by Sarah Noffke
Sophia sorted through all the characters they’d met that had been fooled along with them. The flight attendant, Cecily. The pilots, Captain Monaco and Captain Bali. The waitress Jamaica. Had they planted the pages or helped the chipmunks in some way to do so? However it had happened, it had worked out perfectly to lead the sisters there with the full stack of pages.
“Why?” Liv questioned. She seemed to be stalling, her eyes shifting back and forth as she searched the store. “Why did you need Royals?”
“Because naturally, it was Warriors from the House of Fourteen that cursed me, ending my reign and separating me from my grimoire,” Baba Yaga imparted. “They stated that only two Warrior sisters could recover them, but since the House of Fourteen’s history is lost thanks to its own internal treachery, that history had been forgotten and replaced with the one Papa Creola thinks he knows so well.”
Sophia shook her head. “So, you rewrote history?”
Liv groaned. “Not hard to do when the House of Fourteen hid all of their histories. Good job capitalizing on it.”
Baba Yaga batted her eyelashes like a pretty schoolgirl, but since she had no eyelashes and it had been many years since she’d been a schoolgirl, the whole thing had a very gross effect. “Like I said, this has been in the works for a long time. I needed to lead you to the pages, which my chipmunks had discovered with my help, and stuck along the way for you to find. But I can’t touch them. Not until you put them into the book.” She indicated an empty leather covering that looked like an emaciated hardback volume. There were no pages inside like they’d all been ripped out.
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, old hag,” Liv argued. “The last thing we’re going to do is assemble this book we’ve gone to so much trouble to fetch for you.”
The chaos of the shop continued to spiral around them, making Sophia’s hair slap her in the head and face. The police force that had been accompanying them were on the perimeter and appeared highly aware they were bordering onto a dangerous situation, but there appeared to be a barrier keeping them back.
That was for the best, Sophia believed. If they entered into the situation, it would mean more complications. Sophia also knew how barriers worked, and if the police couldn’t enter, it was doubtful they could leave.
They were trapped.
Chapter One Hundred Seven
“Do you really think I’ve come this far without thinking of the proper motivation you two will need to assemble my grimoire?” Baba Yaga asked, the floor shaking under her feet.
Liv cut her eyes at Sophia. “What are the odds the answer to that question is no?”
“That was the trickiest part of my plan,” Baba Yaga stated.
Sophia’s chest tightened. She didn’t know what was happening or what this old witch was about to unveil, but she had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Really because planting a nice blind man in LAX for decades or ensuring we crashed here at Omaha airport wasn’t a convoluted part of the plan,” Liv joked, not seeming to be as tense as Sophia. She reasoned she was a bit more seasoned with this stuff.
Baba Yaga laughed and something large appeared behind them. Both sisters spun to find a large mortar and an equally large pestle beside it. Both were out of place in the airport shop. Even stranger was there appeared to be a person sitting inside the large bowl-like object, a blanket covering them as they struggled.
“It’s true that I had to enlist the help of the unwilling far in advance,” Baba Yaga gushed, continuing to laugh. “Athens thought he was serving to protect the world from me when all along, he would be an accomplice.”
“Who is in there?” Liv asked, indicating the giant pestle, stress entering her voice.
“Well, I had to ask myself, how do you get two sisters to comply when assembling the book is the last thing you’d want to do, knowing you serve good and I will inevitably use it for evil,” Baba Yaga answered.
“Take Bianca Mantovani from the House of Fourteen and hold her hostage?” Liv asked, hope in her voice.
Baba Yaga shook her head, looking delighted. “Oh, no, but I did find a nice councilor from the House of Fourteen out on a walk. He was all too happy to help an old woman who had lost her cat.”
“No!” Sophia said, lurching forward but halting suddenly when a scream echoed from under the blanket.
“Oh, yes,” Baba Yaga said with satisfaction. “But go near him, and he will feel pain. Refuse to assemble my grimoire, and he will die. The last thing the remaining Beaufonts will know is that they are responsible for their only brother’s death.”
The ancient witch lifted her hand and flicked it through the air as though throwing away a tissue into a waste bin. The movement pulled the blanket off the figure in the mortar, and to Sophia’s horror, it was the last person she wanted to see bound and gagged and severely injured.
Clark Beaufont had become Baba Yaga’s prisoner, and he was without a doubt the best bargaining chip she could have picked.
Chapter One Hundred Eight
There were only three Beaufonts left in the world. They had lost everyone. Their mother, Genevieve. Their father, Theodore. Their sister and brother, Reese and Ian. Sophia’s twin, Jamison. Clark was one of them and the last male in the family.
Besides the very important reason the sisters loved Clark with all their hearts and didn’t want anything to happen to him, there was a logistical aspect to things.
If something happened to the councilor for the House of Fourteen, then that would displace the Beaufonts from the magical governing organization forever. There had to be two Royals from the family at all times. Sophia’s birth order made her compatible with being a Warrior. There was little way to change those rules. So, if something happened to Clark, the Beaufonts would lose their royal status. Liv would lose her position, and the Beaufonts would be down to only two, having lost their beloved brother.
