Diary of Anna the Girl Witch 2: Wandering Witch

by Max Candee

“Squire, Knight,” I called. “I can’t get that heart myself. But I need it in this box.” I put the open box on the ground. “I’m not sure which would be easier: you taking the box in or you bringing the heart out.”

  They bobbed up and down uncertainly.

  “I can’t promise it’s safe,” I admitted. “I’ve been told that I’ll die if I touch it. But I don’t know what will happen to you.”

  Now they looked even more uncertain. They flew close together and consulted each other.

  Without warning, still carrying the mop and bucket, they flew into the crater. I was taken aback by their decisiveness; I’d thought I’d have to do some persuading. But I was also confused about why they didn’t leave the luggage behind.

  That was answered pretty quickly. Arriving at the center of the crater, Knight swooped down first, set the bucket down, and tipped it onto its side, right next to the heart. Then Squire flew down, Knight joined him — and together, they used the mop to push the two pieces of the heart into the bucket.

  I just stared with my mouth open. That was … incredible. Baba Yaga’s heart mopped up like so much rubbish.

  Perhaps even more surprisingly, nothing happened. I hadn’t known what to expect — thunderclaps or an earthquake or what — but there was nothing. Only the clink of two pieces of crystal settling in a bucket.

  Carefully, the two hands raised the bucket upright so that Knight could grab its handle again. They flew out of the crater, Squire taking the mop with him. When they reached the box, Squire dropped the mop. Knight placed the bucket right at the edge of the box, and Squire cautiously tipped it. The two pieces of the heart slid right inside.

  “You clever, clever hands!” I cried. Just for a moment, all my anger seemed to vanish. I couldn’t help laughing. Who would have thought they’d be that pragmatic? “Thank you so much!”

  They bobbed up and down, clearly proud of themselves.

  “Okay, now I’ve just got to close it,” I said.

  I didn’t want to take any risks. I sent a jet of magic at the lid to make it close, and then another to latch it. Suddenly things seemed much brighter around me. I wasn’t sure why, at first, but then I noticed that the sky was clear again. I couldn’t hear the weeping anymore. I’d grown so used to it, I’d practically forgotten about it, but now the silence was wonderful.

  I picked up the box and put it in my backpack. I couldn’t believe it. I’d actually accomplished my mission.

  Well — no. Not quite yet. There was still the last part to get through.

  I grinned. This part might be fun. Guess what, Granny? You’ve been tricked, I thought. And now I can make you pay.

  “All right, hands,” I said, and they floated expectantly. “You’ve done really good work, and I know I’ve asked a lot of you the last couple of days. But now I’ve got a long trip, and I don’t think I’ll need you. So you can rest. Sleep, Squire! Sleep, Knight!”

  They both froze and fell to the ground. Maybe they hadn’t been expecting this.

  Well, I didn’t want them getting in the way.

  I put them into my backpack and slung it over my shoulders. I looked around one last time. It was time to go.

  I wondered what would happen to the island now that it wasn’t protecting anything. Would Kot Bayun stay here?

  I didn’t really care — but just as that thought occurred to me, he started singing again, somewhere in the distance.

  “Po dikim stepyam Zabaikalya,

  Gde zoloto royut v gorakh…”

  He was singing about the savage steppes behind Lake Baikal, where people prospected for gold in the mountains.

  I still would have liked to have done something to him — “Something evil,” the shadows in my heart whispered — but I didn’t have time, nor did I know that I could. Besides, I had to save my energy for confronting my grandmother. The sun was a lot lower in the sky, and I didn’t want to be on the island with Kot Bayun when night came.

  I got into the bucket and made myself rise into the air. I could still hear him singing, but as I flew off, there was no sign of that magic guideline that had led me here. I supposed it was because I had the heart now.

  I headed for the hotel. From there I’d be able to work out what direction to take. I wondered how long it would take for the island to vanish.

  And yet all the time I flew, all the way across the lake, I could still hear Kot Bayun singing his song.

