Spells of Blood and Kin (23 page)

“Do you want to get married?” he asked her. His voice came out a bit funny.

Hannah made a sobbing sound. “It's good to see you too.”

“I think I have a hangover,” he said.

“You have a concussion,” Hannah said. “You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

Jonathan propped himself up on his elbows and looked around. The hospital: he was surprised he hadn't noticed before, but here it was, all white and baby blue, with curtains around his bed and the smell of latex and the noise of monitors and other people beyond.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I was hoping you'd be able to tell me that.”

“Nope.”

“You were out with Nick. Do you remember that?”

“Oh. Yeah. I went to his place. I think we were going to play video games.”

“You were found alone, lying by the wall of a garage on Brunswick Avenue.”

Jonathan thought about this hard enough to make his head hurt. “Is Nick okay?”

Hannah bit her lip. “He wasn't with you.”

“Nick wouldn't ditch me.”

“If he was confused, maybe. If he was drunk or something.”

“If I was being a dick to him, maybe. Give me my phone?”

“I've already called him a few times. He's not picking up.”

“Well, call the police, then!” Jonathan said, pushing himself up. “What if the muggers got him?”

Hannah put both hands on his shoulders and leaned in close, pushing him back down. “You weren't mugged,” she said very quietly. “You still have all your stuff. Even the cash in your wallet.”

Jonathan blinked. “I'm too stupid right now. I know you're trying to tell me something, and I can't figure it out.”

Hannah whispered, “I think he might have hurt you. And I know I'm not a nice person for thinking that. Only he hasn't been himself lately, and … and if it was him, I don't want to be the one who calls it in.”

Jonathan pressed his palm to his aching head. “I don't fucking know.”

“Can we just wait?”

“I think I'm going to be sick,” Jonathan said.

Hannah handed him a kidney-shaped dish.

“Give me a moment?” he said, and she pressed her lips together but withdrew beyond the curtain.

MAY 25

  
FULL MOON

Stella solved the full-moon problem herself, inadvertently, by calling up a friend she'd met while backpacking in Australia. The friend lived in Barrie, conveniently a half hour away by train, and she invited Stella overnight. It only remained for Lissa to steer her stepsister toward the correct day.

The house felt huge and echoing the moment she left, but Lissa spent no more than a moment standing before the screen door; after that, she began pulling out her spell equipment from the places she'd stashed it, checking all the while for the moment the sun would set.

She had just begun taking eggs from the refrigerator when the doorbell rang. She could see Maksim's head through the glass, face shadowed by his cap, looking away.

He stood awkwardly, weight canted to one side, and when she opened the door, he seized its edge.

“I can go away if I am not wanted,” he said. “I hoped since the moon is full…”

“Stella's out tonight. You can come in.”

“Thank you,
koldun'ia.
”

He followed her into the kitchen and settled carefully on the same stool as before. He bowed his head and folded his hands together. The two fingers still looked bruised, and Lissa could see fresh marks across some of the knuckles.

“I'm making extra tonight,” Lissa assured him. “The last week hasn't been easy on you, has it?”

He shook his head.

“Did your friend find anything?”

“The boy was sighted in Parkdale, near where I first found him. We tracked him as far as the subway, but that was all.” Maksim hunched one shoulder and winced, but Lissa couldn't tell if it was at a memory or at a physical pain. “Did you?” he asked.

“You mean, did I find anything? About Baba's spell?” Lissa turned away to shut off the electricity and light the candles. She'd thought about it a number of times in the past week and had changed her conclusion each time. “Some,” was what she said now. “Maksim … I think it was against the law. Our witches'
Law,
I mean.”

He looked up sharply from beneath his cap.

“It's not any of the regular spells. I've figured out that much for sure,” Lissa went on. “For one thing, all the regular ones are impermanent—you have to take frequent doses. They're almost all in fresh eggs, like the ones I give you. For more permanent spells, you have to do other things. Bindings with blood or hair. Sometimes there are eggs in those too. Ever hear the story of Koshchei the Deathless, who hid his life in an egg?”

“Koshchei the Deathless,” Maksim said, pronouncing it in a way that let Lissa know she hadn't quite got it right. “I remember.”

“Well, he was evil,” Lissa said. “And eventually, some prince broke the egg, and then he wasn't deathless anymore. The point is, there's a price for the kind of magic that pushes natural laws too far. Until now, I believed my grandmother always followed the rules. I know she wouldn't have broken them unless it meant a lot to her.”

“She owed me a great debt,” Maksim said, raising his brows. “Perhaps it was great enough to cover such a thing.” He slid off the stool and paced unevenly across the kitchen, still favoring one leg. “I did not know what I asked of her, though.”

“To tell the truth, I don't know, either. I mean, I know there's a price, whether or not you get caught; but it depends on what you've done, and I still haven't figured out all of it.”

“She was good,” Maksim said, pacing back. “A good person.”

“I know.”

“I do not like to drag good people into my dealings.”

Lissa sighed. “D'you think she would have done it, whatever it was, if it was really bad?”

Maksim pressed a fist against his forehead over the brim of his cap. He went to the window, where his breath troubled a candle flame. “I wish I could think. I wish I could sleep.”

“You will once the eggs are done. Want a drink or anything? I'm ready to get started.”

All Lissa could find in the cupboard was gin, but Maksim accepted it gratefully, and he sat on the floor in the corner with his bad leg outstretched while Lissa began her work.

