Chapter 5

 

There were no words spoken for several minutes as David sat side by side with Florence on the settee, holding her close. He gently stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head, but nothing elicited a reaction from her. He could feel her trembling, not from a chill or fear, but she was restraining her emotions that were welling up inside of her, ready to erupt.

“Please, Florence…I am so sorry, I…I was—”

“You were gone,” Florence said softly, tensely. “I awoke, and I was alone, lying on the side of the road, out in the middle of nowhere. It was dark. I was in the grass and mud, but I couldn’t remember how I got there. I know I wouldn’t go that far from the city without you. But you weren’t there. No one was. Not even a horse, a carriage, nothing to tell me how I had gotten so far out there. So I started walking, hoping I was heading the right way. Eventually, a farmer and his wife rode by in a cart and gave me a ride back to town.” She turned to look at David. “I don’t know how to feel. Why couldn’t I remember anything? And why were you here, at home, not worrying about what had become of me?”

“I was worried! I was worried sick! But I…I couldn’t—”

“We thought you were lost to us, dear.” Baba Yaga came hobbling from the kitchen, with a clean tea tray and a piping fresh pot of tea in hand. At least, it appeared to be Baba, although her hair was pulled back into a clean, smooth bun, and her face was rosier and brighter. “Poor man, out looking for you all evening, but could not find you. Lost track of the bandits that kidnapped you. He gathered the constables and searched everywhere until it got too dark to keep looking. I told him, best to come home and start again in the morning.”

Florence stared at Baba, as the old woman set the tea set on a side table next to the settee. “Oh, I didn’t know. I thought…who are you?”

“David, you don’t introduce your own grandmother to your wife?” Baba said, with a smile. David noticed that Baba’s teeth were now pearly white and flat, not the row of sharp daggers they had been. She even looked cleaner, more radiant, as if layers of grime and dust had been washed away. She exuded a presence of calm comforting.

“Oh, of course. Florence, this is my abuela. Remember that ill relative I mentioned, who was coming to stay with us a while?” David held his breath, hoping that Florence’s lack of memory would allow him to fabricate things. He also hoped she would misconstrue Baba’s Russian accent for a Spanish one.

Florence glanced between him and Baba, and she gave Baba a tired smile. “Of course. How good to meet you. But you were saying something about bandits?”

“Yes, dear. Broke into house while David was out taking me to see the doctor. Must have hit you hard on head. We came back, and we were so terrified. David went out right away to catch up with the bandits to get you back. Thank heavens you are all right.”

“Yes, thank heavens.” David hugged Florence tightly and kissed her.

Florence took a deep breath, and then she took David’s hand. “I don’t remember any of that. I should have known you wouldn’t leave me. Oh darling, it’s so good to be home!” She embraced him, burying her face in his neck.

David held her for a long time, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, Florence. You’re safe now.”

Baba huffed, rolling her eyes.

David ignored her. He helped Florence to her feet. “It would be best to get you into clean clothes and into bed. I’ll bring you up some supper.”

He helped Florence up the stairs to their bedroom and then left her to change out of her clothes. He came back down the stairs, passing Baba who watched him with concern. She followed him into the kitchen, where the gray cat sat patiently on the counter, her violet eyes glistening like two polished amethysts.

David moved toward the pantry to gather some items to make Florence’s dinner, but Baba patted him on the shoulder, and motioned him towards a chair. “You let Baba worry about making supper. You sit.”

As Baba went about preparing Florence’s meal, chopping up some vegetables on a chopping block, David was trying to figure out why she had become so motherly. She certainly hadn’t been this way before Florence came in the door. He felt a soft nudging on his leg. He looked down to see the cat.

Was it grinning at him?

Baba abruptly stopped what she was doing. She looked at the vegetables on the block, at the knife in her hand, and blinked in confusion. She ran her fingers over her head, feeling how neat and smooth her hair was. Her face turned bright red, and she slammed the knife down on the counter. “You flea-bitten feline! How dare you trick me like that!”

The cat dashed to hide under David’s chair, peeking out from behind his legs.

“Baba, what are you—” David started.

Baba yanked the pins from her hair, allowing the tresses to run wild again. “It is that horrid cat. I don’t know why I keep her around. You think I like being all lovey-dovey, sugar and spice? No! I wanted to see how you would wriggle out of that problem with your wife, but no, cat felt sorry for you. Wanted me to intervene.”