  “Otets tvoi davno uzh v mogile

  Zemlioyu syroyu lezhit…”

  Your father has been in his grave for a long time; he now rests in the damp earth, he sang.

  I wondered if he was trying to tell me something. But then I reached the shore, and I stopped caring.

  I was staying high up so no one would see me, but I could still see the parking lot clearly. And I saw Olya Sumarokova’s mother as she was stumbling toward her car, helped by her husband.

  Suddenly all my rage at my grandmother came back. Anger not only for what she’d done to me but for what she’d done to everyone.

  Kot Bayun reached the end of his song.

  “Plachut detishki gurboi…”

  And all the little children are crying…

  I felt my face grow hard.

  Never again, I said to myself. With that, I began to fly toward the forest. I went higher and faster than I ever had before, retracing my steps as best I could, trusting that I’d be able to find her hut as surely as I had the island. The wind blew freezing cold, but I didn’t care. It felt right: powerful and cleansing, just as I wanted to be as I cleansed the world of Baba Yaga for good.

  No more missing children. No more stupid wars. No changing the world because it didn’t suit you. And payback for what had come before, for the heartbreak she’d caused. The Iron Queen’s reign was about to end.

  I flew on and on.

  At last, in the distance, I spotted a clearing in the forest. And at its center, a small hut that didn’t stay as still as a hut should. Granny’s.

  The trip back had taken me less time than finding her heart had. I smiled grimly. It was time for the reckoning.

  I urged my bucket down and landed just within the fence of skulls. There was no noise; apparently Baba Yaga hadn’t heard me return. Good, I thought. Maybe I can surprise her. I grabbed the carved box and looked back toward the gate.

  I started. A little girl was kneeling there, her hair disheveled, her eyes wide and staring. She had a gag in her mouth, and her hands were tied behind her. The rope that bound her stretched back to the fence, where it was wrapped around a post.

  Wrapped around the post that had no skull.

  I didn’t have to ask or think. I knew who she was: little Olya. She looked so much like her mother. I felt the rage growing even stronger in me. My whole body was shaking with it. I felt as though there were flames dancing in my eyes.

  At least she was still alive. But this — this wasn’t right. This is what I had to stop.

  “Olya,” I said, in what I hoped was a calming voice. “It’s all right, I’ll help you…” I took a step toward her, but she scuttled back from me, her eyes growing even more terrified than they had been.

  You just landed in a bucket in front of her, I thought. She knows you’re a witch. And you’re angry. Of course she’s scared of you.

  I closed my eyes for half a second.

  This was Granny’s doing too. Turning me into someone children were afraid of.

  As if I didn’t have enough reasons to hate her.

  I swung around on my heels, ready to charge into the hut, to scream and yell at Granny, to force her to let Olya go — and found three spears pointing directly at me. Spears whose points were like huge, sharpened precious stones: one red ruby, one blazing, yellow-tinged white diamond, and one black obsidian.

  The Black Horseman grinned at me, while his brothers kept their spears steady, just centimeters from my skin.

  “Such a pleasure to see you again, child,” he said, but there was no pleasure in his voice.
He prodded at me with the point of his spear. “Your granny and her guests are waiting for you.”

  He moved aside so I would have a clear path to the hut’s door. The other two stepped aside as well, still keeping me at their spears’ mercy, surrounding me so I couldn’t escape. The White Horseman made sure to stay in front of the bucket. The Red placed himself between Olya and me. She looked up at him, and I could hear her whimpering through her gag.

  As I took a step forward, the Black Horseman leaned down so his face was right beside mine.

  “And I hope she eats your heart,” he whispered.

  Chapter 26

  Dear Diary,

  I managed to take Baba Yaga’s heart to her without her realizing what I was doing.

  I was hoping it would destroy her.

  I don’t really want to talk about what I almost became.

  * * *

  Something seemed different about the hut as I walked toward it, but I couldn’t figure out what. Maybe it seemed larger somehow. Or the angles were different. But I didn’t care enough to wonder. My rage was just growing steadily worse. I didn’t like having spears pointed at me. It was all I could do to keep myself from blasting all three Horsemen away from me in a single squall of anger. The White Horseman, who’d set his wolves on Lauraleigh and me. The Red, who had helped Baba Yaga imprison my father. The Black, who’d been haunting me since Switzerland and who had stolen Olya Sumarokova.

