout – and a book of magical notes. Zerena proposed to Prague’s Flame contingent that they to attempt to capture the Elementals freed during the Barge fire – a massive undertaking which Terzian attempted and failed to accomplish in Cairo (leading to Gabe’s hitchhiker taking up residence). Frank did a bit of snooping around Bar Vodnář and Gabe’s tail revealed herself to be the mysterious new witch in town.
Who’s Who on The Witch Who Came In From The Cold
Tanya Morozova – KGB intelligence operative and member of the Ice
Gabe Pritchard – CIA operative and reluctant Ice recruit
Nadia Ostrokhina – Tanya’s friend in the KGB, and the Ice
Frank Drummond – CIA Station Chief for Prague
Zerena Pulnoc – Flame Acolyte and wife to the Soviet ambassador
Alestair Winthrop – MI6 operative and Ice Sorcerer
Jordan Rhemes – Neutral witch and owner of Bar Vodnář
Sasha Komyetski – KGB chief in Prague and Flame Acolyte
Terzian – High ranking Acolyte of the Flame
The Witch Who Came In From The Cold
Season 2, Episode 4
Earth and Salt, Fire and Mercury
Cassandra Rose Clarke
Prague, Czechoslovak Socialist Republic
April 11, 1970
1.
The sunset splashed lurid oranges and pinks across the sky, casting the buildings of Prague into silhouette. The days were finally starting to get longer, and Tanya was grateful to be outside. The cool air cleared her head after a long, frustrating day. Sasha had her jumpy; she could sense him moving through the offices like a shark, eyeing her, waiting for her to make a false move. An ominous stack of paperwork had materialized on her desk over lunch, and she’d spent most of the afternoon hunched over her typewriter, filling out forms and scrawling her signature until her wrist ached.
The walk home offered a chance to clear her thoughts, to think through this precarious position she found herself in. Sasha on one side, Zerena on the other. Flame all around.
She wished she could talk to her grandfather.
As she passed under an arch of leafing trees, a jolt of energy erupted through the city, igniting all the molecules in the air. Tanya tensed, reached for a gun that wasn’t there, scanned the street for hostiles. Her first thought was bomb. But no, it wasn’t a bomb.
She was nearly to the Charles Bridge, which meant she was standing near one of Prague’s convergent ley lines. She didn’t usually pay them much attention unless she was casting a spell, but tonight the ley line thrummed, demanding her attention. She raced to the bridge and then, once she felt the pulse of magic beneath her feet, turned in place, trying to get a sense of the direction of the spellwork. It had to be Flame. They were casting something big. Why else would she feel that river of energy bubbling up under her feet? Only big magic could activate the ley lines like that.
And then she heard the distant wail of sirens, wafting over the city from the east. If this was a Flame ritual, what the hell did it mean that the police were involved?
No. She raced from the bridge and took off down the street, following the sound of the sirens. The sun had dropped below the buildings, and the streetlamps were turning on, one at a time. Tanya passed beneath puddles of yellow light, her breath coming quick and short. She turned a corner onto a busier street. A wider street, with a better view of the skyline.
A blue-orange glow rose off the tops of the buildings. The sunset? No. Fire. Elemental fire.
Tanya was farther from the ley line now but she could still feel its energy rattling beneath the earth. The sirens screamed. Distant flames licked at the sky.
They should have known this would happen. First the attack on the barge, and then the arrival of that powerful new Flame sorcerer. She had to stop this.
Tanya threw out her arm and shouted at one of the taxicabs cruising up and down the street. The taxi slid over to the curb, and Tanya ran over to it and threw the door open.
“The fire,” she gasped. “I need you to take me where the fire is.”
“What?” The driver peered at her suspiciously in the rearview mirror.
“Something’s burning!” she cried. “Up ahead. I need you to take me there.” She drew a deep breath. She knew she sounded like a madwoman. “I think it might be my house. If you can just get me as close as you can—”
“I’ll do my best.” The driver pulled away from the curb and Tanya slumped back in her seat, trying to catch her breath and calm her thoughts. She only had a single protective charm tucked away in her bag, nothing that could take on an entire ritual’s worth of Flame sorcerers. She doubted she’d even be able to get into contact with Nadia, now that Nadia was so ensconced in that assignment with the mobsters.
The driver turned the taxi down a narrow side street. The fire was brighter here, and smoke floated into the darkening sky. A blockade was set up ahead; police lights flashed amber, glittering in the shadows.
“This is fine,” Tanya said. “You can let me out here.” They were near another ley line; even in the car she could feel the power rioting. She dug around in her bag and shoved some money at the driver before climbing out. The smoke stung her eyes and she could taste it in the back of her throat. Bits of ash drifted through the air.