David looked down at the cat again. “You mean, the cat asked you to help?”

“No ask! Just does what it wants! Cat can…influence others. Make them act…” Baba shivered at the notion of the next word: “Nice.”

The cat mewed. David admitted something about being near the cat made him feel calmer, even a bit happier. He leaned down and gently scratched the cat on the head.

“Well, whether or not your help was willing, I thank you for putting Florence at ease.”

“Bah. You fix supper. I’ve done too much work for one day.”

David stood up and went over to the chopping block while Baba took over his chair and went about smoking her pipe again. He went about preparing supper half-heartedly, as his mind was elsewhere. He sighed. “I can’t leave Florence in this state. But how can I stay here, knowing what danger Acacia is in? What danger everyone is in, with Fenrir running around?” He looked over at Baba. “Am I meant to become entangled in that world again, in the Curtain, or am I meant to be in my own world?”

“What matter is it to me? This world, other worlds get eaten by wolf, eh. I’m sick of world, anyway. So, you stay with wife, Wolf eats Sphinx, eats everyone, eats moon and sun and stars and planet. You go help Sphinx, you have very angry wife. I can see your problem.”

David glanced at the cat again. “I don’t suppose your cat could help…soften Florence to the idea of me going away for a short while? Or maybe you have a spell that would make her not realize I am gone? Maybe she could sleep again…”

Baba laughed, coughing up clouds of smoke. “Oh, yes, why not put wife in coma so you can run off and do whatever you so please! Heck, why not turn her into stone, then she can wait forever.” Baba’s gaze turned dark again. “Or maybe, crazy thought, you can be man, and take responsibility for choices you make. Either you stay or go, there will be consequences. No cheating at life, little man.”

David knew Baba was right. It wasn’t fair to Florence to put spells on her so he could get her to comply with his decisions. She was his wife; he had promised to be there for her and take care of her. But had he not also pledged himself to Acacia when he first named her? It had been unknowingly, as he had been unaware at the time that giving a sphinx a true name was the same as proposing to one. She had agreed not to hold him to such a promise. She had let him go.

Perhaps Acacia would be fine. She was a sphinx—powerful, fierce, clever. She could outsmart a wolf, no matter what kind of monster he was. And surely there were those on the other side of the Curtain who could subdue Fenrir. According to the Poetic Edda, Fenrir had been captured before. It was not David’s burden to bear. He had no obligation to go risking his life, to go up against some beast that could destroy the world, and everyone he loved. He didn’t have to fight against “the worst to come.” Right?

“Tell me one thing,” David asked. “If Acacia fights Fenrir, can she win?”

Baba shrugged. “I don’t see into future. But I know of the past. Sphinx was almost destroyed by Night, yes? Had life sucked out of her?”

“Yes.”

“Then think: your sphinx, almost killed by a god. If wolf gets strong enough, it can kill gods. Do you think Sphinx can beat a thing that is stronger than what nearly killed her?”

David inhaled deeply, hoping to bring his fear under control. Acacia had fought monsters before: her cousin Nico, the Sleepless Dragon, plus who knew what else. But Fenrir was not Nico. Fenrir probably ate fox-demons and dragons for breakfast. Acacia was in mortal danger. As much as he loved Florence, she would be safe here. In fact, she was probably safer without David. What if Fenrir tracked him down despite Baba’s spell to hide his scent?

Why do I want to go find Acacia so badly?

“You know answer to that,” Baba said.

David had not realized that he said his last thought out loud.

 

David stood at the door of the bedroom, Florence’s supper in his hands. He took a deep breath—and another, and another—and quietly opened the door.

Florence lay in bed, propped up against a pile of pillows. She was clean, wearing a fresh cotton nightdress. She smiled as David walked to her, placing the dish of cooked vegetables and cheese in front of her. “Thank you, Darling. It smells divine. Did you not want any supper for yourself?”

“No, I’m not hungry.” He honestly wasn’t, as his stomach was twisted into knots. He sat on the edge of the bed as Florence ate. All he could do was stare at the floor, his hands clutching his knees.

“Is something troubling you?” Florence asked, noting his quiet moroseness. “Are you worried that the bandits may come back?”

David looked at her. “No, I’m sure they won’t bother us again. But there is something I must tell you.”

