Among Thieves - Private RP

[Jan the Verse]

For some impossible reason, Bailey did not allow Vadim to die.

The thief struck down his brother, hauled Vadim to the window with their deadly prize, and covered for their escape. Vadim threw the sword down before him, then wasted no time in throwing himself out the window to follow. It was not graceful, but his mother and many youthful accidents had long ago taught him how to fall. Though bruised by the time he picked himself up, Vadim was far from broken.

By the way the thief followed - slipping and falling, stumbling on his ankle - the same could not be said for Bailey.

Run, echoed the foul fear singing in Vadim's mind. You have what you came for. Run.

He could not.

A wizard, a Creighton, brother to a monster who would see you as dead as your family. A man of magic, as trustworthy as the first frost over a deep lake. A thief, who makes his living by the misery of others. An idiot, besides, who could not see such treachery in his own kin. Vadim shamed himself for the thought. Would you have? To be brothers with such a loathsome man...

He saved your life.

Vadim shed his coat and wrapped the sword in its folds, thrusting his precious cargo under one arm. Then he ducked to Bailey's side and pulled the wizard up with an arm around Bailey's spindle-thin waist. "I have misjudged you," said Vadim. "Let me help. We'll find a guard on the street. I'll bribe him to bring us a carriage."

Though Vadim kept a wary ear out for the sounds of pursuit, none came. Did Rudolph seek to hide their crime? Or did he think their escape no threat to his aim? Rudolph was a wizard. What need had he to follow men to know the path they took? The thought chilled Vadim just as the hunger murmured at the memory of Bailey's brother.

Once they had reached the street, it was not far to the corner, and from there a guard who willingly hid them behind the wall of the estate he ostensibly protected as he scrounged up the carriage he had been bribed to provide. Vadim propped Bailey up on the stone wall and kept careful watch on the gate, the terrible sword still caught up in the coat beneath his arm, and his mind still caught on the absent threat of Rudolph.

"Is a wand really so important?" he murmured, frowning over his shoulder. "We are unpursued, unless it's by magic, and against that I..." He scowled further. "I think we could walk, were it not for your ankle."

How could Rudolph simply allow them to flee with the sword? Surely pride had not kept the man silent.

[Susie Hot Sauce]

Bailey accepted Yakovich's help, if only because it was the only thing he could do. He still had his doubts about the man- he had doubts about everyone he'd ever known, as of now- but getting off the property and well away from Rudolph as fast as possible seemed to be the best course of action.

"Screw the carriage, just steal a horse," Bailey mumbled, but either Yakovich didn't hear him, or ignored him. He wasn't about to argue with the man who was about to save his life.

With Yakovich's help, they hobbled out to the gate, where Yakovich successfully bribed the guard to secure a carriage for them. He kept looking back at the house, waiting for Rudolph to come out after them. After all, Bailey had his wand and that had to be something he'd want...right?

He looked to Yakovich when he asked about the wand. "I don't know," Bailey admitted. "I can't- I couldn't use magic, I didn't learn the...logistics of it. s**t, I do not need Rudolph coming after us. But...if Rudolph were to track us, he would have started now; he never would have let us leave. He's not going to chase us tonight. We have enough time to go someplace safe, where I am going to have a good, stiff drink and go to bed and pretend this never happened.

He pulled out the wand he'd stolen from his brother. It was slender and long, and polished brilliantly, looking every bit unlike Bailey's wand; his was crooked, bent a little further than halfway towards the tip. He considered Rudolph's wand for a moment, then bent forward and snapped it over his knee. It was only just before the carriage pulled up that Bailey tossed aside the broken pieces of the wand.

This time, he refused help from Yakovich; it was only a few steps forward to get into the carriage, and he had enough strength to hoist himself inside. The carriage clearly wasn't one normally reserved for the Vaughn's, it seemed, as the inside wasn't as ornately decorated as Bailey thought it would be. The seats did have cushions, but the walls were bare wood, with no sort of finish to them.

"I hope you know a safe place to go to," Bailey said, calling out the open door to Yakovich.

