A Wolf for a Spell Page 15

  One minute passed. Then two.

  She lowered her hands and held them close to her chest to warm them. The hut wasn’t coming.

  And then she heard it.

  A distant thumping sound bashed through the trees. Zima’s heart jumped to its rhythm. Thump thump thump thump. Tree branches snapped and creaked. The ground rumbled.

  It appeared in the distance, the firelight shining through its windows, paying no attention to the branches or boughs that stood in its way. It collided with and bounced off immovable trunks, stumbled, and carried on. The bright-orange chicken legs took long, loping steps, sometimes lifting themselves so high they nearly smacked the bottom of the house.

  As the house drew near, the chicken feet dug in their heels and skidded over the icy earth. The legs lowered the hut and the steps pivoted out and down, revealing the front door. It was hard to tell, but the steps, which always made Zima think of a mouth, seemed to be smiling.

  She and Nadya climbed into the hut’s warmth. Everything was exactly as she had left it. All the skulls and trinkets sat in their usual places on the shelves, and the bucket of rocks was tucked into its corner. A fire crackled in the hearth.

  She’s not here, said the raven.

  He was right. The hut was empty.

  “You said she’d be here,” said Zima.

  I know I did, he snapped. He fluttered over to the mantel and scratched his claws on the wood. Where is she?

  “How should I know? You only just told me she planned to come back tonight.”

  But the raven was giving her an odd look. How did you figure it out?

  Zima blinked at him. “Figure out what?”

  He fluttered forward. Baba Yaga’s object. You can do magic now.

  Zima stared at him. She’d done magic, first when healing Oksana, and then again in the dungeons. She remembered the tingling in her hands as she’d gripped—

  “The cane.” She looked down at the carved wooden staff. It had helped her move in this witch’s body, and apparently in other ways as well. “I—I didn’t mean to,” she stammered. “I know it was the last of Baba Yaga’s rules—”

  That doesn’t matter anymore. The full moon is tonight. Katerina is missing. And Baba Yaga hasn’t returned. Don’t you understand what this means?

  “What are you saying?”

  You have to be Baba Yaga now.

  Zima nearly fell backward. “No—I can’t possibly—”

  A little voice beside her made her jump. “What’s wrong, Baba Yaga?”

  Nadya. Zima had almost forgotten she was in the room.

  “I…” Zima wondered how to explain what the raven had told her. “I might be trapped as Baba Yaga.”

  “But you’ve always been Baba Yaga,” said Nadya. She wasn’t saying this in confusion, but with the certainty of truth.

  “I didn’t used to be. I used to be”—she paused, wondering how Nadya would react—“a wolf. Called Zima. I hope to be a wolf again someday.”

  Nadya looked thoughtful. “Is that the family you meant? Your pack?”

  Zima nodded.

  “Like the wolf who visits me in the village?” asked Nadya.

  Veter. Zima smiled. “Yes. He’s my friend.”

  There was a loud tapping sound from the mantel. The raven was knocking his beak against the wood to get her attention. We need to find Katerina. She is somewhere out there—he gestured with a wing toward the window and the howling storm outside—and the tsar will be looking for her. As you’re the new Baba Yaga, I follow your orders.

  “I am not the new Baba Yaga!” Zima shouted, stamping a foot. “I am a wolf, and I will be a wolf again.”

  Why did you trade places with Baba Yaga? asked the raven.

  “To save my brother.”

  Now you need to save the forest. This is about more than you and me. It’s about all of us.

  Zima opened her mouth to argue, but he shushed her, and pointed with his beak at the cauldron. You don’t understand. Ask it. Ask it to show you his true plans.

  “I know his plans,” said Zima. “He wants to hunt Baba Yaga.”

  That’s not everything, said the raven. Ask the cauldron. You’ll see.

  The memory of her first day in the hut sprang into her mind, when the cauldron had showed her Baba Yaga’s memory. Zima pulled herself upright and crept toward the fireplace, Nadya following close beside her. Steam beaded on the end of her chin as she leaned over the bubbling liquid. Hints of pine needles and honey entered her nose.

