Chapter 13
Baba Yaga and Fate
The night sky over Hallowell Bay was a bruise-colored stretch of clouds, restless and low. Baba Yaga leaned against the lighthouse railing, the ocean moving slow and heavy below.
In the harbor, lights blinked like sleepy eyes. She’d stood there long enough to know which ones were real and which were illusions cast by the restless things swimming just beyond mortal sight. The town slept; the veil did not.
“It never does,” Baba Yaga murmured to no one, her fingers drumming an absent rhythm on the lighthouse railing. “The veil has moods, just like the sea. And lately…” She narrowed her eyes at the horizon. “It’s been in one of mine.”
A ripple in the air announced her arrival.
Fate stepped out of the wind as if it belonged to her.
Six feet tall, all legs and trouble, her army fatigues were tucked into scuffed combat boots.
Rainbow curls bounced in the sea breeze, each twist catching the lighthouse beam in a different color.
Her nails were glossy, fire-red talons and didn’t belong on someone who could snap a neck with two fingers, but she made them work. Contradictions were Fate’s specialty.
Moonlight skimmed her deep, perfect midnight skin and caught in her silver eyes, making them gleam like polished coins. She crossed her arms, curves shifting with the movement.
“You’ve been watching her,” Fate said, voice low and smooth.
“Jessica Knox,” Baba Yaga replied. “Amateur witch. Big heart, bad impulse control, currently playing footsie with a mirror parasite.”
“Thinking of stepping in?”
“Maybe. The girl’s got spirit, but Etan’s good at the game. He’s weaving himself into the fabric of that boy’s life, and once those threads set…” Baba Yaga shrugged. “Cutting him out will tear more than you want.”
Fate stepped closer, the scent of rain clinging to her. “And you’re asking me for what? Permission? Advice?”
“Sanity check.”
She leaned on the railing, scanning the dark water. “You know what happens if she loses the real Nate. I’ve seen the Mirror Realm take hold, whole towns go hollow. People walking around like they’re alive, but the light’s gone. Just echoes wearing skin.”
“That’s why I’m tempted to drag her clear.”
Fate shook her head. “No. Let her prove herself.”
“You sure?”
“One week. Pressure forges or shatters. If she wins, she’s stronger for it. If she loses…” Fate’s gaze cut to hers, sharp and knowing. “You’ll feel the ripple first. You’ll handle it.”
“And in the meantime?”
“Keep an eye on her. Quietly. Don’t crowd her, don’t tip your hand. You know the rules.”
“Rules change when the glass cracks.”
“Rules keep the worlds from eating each other alive. You remember what happens when we meddle too much.”
Baba Yaga did remember, the Paris incident in ’24 and the drowned train car in ’68. Whole towns had been erased from maps, and not because humans wanted them gone.
Fate tilted her head. “Still, she’s got fire. You can’t teach that. Maybe she’ll surprise you.”
“Or burn the place down.”
Fate pushed off the railing and slipped toward the shadows. “Sometimes the only way to know what someone’s capable of is to give them enough rope.”
“And hope they don’t hang themselves with it,” Baba Yaga called after her.
The wind stole the words. Fate was gone, leaving Baba Yaga with the ocean, the iron-tinted air, and the restless clouds pressing low over the bay. Somewhere down in town, a mirror was humming.