[Jan the Verse]

Vadim treated Bailey's suggestion of theft with all the attention and respect it deserved, which was to say, none at all. Willing as he was to haul the wizard to safety, eager as he had been to slit Rudolph's throat and to steal a magical family's heirloom, Vadim yet strove to think himself an honest man. He would not steal what he could pay for, though his fingers twinged at the thought of how freely he dispensed with gold. Mother would have driven a bargain. Mother had learned cunning from grandmother, and at the moment, Vadim felt neither grace nor gratitude toward Baba Yaga.

The puzzling mystery of Rudolph's laziness persisted even as Bailey broke his brother's wand over his knee. A shiver whorled down Vadim's back as he watched Bailey toss aside the pieces. He had even less understanding of a wizard's ways, and perhaps because of that it bothered him to see these bits of wood through which magic had once pulsed and writhed thrown away like so much trash. His stare lingered on the broken wand as Bailey pulled himself into the carriage.

Without a word, Vadim picked up Rudolph's ruined wand and stuffed it into the pocket of his coat, wrapped around the Creighton sword. He would burn it, outside the city walls. Then he directed the coachman to an inn with a stable at the far edge of the city, and finally climbed into the carriage to sit opposite Bailey and frowned over Bailey's question.

"Followed or not, there is no safe place for thieves. Even with what... protection... your magic could lend you, no. I mean to ride. I'll provide the coin for your stay, or for a horse, but I would advise you to leave with as much speed as myself."

The thief did not look entirely at ease, but what could be expected? Betrayed by his own brother, burning with magic he had thought beyond his grasp, shadows and doubts would surely plague Bailey's dreams for weeks to come. Vadim settled the wrapped sword across his knees, one hand clutched tightly over the hilt. It seemed to quiver in his lap, to tense, and to warm. His brow creased.

"Or perhaps I should insist you accompany me. I had meant only to do as grandmother wished, but now... your kin mean to do ill by a great many people. Is it not your duty to see their ambitions thwarted?"

[Susie Hot Sauce]

Bailey nearly laughed. "Protection?" he repeated, shaking his head. "My magic only just...it just came to me! I don't know any spells, except the one to shoot an opponent back, and I can hardly do that well. My magic lends no protection to me at all."

And it didn't help that his ankle was sprained, or injured in some other way. That was the very first time he'd ever been hurt while exiting a home; he'd jumped from higher places before, and hadn't earned even a scratch. This did not make sense.

Bailey sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was dark, and he'd stupidly left his eyepatch in the sitting room with Rudolph, so that he couldn't allow any eye of his to be adjusted to the darkness better than the other. "I don't know what is going on in their heads, to decide to do this," Bailey muttered. "They'd never- my family has a high reputation of helping others, not murdering all those around them. But...I think Red Vengeance is key to what Rudolph is doing. He'd- he'd attacked me with it twice, and he said something...something about being a Creighton. Being a Creighton is what saved me. s**t, I didn't even think I actually counted as a member of my family before."

What was he supposed to do? Play the hero and stop his family, who were known for being incredibly powerful wizards? He had not signed up for all of this.

"I need to find someone to teach me magic," Bailey said, before an idea occurred to him. He looked sharply to Yakovich, leaning forward. "Your grandmother! Rudolph called her a witch. She could teach me."

[Jan the Verse]

Bailey's confidence that his magic was no good to him without knowledge of spells, and, presumably, whatever ritual went with them, was at first puzzling to Vadim. He quickly reminded himself that witches and wizards, these strange men and women of magic who had come from Bailey's country and into his, so many years ago, did not think of magic in the same way Vadim himself had been raised to do. And why should they? Able to call fire from the air, to bombard a foe with invisible forces, and to scry future events at will, the magic of Bailey's people was different indeed.

Conversely, Vadim found Bailey's insistence that his clan's reputation was for charitable and not malevolent acts outright laughable. While he had never heard of the Creightons - or perhaps he had, and simply not thought of them differently than any other wizard - he knew the fate of his country's old kings. Wizards were not to be trusted. Men did not mix well with magic. Vadim's own hunger was evidence enough of that.

Though Vadim managed to still his tongue against chiding Bailey for having such a naive outlook on the Creightons, he couldn't stifle the choke of surprise at Bailey's final conclusion.

