Diary of Anna the Girl Witch 2: Wandering Witch

by Max Candee

  The door swung open and Granny waltzed in, draped in necklaces of dried forest berries and mushrooms. Her mood seemed vastly improved. There was even a smile playing on her lips. For a moment or two, I saw the image of the beautiful young woman my father had shown me earlier and which I’d also seen when she had talked to him the other night. She seemed airy, light, and joyful. I gave her a surprised, involuntary smile. Her happiness was infectious.

  “Anna Sophia, my darling girl,” she said, and blew me a kiss. “How are you doing this afternoon?”

  “Not nearly as good as you,” I replied, yawning. “What happened?”

  “Oh, that Leshiy is a charmer and a half,” Granny said with a little giggle, sounding a bit like some of the teenage girls at the orphanage. “I had the nicest visit. I really should go and visit him more often.”

  “What’re all those things on your neck?”

  “These?” Granny fiddled with the strings of forest flora. “Leshiy insisted on giving me presents for paying him a visit. The silly beggar’s so lonely, just like me. He couldn’t stop giving me little treats. They’re all freshly picked and wonderful.”

  “I’m happy you had a nice time,” I said, my eyes turning back to the screen.

  Surprisingly, Granny switched off the TV and came over to me. “Oh, Anna Sophia, stop wasting your life on the people on the screen!” she said in what could have been the most hypocritical statement in history. She took a strand of mushrooms off her neck and gracefully threw it over my head. “Smell these, vnuchechka. They’re picked fresh off the forest floor.”

  I held the mushrooms to my nose and breathed in the scent. She was right; it was a delicious aroma. I gave her a smile.

  “I’m going to teach you how to make a wonderful soup with them,” Granny said. “And I’ll teach you how to make jam with the berries. We’re going to start stocking up for the winter.”

  “Am I going to stay with you over the winter?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  Granny’s big smile faded a little. “Where else would you go?” she said, a bit sharply. “We’re a family, and a family is supposed to stay together.”

  “I didn’t mean anything bad,” I said quickly. “I just don’t know what your plans are.”

  “And you don’t need to,” she said, raising her voice some more. “You’re still a child, after all, and children should trust their elders.” She gave me a sidelong glance that lasted longer than it needed to. “You do remember why you’re here, don’t you?”

  So that was it. Within the first minutes of her return, she had already suspected that something was wrong.

  I frowned, pretending to be puzzled, hoping that my face didn’t show the cold fear starting to spread from the pit of my stomach. “What do you mean, Granny?” I asked. “I’ve always been here.” I paused for a moment; then I added hesitantly, “Haven’t I?”

  I waited, wondering if I’d overdone it. The bizarre thing was, the hesitation wasn’t entirely fake. My memory was playing tricks on me again. I remembered Dad locked up in the hidden room, and I had a vague memory of a bearded man called Uncle Misha, and I had a friend called Squire who was a floating hand. But how had I gotten to Baba Yaga’s cabin? When? And where had I spent my childhood?

  In fact, hadn’t I always been here? Where else would I have met Squire, who was one of my granny’s hands?

  Granny took off the remaining strands of forest produce and tossed them down on the bed next to her. “Take these through to the kitchen, Anna Sophia. I’m tired. We won’t do any cooking today. It’s getting late, anyway.” She turned on the TV and took off her headscarf, hurling it onto the floor. I had clearly overstepped her boundaries by reminding her that I might want to leave her one day.

  “Would you like some of that chamomile tea, Granny?” I offered, trying to placate her.

  “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you, ask the hands to make some,” she grumbled, her eyes glued to the screen. I picked up her berries and mushrooms and headed for the kitchen. I could hear her start to mumble about “materialism” and “immorality.”

  “Can you make some strong chamomile tea?” I asked a pair of hands that didn’t seem particularly busy. They did as I asked, and I returned to Granny’s bedroom with the huge samovar. I poured her a cup, stirred in some honey, and offered it to her with a light bow.

