Chapter Sixteen
Hack
Nothing about any of this is okay.
When we first arrived at Baba Yaga’s cottage, something just didn’t sit well with me.
The eerie setting, the seclusion of it all, the way the trees had grown around the small home like a protective shield, set off some high quality red fucking flags.
A bit how I expect females to feel when Slash is on the prowl.
Back. Away. Slowly.
These females get snared into his charm the same way we walked into Baby Yaga’s home like we were lifetime neighbors and best friends.
With hindsight, I should have kept Sage by my side. I know better than to ever separate myself from her, no matter how much she’d like to see me disappear forever.
Fat chance that’ll ever happen.
Alas, we both headed in different directions to snoop around and get a quick general feel of the place.
My first thought as I started walking around, peeking into the random books of spells and looking over the art splayed out on the walls, was that we were clearly inside the home of a witch. One that has been living here for at least two millennia.
It’s like she’s kept every fucking thing she’s ever come across. If witches were hoarders, she'd be their queen.
Still, nothing specific caught my eye. Not the shelves upon shelves of spell books collecting dust, not the hat boxes filled with various types of animal coverings—bear fur, lion’s mane, snake’s skin—and not the vials of unmarked blood kept in a secured glass door refrigerator.
Witches need a whole slew of crap to put into their spells, who am I to judge?
What did get my attention, however, was the incessant scratching noise the whole time I was walking around the living room. Sage was somewhere in the back of the house—the bedroom, no doubt—so I had no idea if she could hear it, too.
It sounded like a mouse running around at a chaotic pace, not always at the same speed and barely ever stopping. Well, except for the occasional tapping then pause before scratching all over again.
The problem with the mouse theory was that I couldn’t sense another living being. My demon would have sniffed out any critter within seconds of entering the home. This wasn’t that.
And still…the fucking noise kept at it.
So, instead of looking for clues or information to help Sage and her hex of impending death, I started hunting down the perpetrator of the offending noise.
Something caught my eye on an antique desk in the corner of the living room. Buried beneath a stack of parchment paper was a notebook. From my vantage point, it looked innocuous, no distinguishing marks giving me any further clues as to what it could be.
Eyeing it with suspicion, anticipating it could jump at me like a bloodthirsty spider—not impossible in a witch’s cabin, by the way—I inched closer and closer until I saw movement underneath.
One by one, I took off the straggler pages and placed them several inches to the side until the notebook came into perfect view. There was no denying the scratching was coming from inside, the nearly imperceptible movement of it telling me magic was no doubt at work.
“Sage, you should probably see this.” I hesitated before opening it, conscious of the fact that it wasn’t my property and clearly had nothing to do with me. “Sage?”
When she didn’t answer, the sudden peak of anxiety began mounting inside my chest.
Looking down at the notebook in my hand, I ran my thumb across the leather cover, caressing the elegant font that spelled out the one word that always spiked my heartbeat.
Aiyana.
The scratching picked up again, even as I was holding it in my hands.
Sage needed to see this but my curiosity was getting the better of me.
Walking and opening the notebook to the part where the self-writing pages were creating themselves, I tried to tamp down my need for information and failed miserably at it.
“The child walked into your home like she belonged, the demon there with her.” My brow furrowed and one corner of my lip curled at the appearing words. The child?
Looking back at the cover, I read the name once more before turning back to the ongoing writing.
“The travel spell to Lympana lay open and ready for use.”
Lympana? What the fuck?
“Sage? Where the fuck are you?”
Reading again, I walked faster, almost at a run, to where I thought Sage was snooping around.
“She whispered the words that would whisk her away.”
Whisk her—
Raising my eyes from the book, I did a quick search of what appeared to be Baba Yaga’s office of sorts before stopping at the center of the room.
Every detail from the notebook was spelled out in front of my eyes. The large bronze cauldron, the herbs, the red wine…the wiry lectern with an opened book just begging to be used.
Fuck.
Without a single regret, I sought out my chosen and ignored any contradicting instincts of survival.
Reading the same words, with the same tone, described by the notebook, I knew I was about to follow in Sage’s footsteps.
My body was fading as I clutched onto the leather journal and before everything disappeared, Sage materialized out of nowhere, standing mere feet from me.
My fear was a river of ice running through my bloodstream.
I reached out but it was too late, bringing me to the present.
Now, if I wanted to be on Lympana, I’d have asked for an audience. Yet, here I am facing a livid Hekate, who is currently throwing shit left and right. Most gods and goddesses have zero respect for their belongings. Their self-absorption is so deep that nothing matters to them, not even family.
I don’t move, just stand there with the journal in my hand, waiting for the Dei of witches to acknowledge my presence.
By the way her spine goes ramrod rigid and her shouting comes to a sudden stop, I’m guessing she’s sensed my arrival.
“And who the fuck are you?” Wow. I can’t say I’ve ever seen her this animated.
It’s a rare occasion to run into her, but whenever we’re summoned by Samhain to appear at the great hall of the Dei, where they meet to discuss the matters of the kyn, she’s never been anything less than stoic and poised.