  She took the spoon from its hook, dipped it just below the surface, and stirred.

  “What are the tsar’s true plans?” she grunted to the cauldron. She felt Nadya’s hands close around her arm.

  The grayish-brown lumps bobbed about, swimming in circles, and then all at once they were gone.

  The whole hut disappeared around her, like a lightning flash that brought darkness instead of light. After an instant the hut reappeared, but everything was different. Sunlight streamed through the windows. Standing at opposite ends of the table, staring at each other, were Baba Yaga and Tsar Aleksander. Neither of them glanced at Zima or Nadya.

  “I did not invite you in,” said Baba Yaga to Tsar Aleksander, her lip curling into a sneer.

  The tsar returned the gaze without any hint of concern. “But you must answer my question,” the tsar said, “whether you wish to or not.”

  Baba Yaga’s eyes narrowed. “I thought this curse was long forgotten by your family.”

  A look of disgust crossed the tsar’s face. “My parents and grandparents were good to me, they protected me. But they couldn’t see how the bargain my great-grandfather made with you wasn’t a gift—it was a prison.”

  Tsar Aleksander leaned forward, intensity burning in his eyes. “My castle, my tsardom, everything that is mine comes from your”—he twirled his fingers—“your earth magic. So many years of my childhood were spent hiding away in a castle, fearing the threat of this evil forest, watching it creep closer to our home. Coming to take back what it had given.”

  He watched Baba Yaga as though he expected her to contradict him, but she stayed silent. He continued, “I tried setting fire to it, but its magic was too strong. It always healed itself before I could get very far. And then I realized”—he held his hand to his forehead in mock amazement—“I could ask you. ‘A truthful answer, always,’ not just for my great-grandfather, but for his whole family.”

  Baba Yaga pressed her hands flat against the tabletop. Her purple-flecked eyes flashed. “And what is your question?” she asked.

  The tsar pulled out a chair and sat down, laying his fur cloak over the arm. He leaned back casually, fingers tracing the top of his beard as he considered his response.

  Finally, a wicked grin twisted his angular features. He leaned forward and spoke in a voice so low that Zima had to step toward him to hear. “How can I destroy the forest?” he said.

  Baba Yaga’s expression was unchanged, but her hands pressed against the table until the knuckles turned white. She took a long time to answer.

  At last, she exhaled. Her breath came out in shuddering gasps.

  The tsar laughed. It was flat and without humor. “You cannot avoid the question, so why resist it? It will only tire you, old woman.”

  Baba Yaga was clearly fighting not to say the words that followed, but they escaped in a raspy voice. “I am the forest’s protector. To destroy it you would have to kill me.”

  Tsar Aleksander smiled, then he stood and pulled a dagger from its sheath. The jeweled hilt gleamed. He traced the blade under Baba Yaga’s chin. “So I could kill you now.”

  Baba Yaga didn’t answer. Her face was calm, unmoving, a stone against a storm.

  For a moment, doubt flickered across the tsar’s face. But it only lasted an instant. He straightened his arm, and the dagger point dug into Baba Yaga’s flesh. “There must be more. Tell me how to kill you.”

  “The forest decides when it is my time. Only magic can kill me. To obta
in it, you must find my successor, and perform the binding ceremony just before dawn at the full moon. This will allow you to share in her magic.”

  The tsar raised a pointed brow. “Ceremony?”

  “A ceremony to bind human and witch together until the witch’s life ends. There are several, but the most well-known is a wedding.”

  Beside Zima, Nadya gasped. The tsar’s eyes lingered on Baba Yaga’s wrinkled hands. “And where can I find this new Baba Yaga?”

  Again, Baba Yaga fought to answer him. She gripped the table until tendrils and vines began to sprout from it. Her eyes bulged and her lips darkened as she pressed them tight to contain the secrets within her.

  There was a screech and a flash of black feathers. The raven swooped through the air toward the tsar’s hand and snatched the dagger in his claws. He darted into the rafters of the little hut, hidden from view.