  “Don’t you also want some?” she asked, taking a sip. She’d started calming down, having spent some of her irritation on the people on TV instead of on me.

  “No, thank you,” I said. “I sleep very well most of the time. In fact, it seems like I slept through the whole afternoon. I don’t suffer from any insomnia.”

  “The other night you woke up,” she replied. “And after sleeping that much during the day, you might not at night. You could do with a nice cup yourself.”

  “Maybe not just now,” I said. I couldn’t afford to get too sleepy; I was meeting with Squire at sunset.

  Granny shrugged and seemed to give up. She grumbled a bit more about the state of society and had another big cup of tea. After that, she got quiet. I slid off my chair and peered at her closely. She was fast asleep. A part of me wanted to take this opportunity to visit Dad again. I was greedy; I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, now that I knew where he was. But it was late, and the sun would soon be creeping below the horizon.

  I went out onto the porch and sat cross-legged in the rocking chair, watching the clouds, the slowly sinking sun, and the rustling of the breeze. I liked the forest, I decided. I could see what kept my grandmother here. No city could provide the same peaceful state of mind, not even the lakeshore back in Geneva. If Granny weren’t crazy and keeping Dad caged, I could possibly be happy here.

  I was thinking about that, about my weird, magical family when suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder. I almost jumped out of my skin. I’d thought Granny was asleep and we were the only ones there.

  “Who’s—” I started to say in an intimidating tone, gathering power in my hands in case I needed to fight. Then I realized it was just Squire. I let out a big sigh of relief. “Boy, am I glad it’s you!” I grinned, happy to see him. It was good to remember I had a friend in this place. Granny had Leshiy and Cat the Hare. I had Squire.

  I had forgotten a pen and paper, so I had to sneak back into the house to get the items Squire and I needed to talk.

  “I managed to speak to Dad,” I whispered to Squire as he bobbed up and down excitedly. I was a little worried that Granny would wake up, but I hoped the chamomile and fresh air had knocked her out for the night. “Thank you so much for keeping watch.”

  Of course, Squire scribbled on the paper. His handwriting was messier than usual as though he were impatient and writing too fast. I have good news as well.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  I found Knight!

  “Well done! Where is he?”

  Up in the attic. Baba Yaga caught him and locked him up there. He’s in a deep sleep. I can’t rouse him. Can you help me?

  “Sure.” I smiled. “Let’s go right now.”

  I put Squire in my pocket, and the two of us carefully snuck back into the house and up the rickety stairs. I tiptoed, scared of getting Squire and Knight caught, aware of how irritated Granny had been with me earlier. I was worried that she might be getting suspicious, so I had to be very careful.

  Some of the stairs creaked under my feet, and I kept stopping to listen for any unusual noises from the bedroom. At last, we managed to make it up the stairs to the trapdoor to the attic. It was locked.

  “How do you know Knight’s up there?” I whispered.

  He floated out of my pocket and carefully lifted a loose plank. He sneaked in through the gap. But while the gap was big enough for a hand, a girl couldn’t possibly push herself through.

  I decided to try the trick I’d learned before. In a quiet yet commanding voice, I ordered, “Open, open, magic door!”

  Nothing happened. I glowered. Maybe t
here was another phrase.

  Or — I sighed — maybe I had to do another silly dance.

  Rolling my eyes, I turned around three times on one heel, skipped once as I tried to land lightly, and wiggled my hand in front of my nose.

  “Open, open, magic door!” I said again.

  The trapdoor swung up and I hauled myself through. Clouds of dust billowed up around me in the darkness. The dust tickled my throat, and I had to try hard not to sneeze or cough. My nose wrinkled. Evidently, Granny hadn’t ordered the hands to clean up here.

  “Where’s your other half?” I asked Squire.

  He took my hand and led me around the clutter to an ornate wooden box.

  I opened it, and inside was a hand. It looked just like a mirror image of Squire: exactly the same size, every finger just as long, even — as I just noticed — an unusual tiny little twist on the knuckle of each thumb. I smiled at Squire. “I always knew you’d find him.”