The Hekate in front of me now is the sheer opposite of that.
“Zelos Adolfo, also known as Hack. Liege to Dei Samhain.” I stand to my full height, knowing damn well she’ll have something to say about that information.
“A demon? Here?” Her curiosity is piqued but so is her disdain, which is nothing less than predictable.
“Yes.” I nod. “I apologize for the intrusion but I was in the cottage of—”
She interrupts me, waving a hand in front of her like she’s trying to cut through air itself.
“Baba Yaga. That treacherous—” To my utter frustration, she doesn’t finish her phrase and instead regains the composure she’s renowned for, standing tall and emotionless as ever. “You’re Hack?”
It comes out as a question but it sounds like she’s looking for confirmation. I choose to believe that Sage was indeed here, and because my ego needs it, that she spoke about me.
“Yes.” I nod in respect, because while I’m here and knowing Sage is safe back at the cottage, it would be wise to get some answers. “Might I inquire about magic, Dei Hekate?” I bow my head in reverence, knowing damn well these gods are all about showing respect. It’s fucking ridiculous.
“Go on.” Again with the hand wave like none of this matters, but my demon is sensing her curiosity and her innate need to know more about…something. My best guess would be Sage.
“My chosen has been hexed with a hate spell, from what I gather. In the last two millennia, she’s never, in any of her lives, reached her thirtieth birthday, which is already strange, but in this life, she has a deep-rooted hatred for me.
I’d like to break this hex so I can help her survive to thirty.
” My words are rushed, coming out like an avalanche, and I’m not sure if I’m even making any sense.
“Hmm, indeed. I felt something was amiss with her minutes ago. Baba was anxious to leave with her and I wasn’t able to pinpoint the spell.
” With elegance only given to the gods, Hekate walks at a slow pace.
As though taking me in and wondering if she should get this close to a demon, she stops two arm lengths away and cocks her head to the side.
“Have you tried breaking the hex with intercourse?”
I raise a brow in response because this can’t be real. When Desdemon suggested it, I thought he was fucking with me.
“Am I to assume that you’ve already consummated your bond?” I fucking wish, but I don’t say that of course.
“No, we have not. Not in this life, at least.”
“Spells are about balance. Extinguish the hatred by allowing the love. If the spell continues then you must look elsewhere.” Lifting her chin, she sniffs like I’m stinking up her white palace, then turns on her heel and walks away.
I’ve been dismissed.
Within seconds, the very fiber of my body shifts to nothingness, my demon fighting the call of the portal transferring me from within the veil to the anthros realm.
For reasons I don’t question, leaving Lympana takes longer than my arrival.
It’s like I’m stuck in between worlds as the portal or the spell or whatever the fuck brought me here decides what to do with me.
A few seconds later, I’m expelled into a deserted area I do not recognize.
Crouching to stabilize my landing, I stand to my full height and turn in a circle as I take in my surroundings.
Mount Rainier is propped up in the north, the setting sun reflecting its warm hues over snow-capped peaks, as it watches over the population of Alaska.
Well, at least I’m in the right state…and country.
Closing my eyes, I summon Cirrus. Travelling in my demon form will be the easiest and the quickest way to get back to my chosen.
Out from within.
In an instant, I’m galloping in the direction of Baba Yaga’s house and the entire way there, I work out the possible reasons why I didn’t land in the exact place I left.
Hekate’s lesson on spells is right, they’re created on the notion of balance.
If you go, you must come back. In the same way I saw Sage reappear just as I was catapulted into Lympana.
Everything is blurry, the air itself mere particles moving at the speed of nothingness.
Anthros don’t know much of the world they live in, they are content with their everyday lives and, for the most part, they refute any supernatural events, dismissing them as impossible.
There was a time, many millennia ago, when we roamed openly on Earth.
A time where anthros weren’t on a constant journey to destroy the very world they inhabited.
The Moirai gave them the room to exist and now we are bound to secrecy so as not to provoke destruction… again.
Since its creation, the Earth has had five mass extinctions and if we’re not careful, the Moirai will create a sixth so they can start over on a new canvas.
In no time, I arrive at the spot where Sage and I stopped earlier. The land around is the same, the positioning of Mount Rainier is the same. My internal GPS knows for a fact that I’m in the exact spot as earlier this morning.
So why the fuck is the cabin gone? How is that even possible?
The circle of trees is no longer there. The cabin, the patches of green grass that lay between the house and the forest…gone.
“Sage!” I can feel her. Still in my demon form, I take the risk of being seen by an anthros, but to be honest, I don’t fucking care.
“Sage!” I repeat, this time louder, and even I can hear the slight hint of desperation in my voice.
Transforming back to my anthros appearance, I start to jog, wondering if maybe I’m off by a few yards, a couple of miles even.
Nothing.
With my head thrown back and my fingers curled up into tight balls of rage, I fill my lungs with air and cry out for the one person in this universe that means everything to me.
I can’t lose her again, at least not yet, because waiting another lifetime for her may very well be the one thing that kills me.
“Saaaaaage!”