  And that’s when Zima recognized it. The dagger, the one she’d given Nadya as a gift for the tsar. Without realizing it, she’d returned it to him.

  The tsar didn’t move to snatch it back. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on Baba Yaga, waiting for her answer.

  The witch exhaled, gasping, her face pale.

  “In the village. A young woman named Katerina.” She trembled as she uttered the words.

  “Excellent. You’ve been most instructive,” said the tsar, rising and kicking the chair out of his way as he moved toward the door.

  A clatter made Zima jump. Baba Yaga had leapt to her feet and her cane had fallen to the floor. “You cannot take her!” the witch cried. “She doesn’t understand what she is. She was raised as a human.”

  The tsar rewrapped his fur cloak about his shoulders. It was wolf fur, black and sleek. “Then she knows what all humans know…never trust a witch.”

  Baba Yaga’s expression suddenly changed, her eyes glazed. She was watching the cloak, seeing it, but not seeing it. “Find the gray wolf…,” she muttered.

  “What did you say?” snapped the tsar.

  “Nothing…,” she said, though power flowed in her words. Baba Yaga glanced upward at the raven. “That dagger belonged to the old tsar,” she said. “Everything you’re protecting is stolen. Everything you have is an illusion. You are at the mercy of the forest. It is coming for you.”

  “Not for long, my dear old witch,” said Tsar Aleksander. “Soon the forest will be at my mercy.” He smirked, and with a final flick of his wolf cloak left the hut.

  As the door drifted closed, Baba Yaga threw it open wide and shouted, “The forest has a plan. You will be defeated by a gray wolf!”

  But it was too late. The tsar was gone.

  * * *

  —

  Zima blinked. Smoke filled her eyes. The fire was roaring, and the liquid in the cauldron bubbled furiously. Nadya was still clutching her arm with trembling fingers. “Baba Ya—I mean, Zima, we have to do something!”

  The whispers seemed to agree. They swelled inside Zima. She felt a bit sick. “If the tsar marries Katerina,” Zima asked the raven, “will he have her magic?”

  The raven nodded, and Nadya squeezed Zima’s arm so tightly it began to ache. He can command the forest as well as destroy it. He might discover he enjoys the power more. And all of us will be under his control.

  Her mind was spinning. “Couldn’t Baba Yaga have hidden Katerina away? Kept her safe?”

  She tried, but Katerina wouldn’t listen. Baba Yaga couldn’t force her to come to the forest; her magic wouldn’t control another witch like that. Katerina has to embrace her magic willingly.

  A growl of frustration rumbled in Zima’s throat. “Why is your friend so stubborn?” she snapped at Nadya.

  Nadya looked startled, and she became even more unsettled when Zima explained what the raven had said. “Can she protect herself?” Nadya asked. “Can her magic shield her from him?”

  Zima thought about this for a moment. It seemed unlikely, since Katerina wasn’t willing to embrace her magic, like the raven said. But maybe she could do magic without realizing, just as Zima had. “She would need an object, something of the forest, like my cane. Does she have anything like that?”

  She waited as Nadya began to pace the small room. At last, she stopped, her shoulders slumped. “No, I can’t think of anything.”

  Zima turned back to the raven. “I don’t understand, why didn’t Baba Yaga stop him? Use her magic on him like I did in the dungeon?”

  Don’t you get it? said the raven, flapping his wings in exasperation. The forest wanted you. She couldn’t do this alone. She had to find you.

  “Was I just a tool for Baba Yaga to carry out her plans?”

  She never wanted to place you in danger.

  She eyed Nadya, who was watching them in fear and confusion, unable to understand his words, but clearly catching their urgency all the same. “I am in danger. We all are,” said Zima. A fire that had sparked to life while watching the memory was now raging in her mind, wild and hungry. She moved to the window and looked outside. It was the middle of the night now—too much time had passed already. “You’re right. I have to stop this.”

  What would you have me do? said the raven.

