Yaga's Blood (Root and Myth Book 1) Read online

  “Um, no, I don’t think so. She never mentions men.”

  Mira saw the corners of Bessemer’s lips curl up.

  “And yet, there has to be a wolf,” he said slowly. “That’s the first thing your mother would look for. Wolves are the best for transportation.”

  “Oh, wait, I just remembered!”

  Mira quickly sat near him on the couch. He opened one eye and looked at her askance.

  “We were in Gimli last Summer, and there was a coffee shop there, or more like a tea room, actually. And it was called Ulf’s Faering. That fits, right? ‘Wolf’s Ship.’ So, we went there once, and it belonged to that nice old lady, and she was telling us about her grandson, and how my Mom should meet him. That Mom and him would make a lovely couple.”

  “And what did your Mom say?” Bessemer asked in an even tone.

  “She blushed and said that maybe some other time. And the next time we were in Gimli, she wanted to go there again. I mean, the lady showed us the photos, and the guy was—”

  “Was what?” Bessemer asked, and the second blue eye opened.

  “Well, he was hot. Like a real Viking. Red-haired, like Mum, and there was his photo from that Viking festival of theirs, in a chainmail, and with a large sword.”

  “Probably made of tin foil,” Bessemer grumbled, and jerkily rose from the couch. “I’m going to go get us coffee and some nosh, and then I have an errand to run. You stay here, and enjoy Mr. Potapytch’s devices.”

  He waved his hand towards the Playstation and the TV.

  “What errand? You can’t leave me here alone! I have no idea what’s going on, and Mom told Ms. Klaassen I’d be safe with you. You’re supposed to be protecting me! And I have a hundred other questions!” Mira raised her voice, and Bessemer threw her a sarcastic look.

  “Yesterday I didn’t know you existed. I owe your mother a debt, and clearly I’m supposed to keep your safe. Educating you and solving your issues isn’t my job. Stay here and wait for me.”

  The door closed behind him with a bang, and Mira sighed. She turned on the Playstation, flipped through Mike’s collection of first person shooters, and with an exasperated groan she opted out to watch a DVD of some anime she found on a shelf.

  ***

  She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew a shriek of her new iPhone woke her up. She jumped up, panting, her heart booming in her ears, as she looked for the source of noise. It was her new iPhone, and Bessemer was calling her.

  Answering with shaky fingers, she immediately heard Bessemer yelling yelling down the line, “Mira! Get out of the diner!” Mira could hear the sounds of him driving - speeding for sure, judging by the noise, which included a roaring engine and squealing tires. “They’re coming to the diner! Grab everything! Stuff the rowan berries into your right pocket, and mugwort into the left one. You can leave some of them there, but take all our clothes, and make sure nothing personal is left behind. Damn it! We have no time to pick up our hair and to wash the mugs!” he gritted through his teeth.

  Mira was already running around the apartment gathering their belongings and stuffing them into her backpack.

  “Where do I go?!” she shouted, pressing the phone between her ear and her shoulder.

  “Out! Just out! They won’t see you, the pendant will protect you. Stay in the light, avoid thick shadows, and walk along the highway! I’m coming to pick you up!”

  “Walk along the highway? Are you nuts?!” She quickly peeked outside. “It’s dark already, and I’m a fourteen year old girl alone!”

  “Mira, believe me, nothing except what’s coming for you to that diner can harm you. You have the pendant and the obereg! Just get outside - and only walk right! Do you understand me?! Make only right turns!”

  “How will you find me, if I turn?” she asked in panic.

  “I’ll find you! But only right turns, Mira! Promise me!”

  “If I make only right turns, I’ll be walking in circles!” she yelled.

  She suddenly heard some loud noise on his end, screeching, and a few deafening metal bangs - and the call ended. Mira stuffed the phone in the pocket of her jeans, pushed her feet into her boots, and a handful of the berries and the herbs into the respective jacket pockets.

  She tumbled down the stairs, pushed the entrance door, and ran outside. The small town was quiet and sleepy, and only trucks and cars swooshed by on the highway. It had rained apparently, and lights were dancing on the wet asphalt.