“Let him go!” Sophia yelled, realizing at once how ridiculous the demand was.
Right on cue, Baba Yaga impersonated her. “Let him go,” she squealed. “Like I have any intention of doing that before you assemble my grimoire.”
“How do we know that you’d do it even if we did?” Liv asked. “You’ll probably kill us all.”
Baba Yaga gave them a wicked grin. “That’s a risk you’re going to have to take. Put it together and save your brother. Don’t do it, and his blood is on your hands forever.”
“We can’t let you have the book,” Sophia argued, remembering what Papa Creola had said about what would happen if the evil witch got her spell book back and what it would do to the Earth.
“Oh, but you can,” Baba Yaga sang. “Just put the pages in this book and speak the incantation engraved on the front of the cover. It’s that simple.”
“Something tells me that it’s not,” Liv disagreed.
Chapter One Hundred Nine
Clark appeared to only be semi-conscious as his head lolled to the side. It made Sophia ache to think her brother had been abducted by an old witch and abused so badly. There was rarely anyone as book smart as her brother. However, everyone had their shortcomings, and there was a reason Clark was well suited to be a Councilor for the House of Fourteen rather than a Warrior. He simply wasn’t a fighter.
The mean old witch had lured him away from the House of Fourteen, preyed on his sympathetic nature, and then tortured him into submission. That much was clear to Sophia from the bruises and cuts on his face.
“Although I have waited a very long time for this and been very patient,” Baba Yaga started. “I really don’t have all day, sisters.” She flicked her greenish-gray hand at Clark, and a wail escaped his mouth as his eyes burst open. “And neither does your brother.”
“Stop it!” Sophia exclaimed. She wanted to go to Clark but knew that would only result in more punishment. Baba Yaga had them by the throat, so to speak. If they didn’t do what she wanted, she’d kill Clark. If they did do what she wanted, she might kill them all, especially o
nce she had the power of her grimoire.
“You said earlier that Warriors from the House of Fourteen got your grimoire from you before,” Liv said tentatively, and Sophia again got the impression she was stalling or trying to take time to work something out. Maybe she was fishing, but it seemed unlikely the very strategic witch would fall for such things.
“Yes, some twenty years ago,” Baba Yaga said. “Sending me away, I lost much of my power when they stole my grimoire. But I wasn’t depleted entirely and have recovered much while sleeping. Once reunited with my spell book, I will be as powerful as ever.”
“I can’t help but think you’re rushing into this whole thing,” Liv teased, her eyes shifting.
Sophia couldn’t figure out where her mind was going, but she knew there was something working itself out in the Warrior’s head.
“I want what’s rightfully mine!” Baba Yaga roared, making the floor shake. Objects all around fell off the shelves. Books raced at them, making Sophia have to dive to avoid getting hit in the head. For as much as she loved books, she was tired of them assaulting her lately. After this and the Great Library experience, she was converting everything to her Kindle.
When it was clear again, Sophia pushed up off the floor, careful to keep ahold of the pages in her hands. She realized now the old witch couldn’t just take the pages from them, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t confiscate them somehow. The pages from the grimoire were the only thing keeping them alive, and the fact Baba Yaga needed them to assemble the book. It probably took a complex spell that only a magician could supply since it was Warriors who disassembled it.
“Look, Ba Ya,” Liv began casually. “I’ll make you a deal—”
“I don’t make deals!” Baba Yaga interrupted.
“Thing is, you do,” Liv countered. “Because you need us. Even if you kill our brother, you can’t force us to assemble this book. So, without our help, you’ve done all this for nothing. And you have to know us well enough by now to know we’re not going to blindly just allow you to bully us into putting together the book without assurances.”
Baba Yaga considered this as she blinked her bloodshot eyes at them.
“If you do kill our brother, whatever those Warriors did to you before, well, your death will be ten times worse,” Liv threatened. “I won’t stop until I make that statement true.”
“What’s the deal?” Baba Yaga asked.
To Sophia’s surprise, Liv handed her the stack of pages she had. “Here, you take these and assemble the book. But don’t speak the incantation until I say so, and Clark is free.”
Sophia gawked at her sister. “We can’t trust her with the book. What Papa Creola said—”
“Exactly,” Liv stated with an inflection in her voice. “What Papa said…”
There was a hidden message in Liv’s words like she was pointing Sophia toward something specific. Her mind searched, trying to recall what Papa Creola had told them when he’d been instructing them on Baba Yaga. A few threads from the conversation sprang to her mind.
She nearly gasped. He had said that it was better if he didn’t share the details of Baba Yaga’s demise with them. Was that him being intentionally mysterious like usual, or had he’d known? Had he really been fooled? Maybe he had, but not entirely. There was only one way to find out.
If he had known then…she suddenly remembered something else the hippie elf had said.
“I’m not releasing your brother,” Baba Yaga said defiantly.
“Then we’re not putting your pages into the book and speaking the incantation,” Liv spat. “Sophia puts the pages into the book, you release Clark and let him get outside this barrier, and then she’ll speak the incantation.”
“Then what happens?” Baba Yaga asked.