She was in a residential area, shabby little houses crammed next to each other. She jogged up to the blockade, and when the policeman put out a hand to stop her she made a ragged, panicky noise and said, “Please! I live here! I need to get to my house before it cat
ches—I have photographs, jewelry—”
“Miss, it’s dangerous. We’re not letting anyone through.”
Tanya managed to eke out a few tears. She blinked, hoped they caught in the firelight. The ley line was going crazy, surging and buzzing furiously. She needed to get past this blockade.
“Please,” she said, pressing her palms together in prayer. The cop sighed, glanced over his shoulder.
“Fine,” he said, and she was already pushing past him, toward the heat. “But don’t do anything stupid—leave the fire to the firefighters.”
She could hear the fire roaring up ahead. She was running on the ley line—she could feel a constant, low vibration that set her teeth on edge. Ash dusted her hair.
And then she came to it, the fire, burning violently—and burning blue—in the Prague dusk.
Firefighters were already there, and a crowd of onlookers had gathered, gazing up at the fire with stricken expressions. A house was burning. Streams of water arced in the firelight. Smoke billowed up, hiding the stars. The ley line screamed, and the flames licked orange-blue at the sky. Those blue flames set Tanya’s teeth on edge. There was a whiff of magic about them.
Tanya walked over to a woman standing a few paces away and pretended to watch the spectacle for a few seconds before speaking. “That’s quite a sight,” she said, as the glass in the windows melted and popped. “Is anyone hurt?”
“Oh no, thank God,” the woman said. She crossed herself, the kind of superstition that would slip in at a moment like this. “The house was empty. The owners, they would come and go. No one was there tonight.”
“That’s good,” said Tanya, but she wondered what it meant. The house was on a ley line—the Flame likely used it for rituals. But if this fire had been the Flame, had they left before it started? Was this the remnant of a ritual, the blue fire burning away the evidence of magic?
The roof of the house collapsed, the flames shooting straight up into the sky. Sparks and embers fells to the street like meteors. The crowd gasped and surged backward; the firemen yelled at one another.
And beneath the ground, the ley line hummed its strange, chaotic melody, a singer out of tune.
• • •
Gabe flipped the newspaper over and pretended to scan an article. Seemed the Beatles were breaking up.
The hotel lobby hadn’t changed since ANCHISES. Same gaudy chandeliers, same faded velveteen chairs. You wouldn’t know that a CIA op had gone completely belly-up here only a short time ago.
You also wouldn’t know that the famed Golem of Prague had been shoved into a furnace room in the hotel’s labyrinthine basement system. Which was why Gabe was here today. To make sure that golem had stayed put.
He flipped the newspaper again, glanced distractedly at the ads for cigarettes and secretary schools. The note had appeared in the dead drop this morning: We have a problem. Need to check up on our old clay friend. The dead drop Gabe had set up himself, personally, after that party with the Soviet ambassador, carving a little space in the bricks over on Hrosnová Street so that he and Tanya wouldn’t have to meet in public to discuss Ice business. Alestair had passed her word about the dead drop, but Gabe doubted he’d told her about Edith and the CI investigation. The thought of both lay heavy on his mind. Even slipping out of the station early felt dangerous.
A familiar figure strode into the lobby, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, coat hanging open. Gabe turned his eyes back to his paper and counted in his head, giving Tanya enough time to make it to the elevator without him. Then he tossed the newspaper onto the sofa, stood, and walked over to the elevator bank himself.
It was empty; good, she’d already descended. When the elevator dinged he stepped aboard and rode it down to the basement, then followed a few of the twisting, convoluted pathways leading toward the furnace. He was halfway there when he spotted Tanya waiting for him, leaning up against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Amerikanski,” she said.
“The one and only.”
She rolled her eyes and fell into step beside him. They moved quickly, winding through the halls.
“That was a smart idea,” she said suddenly. “Setting up that dead drop.”
“Yeah. Kinda defeats the purpose though, when we meet like this anyway.” He paused. “So why exactly do you think the golem may be up from his nap?”
“I saw something,” she said. “A burning house. And there was the fire at the barge, too. Both of them were clearly enchanted. Burning blue and driving the ley lines crazy, according to the reports.” Her voice wavered a little, and she took a deep breath. “Something intensely magical is happening in the city. I want to narrow the possible explanations. The golem is the easiest to rule out.”
Gabe sighed. “I still don’t see why you need me here.”
She looked sharply at him. “We’ll need to take action immediately, if it is awake,” she said. “And the golem is too dangerous to go after alone.”
It made sense. If the golem was still dormant, they’d be in and out and could go from there. But if the golem wasn’t a pile of mud and stones, if it was wandering around the basement—well, they’d need to work together to contain it. Gabe only hoped they could do it quickly enough that it wouldn’t bring him under Edith’s suspicion. Again.
