Page 68 of Foul Days

“Time-space,” Vila said.

“Time-space. You might be able to get there, but you can’t find your way back, unless you’ve got a ball of moon yarn. You tie one end to something here, in the human world, and you unravel it as you walk. Then, when you want to come back, you simply follow it.”

There was a thud and a hiss as Moth reached for the yarn and got smacked on the paw.

“Not for you!” Vila shook a finger at him. He meowed, jumped from her lap onto the floor, and disappeared up the chimney. She followed him with her eyes. “He won’t talk to me for days now.”

“Why did you take the yarn?” Asen asked, every bit the policeman. He was getting dangerously close to informing Vila what sentence she’d get for theft. “Doesn’t that mean that when Roksana tries to get back, she’ll just end up here?”

“That’s exactly what it means. And the two of us are going to have a nice, long talk.”

The flames in the fireplace grew larger, elongating Vila’s features, making the fine lines on her face deeper. Her shadow danced on the wall behind her. Kosara suspected that Vila’s talk with Roksana would be long, but it certainly wouldn’t be nice.

She still hoped to get to Roksana before the old witch.

Vila clapped her knees with her hands, rather dispelling the effect the flames had created. “Right, now who’d like a nice, hot cup of tea?”

Kosara only ever drank tea when she was sick. She tried to say as much, but Vila insisted it would calm her nerves while shoving a cup in her hands. And she was right. Kosara didn’t dare ask what was in the tea—all she could smell was camomile—but after only a sip, her heart finally stopped racing.

“How is it?” Vila asked.

“It’s nice,” Kosara admitted. “A bit sour.”

“Oh dear!” Vila slapped her forehead loudly. “I forgot the honey! Listen, my boy”—she turned to Asen—“do you mind grabbing some from the cupboard upstairs? My old knees aren’t what they used to be, and I can’t handle the ladder…”

Kosara rolled her eyes. She’d bet there was nothing wrong with Vila’s knees.

Asen, however, looked genuinely concerned. “Of course.”

Vila waited until he’d disappeared up the stairs.

“What?” Kosara asked.

Vila leaned in and whispered dramatically, hiding her mouth behind her hand, “Your friend isn’t too hard on the eyes, is he?”

“I can’t say I’ve noticed,” Kosara lied. “And he’s not my friend.”

“Well, don’t let his pretty face fool you. He stinks of magic.”

Kosara frowned. “No, he doesn’t.”

Vila tapped the side of her nose with her index finger. “Oh yes, this old honker doesn’t lie. Reeks, I tell you. And you’d better find out why.”

Kosara sighed. This was the last thing she was worried about right now. “He probably uses Chernogradean cosmetics. They’ve got tons of them in Belograd.”

“Well, then he wouldn’t mind telling you about it. But make sure to find out. It could be dangerous.”

Asen’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. Vila shushed Kosara, as if they hadn’t already both stopped talking.

Once she’d spooned half a beehive’s worth of honey into her tea, Vila drank it in silence for a few minutes. Kosara didn’t dare enjoy this rare respite from the old witch’s questions. She knew it wouldn’t last long.

It didn’t. Vila wasn’t even halfway through her cup when she asked, “Where’s your shadow?”

Kosara nearly spat out her tea at the sudden change of topic. She’d been expecting the question, but she nevertheless found herself at a loss for words. Vila watched her, her dark eyes unblinking.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kosara mumbled, her gaze drawn towards the floor. Hopefully, if she stared at it hard enough, it might take pity on her and swallow her. “It’s nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing? Your shadow’s gone.”

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