Warlock 4 - Preview Chapter

It's Thanksgiving in the US -- Canada, for some reason, does it during Halloween Month, which seems odd. Anyway, my family never did the whole "go around and say what you're thankful for" thing, but today I'll say I'm thankful for all of you -- thankful you found Warlock and enjoy it so very much.

Chapter

“What the fuck is a yaga?” Morgan demanded. She frowned. “And a gorska … and fucking babas.”

“Scary fucking forest witch,” Priscilla said.

Mel rolled her eyes.

“Gorska is forest,” Rachel said. “Baba is grandmother, and Yaga is —”

“Scary fucking forest witch,” Priscilla repeated.

“— witch,” Rachel finished, “but it’s a kind of nasty way of saying it.”

“Gorna baba is a concept,” Mel said. “A forest witch. Baba Yaga is a person.”

“Who is she?” I asked.

I’d only heard that she was really powerful and hadn’t been seen in half a century or something.

“Is she even still alive?” Priscilla asked.

Magistra Cassian snorted. “If Baba Yaga die, whole world know.”

“Is she like you?” I asked Mel.

Mel raised an eyebrow.

I sighed.

“You know what I mean — one of the you from the Temple?”

Mel shook her head.

“No, she came later.” She took a deep breath. “Baba is … different.”

Morgan groaned.

“What?” I asked.

Morgan took a deep breath and huffed. “Anytime someone pauses that long to figure out how to describe something and the best they can come up with is ‘different,’ means it’s some seriously fucked up shit.”

My heart sank, because Mel wasn’t giving Morgan that “are you sure you want to have said the thing you just said” look … she was nodding.

“Eleni,” Mel said, “can I ask you to —”

“I make call,” Magistra Cassian said. “Later — is late night here. Not talk gorska baba before breakfast.” She paused. “This is for the Kot Bayun’s witch?”

“I’m not his fucking witch!”

We all stared at Morgan.

“What? She talks … whatever that is — Kot, Cait, how hard to you think it was to figure out she was asking about me and the fucking Fae?”

“It’s Bulgarian,” Rachel said.

Morgan frowned.

“Bulgaria’s a real place? I thought it was made up to be the heavies in spy movies.”

I winced.

“I call later,” Magistra Cassian said. “Make new lesson plan for first-years now.”

Cassandra grinned as the call ended.

“And you’re going to be in her Rituals classes for the next four years,” she said.

Morgan glanced at the phone.

“Fuck.”

*

Mel sent me down to the cellar to pick out a couple bottles of wine after Magistra Cassian hung up, which was unusual — mostly the wine ended after dinner. She looked tense and I was trying not to think of the implications of what might make Mel tense … the last time I’d seen her that way was at the possibility of facing down the Morrigan, so what did that say about Baba Yaga?

Wine opened, we moved to the living room and settled in.

“Baba Yaga,” Mel muttered, shaking her head, then took a deep breath and looked at us.

“After the Temple burned,” Mel said, “most of us went north and west. Things were wilder there, less developed, and most of us wanted to be far from what passed for civilization at the time. Some, though, went elsewhere.

“A few went south … we lost track of them. Sometimes I think they may have joined other traditions there — many of them felt betrayed by what had happened at the Temple. Wondered why the Goddess had allowed it to happen.” She shook her head. “We expected so much of Her, sometimes.

“Others went east or north and east. Antheia was one of those.”

“Antheia?”

“A sister from the Temple.”

Mel closed her eyes and her nostrils flexed with her breathing for a moment.

“I told you it was some time after we left the Temple before we discovered we couldn’t bear children with mundanes, yes?”

I nodded.

Sam slid her hand into mine. “And then the Goddess brought the warlocks.”

Mel nodded and chuckled.

“It must have taken her weeks, perhaps months, to walk the Earth in so many places, and no small amount of power, but the warlocks began appearing. Not many, not even then, but enough, and we, witches, began congregating around them. We’d all been sisters at the Temple, without the normal trappings of a husband and family, so coming together again, even to share a man, was almost a homecoming for many of us.

“I don’t know if the thirteen to one ratio was a limitation of Her power or simply something that amused Her … but it was nearly exactly that from the start. Perhaps it was an effect of the magic itself — thirteen cycles of the moon in one orbit of the sun. That has some meaning that may have fueled the result.”

Mel sighed.