  “Search the forest,” said Zima. They needed to make sure Katerina was safe from the tsar. “We have to find her before he does.”

  The raven bowed. You will stop him, he said. The forest knew all along. Then he flapped his wings, gliding toward the window and kicking open the latch with his clawed foot. Once outside he rose high into the air, his dark feathers becoming one with the night.

  Zima was grateful for the raven’s help, but it did nothing to soothe the uneasiness in her mind. The forest was a big place, and they needed to find Katerina quickly. Would he be able to trace her in time, searching on his own?

  “How can we help find her?” Zima asked Nadya.

  Nadya pulled out a map she’d been working on that showed the forest as seen from a great height, with the road winding along the edge of the trees between the castle and the village. “She must be going to the village,” said Nadya. “And the road is the quickest way.”

  The road was also the most exposed. Trying to navigate it in this storm would be near impossible.

  They tried other ideas. First the cauldron, without success, then Zima asked the house to search for her. It gave a sad shudder, as though it didn’t know how. If Nadya was right and Katerina wasn’t in the forest, then the forest magic might be struggling to find her. That would also mean the raven was looking in the wrong place.

  Not for the first time, Zima longed for her wolf nose. Baba Yaga couldn’t track Katerina in a snowstorm, but Zima’s wolf body could have. If only Grom didn’t hate witches, she could ask him for help.

  She paused. Grom might not help, but Veter would.

  She looked to Nadya. “We need something that would have her scent. Do you have anything that belongs to her?”

  “There must be something at the orphanage.” Nadya thought for a moment, then her face brightened. “She gave me a doll before she went away.”

  A plan had begun to grow. Everything would be okay. Zima looked up to the rafters. It was a shame the house couldn’t leave the forest. Its swift legs would have made shorter work of the task of finding Katerina. But all the same, it could help. “House,” she said, “take us as close as you can to the orphanage.”

  Snow was falling fast now, the winter winds forming drifts two- and three-feet deep. Ivan wouldn’t last the night in this storm.

  Baba Yaga needed to get to her hut. From there, she could find him. Even if Ivan refused to aid in defeating the tsar, she could at least prevent him from freezing to death.

  But something was wrong. She was near the place where she’d left her hut, yet there was no smell of magic. Her hut had been moved.

  A growl escaped her. That wolf had been messing with magic.

  Lifting her nose to the air, Baba Yaga searched for a hint of the right scent.

  The winds shifted and she caught it
: the resinous smell of magic and moonlight.

  Snow blasted into the hut as Zima opened the front door. Together she and Nadya, clutching warm cloaks around their shoulders, descended the steps to the forest floor. Their feet sank into powdery snow. Wading through it was like trudging through water, fighting against a current.

  The hut had taken them right to the edge of the forest. Ahead, the trees thinned, and torchlight signaled the border of the village. With careful steps, they crossed the snowy hill toward the orphanage. Something bounded toward Zima and Nadya where they stood, and Zima recognized the wolf’s familiar trot.

  Veter!

  Baba Yaga! he said, his tail wagging. What are you doing here?

  “Looking for you,” said Zima. She felt warm at the sight of him. If she’d still had her tail, it would have wagged too.

  Me? he said.

  “I need your help,” she said. But there was something else she had to say first. She’d spent the last week pretending that she was someone she wasn’t. It was time to tell the truth about what she’d done. “Veter, I have something to tell you,” said Zima.

  His eye glittered in the pale light as he looked up at her, curious.

  She paused for such a long time that Veter finally asked, What is it?

  “I’m Zima.”

  There was no hint of surprise or astonishment on his face. He simply stared at her, taking her in, as if seeing her for the first time. Then at last he let out a yip of delight.

  I knew you reminded me of her! There was laughter in his voice.

  “You’re not horrified? That I made this trade with the witch? You don’t blame me?”

  Blame you? he said. I should have been there with you. You are the closest thing I have to a pack…He paused before saying, Zima. Then he added, It will be strange calling you by your real name, though.