  She hurriedly put on her backpack and started walking away from the diner. The sidewalk ended pretty quickly, and she had to march and slip on the wet brown grass. She picked up speed, passed a gas station, a closed souvenirs shop; and in just a few minutes the town was behind her.

  And suddenly there wasn’t a single car on the road, and she found herself alone, walking, the barrier on her left and a deep ditch on her right. She would walk through a circle of light, pass a grey area, and then as if resurface in the next column of light. And then that unpleasant sensation ran her spine, down from her nape, the one that people always said felt as if someone was watching you.

  Mira started running. At some point the chain of the Kolovrat scratched at her neck, and she jerked the zipper on her jacket open, and fished the pendant out and clasped it in her hand. It was getting harder to breathe, but she continued to run.

  And then she saw a large black car jump from around a curve of the highway ahead of her - and she didn’t doubt for a second whether to feel relieved or scared. A loud and clear warning of danger hollered in her mind, and she had a thought of jumping into the ditch, but then he remembered Bessemer’s words. She rushed ahead, right under the cone of light and ducked behind the barrier.

  She could hear the tires squeal on the wet road, and Mira sucked her breath in. If they came out, they’d see her. She was hidden from the road, but she was well lit, after all. But then the engine revved up again, and the car disappeared around the next turn.

  Mira jumped up and ran again, in the same direction, opposite to where the car went.

  ***

  It started with a gush of wind that licked across her legs below her knees. It was cold and wet and slithered immediately under her jeans. And then as if a cold bony hand wrapped around her left ankle, she tripped, and fell on the ground. She looked behind her, and saw nothing, but both her legs were stretched outside the lit up area.

  And then she froze watching the darkness crawl up her legs. It was thick, no light penetrating it, and looked liquid. It stretched and moved on her pants in tongues, and Mira’s mouth opened, but no scream came out.

  And then she heard a car, and brakes, and a door flying open.

  She jerked, but it was as if her legs had fallen asleep. She twisted her head and looked at the highway.

  Bessemer was running towards her, his peacoat open, and as if billowing in the wind, which would be impossible since it was too short for any sort of billowing - just as impossible as the crisp white skull that was as if glowing through his face, eye sockets dark and empty.

  “Stand before me like a leaf before the grass!” he shouted and threw his hands in the air.

  Surely, there was no darkness swirling like small tornadoes around his palms, either.

  And then the shadows around Mira’s legs lurched back, as if wincing away from him, and Mira thought she heard a hiss. And then the snakes she’d seen in the hotel poured from under his feet, under the barrier, and towards her.

  He jumped over the barrier - and then something lunged from out of the shadows on their left, and cut him under his feet. He fell on the ground, and Mira watched in terror how he was dragged out of the circle of light, first his legs and then almost all of him disappearing in the darkness. His face looked normal now, no more freakish skull. His blue eyes widened, and a short pained scream burst out of him.

  “No!” she shouted and stretched her hand to him.

  “Run!” he yelled to her.

  She lunged ahead and grabbed his han
d.

  “No!” she screamed again, and then something hissed and popped behind her.

  She was not going to let him go!

  Her backpack was jerked off her shoulders, as if extra weight had been added to it. A bright flash of light followed, white and blinding, and suddenly Mira pulled Bessemer towards her, as if someone let go of his ankles. They fell on the ground together, and Mira looked back.

  A person was standing behind her, sparks jumping around them like around a roman candle. They was tall, lanky, and glowed in the dark. The person screamed something in Russian that Mira didn’t understand, their arms flinging in the air in a gesture similar to Bessemer’s, and a wave of some vibrating white light rolled from them in all possible directions.

  The shadows retreated. Mira could just feel how much easier it was to breathe now, and the darkness around was just the usual darkness of night.

  ***

  Bessemer was lying near her. She was still holding his hand tightly. And a few steps away, there was another shape on the ground. Its hair was long, hay blonde, and spread on the ground. The person was also completely naked.