“No warlock found Antheia. Perhaps one was made, perhaps he tried to reach her, but those were dangerous times for all. He might have perished in the journey — or, perhaps, Her power couldn’t reach so far into another’s and Antheia had simply traveled too far. There was a divide between the two, East and West, even then. In the West, the old Powers were … personified, while in the East they were more like natural forces — more ambivalent and raw.

“One saw that even centuries later — the western Church took on the old traditions, making them saints and holy days of the Church itself.”

“Stole, you mean,” Sam muttered.

“As you will, but they were recognized — even revered, at least in their new form — while in the East many of the old ways may have lasted longer in their original forms, but were anything but revered. Brigid became a saint, while Lada was first denied, then demonized. Others were treated worse.

“The connection to our magic was different, as well. In the West, rituals became the means of us focusing our will and intent, while the East remained wild and untamed — working magic often involved the witch calling on those raw forces to enhance her own power, rather than relying on what came from within.”

Mel sighed.

“Most times with a cost.”

Mel was silent for a long time before going on.

“Word came to me that Antheia was with child.”

“But —”

“There are always bargains to be made,” Mel said. “But not always wisely and not always with whom one should bargain.

“When I heard, I had the strongest feeling that I should be there — it wasn’t that I was particularly skilled or knowledgeable about birthing at the time, but I simply felt it was important for me to be at Antheia’s side — but it was a long journey and there were delays. I sometimes wonder if another Power was at work there, but could never be sure.

“In any case, I arrived too late.”

Mel bit her lip.

“Antheia perished in the birthing and the babe … well, the villagers were reluctant to speak of it, but I managed to piece together that a midwife had arrived, well before Antheia’s time, and left without a word, leaving only Antheia’s body behind — neither babe nor any sign of one’s remains.”

We all stared at Morgan.

“What?” She shook her head. “No. No fucking way.”

“Does —” Cassandra managed to ask what we were all thinking. “Does that means she’s —”

“I am not some two-thousand year old demon-baby,” Morgan insisted.

“No, dear,” Mel said. “The missing babe became Baba Yaga.”

“See?”

“Baba’s line, however, continues to lack warlocks.”

“How — the same bargain?” I asked. I looked at Morgan. “The Cait said she was of a powerful line.”

Mel nodded.

“Oh, come on!” Morgan protested.

Cassandra looked up from her phone, where she’d been rapidly typing.

“Call it twenty generations with no warlocks and that makes the line … ninety-nine point nine nine nine nine percent otherworldly power.” She pointed at Morgan. “Demonspawn!”

“Fuck you, Elsa.”

“Cassandra,” Priscilla said, “that’s kind of mean.”

I’d have agreed, if I hadn’t been able to see that Cassandra wasn’t generating any Malice over it — if anything, she was shedding Concern or something very similar, and whether she intended it or not, I thought she was on the right track for what Morgan needed.

This was some pretty heavy news for Morgan — for all of us — but she wouldn’t want to the rest of us to see how upset she was. Being pissed would give her some time to adjust.

Morgan spent a lot of time adjusting.

“Those forces aren’t demonic,” Mel said, “regardless of what the Church might have to say about it.”

“This is bullshit,” Morgan muttered.

“In fact —” Mel paused. “Felicity? Do you have any thoughts on this? You spoke with the Cait more than any of us, I think — would he have gone so far?”

Baba Yaga’s line has always been different, yet so reclusive that very little is known. Fairy, as we know it, is less powerful east of the Carpathians, but the equivalent Powers are compatible. It’s possible the addition of that region’s version of Fae power led him to believe Baba Yaga’s line would be a more appropriate vessel for the Morrigan. The real question is when he might have taken her — if Morgan is of that line and recent, not ancient —

“Ancient? What the fuck?”

“Time can work very differently in Fairy,” Mel said. “Any amount of time might have passed since you were taken by the Cait, depending on how patient he was and how much power he was willing to spend.” She paused. “For a typical changeling, I doubt he’d have bothered with much — even a witch — but … Baba Yaga’s line …”

“Like … two thousand years?” Cassandra asked.

“Unlikely, but —”

“Ancient demonspawn!”

“Cassandra,” I warned.

“This does complicate things,” Mel said.

“How?” I asked. “At least it tells us where Morgan’s from — that’s good, right?”

I was hoping to put a positive spin on it, because Morgan’s face was showing how unhappy she was.

Mel shook her head. “It complicates your plans for the summer. If Morgan is of Baba Yaga’s line, it would be unwise for her to travel within that one’s reach —” She glanced at me, then back at Morgan. “— unbound.”