  Squire bobbed out of my view.

  “Where’d you go?” I asked, puzzled.

  He returned in a few minutes, holding a candle.

  As Squire held it just under Knight, I channeled what was left of my inner magic to light it. Knight woke up almost instantly and bobbed out of the box. He seemed scared. That wasn’t exactly unreasonable; the last thing he’d probably seen before being locked up was my grandmother about to curse him.

  “Calm down,” I said. “Look who’s here with us.”

  It took him another moment or two to orient himself and realize whom I was talking about. Then he jumped on Squire. The two of them started shaking each other passionately. It was hard to stop myself from giggling. Even after everything I’d been through in the past year, I’d never seen anything quite as surreal as two disembodied hands happily shaking each other in midair.

  After they’d had a few minutes for their reunion, I said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but … do you think you two will be able to help me rescue Dad now?”

  The two hands bobbed up and down in agreement.

  Now the trick was to establish our four-handed rescue plan.

  Chapter 17

  Dear Diary,

  Now that we’ve found Knight, I have two allies with me who ought to be able to sneak around when I can’t — so long as Baba Yaga’s other hands don’t tell. But that doesn’t help me find a way to rescue Dad. Squire and Knight can’t open his cage. Only magic can do that.

  But even if I manage to use a little bit of magic from time to time, there’s a limit to what I can do. My grandmother knows so much more, and she is so much more powerful. Partly because she’s still taking some of my power away from me.

  So before I can set Dad free, I have to find a way to get Granny to give me my power back.

  * * *

  Granny was still snoring when we crept back down. For safety’s sake, I put the two hands to sleep after telling them I’d wake them up once I had a concrete plan in place. Then I dropped them into my backpack.

  I sat around thinking. Even if I got back as much power as I’d had when I’d first gotten here, it might not be enough to break Dad free. Baba Yaga hadn’t just been sucking power away from me; she’d been taking Dad’s away too, all this time. She’d taken his strength and used it to trap him. The more I thought about it, the worse it seemed. It was his own power that was keeping him prisoner! It was like Baba Yaga had stolen all his money and then melted down the coins to make chains for him.

  How could somebody so wicked be my grandmother? How could her daughter have been as good as Koschey said she’d been?

  I fell asleep, still with no plan, just questions about human nature.

  When I woke up in the morning, Granny wasn’t in the bedroom. This was unusual. Typically she started the day with a good rant at the TV. Sometimes she’d even awakened me by suddenly turning on some loud game show with terrible music. Had I overslept? No, the sunlight was falling just where it usually did. Had she gone out without telling me? Was she visiting Leshiy again or some other forest friend?

  As it turned out, she was puttering around in the kitchen, looking more active than I’d seen her in a while. She was bustling with activity, ordering this hand to do that and that one to do something else. There were several pots on the stove and a tray of pies going into the oven. After a full night’s sleep, Granny was looking as fresh as a daisy. Well, maybe not quite. But she certainly looked as fresh as an old witch with iron teeth, a bone leg, and an almost perpetually bad mood could look.

  “Morning, vnuchechka,” she said over her shoulder. Though she sounded cheerful, there was something in her tone I didn’t like.

  She pulled out a jug of fresh milk and poured me a tall glass, setting it in front of me with a smile. Now I was getting suspicious. She’d never gotten me anything before, not without being asked first. What was she up to?

  Trying to act casual, I carefully glanced around the room as I sipped my milk. I couldn’t spot anything unusual, other than all the cooking that was going on. Why had Granny started cooking so early, anyway? And why so much food?

  “Are we having company, Granny?” I risked asking.

  “Hmm? No, why do you ask?”

  “It’s just so much food,” I said.

  Baba Yaga grinned.

  “Well, as I said, we’ve got to get ready for winter, girl. Time to stock the larder.” She glanced out the window. “Ah, and here’s the main course now.”

  Her eyes snapped back to me, and she looked at me with a crafty expression on her face. I had begun to understand that look — she was judging me, waiting to see how I’d react to something. Those were the moments when I had to be most careful not to reveal what I was thinking so she couldn’t tell I could break through whichever spell she had cast on my memory. But what on earth was so special about this morning? I looked out the window and—

  No.