Florence stopped eating and placed her dish on the bedside table. “What is it? You look so shaken.”

David scooted closer to her. He took her hand in his, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “Florence, a dear friend of mine is in trouble. I must help. I…have to go. Tonight.”

Florence was quiet at first, as if she expected him to say more. After a long pause, she asked, “Where are you going?”

“I need to go far away. I won’t be back for quite some time. I honestly do not know for how long.”

Florence’s eyebrows pinched together. “How far is far? Who is this friend of yours?”

David knew these questions were going to come up, and unfortunately, he could not come up with suitable answers for any of them. “It’s a delicate matter, and I wish I could tell you more. All I can ask is that you trust me, and know I will come home as soon as I can. I don’t want to leave you, after all that has happened. But my friend is in mortal danger. She could die if I don’t go.”

Florence’s eyes shot wide open. “She? Your friend is a woman?”

Technically, no, David wanted to say. Instead, he replied, “I was friends with her before I began my apprenticeship with Monsieur Roland. I haven’t seen her since then.”

“How do you know she’s in trouble? Did you receive a letter from her? If she is so far away, does she not have family or friends near her that could help? Why must it be you?” The tone in Florence’s voice had changed; it was one David was not familiar with. It sounded like a cutting knife being sharpened against a whetstone.

David could have invented plenty of good excuses: yes, he did get a letter, or his abuela had heard word about it and told him, or even his lady friend was a member of the Roland family, and Monsieur Roland trusted no one better than David to handle the matter. But lying so blatantly to Florence was something David could not do; being cryptic about the matter was difficult enough. “If I don’t go help her, no one will. It could be mere rumor, or it could be true, but if it is within my power to save her life, I must do something. You would do the same, if it were your friend’s life at stake.”

Florence’s piercing glare softened. “I know you wish to go because you have such a kind heart. I do trust you. But what am I to tell our friends and neighbors? That my husband ran off to save a woman’s life, not saying how she is in danger, or who she is? David…” She placed her hand on her quivering lips. “I don’t know what to think. Why is everything falling apart so suddenly? I was kidnapped by bandits, and as soon as I come home, you want to go far away to someone I don’t even know. It’s as if something is trying to tear us apart. I…I don’t want to be alone right now. I need to know you want to be with me. Please, can you not send someone else to help your friend? If she needs a doctor or a guardian, we could recommend plenty of those. Surely, there is someone—anyone—else who could help her.”

David wiped a hand over his face. What was he supposed to say to that? How could he leave now, with Florence feeling this way? He did not have time to answer, as Florence’s features fell before he even could. The fact he had not instantly agreed with her seemed to have struck her to the core.

“Your friend is that important to you,” she whispered. She looked away, lost in thought. David wanted to say something to appease her, but his voice failed.

Florence took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “David, we have not been wed a long time, but everything you have done in the time I have known you has been honorable and true. So, I will trust you. Go to your friend, see that she is well, and return home straight away. Send letters to let me know you are all right. At least I will have your grandmother to keep me company.”

David bit his lip. He was not sure if Baba would agree to such an arrangement, nor was he too keen on the thought of leaving Florence alone with a witch. Maybe he could convince her by owing her an extra “favor,” if that was how Baba bargained. “I promise I will not leave you waiting long. I will come home as quickly as I can. I love you, Florence. I would never abandon you.”

Florence leaned over to him and kissed him. “I love you too. Be safe, and remember, write to me.”

He nodded in agreement. Florence leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. The exhaustion of the day took hold of her quickly, and soon she was fast asleep. David held her hand a while longer before he leaned over and gave her a parting kiss on the cheek. He gathered her supper dish and crept out of the room. He took one last look at his wife, sighed, and then closed the door behind him.

 

“You must be crazy,” Baba snapped. She crossed her arms, slouching in her seat on the settee.

“Please, she doesn’t want to be alone right now,” David pleaded. “Just stay with Florence for a few days, until I find Acacia and see that she is all right.”

Baba smirked. “And how do you plan to find your sphinx? How do you plan to get anywhere? Do you have magical sphinx-finding compass in your head?”

David paused. “I…was hoping maybe you could use another spell to show me where she is…”

“You already owe me favor! You like having mountain of debt? Besides, Sphinx moves fast. I show you where she is now, she will move on by time you arrive. You need a tracker, and I do not track.” Baba glanced over at her cat, who was glaring at her from the floor. “Don’t look at me like that. If you feel so bad for little man, you do something.”