  Poor little Olya. She was kneeling there, as terrified of me as of the monster who’d brought her here. I wondered if she knew her fairy tales. Had she recognized the chicken-leg hut, the fence of skulls?

  But I had to deal with Baba Yaga first.

  As I reached the stairs, the hut crouched down on its legs so that I could easily get onto the porch. It must have been waiting for me. I didn’t see how I was going to sneak up on my grandmother. I’d just have to trick her.

  After all, she’d tricked me often enough. She deserved nothing better. All I had to do was get her to touch what was hidden in the box, and she’d be done for. My father would be free and Lauraleigh would be safe. We’d find a way to get Olya home. And I would have made Baba Yaga pay for everything she’d done.

  But when the door swung open in front of me, I got a huge shock.

  “Vnuchechka, darling!” crowed Baba Yaga as she saw me. “How nice of you to drop in! Come in, come in. See who’s come by for a visit!”

  Seated at the table were Uncle Misha and Egor. They were frozen, their hands on the tabletop. They didn’t even seem able to blink, but their attentive eyes told me they were hearing every word.

  “Most impolite, these people,” Baba Yaga chuckled. “They won’t say a word, even when I ask nicely! But then, it’s not nice to try and break into a poor old woman’s house when she’s there all alone and defenseless, is it? So I think it’s only fair they should learn some manners.”

  My eyes were darting around, but I couldn’t see any way to help them. Why had they come here? Why were they messing up my plans? Couldn’t they have just trusted me?

  Then I saw that Lauraleigh was still tied up in the corner. Of course. They had come for her. Everybody would always come for Lauraleigh, she was so sweet. Not for me. I knew that now. Why would anybody want to rescue a black-hearted witch like me?

  At that moment, I almost hated Lauraleigh for what she was, so sickeningly good and kind. I almost wished I had let Baba Yaga turn her into soup.

  But that made me remember that my grandmother had actually tried to do that. And all my hatred focused on her again. I could feel it bubbling inside me.

  Lauraleigh was looking at me with frightened eyes. I never knew she was such a pathetic scaredy-cat.

  “Anna,” she said, “what’s happened to you? You look … different. Your eyes—”

  “Shush, child,” said Baba Yaga, and Lauraleigh instantly fell silent. My grandmother sighed. “I do hate a chatty dinner.”

  Then she looked at me. “You’re awfully quiet,” she said. “Have you nothing to say?”

  “I’m home, Granny,” I managed to say through gritted teeth. “And I saw your other guest in the yard.”

  “Oh, yes.” She chuckled. “The boys brought it in. Good lads. After all, on the off chance I’m not feasting on that long-legged blonde tonight, I have to have something else for the larder, don’t I?” She laughed. “There’s rather less of the new one than that one, but every little bit helps.”

  I managed to control my trembling. I’m not sure how, but I felt it running through me like magic, gathering, ready to lash out if I couldn’t keep control of myself.

  “I’ve brought you a gift, Granny,” I said.

  “What a sweet child you are.” Baba Yaga grinned, showing every one of her black iron teeth. “And what have you brought your old granny?” Behind her smile, she was suspicious, testing to see if I was lying.

  “I’ve brought you a heart, Granny,” I said.

  Baba Yaga burst into delighted peals of laughter. “A heart!” she whooped. “A heart! Oh, Anna, I knew we’d make something of you yet. Do you think we should let your dear old father know? After all, we wouldn’t want him to miss all the fun. And what’s about to happen is historic; it should have more of an audience than some silly old men and tonight’s roast. Come on, Koschey!” she shouted as she began to leap about in the air. “Come and see what your daughter’s brought me! Let my house become my hall!”

  I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I could feel waves of power streaming from her, and suddenly the room began to grow.

