A Question of Magic (5 page)

Serafina stared at the ground without really seeing it. Twice now someone had spoken to her, and when she had been about to reply, she had lost control and told them things she didn't know she'd known. Each time she had grown as well. Was she going to lose herself every time she talked to someone or grow every time she answered a question? What exactly had happened to her in that cottage? She hadn't had anything to eat or drink, so maybe it was something in the air. If only she knew what had happened, she might be able to do something about it.

Suddenly, returning home didn't seem like such a good idea. Something had happened in that cottage, and it looked as if she wasn't going to be able to leave it behind. She had to return to the cottage to get some
answers. Although she dreaded the thought of going back there, she didn't seem to have any choice.

Barefoot and limping, Serafina turned around and headed back the way she had come, hoping she would find the path to the cottage before too long. Just how far had she gone, anyway?

Serafina's feet hurt. “Ow!” she cried, stepping on yet another stone. She wished she could put her shoes on again, but her feet had grown too big. She was examining the damage to her foot when she heard a faint trill of laughter. Turning toward the sound, she saw butterflies flitting around a patch of dandelions. Or maybe they were hummingbirds. She squinted, certain that her eyes were playing tricks on her, because they could just as easily be dragonflies, but not really. Her mouth dropped when she realized that they had the faces and tiny bodies of humans and the gossamer wings of some ethereal creature. “What on earth?” she said, taking a step closer.

One of the little creatures saw her watching them. It
shouted at its friends, and they all turned and fled deeper into the forest.

Serafina shook her head. Those creatures couldn't possibly be fairies, could they? Fairies weren't real! She'd heard stories about fairies, of course, but that's all they were—stories. Her mother had told her so when she was little, and her sisters had laughed at her for even hinting that she might believe in them. But she could swear that she had just seen some. Either she was losing her mind or all those people who had told her that things like magic and fairies weren't real were actually wrong. If only she could talk to Alek about it. If she told her family, they wouldn't believe her, but Alek would be interested. He was always reading books about things other people thought were outlandish, like werewolves and sea monsters. Wait until she told him that she had seen fairies!

After one last glance at the forest where the fairies had disappeared, Serafina started walking again, wincing with each step.

“There she is! I told you she'd come back,” cried Krany as Serafina staggered up the path.

“No, you didn't!” said Yure. “You said she shot out of here faster than a pack of lice fleeing an ogre's
crunchy underpants on wash day and we'd never see her again.”

“But then I said—”

“Never mind! She's here now, so I won!” Boris told them. “I said she'd be back before dark.”

Serafina's feet were cut and bleeding. She was tired and sore and in no mood to deal with the skulls. Gritting her teeth, she reached for the latch, but before she could touch it, the gate swung open with a loud creak. Serafina hesitated. It occurred to her that she could still go home. Her family would be overjoyed to see her and would help her in whatever way they could. But if she went home, she'd disrupt her family with her bizarre problems, and that was something she didn't want to do.

Serafina had always thought of Alina as the sister who got into messes, like the day she and her friends stole walnuts from a neighbor's tree. The rest of her friends escaped, but Alina was caught because she had filled her pockets so full that she couldn't fit through the gap in the fence. Katya, the oldest, had been the obedient daughter, who did what she thought her parents wanted her to do, including marrying Viktor. Serafina, however, had always considered herself the smart daughter, who did what she thought was right. And now she had to find out for herself what was really going on.

Straightening her shoulders, Serafina stepped through the gate. The answer to what was happening to her might well be waiting for her in this cottage.

She ignored the skulls' snickering and raised her hand to the latch, but the door swung open just as the gate had.

“So you're back!” said a voice.

Serafina looked around. The only one there was the cat, still on the bed where she'd left him that morning. He was sitting up now with his tail wrapped around his legs, his green eyes fixed on her. The night before, she'd thought she had dreamed that the cat had spoken to her, but maybe it hadn't been a dream at all. Maybe the cat really had been talking. So many other unexplainable things had happened that she was beginning to think anything was possible. If skulls and a cat could talk to her, what was next, the teacups?

“I was sure you'd return sooner or later. New Baba Yagas always do,” the cat continued. “Their lives are ruined if they don't.”

“You mean Baba Yagas are real?” Serafina said, still not quite believing that she was conversing with a cat.

“Of course they're real,” said the cat. “There have been Baba Yagas for hundreds of years.”

“Some of the skulls didn't think I'd be back.”

“The ignorant ones were saying that you were gone for good,” said the cat. “They forget that a new Baba Yaga has to learn what it means to
be
Baba Yaga, and this is the best place to do that. The rest of the skulls were placing bets on when you'd show up again. You were faster than most, but then you're probably one of the smarter ones.”

“Have there been a lot of Baba Yagas before me?” asked Serafina.

“More than I can count, but I'm a cat and not very good at counting.”

“If I'm the new Baba Yaga, what happened to the old one? It wasn't my great-aunt Sylanna, was it?”

The cat twitched his tail. “The only name I know is ‘Baba Yaga.' The last one left when you showed up. Didn't you see those sparkly lights when you walked in? That was the fairy whisking her away. Baba Yaga was dying, and the fairy Summer Rose had promised to take her to a beautiful place to live out her last days once she had a replacement. Although Baba Yaga wanted to stay to teach you what you needed to know, she was too sick by the time you got here. She asked me to tell the cottage to go as soon as you were inside so you couldn't leave and so you would have time to learn
about being Baba Yaga. I thought she was a nice enough person, although she didn't like cats as much as some of the Baba Yagas before her did.”

