Page 34 of When Among Crows
“He lied to us,” Niko says. “I’m not going to marvel athim having a single shred of honor. Come on, we have to go.”
“Go?”
“To Baba Jaga,” Niko says. “We have to beat him there. Warn her about what’s coming to her doorstep.”
Ala seems to register his meaning at last. She nods, the fern flower held against her stomach, and follows him back to the Jeep.
The drive from the Uptown Theatre to the address Baba Jaga sent them via falling piece of paper is only five minutes long. Niko and Ala ride in total silence, all the ease of a few hours ago gone in the wake of Dymitr’s confession.
The address takes them to a wedge-shaped building right where Broadway merges with Clarendon. There’s a Harold’s Chicken at the street level. Fixed above the yellow awnings at the front of the wedge is a billboard advertising a nearby nursing home. A dumpster takes up one of the parking spots on Clarendon.
It’s the last place on Earth Niko would expect to find someone as powerful as Baba Jaga, but perhaps that’s the point of it. She doesn’t want to be found.
Niko finds a parking spot on the street, just a few steps away from the entrance to Baba Jaga’s apartment. He unbuckles his seatbelt, but he can’t quite get himself to open the car door.
“Maybe he didn’t lie to us,” Ala says. She’s been staringat the fern flower for the last few minutes, not even looking up as Niko parked the Jeep. “Maybe—”
“He’s a Knight of the Holy Order,” Niko says hollowly. “He used us to find the most powerful witch in North America. His own sister knew what he was doing and tried to help him. The simplest explanation is that he intends to kill Baba Jaga, or worse.”
“I know,” Ala says. “Yeah, I know.”
They both get out of the Jeep and walk to the door with Baba Jaga’s address marked on it, white number stickers on the mailbox next to the door. The3is a little askew.
He reaches for the buzzer, but before he can touch it, the intercom above it crackles to life.
“My invitation was for three,” a woman’s voice says through the speaker. “Where is the other one?”
“We believe he’s on his way here,” Niko says. “But we came to warn you—”
“Silly boy,” the woman says. “You think there’s something you can tell me that I don’t already know?”
The buzzer goes off, and the door’s lock clicks. With a bewildered look at Ala, Niko opens the door, and they step into the entryway together.
It’s all dark wood paneling, glazed over so many times it looks like it’s covered in resin, and black-and-white penny tile, like every other entryway in Chicago. They climb the creaky wooden steps to the second floor. The walls are white, but bulging and cracking where the paint went on too thick and the heat and humidity wreaked havoc. At the top of the stairs is a single door with no apartment numberand no name on it. There’s a welcome mat, though, that saysWITAMYwith the Polish eagle behind it.
The door opens without him having to touch it.
The apartment beyond it is big and open, taking up the entire second floor of the humble building. And it’s packed withthings,so many his eyes skip around helplessly to take it all in. There are dried herbs hanging from the ceiling here and there; a stack of old pots in copper and cast iron and enamel in the corner near a huge hot plate; a cluster of apothecary tables with wicker baskets clumped together on top of them; a stuffed squirrel wearing a cowboy hat perched on an old writing desk; a guitar with broken strings hanging on the wall; tapestries depicting mermaids and dragons serving as rugs; an array of brooms lined up along the wall in the hallway; a green lava lamp in the center of a dining room table, which is also stacked high with old bones.
Standing over one of the tapestries near the windows—which are covered in gauzy green cloth to block the light from the street—is a woman. She’s small and lean, with long, straight hair, like a wraith. Her face is shadowed, and she holds a pair of dice in her palm. As Niko steps into the apartment, she lifts her gaze to his and drops the dice at her feet.
“Snake eyes,” she says, without looking down. Her voice is low and melodious, pleasant. Just as he remembered it.
She’s right, of course. Both dice show a single black dot.
“Back so soon, Nikodem?” she says to Niko.
Niko is too startled to greet her properly. “It’s been years.”
“Spoken like a born mortal,” Baba Jaga says, not unkindly. “So you say you came to warn me. I assume you mean that you’ve figured out your companion is a Knight of the Holy Order?”
In the green light of the lava lamp, her face is revealed to be young and beautiful. It’s artifice, of course; the last time Niko saw her, she looked older, her face lined. But her eyes are the same: unearthly pale, almost colorless.
“You already knew.”
“I’m not the oldest and strongest witch in the world for nothing, child,” she says.
“We think he might be coming to kill you,” Ala says tentatively, and Baba Jaga laughs. As she laughs, she sheds her youth, momentarily appearing as an old woman with a lined face. But once she finishes, the veneer is back in place.
