Chapter Fifteen #4
The smirk returns as he concedes and heads to the first door on the left.
On the right, the first entrance is more of an archway, and as I enter the space I’m in awe.
It’s every witch lover’s dream. There are jars and bottles on rickety shelving containing all kinds of fun ingredients, and a lot of boring ones too, but they’re there.
All lined up, shelf after shelf around the room, and in the center, there’s a wiry lectern with an open book.
It’s in front of a pedestal holding a large bronze bowl with what looks like herbs and red wine inside.
I don’t know why, but this feels more surreal than everything else I’ve experienced up to this point. It’s like my whole life hasn’t actually been a lie, but more of a preparation for the fact that I’m a real spell-casting witch.
Well, I will be…when I’m thirty…blah blah blah.
I run my finger along the words on the open page of the book, quietly mouthing them because I’m not about to try my luck. We all know it’s terrible.
Then my vision begins to fade and the sick feeling returns and I have no idea what’s going on. My breaths come thick and fast, panic setting in, and I barely have enough energy to scream but I do.
“Zelos!”
“Now why would you want him, young lady? He’s a demon and has never been good for you.”
I blink a few times, trying to get my bearings, but it’s so bright here, it’s difficult to focus on anything.
The woman in front of me is blurred, but she becomes clearer as the seconds tick by.
She’s hunched over, like this is her permanent posture.
Thick, white hair falls in random waves around her face from beneath her gray hood, and her skin is more wrinkled than anyone I’ve ever seen.
She’s smiling, and yes, it’s a little creepy, but more than anything I have a feeling of comfort washing over me.
“Are you…?” I don’t want to say it for fear of sounding ridiculous, but if the folklore is real and Google has any semblance of rightness…this is her.
“Baba Yaga. Yes.” Her friendly grin puts me at ease and I slowly release my held breath, barely noticing the pure white and gold of everything around us. The tall columns remind me of something from the Greeks and oh my goddess…
“Is this Olympus?” My eyes couldn’t get any wider if I tried, it’s magnificent.
“It’s Lympana, but you would know it as Olympus in the anthros world. Come…let’s go.” The old woman—Baba Yaga…I’m never going to get used to that—grips my wrist and starts to lead me back into the center of the room after I begin wandering around, sliding my palm over the tall marbled pillars.
“Baba, are you leaving already?” The smoothest voice to ever exist wafts over me and when I see who it’s coming from…just wow.
The woman is dressed all in bronze, with intricate details woven in a deeper bronze.
Her dress fits every inch of her body perfectly, almost as if it was painted onto her skin, and her long dark hair almost reaches the marble floor.
It’s so thick and bouncy, and suddenly I need to know if that’s a natural thing or if she has an amazing hairdresser.
But I also don’t know the etiquette of what is polite to ask or not, so I refrain.
“Who’s the girl?” Her golden aura dims slightly with the question, and now I feel like I could be in danger and I have no idea what the fuck to do.
“I’m her daughter.” I may as well break the ice, and that seems like the logical thing to say.
The woman turns her head toward Baba Yaga, flicking her gaze back to me briefly.
“Is this true, Baba? Because she doesn’t look like Scabatha, Bavlorna, or Endelyn.” Without giving Baba Yaga a chance to reply, the woman’s eyes are on me. “How old are you?”
“Er, well, I’m twenty-nine, but Hack said something about two thousand years ago. I don’t know wh—”
An almighty scream echoes through the space, making the pillars and ground shake, and all I can do is stare at the beautiful woman who made the sound, right before shadows begin creeping in around her, circling her hands like weapons at the ready.
The whole space vibrates and shakes, worse than any earthquake I’ve ever witnessed, and the ground starts to crack.
This is it. This is when I die. In not-Olympus because I couldn’t keep my hands off of what was clearly a spell book in the cottage.
I have nowhere to go, no direction is safe, cracks are all around me and the only exit is where the beautiful woman came from, and she’s currently whipping out shadows and destroying the place.
Here it comes…
A huge crack grows bigger, creeping toward my feet where I’m backed up as far as I can be against a wall, and just as it reaches me, I send a wish out to the universe that Danika, at least, is safe.
“Not today, little lady. Not here.”
Nausea engulfs me once more as Baba Yaga grips my wrist and we’re no longer in the crumbling room. The blackness begins to fade, my vision becomes clearer, and the first thing I see is Hack, but he looks worried, scared, and he’s reaching out to me…
But he’s gone in a split second, at the same time as my feet hit the floor, his have disappeared.
My stomach rolls before I can think any more of it and I know I’m about to pass out, so hoping I don’t hit the deck, I grip the old woman beside me and look down to her sweet, smiling face.
“Can you catch?”