"No," he said, though it was more reaction than surety. "No, that would... witch is not a perfect word for what she is. She is..." Rudolph had said it, there was no need to keep her name to himself. And Bailey was obviously ignorant of local folktales; he would not recognize Vadim's grandmother as the stuff of saint's tales, children's stories, and woodsmen's nightmares. "She is Baba Yaga. The only woman ever to learn from her was my mother, and my mother was no witch. Neither were my sisters, and what my mother knew from Baba Yaga, she gave freely only to them. And unless I have misjudged you even further than I had thought, you are no woman."

For a moment, Vadim covered his mouth with his hand, then rubbed his cheek. "But I would gladly have your company on my way to her. You're different than the people of my country. Perhaps she'll find you of interest. After all, it was on her word that I found you."

[Susie Hot Sauce]

"Damn." That ruined his plans rather fiercely. Where in this country could he find someone to teach him? He'd never even heard of witches or wizards out here, at least not as he knew them to be. The only person he knew of was Rudolph, and there was no way he was asking him for help.

Bailey had to learn spells. He needed to. It was of dire importance. Rudolph would come after them again- that Bailey was certain of- and sooner or later, Rudolph would realize Bailey only knew how to cast that one spell.

Bailey settled back into his seat, nodding to what Yakovich had said. Yes, he'd go, and meet this Baba Yaga. Something about the name didn't sit right with him though; perhaps it was only because it was so...foreign.

"What is your grandmother like?" Bailey asked. "I mean, what can she do? Would she be able to fix my ankle?" He'd only turned it wrong, but it might take a day or two to heal, and Bailey didn't want to have to wait that long, especially not knowing when or where Rudolph would be coming from.

[Jan the Verse]

It was difficult to confess that most of what Vadim knew of Baba Yaga came from stories, particularly since he did not think stories were regarded with the same gravity among Bailey's people. While Vadim's neighbors were unlikely to think Baba Yaga a dream, they would have been surprised to see her. Vadim had been surprised, and his mother had always been careful that her children treated monsters with the respect of belief.

"I have... I have not known her for long. She knew what had murdered my mother without having seen it for herself. She asked the wood. It spoke to her; I heard the house moan, and she seemed to think the creaks were words. She gave me a riddle, to find you, and Red Vengeance." She gave me her hunger. She is always hungry. "I can tell you a story. You'll hear one sooner or later, if you're to be in this country."

Vadim glanced warily out the window. They'd be at the stable soon. Perhaps the story of horses.

"A girl walked into the forest to find a certain flower for her ailing mother. She walked for many hours and found no sign of the flower, nor sound of creature, until the sun had near set. At that time, she heard the thunder of hooves across the ground, and took shelter in a thicket. Two riders passed her, one cloaked in white upon a white horse, the other in red upon red. Darkness followed in their path, and as they passed her, she was enveloped in twilight.

"Struck by the fever of curiosity, the girl followed the riders. It was not far until she found their stop: a house surrounded by a tall wooden palisade, topped with skulls of every animal, and of men. Though afraid, she knew in her heart that the reason for the missing flowers must reside within the house. Before she could step within the palisade, a black rider on a black horse raced out of the gate, and as he passed, night fell upon the forest as quickly as a wounded bird falls from the sky."

The carriage rocked to a halt. They had reached the stable. When Vadim looked out the window, he stilled. In the center of the stable yard stood a heavy black horse, and upon it sat a cloaked and hooded rider, clad completely in black as well. Though a slight breeze whispered across the ground, stirring the dirt beneath the horse's feet, neither rider nor mount were touched by the wind. Perfectly still.

Vadim sat unsteadily back against his seat, and stared at Bailey as he whispered. "The girl knew then, as surely as she knew where the flowers had gone, that this black rider was Night, that the white had been Day, and the red the Sun. ...It seems Baba Yaga knew we would need a guide."

[Susie Hot Sauce]

Bailey had to hold back to keep himself from rolling his eyes at Yakovich's description of his grandmother. The wood spoke to her? That wasn't magic; that was an old woman believing crazy things.

"Oh, your grandmother is famous here?" Bailey asked dryly, before allowing Yakovich to tell his story. And Bailey remained polite enough during the tale; he didn't interrupt once. However, he frowned as he paused in his story, the same time the carriage came to a halt. Yakovich had taken a look outside the window, and seemed...rather unnerved by whatever he saw. So Bailey risked a look.