“You talk as if you've met the other Baba Yagas.”

“That might be because I have,” he said, sounding sarcastic. “My original owner was the nasty witch who started it all. She was a crazy, evil lowlife, but she knew her curses. I was just past kittenhood when she cursed me to live as long as Baba Yaga, and since there's been one person after another holding the title, I'm still here.”

“Do you have a name?”

The cat made a funny little sound in his throat, which Serafina thought meant he was laughing. “I have lots of names! Octavius, Gwawl, Evrawg, Drefan. The last Baba Yaga to give me a name called me Viktor.”

“I can't call you that! One of my brothers-in-law is named Viktor, and I don't like him one bit. I think I'll call you Maks.”

“My uncle's name was Maksimillian.”

“Then it's perfect!”

“Huh,” grunted the cat.

“Why have there been so many Baba Yagas?”

Maks gave her a disgusted look. “That's enough questions; answering questions isn't
my
job.”

“There's no one else I can ask,” said Serafina, but the cat turned away and began to lick the base of his tail.

Serafina sighed, but the bodice of her dress was still so tight that deep breaths were uncomfortable. “At least I can do something about that,” she murmured to herself, and turned to the trunk at the right of the doorway.

There were a lot of gowns in the trunk, but only a few fit her. When she'd selected the one she wanted, she started to take off her old clothes—until she noticed that the cat was watching her. “He's just a cat,” she told herself, but she found his gaze disconcerting, so she went into the corner of the cottage farthest from the bed and turned her back to the cat before slipping off her under-shift.

Serafina was folding her old clothes when she noticed a bowl of slightly withered apples on the table. She was hungry enough not to care how an apple looked as long as it wasn't rotten, so she plucked one from the bowl and bit into it. When her glance fell on the book lying open on the table, she sat down and turned to the message that had greeted her as Baba Yaga. The rest of the pages were still blank.

“I was hoping this book would tell me what was going on,” she said to herself.

Words began to appear on the blank sheet of parchment.

As the new Baba Yaga, you will answer one question and only one for each person who asks
.

“What happens if I want to answer more than one?” she asked the book, but nothing else appeared on the page.

What good was a book that answered only some of her questions and only some of the time? Serafina slammed the book shut and shoved it away from her. “I don't want to be Baba Yaga!” she cried. “I want to go home!”

This wasn't fair! She was supposed to answer other people's questions while hers went unanswered? Suddenly it occurred to Seraphina that if she could answer their questions, she might be able to answer her own. “What is happening to me?” she said out loud, and waited. But she didn't lose control, or spout an answer, or feel any different.

“You can't answer your own questions,” said Maks. “And you can't tell people what to ask you.”

Serafina turned toward the cat. “If you know so much, why don't you just tell me what's going on and save us both a lot of—”

“Hello!” an old woman's voice called from outside the cottage.

Serafina hurried to the door. Maybe her great-aunt hadn't been that sick after all. Maybe Sylanna had come to tell her what to do. Peeking out the door, Serafina saw an old woman wearing a faded green shawl standing by the gate, one hand resting on a knobbed cane as she tried to lift the latch with the other. The old woman looked up as Serafina opened the door wider.

“Good,” the woman said, giving Serafina a weary smile. “Someone is here. I've come to ask Baba Yaga my question.”

Serafina couldn't help but feel disappointed that the woman wasn't Sylanna. Not sure what to do, she glanced back into the cottage. The cat was curled up again with his eyes closed. “You're no help,” she muttered.

Her mind was racing as she faced the old woman. It wouldn't do Serafina any good to deny that she was Baba Yaga, not if she was going to have to answer questions whether she wanted to or not. It was even possible that by helping others, she might be able to help herself. Maybe by answering the questions, the answers she needed would present themselves somehow. Or maybe she had to answer a certain number of questions before she could go back to being her old self. She'd do anything that might help her return home. She just hoped it wouldn't take too long.

“Come in and sit down,” she told the woman. “We can talk inside.”

The old woman shuffled into the cottage, and Serafina showed her to the table. As her visitor sat down, Serafina moved to the other chair so she could sit facing the woman. “How can I help you?” she asked.

Her visitor looked surprised. “I won't ask if you're Baba Yaga and waste my question in such a foolish way. You didn't look like this when I saw you before, but I've heard rumors that your appearance often changes. Ah well, that's neither here nor there. For years I've been thinking about what question I would ask you. My age and poor health finally helped me decide. Before I forget, here's a loaf of fresh-baked bread to thank you for seeing me.”

Serafina had noticed the bread's aroma the moment the old woman entered the cottage, but she thought the smell had just lingered on her visitor's clothes. When the woman pulled a string bag out from under her shawl and removed a loaf of crusty brown bread, Serafina's mouth began to water. Suddenly she was ravenous, and she would have eaten the bread then if her visitor hadn't been looking at her so expectantly. “What is your question?” she asked the woman, unable to take her eyes off the loaf.

“You've probably answered this question many times
before, but I need to know—what is going to happen to me when I die?”

Serafina had no idea how to answer, but her mouth opened of its own volition and she said, “You are a good woman and have shown others great kindness your entire life. You will die peacefully in your sleep this very month, and when you do, angels will come to escort you to heaven.”