Chapter Two

Felicia

Dad told me talking to witches might be difficult. He said the ones he ran into preferred to throw magic bombs first and ask questions later.

At least the ones I'd seen were different. But I had only seen two witches.

Baba Yaga and Ophelia flew in front.

I pulled Bananas along behind them.

"I think we are headed for worse than becoming frogs," Timmy's claws nearly jabbed through my boot.

"They just want us to explain to the other witches why we're here," I tried to keep calm as I moved my heavier leg forward. "You aren't going to do anything to us after we tell the other witches, are you?" I glanced at Ophelia, who glided a little ahead of me.

"If I was the High Witch, I'd blast you all out on your rears," she grunted. "But it's Baba Yaga's call."

We marched from the wide, dusty path onto a gathering of small hills and surrounding green.

Half-ruined houses of various sizes jutted about.

Baba Yaga and Ophelia weaved us around smaller houses and up to the side door of a manor with peeling blue paint.

"Lead them in," Baba Yaga nodded to Ophelia. "I'll tell the others."

"Yes, ma'am," she pulled the door open.

Baba Yaga rowed away in her pestle.

Ophelia looked back at us. "Get in there and behind that podium," she pointed inside and slipped in.

I caught the door after her and peered inside.

A circular, dim auditorium lay ahead, full of stacked rows of leather seats set into deep mahogany wood. The seats curved around a podium like the coils of a giant snake.

Ophelia's figure shrunk as she took a seat in the back.

"You first, Bananas," I held the door for him.

Bananas tried to stick himself through the door, but he couldn't push his middle through.

"Looks like you'll have to sit outside," I tugged him out and led him away a few feet.

He plopped down with a low whimper.

Timmy released my boot.

"See you soon," I turned around. "But you're coming with me, Timmy," I shot a look back at him.

"As you wish," he dragged his boots after me.

I squeezed through the door and lightly stepped upon the wooden floor up to the podium.

Timmy crept up beside me.

Soon, side doors opened, and dozens of witches streamed into the auditorium with low chatter.

"That's an ogress, all right," one of the younger witches glanced at me as she and her friend took front seats. "I wonder what Baba Yaga will do to her."

"The fact that we've been called to an assembly means something's going on," her friend raised a warty finger. "This ogress can't be a wandering scavenger."

"If I was tall enough to be seen over that thing," Timmy hopped up and down, "I would show them exactly who we are and what we are doing!"

"Baba Yaga's going to do that," I watched her thump up in front of the podium, almost unrecognizable without her mortar and pestle.

She banged the same red sparks Ophelia shot when she met us.

The witches fell silent and took their seats.

"Witches of Crone's Nest," Baba Yaga scanned the crowd. "I am sure most of you are wondering why I have arranged this assembly. As you can see," she swept her arm to me, "An ogress has entered our settlement."

"Big deal," one of the witches in the middle mumbled. "Ogres wander in here twice a month."

"As ogres entering our land from their swamp is fairly common," she raised her voice, "All of you must want to ask me why I have made a fuss about this one. This ogress wants to unite us with her kind to restore the darkness. Forgive our past conflict for the common goal of regaining our true powers. Is that true?" She glanced at me.

All eyes narrowed in on me like the arrows of Saint Sebastian's firing squad.

My head went blank. What was I going to say? "Uh, yeah," I gulped. "I want us to run and, er, fly all over the place again. But I'm not really alone in this whole…idea," I gripped the podium, "My dronkey and cat came with me."

Mutters rose from the seats again.

"A dronkey and a cat? She has to be part of that princess's litter."

"Explains the impossible dream."

Apparently some of the witches had heard of Mum and Dad's adventures.

"Okay, I know that in the past three centuries, the ogres and witches have not been the best of friends," I breathed in. "But I heard of a time when we were allies, creatures of the dark who brought conflict to the world so that true heroes might rise and epics be written. The ogres and fairytale creatures at my swamp want to break this bland status quo for good and evil, but to do that, we need your help." My back loosened. "Come on," I raised my hands, "Are you happy just scaring villagers? Don't you want to wrangle knights?"