She didn't have milk from a human mother this time; it wasn't the kind of thing you could just pick up. Instead, she substituted fresh, unpasteurized goat's milk from the Tuesday night farmers' market, where she'd managed to converse with the farmer while Stella lingered over a selection of honeycombs. She worked quickly, consulting the grimoire, determined to get it this time. The memory of last month's imperfect working was still fresh. If anything, this time her concentration was aided by the presence of Maksim, who trusted her. He made no sound except for the occasional breath and the tilt of liquid in glass.

Sometime after midnight, he rose quietly and left the room. Lissa barely noticed. She was finger-painting eggs by then, hastily, for the power in the mixture only lasted the length of the night it was brewed, and there were quite a few eggs to get through.

The front door opened and closed.

Two hours later, or thereabouts, it opened and closed again, but Maksim did not return to the kitchen. He went upstairs and turned on the water.

The next time Lissa thought of him, she was closing the last carton. The mixing bowl was empty but for a few lavender smears, and she set it in the sink, too tired to wash up. When she turned on the tap to rinse it, the water pressure was low, and it came to her that she could hear the shower still going upstairs. She thought it had been running for a long time.

She took the final carton in her hands as she hurried upstairs.

The bathroom door stood ajar an inch. She knocked and pushed it farther inward. The air from the room felt strangely chilly.

“Maksim?”

A shuddering, indrawn breath; in the near-darkness, Lissa could see the pale shower curtain shifting in the breeze from the open door.

“Maksim? Are you okay? The eggs are done.”

“Koldun'ia,”
he said. “Thank God.” He drew the curtain back. He sat in the bathtub, fully clothed, visible by the white T-shirt pasted to him like papier-mâché. Water broke on his head, his shoulders, sending chilly spray all the way to where Lissa stood.

Maksim leaned out from the water, reaching.

“Turn that off,” she said, and he did. “Aren't you freezing?”

He nodded. He beckoned. Lissa gave him the egg carton.

“Shouldn't you get yourself dry?”

Maksim cracked two eggs in quick succession and sucked them from the shells. “Thank you,” he said, slouching back against the shower wall.

“You're shivering, Maksim.”

“I think you turned off the hot water,” he said, closing his eyes. His mouth fell open, and his hand relaxed, letting the eggshells fall.

The eggs had turned out stronger, then. That was a relief, even if it did present her with a new problem.

“Don't go to sleep there. I mean it. Come on, that's it. Eyes open.”

Lissa went to fetch him a towel and herself a candle to see by. She came back to find Maksim out of the shower, hunched on the bath mat, with his T-shirt off and his arms wrapped around his knees. Water puddled from the cuffs of his jeans. Eggshell fragments decorated the top of one foot.

Lissa draped the towel over his shoulders. “I don't have any pants for you.”

He made no move to hang on to the towel, which slipped off one shoulder.

“God,” Lissa said. “How do you survive in the wild?”

“It is easier when there is a war,” he murmured. “No one notices the things I do.”

With some assistance from the towel rack, Maksim managed to get to his feet.

“Can you handle the stairs?”

He shook his head and leaned over into the wall.

Lissa gritted her teeth. Why hadn't she thought to warn him to start with a single egg? “This way,” she said, and she led him toward her own room.

Maksim limped and shuffled and left a trail of water on the hallway carpet. Lissa helped him to prop himself against the door frame, and she gathered up her pillow and sleepwear and hairbrush.

“The bed's there,” she said. “Take off your wet pants before you get in it, or so help me, I'll … I don't know, I'll do something witchy to you. I'm too damned tired for this. Next time, you're putting yourself to bed. Somewhere else.”

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “I am a sorry creature.” He pressed his fist to his forehead. His eyelids were swollen.

“Stella's coming back on the two o'clock train. If you're not up by eleven, I'm going to wake you. And you're going to help me tidy the house.”

He nodded again and twitched a hand at her.

Lissa left him and went to the bathroom, where the floor was awash in cold water and Maksim's T-shirt lay in a sodden grayish wad in the bottom of the tub.

She did nothing with it. She brushed her teeth and went downstairs to put the fresh cartons of eggs in the refrigerator, and finally, she could retreat to the front room and drop into the armchair by the window.

The doll, in its wrap within her bag, looked like its hair was getting a little matted, but the eyes still worked; they blinked open and shut when she took it out and set it upon the windowsill.

She offered it a crumbled slice of heavy rye bread and a pinch of salt.

By the white rider of dawn, by the red rider of day, by the black rider of night, I call to you: Iadviga Rozhnata, your scion desires your counsel.

“I've had a month to think about it this time,” Lissa said. “I won't ask anything stupid.”

“
Vnuchka,
you have never been stupid,” Baba said from wherever she was: cold and old and far.

“What are the
kin
? It's nothing to do with our family at all, is it?”

“Cursed with a hunger for violence. Blessed with long and hale lives,” Baba said.

Lissa waited, but this seemed to be the whole of the answer.

“Are they evil?” she asked next.

“Are you?” Baba said.

“Come on,” Lissa said after a moment. “That can't be all you have to say about evil. Evil's a big topic.”

“You might answer my question for yourself and see what comes of it,” Baba said.

“Fine. Okay. I'm not evil by nature. I guess that means the
kin
aren't, either. But the way Maksim's acting about this guy—the guy he might have, whatever it is, infected? He seems to think it's the end of the guy's life. If being
kin
isn't evil, why is it such a bad thing—never mind. Don't answer that! That's not my question!”