  The table at which Egor and Uncle Misha were sitting slid to the side, and they went with it. The walls seemed to stretch almost to infinity, and torches hanging on brackets burst into flames so that we were suddenly lit only by fire. And one wall crumbled and fell away, revealing the golden cage in which my father was sitting.

  Koschey hardly even looked at Baba Yaga. His eyes found me, and a look of great worry came over his features. “Anna,” he said, “what are you—”

  But before he could finish, Baba Yaga raised a hand. “Oh, be quiet, old bag of bones,” she said, and my father stopped speaking at once. My grandmother looked different now: larger, more powerful. Her back wasn’t bent anymore, and as the torchlight flickered over her, I could sense her immense strength.

  “Your daughter’s decided to be very nice to her old granny, Koscheyushka,” she said, gloating. “Sweet of her, don’t you think? Why, she’s brought me something very special. She’s brought me your heart.” She grinned. “And you know what I’m going to do with it, Koschey? I’m going to eat it. And then I’ll have all your power. After all these years, I will rule your realm, and soon this one, and eventually the whole world!”

  Baba Yaga laughed. “Oh, Koscheyushka,” she said softly, “why didn’t you just give me your heart in the first place, all that time ago? We could have avoided so many unpleasant things…”

  I stared at her hard. Go on, I thought. Gloat. Laugh. Enjoy yourself, because you don’t have much time left to do so.

  “Why are you looking at me like that, vnuchechka? Come on, give Granny her present, and then we can have dinner.”

  “Anna Sophia, don’t!” Uncle Misha suddenly croaked.

  Evidently, Baba Yaga had been having so much fun laughing at Koschey that her magic bonds had weakened. She turned toward Uncle Misha and waved a hand. A burst of dark energy streamed from her and hit him in the face.

  “The Great Trapper!” she sneered. “Do you even know how bad you smell? You should take a bath from time to time, Misha the Bear.”

  The knot of darkness in my belly churned even more, growing tighter like a fist ready to strike. I pulled the box out of my bag. “Granny,” I said.

  She turned and looked.

  I held the box toward her. “My present for you is in here, Granny.”

  Her eyes grew hungry. Even as she kept one hand aimed at Uncle Misha and Egor, she moved closer. The air was thrumming as if there were some
invisible creature in there with us, humming softly.

  Baba Yaga licked her lips. “Open it, Anna Sophia,” she whispered. “Show me this heart you’ve brought me.”

  Egor tried to move, but she swatted him back in place. I didn’t take my eyes off her as I unlatched the box.

  The thrumming increased, and now there was a rhythm to it, like a low, heavy pulse.

  I could hear Lauraleigh sobbing in her corner.

  “Stop making that noise!” Baba Yaga yelled. She spun around on her heels, and suddenly three pairs of hands flew in, each holding a length of rope, which they wrapped around the throats of Lauraleigh, Egor and Uncle Misha.

  “Make another sound and those ropes will tighten,” Baba Yaga warned.

  It took all my willpower not to throw myself at her, not to roar like a bear and attack her with tooth and claw. But I did not. I saw Uncle Misha’s look of despair, Egor’s look of fear, Lauraleigh’s tear-stained cheeks, my father’s worried features, and Baba Yaga’s warty, ugly old face in the torchlight.

  I lifted the box’s lid.

  * * *

  The whole world seemed darker. The torches still burned but seemed to give no light. My father’s cage looked dull instead of like shining gold. It was as if shadows had fallen on all of us.

  But nothing had changed. It was just that the light streaming from the box was so bright that it made everything else look darker.

  Beams spilled from the box as if refracted in a crystal, silver and purple and blinding, spreading from the burning kernel of pure whiteness in the center of the box, pulsing to the heartbeat we could all hear. The light danced on the beams of the ceiling and the walls, reflecting off the glass bottles on Baba Yaga’s shelves and off the eyes of her prisoners. It glowed nearly as bright as the sun, and yet nobody looked away.

  It was almost unbearably beautiful.

  Baba Yaga’s arms had dropped. She stared, wide-eyed, her mouth open, looking uncertain.