A man clothed in black, on a pitch black horse. Just like the story Yakovich had told. He narrowed his eyes as Yakovich finished the story, but that didn't sound much like an ending to him. Nothing was resolved; the girl hadn't found the flowers, hadn't succeeded in helping her ailing mother.

"What was the point of the story, Yakovich?" Bailey hissed back, keeping his voice low, for the black rider sent shivers down his spine. It hadn't seemed right, hadn't felt right. There was something off about it. "To spook me before we go off with the guide your grandmother apparently sent us?"

He looked out the window again. The rider hadn't moved yet. It was as if he were a statue, which only served to send shivers down Bailey's spine once more. But he refused to be marked as a coward; that was one thing Bailey was not. Though, this would be the first time he was confronted by a being seemingly out of a child's ghost stories.

Bailey swung open the carriage door, and eased himself out, keeping himself steady and supported by leaning against the carriage. He didn't take his eyes off the rider once, and as before, the rider did not move. Bailey was highly tempted to throw a stone or a stick at the man in black, if only to make him twitch.

[Jan the Verse]

Impossible man. With so little patience for stories, it would be a wonder if Bailey ever learned the histories he would need to survive at the edge of the forest, where surely they would have to travel. "Show respect," he snapped at Bailey, as the long-limbed thief slipped out the door.

After making sure Red Vengeance was secure in his coat, Vadim followed Bailey out the door. Though it was impossible to see the rider's eyes in the dark of his hood. Vadim could barely make out a face, but the lips he thought he glimpsed were impassive as stone. Once they were both out of the carriage, the driver turned out of the stable's courtyard without lingering in hope of pay.

The rider - Night - paid the carriage no heed. He nodded once to Bailey and Vadim, then trotted his horse past them and out the gate. The sound of the horse's hooves seemed to echo and crack, as did the sudden noises of the forest in darkness, and though he rode by close enough to touch, Vadim felt no warmth, but a chill as the horse's flank nearly grazed his shoulder. He stepped back and out of the way, unnerved. Night waited for them by the wall.

Vadim swallowed and stepped hurriedly toward the stable. "The story was not finished," he said to Bailey as he spied a sleeping stable boy, and called the child closer, offering coin for the service of two horses. "The girl meets Baba Yaga and finds the old woman a terror of hunger. She has eaten all the animals of the forest, and keeps the flowers to lure bees to her home, for they are the only living thing that's been left. Baba Yaga gives the girl three days, one with each rider, to find a food that will never leave her hungry. Should she fail, Baba Yaga swears to eat the girl, and her mother."

The pace of the story had dribbled away from Vadim's tongue at the sight of Night. He knew the rider well from stories, but had not once seen him at Baba Yaga's cottage. He should have known better.

As the yawning stable boy brought the two horses they'd asked for, with the names of stables in each coming town where they might be returned, Vadim chanced a glance toward the motionless Night, still waiting by the gate. "The girl finds nothing with Day or Sun. With Night she finds peace. She's never heard from again."

[Susie Hot Sauce]

Bailey was taken by surprise when the carriage hastily began moving, and nearly toppled over as the driver steered the horses hastily away; with nothing to lean on, he was forced to put pressure on his injured ankle.

Goddamn, this hurt; Bailey wasn't ever going to allow himself to get hurt like this again. He still didn't understand how he could have fallen this poorly; he'd never done it before!

He did his best to follow Yakovich at his pace to the stable, but it was useless. He could hardly walk with his leg in this shape, let alone keep up a brisk pace. He fell behind, but still managed to catch what Yakovich said, and it made his blood run cold.

Reaching Yakovich, he clasped the man hard on the shoulder, half for support, and half to capture his attention. "Baba Yaga is a cannibal? Please tell me this is just part of superstitions," he hissed out, keeping his voice low. If this were true, that Baba Yaga was a woman of magic, well known to the area for being rather monstrous...then Bailey wasn't quite sure his brother was in the wrong for wanting her dead.

A cannibal enshrouded in a strange sort of magic; old magic, Bailey decided. It had to be the sort of magic that just was, the oldest kind of magic that had stemmed and morphed into the sorcery that Bailey was more familiar with. And the idea that such a woman could exist with that kind of power...it scared Bailey.

