Chapter 25
“This is humiliating.”
Fate didn’t look up from carefully painting her black nails as she replied. “You say that every year.”
“Because every year it somehow gets worse.” Baba Yaga glared down at herself with deep, personal offense.
The bright gold leotard shimmered aggressively in the afternoon sunlight. Pink leg warmers hugged her calves. And somehow, she had also acquired matching glittery sweatbands.
Fate remained entirely composed on the swing beside her, dressed as always in layered black silk and lace, dark hair moving softly in the sea breeze while the chains of the swing creaked lazily beneath her.
In contrast, Baba Yaga looked like an aerobics instructor possessed by chaos.
“It’s the pirate festival,” Fate said calmly. “You lost the wager.”
“I maintain that the Kraken cheated,” Baba stated and folded her arms.
“The Kraken was not involved.”
“The energy of the situation felt dishonest.”
Fate sighed softly. Below the cliffside park, Krakens Hole bustled with growing excitement. Colourful banners had begun appearing across the town in preparation for the annual pirate festival, and somewhere down near the harbour, someone had already started playing aggressively bad accordion music.
Baba Yaga narrowed her eyes toward the sound. “I blame Blackbeard.”
“That’s because you blame Blackbeard for everything.”
“He started the accordion incident of 1892.”
Fate paused and nodded her head. The swings moved gently back and forth as the wind rolled across the cliffs, carrying salt air and the distant crash of waves below.
For a while, both women simply watched the town.
Then Baba Yaga snorted suddenly. “His arse is out again.”
Fate pinched the bridge of her nose immediately. “Please don’t say arse so aggressively.”
“I’m serious. Look.”
Against her better judgment, Fate glanced toward the harbour below. Sure enough, Blackbeard’s ghost drifted proudly through the streets, completely naked except for a tricorn hat and an alarming amount of confidence.
Several locals ignored him entirely. One tourist fainted.
“Why,” Fate asked wearily, “does no one make him wear trousers?”
“Because, technically, he’s dead.”
“That has nothing to do with trousers.”
Baba Yaga shrugged. “He says pants oppress his spectral freedom.”
“I hate this town sometimes.”
“No you don’t.”
Fate looked out over Krakens Hole again. The colourful rooftops and the bustling harbour. The strange little collection of monsters and magic and chaos all living together somehow, against every logical expectation.
A small smile touched her mouth. “No,” she admitted quietly. “I really don’t.”
Beside her, Baba Yaga kicked her leg warmers irritably.
“These itch.”
“You chose sequins.”
“I was emotionally vulnerable and I have a weakness for sparkles.”
“That’s not how fabric works.”
Below them, movement near the path caught Fate’s attention briefly. Spencer returning toward town. Alone this time.
Baba Yaga noticed too.
“Oh,” she crooned immediately. “That one’s doomed.”
Fate hummed thoughtfully. “Not doomed exactly…”
“Oh please. He’s already looking at her like she invented breathing.”
“To be fair,” Fate said mildly, “she is rather lovely.”
Baba Yaga pointed accusingly at her. “You put them together on purpose.”
“I nudged.”
“You meddled.”
“I curated.”
Baba Yaga barked out a laugh. “You absolutely meddled.”
Fate returned calmly to her nails. “Only a little.”
The older witch leaned back on her swing, gold sequins flashing painfully in the sunlight. “So,” she said casually, “what are the current odds?”
Fate considered it. “The Dragon and the Kraken bounty hunter?” she paused. “That sounds like a dodgy porno.”
“Yes and agreed, I would watch it though.”
A pause.
“Seventy percent.”
Baba Yaga gasped dramatically. “You’re getting sentimental.”
“I’m getting accurate.”
“The male literally arrived to kidnap her.”
“And yet,” Fate said softly, “he hasn’t.”
That shut Baba Yaga up briefly, because they both knew what that meant.
A hunter who hesitated was dangerous, and one who cared was almost catastrophic.
Below them, Merlin’s Gate pulsed faintly beneath the town, ancient magic stirring restless beneath the surface. Both women sensed the magic as it changed, morphed in reaction to the drama. Baba Yaga sighed heavily.
“I was hoping for at least three more days before disaster.”
Fate smiled faintly. “You are in Krakens Hole.”
“True… it’s why I love it here.”
A loud shriek echoed from below as Blackbeard attempted to “recreate authentic pirate acrobatics” from the roof of the Ferret’s Mott. He immediately fell through a laundry line.
Baba Yaga watched thoughtfully. “Ten quid says he loses the hat before sunset.”
Fate held out her hand instantly. “Accepted.”