Chapter Thirty-One
After a stop by Perchta’s for hag potion, Astrid cast a scrying spell to tell Demos she no longer needed him for the ritual. She explained it bluntly, but not unkindly, and he made a playful joke about a ménage à trois before quickly saying that he was happy for her. And that was that. Their relationship had always been easygoing, and her newfound exclusivity didn’t expose latent jealousy.
Astrid returned home to find a park service snowmobile parked outside her gate.
Fritz and Liesel bleated cheerfully from their pen, and rounding the corner revealed them both receiving enthusiastic head scratches and treats from Johanna and Suri.
She’d texted check-ins last night and this morning, and they’d made arrangements to meet.
At her approach, punctuated by crunching snow, Johanna turned from the goats to give Astrid a once-over, brow arched. That her gray-streaked brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun with a practical set of charcoal-gray earmuffs, made the look she gave even more severe.
“What?” Astrid glanced down at herself, half expecting to find something as damning as cum stains on her pants. Thankfully, there was no such thing.
“It’s your hair,” Suri chirped. Their own lush, brown tresses framed their face beneath a hood trimmed with faux fur, contrasting nicely with the puffy peach-colored winter coat they wore. They gestured behind their head. “It’s got ‘sexed by an ancient forest god’ vibes. Lucky for all of us, your monster lover seems benevolent, so I can guiltlessly cheer on your sexcapades.”
“Benevolent?” Johanna snorted. “Do I need to show you the stat sheets for the number of tourists who go missing each year?”
Suri rolled their eyes, waving a gloved hand in dismissal. “Altes Geweih is on our side. You know, he kinda reminds me of the Rāk?asa, a bit. They’re voracious people-eaters, too. Sometimes on the side of good, sometimes not. Not every monster is firmly in one category or the other.”
“You’ve come a long way from not believing in the supernatural to bringing them up in casual conversation.”
“Jaan, if your country’s monsters, witches, and spirits are real, it stands to reason my home country’s are, too. Anyway, Astrid, you had a good time?”
“Certainly worth repeating.” Astrid winked. “But please, come in out of the cold. I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to hear about my nighttime adventures.”
Johanna nodded grimly.
While throwing together a tea and traditional Frühstück spread for her guests, Astrid looped them in on everything she learned from Perchta and Gudarīks, as well as her plans to finally ascend to full hag.
“That’s wonderful!” Suri clapped their hands together. “Not the animal murder, missing poachers, or vengeful Wiederg?nger from the Otherworld bit, but that you’re going to be a hag! You’ve been working toward this for as long as I’ve known you.”
Ten years. That’s how long she’d known Suri. Johanna, since she was a child, when Perchta introduced her as der Schwarzwald’s human ally. Survival in the modern age for Hexen required such ties. Long gone were the days when spell work alone outmatched human technology and cunning, but even in the olden days, Perchta always made a point to have an amicable relationship with Johanna’s ancestors.
“We’re in over our heads.” Johanna hunched over in her seat, one hand on her hip, the other swiping across her mouth. Something she did when she was thinking hard. Not defeatist, just stressed. “How does my team face down dimension-hopping supernatural adversaries?”
“Well, you don’t do it alone,” Astrid said, laying out a spread of thinly sliced meats and cheeses, bread, jam, and a steaming pot of black tea. “You have allies in Mutter, Gudarīks, and myself.”
She explained how Perchta’s containment spell worked, and that the next time trouble hopped back into their plane, they’d be trapped and dispatched.
“I don’t even know Gudarīks.” Johanna pushed up from her slumped position and folded her arms. “He’s obviously fond of you, but what’s to say he won’t take one look at the rest of us and think ‘now there’s a hearty meal, right there’?”
Living on the fringe of the supernatural world, Johanna knew better than most modern humans the dangers that lurked in the forest she loved and protected. Her reservations weren’t without cause.
Suri placed a hand on their spouse’s arm. “It doesn’t seem like anyone’s really tried to get to know him in the last twelve thousand years. I’d be a little murdery, too, if I was alone for that long.”
Heaving an exasperated sigh, Johanna said, “Schatzi, your ability to continue diminishing Altes Geweih’s kill count is both impressive and worrisome.”
“I’ll introduce you to him tonight,” Astrid cut in, growing excited by the idea. And after a quick glance at her new calendar, hanging on the wall by the door, she added, “It’s Perchtentag!”
It had completely slipped her mind in the whirlwind of the past few days. Made her feel like a bad daughter, but Mutter didn’t need to know she forgot. At least she’d already made a blanket using the n?lebinding technique that Perchta could drape over her lap while riding in her sleigh.
“The one night of clemency. Not that you need it—he knows you’re my friends—but if it will make you feel better, it’s the one night a year he doesn’t hunt. Mutter never knew why he abstained on her festival day, but it’s the perfect opportunity. We can meet with him and Mutter during der Perchtenlauf and plan next steps.”
Johanna opened her mouth to protest, but Suri rushed in, “That’s perfect.”
“I promise it’ll be fine. I’d never push for something that would put either of you in danger. I’m not blindly smitten.”
“But you are smitten, right?” Suri waggled their eyebrows.
Grinning, Astrid replied with a saucy shrug.
“Ach, fine.” Johanna puffed out a breath, reaching to slather a bit of jam on bread. “You two are ridiculous.”
“So, you’re in?”
Glaring at the ceiling, she grumbled, “Ja. I don’t really have a choice, now, do I?”