The cat cocked her head, thumping the tip of her tail on the floor. She had that funny grin on her face again. She mewed softly, batting her paw at Baba’s skirt.

“No, not even you can track Sphinx,” Baba replied to the cat. “Is not a mouse. He needs someone who knows how to find the unfindable. Someone who knows how to hunt what cannot be hunted.” She laughed. “Little man is out of luck, no?”

Hunt what cannot be hunted…a master at hunting. A smile grew on David’s face. “I don’t need just anyone who can track. I need someone who knows how to hunt creatures from the other side of the Curtain, someone who knows how Acacia would think and where she would go. I need someone who knows her better than anyone else. Baba, that’s it! I know who can find Acacia. He’s from the guild of Master Huntsmen. He’s known her for years.” His smile faltered. “But I’d have to go to Scotland to find him. That’s several weeks’ journey, and I would need to secure a ship to take me there. There must be a faster way.”

The cat mewed, clawing at Baba’s skirt again.

“Now that is crazy,” Baba said. “Boy already owes me favor. Not doing any more until payment.”

The cat hissed at Baba.

“No, stupid cat! I know what you’re up to. Baba is not a fool.”

The cat rubbed her head against Baba’s leg, purring sweetly.

Baba sighed, rolling her eyes. “All right, all right. I suppose it would be nice to get you out of my hair for a while.”

“What did she say?” David asked.

“She said she stay with your wife, while I take you to find Huntsman. My mode of travel, much faster than carriage or boat.”

David looked at the cat. “I don’t think Florence will settle for a cat as company. She’ll want a person.”

Baba plucked a long, gray hair from her head, and removed her shawl from her shoulders. She leaned forwards, tying her hair around the cat’s neck like a noose, and then draped the shawl over the cat’s back. She murmured a few indecipherable words, tapping the cat on the head with her bony fingers.

In a matter of seconds, the cat ballooned in size. Her fur receded, except for the patch on her head, which lengthened and changed to pale gray. She stood up on her hind legs, while the shawl formed to her changing body, morphing into a simple brown dress. David gawked as there were now two Baba Yagas in the room, although the cat-Baba retained the vibrant violet eyes as opposed to the real Baba’s gray-brown ones.

“Can she…speak?” David asked. “Florence may find it strange if my grandmother can only meow.”

“Don’t be silly,” the cat-Baba said, in a voice much like the real Baba’s, but more soothing, more delicate. “This is why I don’t mind it when Baba puts this spell on me. It’s the only time I can talk. And cook, which I do much better than she does. By the way, my name is Vasilisa. You probably wouldn’t know otherwise, since Bony-Legs wouldn’t have told you.”

Baba’s face flushed red. “What I tell you about calling me that? I do not have bony legs. I have good strong legs, unlike mangy cat. And if mangy cat does not watch mouth, Baba will gut her and turn her into violin strings.”

Vasilisa chuckled. “She says such things, but she adores me. I will look after things while you are gone. It will be nice to spend time with a nice lady, instead of an old grouch.”

“Why do I put up with you?” Baba huffed. She turned to David. “But now you owe me double, boy. Stupid cat may make me act nice, but Baba does not forget what she is due.”

David nodded. “I will return the favor tenfold, I swear. But you said you have a mode of transport faster than boat or coach? You must know how to travel through the Curtain, then.”

“Bah! Curtain is a mess. No, Baba has better way. As long as you have no fear of heights.”

David swallowed, sensing that he was soon to be airsick. “You mean, we would fly? I hope you have a spell for that, unless you have a broomstick big enough for two—”

He yelped as Baba grabbed hold of his ear, yanking down on it with such surprising force that David had to drop to one knee.

“Now you’ve done it,” Vasilisa said, shaking her head.

Baba flashed her iron teeth at him, like a mother bear whose cubs had been threatened. “You think you are funny? You poke fun at Baba with your ‘broomstick’ joke, because I am witch? It is not hard enough being Baba Yaga, with what people think of me, but now to be ridiculed with silly lies? I do not ride broomstick! I do not eat children, I do not wither crops, and I do not take nonsense from nasty boys who think they know everything!”

David wriggled in Baba’s grasp, clenching his teeth in pain. “I’m sorry, I truly am! I won’t joke like that again. You’re trying to help me, and I’m being rude. I humbly ask for your forgiveness, Madam Baba.”