"If this is true, the sort of things your grandmother does, wouldn't it be dangerous for us to go to her?" Bailey continued, taking the reins to one horse from the stableboy, and waited for the boy to leave before continuing. "I have had enough brushes with death for one night to chance it again."

[Jan the Verse]

Vadim frowned at the weight Bailey put on his shoulder. That ankle asked for a splint. Or at least for Bailey to be more careful in his leaning. The man was as graceful as a kitten, unsure of its legs and even less sure of the height of the tree in which it sat. How he had managed as a thief was becoming less and less clear to Vadim.

The hunger stirred in Vadim's chest as Bailey hissed his fear. "Cannibal?" said Vadim. His stomach yearned to be filled. "I don't think of her as such. She's not as men and women are. More like a giant, or a beast of the forest that walks on two legs and speaks as we do. That being said, would you not think it more dangerous to keep her waiting when she so clearly desires we come to her?"

Vadim's own horse whinnied softly and breathed hot air from its nostrils as the stableboy handed him the lead. Perhaps it knew how delicious it looked. Vadim tied the bound Red Vengeance to the side of his saddle before climbing astride his mount. Its withers shuddered and though he tried to calm it with a gentle touch, the horse's tension would not abate. Hopefully he would merely look like an inexperienced rider. Not that Bailey didn't have ten more important concerns to mull.

Thankfully, once he rode the horse out to the courtyard and it caught sight of Night's mount standing so serenely by the gate, it was as if a spell overcame its fear. The tension subsided and it trotted to meet Night's horse as one ripple chasing another. Once both Bailey and Vadim had approached, Night turned his steed and took off down the wide city street. Their horses followed his with all the same impossible, silent speed.

It occurred to Vadim belatedly that he should have offered Bailey help in getting on his horse. He wondered if the thief's pride would have allowed it. Best to leave the ankle-splinting to his grandmother, or to Lyuda. Best to hope grandmother wouldn't see the injured ankle as she would a sickly deer, and dive in for the kill.

They rode quickly and silently from the city, and though Vadim did not think it possible, they passed a town within less than an hour. Then a second, a third, and all too soon, dawn chasing their heels, they spied a town upon a hill. On the opposite side, closer to the mouth of the forest, they would have found the house Ivan had built for Vasilisa.

However, Night veered away from the road, and across a meadow, closer to the lip of the wood. As they drew closer, sound trembled in Vadim's long-emptied ears. The sound of one crunch upon another, a crash, somehow delicate, somehow careful, one foot in front of the other.
Night drew them all to a halt at the edge of the forest, and as they stood still, echoes grew and the crunches intensified.

Then, impossibly, from between trees too close together for it to have fit, a house emerged, treading upon two enormous legs. Legs bent and knobbled as a chicken's, long claws scratching the ground impatiently as the house settled into place. It bobbed softly. Seemed to breathe. Night rode forward, between the house's legs, and into the forest, where he disappeared. Rosy dawn stretched past them, toward his silent retreat. Vadim glanced at Bailey and, for the first time since they had met, smiled. "Will you knock, or shall I?"

[Susie Hot Sauce]

The fact that Yakovich didn't deny that this Baba Yaga ate people only served to worry him. Dancing around the subject of what she was didn't calm him down, and she had to be human if she was Yakovich's grandmother. Unless Yakovich wasn't entirely human.

Either way, Bailey was not calmed down. She ate people, and Bailey was injured and unable to use magic- something she apparently had already known about him. Bailey did not like this at all, not one bit.

With some difficulty, and only serving to hurt his ankle more, he mounted his horse. The poor animal seemed to be just as aware of all the danger as Bailey was, but as he and Yakovich approved the rider in black, the horses calmed, and suddenly, they were running. Bailey leaned forward, holding tight to the reigns. At the pace they were going, the horses would surely tire out soon.

But they didn't. They raced on and on, passing towns and villages, and the horses never slowed once. They only slowed once they turned from the road, into a meadow, stopping at the edge of a wood. Bailey was about to ask what they were supposed to do now, when he heard a loud thump, and the sound of snapping branches. The sounds came again, and again, in such a pattern that it could only remind Bailey of one thing:

Footsteps.