“That’s easy to fix,” Sam said.

She had a point, but I knew Morgan and didn’t need the cheat codes hidden behind her shields to wince.

“Why?” Morgan asked.

“She would not want to see one of her line bound to a coven. Her bargain gains her power with every witch who joins her in it.”

“Great,” Morgan muttered.

“So Baba Yaga would gain power if Morgan made the same bargain?” I asked. “And not if she’s bound to a coven?”

Mel nodded and Morgan scowled.

“She grows in power with every descendant who joins Antheia’s bargain.”

“What is it with witches and pyramid schemes?” I asked.

Mel shrugged. “Hierarchies of power are rather common in history.”

Morgan was shaking her head.

Her jaw was clenched and her eyes narrowed, then she stood and walked upstairs. A few seconds later, we heard a door slam.

I sighed and stood up — I’d give her a minute, then talk to her — but Cassandra was standing, too, and Sam put a hand on my arm.

“Cassandra —”

“She’s angry,” Sam said.

Cassandra nodded. “She needs to yell at somebody.”

“Yeah,” I said, “so I should —”

Cassandra rolled her eyes.

“Can you think of anybody who’s been yelled at by more angry witches than me?”

*

We listened to Morgan and Cassandra’s muted voices for about twenty minutes.

Muted because Morgan’s room was three floors above us behind a closed door, not because they were being quiet about it.

I started to go up and intervene a couple times, but Sam stopped me. I followed her lead, because Harmony seemed to give her some insight into dealing with others … when she listened to it. That and my sense of Cassandra through the coven bond showed she was … calm. Unusually calm for Cassandra, even though one of the muted yelling voices was hers.

Eventually we heard a door slam and Cassandra came down.

“You should go up now,” she told me.

She sat down and pulled her dish of cobbler toward her, sighing a little at the couple mouthfuls left after she’d nibbled through her and Rachel’s presentation.

Sam shared a look with the others and sighed, then slid the dish with the rest of the cobblers toward Cassandra.

“Thanks,” Cassandra said, head already over the dish with spoon in hand.

I left the girls to watch Cassandra eat their cobbler and went upstairs where I knocked on Morgan’s door.

“I said leave me alone, Elsa!”

“It’s not Els … it’s not Cassandra, it’s me.”

“Then I shouldn’t have to tell you to leave me alone!”

I started rapping a knuckle on the door, about one beat per second, but stuttering every fifth or sixth a bit, so the pattern was disrupted. That sort of thing drove Morgan batshit.

“Crone’s pit hair, Ashe, but you’re annoying as fuck!” The door knob turned and the door swung open an inch or two. “Fine, come in, you rhythmless nerd.”

I pushed the door the rest of the way open, a little curious to see Morgan’s room, since she’d kept it pretty private since moving in.

Morgan was walking back to her bed as I stepped in.

Felicity had taken charge of getting Morgan’s room ready for her and I’d seen enough boxes arrive to predict the computer setup. Morgan’s was black, not the pink and white of Felicity’s, but she had enough glowing, spinning lights on the thing to make up for that, along with the three monitors, each with a desktop image of a different metal band.

The walls were covered in framed band posters — I looked closer.

“Are they all autographed?”

Morgan nodded, flopping back on her bed.

“Yeah — Felicity went a little overboard.”

She smiled a little, so I could tell she liked it.

My room still looked like it had when I’d woken up there after killing a guy in an alley — in my defense, I’d spent most of the time at Willowmere and hadn’t really been thinking of home decor.

“The computer, too, looks like.”

Morgan’s smile widened for a moment before she set her jaw.

“Yeah — it’s cool.”

I caught sight of a stack of yellow books on the desk corner.

“‘For Dummies?’”

“Shut up — they’re good intros.”

“Coding, hacking, cybersecurity,” I read. “Planning to break into the Pentagon or something?”

“If I have to.”

Morgan laid back on her bed and closed her eyes. I sat on the floor and leaned back against the bed.

“So get it over with,” Morgan muttered.

“What?”

“Telling me it’s stupid to be upset, it doesn’t change anything, whatever.”

I shook my head. “You should be upset and it changes a lot.”

“Wow — thanks for the encouragement, Ashe.”

I shrugged. “You just found out your dad’s a demon — that’s pretty big.”

Morgan sighed. “Not a demon — Elsa explained it — worse.”

“Worse?”

“Yeah! Probably whatever the fucking Ruskies decided to call the fucking Fae — so another fucking Fae fucking with my life!”