Baba held him a moment longer, her scowl seething fire at him, before she let him go. “Do not call me ‘Madam.’ I know what I am, and it is not a ‘Madam.’ Now, you figure out what you are, and maybe I don’t think you’re so dense.”

David scrunched up his brow, not having the slightest clue what she meant about him figuring out who he was. Given her irritated state, however, he was not about to ask for clarification. “May I ask, Señora Baba, how we will be flying to Scotland?”

“Same way I flew you here from Geras’s house.” She reached into a large patchwork pouch hanging from a belt around her waist and took out a small stone mortar and pestle, the sort David had seen local chemists use to grind up herbs and minerals for medicine. “Outside. Come.”

David took one more look at Vasilisa, who waved him on to follow Baba out the front door. “Your wife will be perrrrfectly fine.” She caught herself, touching her fingers to her lips and chuckling. “I will try to keep my feline habits under control.”

Baba and David trudged outside onto the front stoop. It was nighttime, and while Paris never slept, their street was empty of pedestrians. Most people at this time of day would either be at the opera, or out to a late supper, or tucked away at home. Baba set the mortar on the stoop, while keeping the pestle in hand. “You are ready for this? You realize, if you go find Huntsman, find sphinx, and then find wolf, you don’t stand chance, yes? You saw what Night God showed Sphinx about your fate. You are no wizard, no warrior. You are scrawny boy who reads books. You plan to smack wolf with a book until he cries?”

David shook his head. “Of course not. The Huntsman must have some idea of how to fight a monster like that. Everything has a weakness. And I know how to fight. I’ve studied swordplay…wait, I’ll be right back.”

He dashed back inside the house and knelt down at the bottom of the staircase. Gripping the plank of the bottom step, he pried it off with relative ease. David had moved the item he was looking for to this new hiding place after his encounter with the Ilomba, right before he and Florence had left for the country—it was Acacia’s gift to him, the case with the matching sword and dagger. He lifted the case out, running his hand over the polished wood, then unlocked it and opened it, confirming that the two weapons were still there.

Inside was also a burgundy velvet lining upon which the weapons lay, so he bundled up the sword and dagger in the lining and tucked them under his arm. He also retrieved the Poetic Edda from the settee where he left it, hoping it might contain information about Fenrir that he could use. He returned outside to Baba.

The old woman shook her head. “Of course, you bring book. I was kidding about smacking wolf with book, but then he brings one.” She regarded the wrapped bundle. “What is that? You have secret weapon?”

“I suppose you can call them that.”

“Do you know how to use ‘them’?”

“I studied swordplay when I was younger. And I’ve handled these before. Well…one of them.”

Baba set her hands on her hips. “What makes you think because you have secret weapon, that will protect you from wolf? What makes you think you can protect anyone? Why put your neck on the line and not leave this to real hero?”

David scratched the back of his neck, looking up at the night sky. He turned his gaze to Baba, his face set in determination. “If I don’t go, people I care about could die. I couldn’t live with that. I’ve been brought into this, and I have to see it through.”

Baba scoffed a disdainful laugh, although something in her grin hinted at intrigue as well. “Then get in.”

“Get in what? You mean get in that tiny mortar—”

Except it was not tiny anymore. In the time it took to snap one’s fingers, it had surged up in height and width to the size of a hot-air balloon basket. It looked far too heavy to take flight, however, as it was still made of solid marble. Baba slowly climbed into the mortar, but David had to give her a gentle boost (lifting her by the waist, hoping this was the least offensive place he could hold her) before he climbed in himself.

“I haven’t traveled by mortar before,” David noted, setting his bundle and book down at his feet. “This should be interesting.”

“I would hold tight to edge, if I were you,” Baba advised, placing her pestle over the side like a canoe paddle.

David gripped his side of the mortar, although he was thinking, This thing can’t possibly go that fast. It’s like riding on a boulder—

His brain froze, as well as his lungs, as the mortar shot straight up into the air as if it had been blasted out of a Roman candle. Paris became a landscape of tiny lights below, and the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and Le Sacré Coeur were no more than toys on display. David’s voice eventually found itself, as a scream echoed through the night.

Baba laughed wildly over David’s screaming. “How is this for ‘broomstick,’ little man?”