  Bessemer moved and groaned.

  “Mira… Are you alright?” he rasped out.

  “Yeah… I’m— OK. Who’s that?”

  They both looked at the immobile pale body.

  “I believe that would be your ragdoll.”

  “What?!”

  Bessemer sat up, grunting, and started pulling off his coat.

  “That would be your obereg,” he grumbled. “Congratulations. You’ve just created a life.”

  Mira watched him rise on his feet. Her eyes fell on his legs, and she gasped. His jeans below the knees were ripped, hanging in ribbons, and she could see that his calves were slashed, blood trickling down them.

  He took a few unstable steps towards the former ragdoll and scootched.

  “Hey,” he called and touched the naked shoulder.

  The person stirred. Bessemer threw the coat over the prostrated body, and patted their back through the fabric. “You’ll be alright, mate...”

  “What do you mean I’ve created a life?” Mira called to him, but he ignored her.

  “We need to get to the car. Chivvy on! The shishiga moves fast. It’s going to its master now, to the diner, to report.”

  Mira got up and started looking for her backpack. She found it a few steps away. The zipper and the front pocket were torn off, threads sticking out. Apparently, when her doll Lisa turned into the person whom Bessemer was currently trying to lift and wrap in his coat, the fabric gave in under its weight.

  “What was it? The shishiga...”

  “A shishiga is a simple nezhit, accumulated magic. It’s not a being, just… It’s even less that an animal, but it serves Yadviga well.” His voice was coarse from strain, since he was now carrying ‘Lisa’ to his car. “C’mon.”

  Mira dragged herself after him.

  He put Lisa down at the backseat, and Mira climbed onto the front one. She looked back and saw that Lisa was now a human looking teenager, with what Mira thought was a typical Russian face - a long, straight nose, high cheekbones, and a wide mouth with full lips.

  Bessemer heavily sat onto his seat and started the truck. He was wincing and cringing the whole time.

  “Do you know any doctor we can go to?” Mira asked in a small voice.

  He shook his head. The car was gaining speed. Without looking, he rummaged in the pocket of his jeans and fished out a small piece of cloth. He threw it onto Mira’s lap, and she saw that it was the outer fabric shell of ‘Lisa.’ The buttons for eyes, the yarn hair, and the dress were intact, only the sand and the straw from inside were gone.

  “Keep this. It will need the ‘skin’ to survive,” Bessemer grumbled.

  “But what is it now? I mean, is it now a person?” Mira whispered.

  “Half of the time it will be. It’ll need to return to the doll skin during the day. And will be this at night. At least, in theory. I haven’t heard of a live obereg for centuries. It’s basically now your bodyguard. A lot of bang when it’s born, and pretty useless for a while afterwards. It needs to be trained and educated, so it can serve you later. In theory,” Bessemer added in a pointed tone again.

  “But how did it happen?” Mira ruffled her hair frantically. “And where are we going?”

  “How it happened - I don’t know. I reckon your Mom did a good job making it, and you had enough gift to animate it. Like I said, it’s been centuries since I had to deal with one. And as for going… Currently I’m driving away from the diner, since Yadviga’s lackeys are there, but otherwise? Not the foggiest idea.” He jerked his neck in an irritated gesture. “I’ve underestimated both your gift and their determination. I assumed a bear would be enough, and didn’t anticipate a shishiga ambush on the road.”

  He was frowning, with gritted teeth, and something pushed Mira to stretch her hand and pat his upper arm.

  “You did all you could. You saved me,” she muttered in a small voice, and he threw her a short surprised look.

  She gave him an awkward smile.

  “Your doll saved you,” he grumbled, his eyes on the road again, but she could see he was clutching the wheel less tightly now.

  “Someone needs to look at your legs. Or… do you have magic for that?” she asked.

  She was feeling cold, and shaking, now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

  “I do. It’s called plasters and painkillers,” he jeered back, but she saw the corner of his lips curl up in a small smirk.

  She snorted and settled in the seat. He cranked up the heater, and Mira didn’t notice when she dozed off.