“You remember where it was?” Tanya said. They had moved into the part of the basement that twisted in on itself, locked rooms and dead-end hallways. She glanced at him, a smile playing at the edges of her lips. “Or am I going to have to do all the work?”
“I remember,” he said. “And let’s hope neither of us have to do anything.”
She nodded at that.
They were approaching the furnace. Approaching, Gabe hoped, the golem. He concentrated, pushing out the hitchhiker to see if he could feel any magical disturbances rippling the air. Nothing save for the soft flutter of the wards they’d set up the night the golem went down. Still, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the flask of Vltava River water, just as they came to the door to the furnace room. Gabe and Tanya looked at each other.
“Let’s hope that golem’s still in there,” Tanya muttered.
He could tell she didn’t really mean it, though, and he saw her point: If the golem was responsible after all, it might be a pain in the ass to wrangle it again, but at least they’d know what they were dealing with. Something was stirring in Prague, that much was certain. Gabe was afraid it was the Flame, and he was sure Tanya was too.
“Here goes nothing,” he said, holding up the flask as Tanya muttered a few words to deactivate the wards. She pushed the door open.
Stillness. She crept in first, and Gabe followed. The hitchhiker wasn’t giving him anything. The furnace thumped from somewhere deep inside itself, a few last-season puffs of heat before summer settled in.
Tanya stopped a few paces from the furnace and made a sound in the back of her throat that Gabe couldn’t quite parse. He came up beside her, and saw what she saw: The golem was exactly where they had left it, shoved between the furnace and the wall, completely deactivated.
“Well, shit,” said Tanya, not taking her eyes off the golem. “Now what?”
• • •
The boxing ring was waiting in the sallow warehouse lights. Already people crowded around it, shoving wads of filthy cash toward their bookies, calling out their favorites for the evening’s fight. Nadia sat in a corner, wrapping her knuckles, and watched it all. She had a fierce love for this place and the people who frequented it. They complemented each other: the dirty old warehouse that had been through a revolution and stayed standing, the crowd of workers looking for the truth in violence. This was the proletariat, not whatever lofty ideals the Party expected people to live up to. This was the future.
“You will win tonight, yes, Nadezhda?” Kazimir sidled up to her in his dark suit. He scanned the crowd, eyes glinting. “I have a hundred and fifty that says you will.”
“I always win.” Nadia ripped
the tape with her teeth and smoothed it down. Then she popped up to standing, threw out a few practice swings. Kazimir grinned at her.
“That’s my girl.”
“You wish I were your girl.” She winked at him, and he laughed at that, threw an arm around her shoulder. She let him. Why not? She liked him well enough and she needed to get close to his boss, anyway.
“Who do you have for me tonight?” she asked.
“New girl,” Kazimir said. “Van Nguyen.”
Nadia went still, her heart pounding. Van Nguyen. Sharp dark eyes, lightning-fast punches. A ferocity that had burned itself into Nadia’s skull. But she didn’t want Kazimir to know the effect the name had on her. She just asked, as coyly as she could, “Have I seen her fight?”
“Yeah. We watched her together,” Kazimir slid his arm away. “She’s been coming around the last month or so. But I know you’ll win. You wouldn’t let me down like that.”
“Never,” Nadia said, laughing; then she shook her ponytail and strode toward the ring. A couple of regulars exhorted her to make good on their bets and she flashed a toothy grin as she climbed up between the ropes. Her gloves were sitting over in her usual corner, along with her stool, some towels, a bucket of water. She grabbed the gloves and smacked them together a few times, an old superstition she’d picked up somewhere. Her heart was still racing, like she was some silly schoolgirl with a crush.
She pulled on the gloves. A shout went up from the crowd, and Nadia turned around in time to see Van Nguyen, that loping panther of a woman, yanking herself up to the ring. Her shiny black hair gleamed over the lines of her skull, and she was wearing the same little shorts that showed off the thick curving muscles in her legs.
Nadia couldn’t stop staring.
Van caught her, gave a grin. “You Ostrokhina?” she called out into the empty space of the ring. “The girl I’m fighting?”
“Nah,” Nadia called back. “You’re the girl I’m fighting.”
Van threw back her head and laughed.
“We’ve got a treat for you tonight!” The emcee’s voice boomed through the warehouse, and the crowd shifted, moving their attention toward the ring. Nadia slammed her gloved fists together, never taking her eyes off Van. Van knew it, too. She ran one hand over her hair, pieces of it appearing and then disappearing between her fingers. Then she shook out her arms and pulled on her gloves, sneaking little glances at Nadia the whole time, half-smiling, like Nadia had just told her a stupid joke. The emcee kept chattering in the background, pumping up the audience. Cheers rose from the crowd. Radko, the ref, stepped into the ring, walked to the center. Gestured for Nadia and Van to join him.
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