"I wouldn't mind wrangling a knight," a naughty smile came to the face of a witch in front.

"Always had a dream to be the next Medea," another witch adjusted her overlarge goggles.

"All right," my eyes lifted. "Looks like we're closer than we thought." Phew. That wasn't so bad.

"We do have the same dream of a rule of darkness," Baba Yaga's eyes trailed from the witches to me, "But those times have changed, Felicia," she countered. "Now, all humans live in a so-called 'big, bright beautiful world' where everything is the same. Our kinds have been driven apart to remote territories, and we all live in small groups."

"Or alone," I added. "At least you witches always have communities."

"But you ogres are allowed to love, if only to other ogres."

"Do you want our kinds to be apart?" I leaned forward. I had to say this in a fancy way so they'd pay attention to it. "Do you want a static world for the humans, no matter how big, bright, and beautiful it might be?"

"I agree with you in desiring a changing world," Baba Yaga nodded. "All my life, I have sought to take after my ancestors, who turned the humblest people into heroes. Today, people who might be honored as new leaders of great stories are limited to the roles thrust upon them by an excessively exclusive tradition. Still, has anyone gone against the tradition that has been in place for three hundred years? That every story must have a knight who saves the princess and defeats the dragon?"

"My parents went against it," I replied. "My father was an ogre whose donkey wooed the dragon, allowing him to save the princess, who turned out to be a cursed ogress. If you or one of your group joins me in restoring darkness, perhaps new stories can be told." I looked at Ophelia, who was grooming her long nails with an emery board. She could almost pass as one of the village girls I liked to sneak up on and scare while they were gushing and ranting over their daily dramas and desires. "Like a story of a witch rescuing a prince."

"Hah!" Ophelia interrupted with a cackle, thumping her fist on the arm of her seat. She half-turned around and called to the witches behind her. "Did you hear that, Ladies?"

Shrieking laughter spread across the auditorium.

"Now, quiet down," Baba Yaga hushed the audience. She returned to me. "Pardon them, we simply have a few doubts."

"My family story is true," I put my fists on my hips.

"Oh, I have no doubt of it," she chuckled. "It's just that the story you suggested—it can't work."

"Okay," I rubbed my chin. "I just meant—you could do something big. Shake up the status quo."

"Now you're talking," she leaned forward. "Stirring things up is what witches do, pardon the pun."

Titters scattered the auditorium again.

"Yes, the epic stories need to return," she firmed herself, "And that requires restoring the darkness."

"I'm here to bring that balance back," I raised my round chin. "Who of your kind do you think should help me unite the darkness? To better bring our kinds together?"

"For a helper of my kind, I was thinking…" Baba Yaga's eyes traced across the auditorium, and halted at Ophelia, who was still filing and scouring her nails like a damsel. "…perhaps the witch who bumped into you. Ophelia."

My head emptied again for a second, but quickly refilled. At least I knew Ophelia a little.

"Me?" Ophelia's voice rose again from the hall. "Why me?" She pointed two long fingers to herself, her hazel eyes wide with disbelief.

"There is something you need to do to fulfill your witch training," Baba Yaga dangled a carrot in front of the rabbit. "You haven't done your necromancy practicum yet. Has it been hard for you to find an object with a lost owner?"

Ophelia paused. "No," she waved her hand quickly. "There are plenty of antiques around this place. It's just…" her voice trailed away, "What do I need to make the potion for the ritual again? And how does the practicum even relate to this—mission?"

"This quest may help you find what you need to harness a phantom to serve you. If you succeed, you will have your first totem—and the brew you need for the ritual will give you a passing grade on Potions."

"All right, I'm in," Ophelia slouched down. "Oh, Hecate," she muttered to herself and face-palmed. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

So, we were both stuck together for our own goals.

"Don't worry," Timmy patted my leg. "I am sure she will not mind when she realizes she will be traveling with a charming cat."