He was immediately reminded of how Yakovich had described Baba Yaga. "She's not as men and woman are. More like a giant."

Was he about to come face to face with a giant? He'd thought that Yakovich had been making a weird comparison, and hadn't sounded completely confident that she was a giant. But what else could make those steps?

The answer made Bailey feel as though he'd gone insane. It was a house, not a large house, and it had stopped between two trees at the edge of the wood. But that wasn't the part that was making Bailey question his sanity; the house stood on two legs. Chicken legs.

Bailey had heard of a house that stood on chicken legs. It was from a ghost story his grandmother used to tell him and his siblings, though she'd never named the witch that lived inside Baba Yaga. It had been ages since he'd heard the stories, but he remembered one thing from them: the witch that lived inside the house on chicken feet was dark magic, evil, and never to be trusted.

"This isn't real," Bailey heard himself say. Everything in him was telling him to turn back and run. "This can't- chicken feet?" He looked to Yakovich, unable to believe he was smiling. "I am not going in that house; I am going no further closer to it." He pulled the reigns on his horse, turning it around. "I've tempted death far too many times tonight to go in there."

He was about to dig his heels into the horse's flank, where there was the unmistakeable sound of an old door opening, and then the creaky voice of an elderly woman drifted toward them. "Children, do come in. I've been waiting."

Bailey stopped cold. Not believing he was actually doing this, he turned around, to look at the doorway, terrified of what he might see. There was no one in the open door, but it was obvious enough what he and Yakovich were supposed to do.

Goddamn it.

"I swear to you, if your grandmother does anything to hurt me, I will unleash the same upon you tenfold," Bailey whispered sharply to Yakovich, before taking a deep breath, and dismounting the horse. He would do his best to walk as straight as he could; he couldn't give his injury away.

He succeeded...mostly. There was a slight limp to his injured foot, but overall, Bailey felt he managed to do a very convincing, though still walk to the house, and, pausing in the doorway, he followed Yakovich inside.

[Jan the Verse]

As much as Bailey's approach to self-preservation had frustrated Vadim this night, Vadim couldn't begrudge Bailey his fear now. It was not unwise. Especially as when the man turned his horse, readying it to escape, the fire surged within Vadim's gut and it was all he could do not to leap from his own mount and tackle Bailey to the ground, to hold him there, perhaps to break his leg more fully, more properly, and to drag him in to Baba Yaga. If grandmother wanted to see the thief, then see the thief she would.

Luck was with them both, however, as Bailey came to realize that running would do him no goood. He did not have the sense to stay his tongue from a threat, however. Vadim breathed in slowly, wanting to hide his flinch. As tender and naive as Bailey could seem, he was a man of magic, untrained and backed into a corner. No one would be surprised were he to lash out.

Grandmother will keep you safe, Vadim dared to think as he jumped off his horse. The words rang hollow even in his mind. Safe. As mother had been safe. No, Baba Yaga did not swoop to rescue even those she loved. She provided them with the tools to save themselves, and if that was not enough, then Vadim did not imagine she could be bothered.

They led their horses to the base of the house. No longer enraptured by Night's spell, the animals jerked and whinnied, but obeyed. As they approached, the house creaked and rocked, balanced on the toes of its great feet, which stuck out from under its front and scrabbled faintly at the earth. Vadim tied the horses' leads to a painted post outside of Baba Yaga's door, and unbound Red Vengeance from his mount's side.

"Grandmother," he called as they walked through the door, "I have done as you asked. And brought the thief, as a guest. He has changed. I hoped you would help him."

Vadim startled as a long-fingered hand pulled him aside. Baba Yaga's spindly arm emerged from a thick, black, aged fur coat as if a bear had shed its skin and meat to reach with only its skeleton. Her wrinkled mouth was drawn in a wide, thin line across her soot-stained face. Bright yellow eyes peered over an unthinkably large nose. Beneath the ash, she smelled of pears, sugar, and the tang of raw meat.

"Put the sword on the table, Vadenka," she said, her voice a croon of rust scraped away. "Lyudochka is carving breakfast. She'll be pleased to see you." Baba Yaga poked Vadim's side with her claw-like finger and he winced. "No fat, terrible. A man needs fat. Your sister is a fine cook, Vadenka. We'll eat richly today."