  Chapter 4. A Few Answers

  Mira opened her eyes and watched the lights of the highway fly by, scattering into glowing drops on the wet windshield.

  She peeked, and saw that Lisa was now sleeping, curled in a ball, wrapped into Bessemer’s coat. The doll seemed slightly taller than Mira, five five maybe, and only the top of its blonde head and the dirty feet were sticking out from under the peacoat.

  “Where are we?” Mira whispered to Bessemer.

  “Almost in Gimli,” he answered.

  He didn’t look that well. His face was pale, and all his features were sharpened. His eyes looked feverish, and Mira saw that his right hand was shaking, awkwardly placed on his knee. His black sweater was torn at the shoulder, and she could see blood dried in a crust around the wound.

  “Who’s Yadviga?” Mira asked, and he sighed in his usual exasperated manner.

  “She’s… your grandmother.”

  “What?” she exclaimed, and Lisa stirred in the back.

  “Yadviga Krapiva is your mother’s mother. And for all intents and purposes, the next Baba Yaga.”

  As little as her Mom had educated her on Russian culture, that much Mira knew: Baba Yaga was a Russian fairy tale character, a hag, a forest witch - and definitely not a real, warm-blooded relative of Mira’s.

  “The next Baba Yaga?” she asked with a disbelieving chuckle. “Are you saying it’s a job that gets passed on?”

  “It’s hereditary magic, with very specific requirements.”

  Even with all that had been happening, Mira still couldn’t take his explanation seriously.

  He continued in a grave tone, “A woman to inherit the title has to be of the old bloodline of witches, and has to have a granddaughter. That’s what ‘baba’ in Baba Yaga implies - two generations of female magical descendants. Yadviga’s mother died three days ago; everyone who is of magic knew about it. Since your Mom had lost her powers, and your father was most likely a mortal, everyone assumed Yadviga wouldn’t inherit the title. And yet, she did.”

  “Because I have powers. I mean, I made… this. Them.” Mira awkwardly pointed at the seat behind her.

  Bessemer emitted another sigh. She could see muscle knots dancing on his jaw. “And now to ensure her status, Yadviga needs you, and she needs you to be the next in line, since your Mom is out of t
he picture. So, if she gets her hands on you, you’ll be sucked into their world. Posh, minted, and pumped with magic.”

  Mira sat quietly, digesting the information.

  “In case the prospect seems somewhat attractive to you,” he gritted through his teeth in a venomous tone, “remember that the lifestyle also includes eating raw eggs and sacrificing mortals.”

  “Human sacrifices?” Mira felt a sharp wave of nausea.

  “Flesh and blood.”

  “So, my Mom grew up in it. Like a black magic heiress of sorts,” Mira mumbled, and Bessemer’s face softened.

  “She always hated it. That life. And when she got a chance to challenge them—”

  “What exactly did she do?”

  “In simple terms, she broke me out of a prison.”

  His tone clearly signalled that it wasn’t that simple.

  “I imagine, it wasn’t a normal prison,” Mira drew out, and he smirked darkly.

  “Not exactly. It was more of an… underworld.”

  “Wait, I just got it!” Mira cried out. “When we met, you said to call you Kosh. Is it like Koschei the Deathless? The skeleton king of the underworld?”

  “That’s just a fairy tale. I’m not a king of anything. But yes, Koschei Bessmertnyi is the closest folklore character to me.”

  “Wow...” Mira pushed her hands into her hair and ruffled furiously.

  “Your Mom used to do the same when she was stressed,” he said quietly, and then quickly pretended to be very busy with driving.

  “OK, since we are now talking Baba Yaga, and all cards are on the table, so to say.” Mira tried to sound firm. “Tell me about my mother. What happened between the two of you, and how she lost her gift. And what that monstrous grandmother of mine is going to do to her, if she finds her.”

  “We are almost in Gimli,” Bessemer grumbled.

  “Then you’ll need to speak faster,” Mira bit back, and he suddenly laughed loudly.

  “Hlopushka,” he muttered.