Liv shrugged. “We’ll probably battle to the death because we can’t let you get away with the grimoire, but at least we’ll know our brother is safe, and you’ll have gotten what you’ve wanted. The playing field will be leveled.”
The old witch cackled. “Once I have the grimoire, I’ll be too powerful to stop.”
“I suspect you’re right,” Liv agreed. “So, just let Clark go, and you can show off all you want. Hell, we’ll probably even let you get away without a fight. I’m pretty tuckered out, myself.” Liv glanced at Sophia. “And you, sis?”
She didn’t know what game her sister was playing but decided to go along with it. “Yeah, I just want Clark back. After that, I don’t even care. Baba, you can have the grimoire. Just leave us alone.”
Something flickered in Liv’s eyes. She knew better than anyone the Beaufonts never backed down from a fight, especially against an entity that posed such a major threat to the world if left unchecked.
“Do we have a deal?” Liv asked, giving the witch a defiant expression.
“Put the pages in the book,” Baba Yaga ordered, pointing to the empty leather cover.
Sophia gave Liv an uncertain expression.
She nodded reassuringly. “Do it, but don’t speak the incantation until she releases Clark. That’s the deal, got it, Miss Yaga?”
The evil witch cackled once more. “Yes, just put the pages in the book, like a good little girl.”
Sophia didn’t like being called a little girl. Even more, she didn’t like playing into the witch’s hands. But what if this was the way it was always supposed to go, and she just didn’t realize they actually had the upper hand? It didn’t feel like it with Clark being held against his will, but something sneaking behind Liv’s expression gave her confidence.
She stepped up to the counter and opened the leather-bound cover. She found the ream where the pages had been ripped and burned from the spine of the book. Organizing the stack, she arranged them neatly, trying to line up the pages.
“Just put them in the book already!” Baba Yaga ordered.
Sophia let out a breath and nodded and closed the cover, then took a step back. She glanced over her shoulder at Liv.
Her sister sent a piercing glare in Baba Yaga’s direction. “Now, it’s your turn, B.Y. Let our brother go, or no incantation and your only consolation prize will be that you can kill us and wait another twenty years or more for sister Warriors to be born from the House of Fourteen.”
Baba Yaga seemed to consider this and then waved her wrinkled hand at Clark. “Oh, take him away. He’s too pathetic to look at anyway.”
Immediately, Clark slumped over the side of the mortar before catching himself.
Liv hurried over to help him out. He was disoriented and blinked at her. She smiled at him, relieved then helped him walk a few paces before ensuring he was conscious enough to go on his own.
Like letting a toddler take their first steps for the first time, she released him, directing him out of the shop. The barrier came down, and several authorities rushed forward, catching Clark before he fell. They didn’t come any closer than that at Liv’s insistence.
She turned her attention to Baba Yaga, a rebellious glint in her eye. “Now for the incantation.”
Sophia couldn’t believe her ears. They were actually going to reassemble the grimoire. Either Liv had lost her mind, or she was brilliant. Either was a likely possibility.
“It’s good to see that unlike your mother, you keep your word,” Baba Yaga said, tapping the grimoire with a pointy fingernail. “Speak the incantation, child.”
Liv laughed, cutting Sophia off before she could say anything. “I thought it was our mother who had stripped you of your spell book and sent it into pieces, cursing you from acquiring it without our help.”
Sophia glanced at Liv over her shoulder. Of course. The timing made sense. Over twenty years ago, Baba Yaga had been stopped by Warriors from the House of Fourteen. That would have been Guinevere Beaufont.
A small twitch in Liv’s eyes spoke volumes to Sophia. They said, “Don’t do it. Don’t speak the incantation.”
Baba Yaga slammed her hand down on the book. “Do it now. Reassemble my grimoire! Give me back what i
s rightfully mine.”
“Speaking of things that are yours,” Liv said in a sing-song voice, pulling the burned-up broomstick from her back. “I think we have something else that belongs to you.”
The look of horror that took over the old witch’s face was immediate. “No! Not my broomstick!”
Chapter One Hundred Ten
In Liv’s hands, the broomstick began to shake. Sophia didn’t know what the plan was, but then her sister started to chant words she’d just read, the incantation written on the front of the grimoire.
At first, Sophia worried she was completing the assembly of the spell book, but something else she hadn’t expected happened and in such a chaotic array of movements that no one, not even Baba Yaga, seemed poised to intervene.
From the closed grimoire, the torn-out pages flew like darts through the air.
Sophia could have been worried that if they were racing at her, they’d slice her like a Chinese star. But in true Liv-style, she held the broomstick steady as page after page flew in her direction. To Sophia’s utter astonishment, the pages magnetized to the area where the burned-out bristles would have been sticking into place. Liv continued to repeat the incantation until every single page had emptied from the book and fixed itself onto the back of the broom.
“You heathens!” Baba Yaga yelled. “You tricked me!”
“Tit for tat,” Liv yelled, letting the broomstick go.
The Warrior for the House of Fourteen seemed to be making it up as she went along, but that was also part of Liv’s charm. One never knew if her tactics were strategy or pure luck. One thing Sophia appreciated about Liv was she never confessed, even after the fact.