I was looking away, but I felt the comforter covering the bed move, so figured Morgan was clenching her fingers in it.

“Fucking Cait probably still wants me for the fucking Morrigan, fucking Gabriel probably still wants to get at me to hurt you or make up with the Cait, and now Baba-fucking-Yaga wants me because it’ll juice her power or some shit. I always dreamed of being wanted.” She snorted. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“I want you.”

Morgan’s hand clutched at my shoulder.

“That’s the only reason I’m still here,” she whispered. “If it wasn’t for you … I’d grab a bag and hit the fucking road. Go work as a roadie or some shit. Just disappear.”

“I’d find you.”

“Yeah … you would.” She chuckled. “Probably go to every metal concert in the country looking for me — serve you right.”

“They make those noise-canceling headphones — I’d be fine.”

I grinned as her hand left my shoulder to smack my head before returning.

“Asshole.”

She was quiet for a minute.

“Now I’m screwing things up for everybody.”

“What do you mean?”

“You heard Mel — I can’t go ‘east of the Carpathians’ whatever the fuck that is. So either I stay here alone or you guys have to change your plans. Our plans — I actually got used to the idea and was looking forward to it.” She huffed. “Why should anything be what I thought it would be?”

“I thought the proposal was pretty good — all things considered.”

“Yeah.” Morgan’s fingers left my shoulder and tickled my neck. “You always exceed expectations, Ashe.”

“Thanks.”

“Even when I expect you to do something stupid.”

I nodded. Morgan was feeling better.

“Mel did say we could —”

“No.”

Yeah, I’d expected that.

“We can’t even kiss without chipping a tooth — anything more and we’d probably maim each other. We need to figure that out first.”

I chuckled. “Any ideas?”

I certainly didn’t have any. Sam kept saying I should just throw Morgan over my shoulder and carry her to bed kicking and screaming … I think she was projecting.

“I don’t know … even though it’s something I want, it’s just not the way I thought it would be.”

“Well, what did you think it would be? Maybe we can make it happen.”

Morgan was quiet for a minute, then cleared her throat. “So I guess I’ll stay here while you guys go on the trip.”

Apparently Morgan really didn’t want to talk about how she’d thought things might be, since she was trying to be subtle about changing the subject. Subtle for Morgan, at least.

“We don’t know for sure that you’re from Baba Yaga’s line,” I said.

“Well, sure, let’s roll them dice, huh?”

“What I mean is we could find out you’re not before we’re supposed to leave. Magistra Cassian hasn’t even had time to look into things yet.”

I didn’t need to be able to see them to know Morgan’s eyes were rolling.

“It makes too much sense, Ashe. Elsa told me this Yaga bitch is, like, second ass on the badass list, right after Mel. That fucking fairy said ‘powerful line,’ right? Then the fucking battle nipple —”

“Let’s not call it that anymore? Magistra Cassian didn’t sound amused about it.”

“Yeah, sure, and why didn’t you warn me she was a teacher before I made an ass of myself?”

“We’ve been talking about Magistra Cassian all year.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I know who she is when she just shows up on the phone like that. You’ve been talking about a bunch of people I’ve never met all year — I haven’t been able to figure out all the names yet.”

Something about the way she said that made me pause.

“You’re … not going to give all the teachers nicknames, are you?”

Morgan sighed. “I’ve got my own way of dealing with people, Ashe.”

“Your way was pretty specifically designed to piss them off until they’d never bother you again.”

Morgan was silent for a minute.

“Okay, that’s a good point — I’ll give it some thought.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyway — you think we’ve got a chance of being sure enough I’m not one of fucking Yaga’s demon-babies to risk it?”

“You’re probably right — but I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“I can take care of myself.”

I waited a second to let her think about it.

“The day you turned eighteen and were supposed to be responsible for yourself, you got kidnapped and almost sacrificed.”

“That’s not fair! Nobody even knew it was my birthday!”

I shrugged. “Still not leaving you alone.” I really wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. “Sam sure won’t like missing the trip, if it comes to that.”

“Hexual will be devastated.”

“But it might actually save her from Rachel.”

“You really need to do something about those two.”

I sighed. “It’s on my list.”

Morgan snorted. “Poor baby — ‘Oh, pity me, I have to figure out how to get my two incredibly hot girlfriends who are totally into each other to have the threesome we all desperately want.’ Keep this up and I’ll have to start a whole new AITA-alt just for you.”