  No-no-no-no-no-no-no.

  The rage exploded inside me like a small bomb, and I could feel its flames licking at my ribcage as I turned back to my grandmother with a snarl like a bear’s. I felt what little magic I had left welling inside me, that knot of darkness awakening. My every instinct was to pounce and attack, to hurt that evil hag standing in front of me.

  “You can’t!” I screamed. “How dare you, you can’t!”

  How could I have forgotten who she was? How could I have forgotten that Granny was the Iron Queen? I’d known that the orphans in Geneva were being sent to her; I’d been told! I’d also heard what she did to them. How could I have let her trick me into thinking she was just my doddery old grandmother who liked to yell at the TV?

  “I can’t? Can’t what, vnuchechka?” She was still looking me right in the eye.

  “I won’t let you!” I yelled, magic flickering at my fingers, threatening to erupt from me as I struggled to take control. I could hear my voice echoing as I recalled how I’d treated all the child traffickers back in Geneva, recalled Mama Bear’s roar as she came rushing to rescue me from the wolves. To rescue me and Lauraleigh.

  Lauraleigh, who was now kneeling in my grandmother’s courtyard where the three Horsemen had thrown her. Her arms were tied behind her back and there was a gag in her mouth. Her beautiful hair was disheveled and dusty, and there were tear marks on her dirty face. She was trying not to show how scared she was, but she was unable to hide it as she looked at the fence of skulls and saw the empty fencepost.

  Baba Yaga grinned at me and zipped my mouth with two fingers, and suddenly I couldn’t speak. Then I started to feel weak. However angry I was, my power was falling away.

  No — being drained away. Baba Yaga was taking it from me.

  “Delicious,” she said. “Thank you, Anna Sophia, dear. Strong emotions always make energy so much tastier. Not to mention easier to siphon off.”

  “You can’t,” I managed to grumble. “She’s my friend, you can’t. I won’t let you.”

  “Friend?” she said with a strange look. “What on earth are you talking about, Anna Sophia?
It’s just some wretched human. Come, let’s go have a look and see what my Horsemen have brought us.”

  I felt my mind growing foggy.

  But no. It didn’t matter what Baba Yaga said, I wasn’t going to forget that Lauraleigh was my friend. I wasn’t going to forget that she’d helped me, that she’d come all this way just to support me. I fought back with everything I had against the spell the Iron Queen was trying to cloud my brain with as we stepped out of the hut and went into the yard.

  The Black Horseman looked at me and sneered; then he nodded at my grandmother. The White one gave me a look of pure hatred. His arm was on a sling — so the bears did maim one of them after all.

  The three Horsemen rode off as we drew close to Lauraleigh, who seemed torn between staring pleadingly at me and looking at Baba Yaga in terror.

  “Ah, yes, this will do nicely,” said my grandmother as she looked over Lauraleigh and started to poke at her. “Bit lean, of course, but then they all are these days, starving themselves all the time to try and look like those supermodels that are just bones with a bit of skin on them. Still, beggars can’t be choosers, and there’s enough here to stock the larder. We’ll pickle some and smoke most of the rest. Some nice flank steaks, and there can be chops, too. Maybe enough to get some bacon. And sausages, of course — mustn’t forget the sausages; waste not, want not. You’ll find them nasty to make, I suppose, but you have to learn to get your hands dirty sometimes, and they’re so tasty… The bones we can grind up to fertilize the vegetable garden after we make some stock from them. Most of it will go straight into storage, of course, but we’ll have us a nice roast for dinner tonight. It’s about time I taught you to cook properly.”

  “You can’t eat her!” I shouted, but my voice sounded weak, like I was just a little girl again.

  “Why on earth not? It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper feast. And you need some protein, girl.”

  “No! She’s my friend. She’s good, she’s nice, she’s kind! And she’s got nothing to do with your stupid war with my father!”