With that, Baba Yaga pushed Vadim to the center of the room, and as she did, reached forward again to grasp Bailey's elbow and lift it to her nose. She took a deep, lingering sniff of Bailey's arm, and her eyes fluttered closed. "Bright with magic." Her thin mouth cracked into a smile. Her teeth were mottled and stained. "Good, strong magic." She peered up at Bailey, eyes squinted beneath her bushy gray brows. "You want help, Balochka? What for? You're fixed."

I did this, thrummed Baba Yaga's unspoken addition. You owe me.

[Susie Hot Sauce]

Nothing could have prepared Bailey for the woman that was Baba Yaga.

He'd recoiled when he first saw that skeletal arm reach out to take hold of Yakovich, and brush him aside, leaving Baba Yaga face to face with him. She'd been older than he'd expected, and dirtier, creepier; everything about her just reeked of old magic, and of evil. Not pure evil, as Bailey had expected. Just a high enough dose of it to put the hair on the back of Bailey's neck on end.

He'd nearly turned and ran when she gripped his elbow, and in all honesty, the only reason he hadn't was that his ankle wouldn't have been able to support that kind of movement. Though it was nearly impossible, Bailey did all he could to keep from trembling with fear. He'd never felt this much fear before in his life. But everything about this place, this woman, it was all exactly what he'd been brought up to recognize as dark magic.

Dark magic was worrying enough for full-fledged wizards. Bailey hadn't ever been able to use magic, and so, those that worked in the dark and foreboding branches of magic were to be doubly feared. That deeply set in fear, combined with the knowledge that Baba Yaga would feast upon human flesh, was pushing Bailey's anxiety through the roof as the old witch sniffed at his arm, as if trying to decide if he'd make a good meal.

Her words confused him. Help him? Fixed him? What on earth was she talking about? His ankle was still injured, and he hadn't noticed any improvements lately, unless-

Unless she was talking about his magic. "You- you gave me the use of magic?" Bailey couldn't help but to stutter out, hardly unable to believe he was asking this. But there hadn't been a right explanation for how he had suddenly acquired the use of his magic.

[Jan the Verse]

Baba Yaga croaked a laugh and rubbed her thumb over Bailey's arm. "Gave you magic? Me? No. I'm only an old woman who talks too much. I like giving gifts, but magic? No." She chuckled and the sound was as a wheezing cat. "I can't give you magic. I can't give you yellow hair. Can't give you eyes. New ones, maybe, those I could. But did I give you Vadenka? Yes."

She pulled at Bailey's arm, and made a harsh, scolding noise at the falter of Bailey's foot. "Fragile things. Always breaking."

Vadim was no longer startled by his grandmother's strength, but didn't imagine Bailey was much for resisting. He recognized the tickle inside his breast; the hunger saw Bailey's fear and desired to rip into it. Baba Yaga showed no similar signs of yearning. Then again, perhaps she never truly stopped lusting after succulent flesh. Baba Yaga maneuvered Bailey into a chair and propped the man's injured leg up on the table before shuffling to the wall by the fireplace, above which hung the basket in which she kept herbs, poultices, and other healing aids. She held out her gnarled hand and the basket lifted itself off its hook to drop into her palm.

Then Baba Yaga turned back upon them and shooed Vadim aside as she set about splinting Bailey's ankle. First, she stripped the boot from his foot. "You're a stupid boy, Balochka. I want to see you grow more wise. I want to see many things from you. So, learn." She pushed his trouser leg up his shin, tsked at the bruising, and wrapped her hand around the swollen flesh, squeezing it without gentleness, though perhaps not intending to hurt. "Don't make worse what is already bad. You'll lose. I don't want to cut off your foot, but I will, if it heals you."

Every movement after that was tender and attentive. Baba Yaga's crooked nails scraped over the soft flesh of Bailey's ankle, and rubbed what Vadim recognized as a balm meant to cool and soothe swollen muscles into Bailey's skin. "Another lesson," she said, beginning to wrap his foot and the splint in a bandage. "Don't make old women wait for their answers. We get cranky. Then you eat poorly. How do you think I can help you?"