Jonathan found himself outside the gates of the asylum once again. Not like he relished the thought of revisiting this place, but Lucy had decided that something about the ritual smelled oddly familiar.

Literally.

The dark magic in the inscriptions possessed a whiff of magic very similar to the old woman in the asylum. Whether or not she actually was Baba Yaga, they did not know. But even common sense was enough to deduce that this woman was somehow closely related to Russia’s most powerful witch. Jonathan only hoped that Lucy would be of more help than he was back then.

To his surprise, the duo was stopped by the wardens before they could enter.

“Hey, remember me?” Jonathan’s voice sounded patronising even to his own ears. “I’m back to visit the same patient. You do remember me, right? I’m an associate of Angus.”

“Yes, I’m not daft.” The chief warden did not deign to even look friendly this time. “That’s why we stopped you. Something has happened.”

“If this is about my partner’s death, I thought Angus already cleared it with you. I was not the reason for-”

“No, we don’t pretty much care about that.” He shook his head. “Baba Yaga died in her room just yesterday. Suicide, or so it looks. Don’t suppose you lot have anything to do with that?”

Jonathan stepped back in shock. “W-what? Of course not! What reason would we have to kill her?”

“What reason do you have to visit her, then?” the warden shot back. “I didn’t ask you the last time because questioning Angus’ associates wasn’t a good look. But our patient died shortly after you visited her. We’ve taken a look at the cameras; you guys had a brief altercation with her. What did you do to her?”

“It wasn’t our fault!” Jonathan protested. “She got violent-”

“-For a reason, didn’t she?” The wardens were all glaring at him now. “She had been catatonic for years. You show up and she suddenly wakes up? You’re not fooling anyone. What is your relation to her?”

The man backed away slowly. Not like their numbers frightened him, but he would be in a bigger heap of trouble if he used his powers on them. He had to get out of this with his words, which last he recalled, had only gotten him into more trouble than he had intended.

“Gentlemen, if I may.” Lucy’s soothing voice drew all their attention. “Please direct your attention to me. I will explain everything.”

The wardens turned to her immediately.

“Lady, I recognise you,” the chief warden snarled. “You were with him the last time too. Don’t think I can’t recognise you just because you dyed your hair black. You won’t get away with this. We have you now. The police will-”

His mouth slammed shut as red flickered in his irises. Jonathan looked around him in confusion. The rest of the wardens seemed oddly petrified as well, as though they were frozen on the spot by an invisible force.

“Open the gate for us,” Lucy commanded, and one of the guards pressed a button.

The vampire sauntered into the hallway, and Jonathan scuttled in after her. A strange wave of magic washed over him as he passed through the gates. Lucy swivelled on her heel and turned back to the dazed-looking guards.

“Forget we were ever here.” She waved her hand casually. “And carry on with your day.”

The red glow in her eyes flickered away as she gave Jonathan a slight smirk. She snapped her fingers as a dark cloak materialised, draping over her body. Jonathan examined his slightly sparkling body in awe.

“No need for disguises now. I have rendered us invisible to the cameras.” There was a slight hint of satisfaction in Lucy’s voice. She gestured to the lift.

“Lead the way, Jon.”

~ ~ ~

The scene that greeted Jonathan once he stepped into the room did not surprise him. Of course, the wardens did not bother to take out the noose from the old woman’s neck, given that they had simply left her to the elements ever since she was imprisoned in this psychiatric ward.

Jonathan stepped carefully over the fallen table, evidently kicked over in Baba Yaga’s struggle as she choked on the noose fashioned by her bedsheets. He looked around the soulless white walls again. There were no other signs of a fight. Either she was murdered by a very careful killer, or the woman had actually committed suicide. Given the Ghost Of Glasgow’s stellar track record, both possibilities were equally likely.

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“In case you were wondering if this is a suicide, I can safely tell you that it’s not,” Lucy stated nonchalantly, her irises glowing a deep red as she observed the room.

“How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“Someone else was here recently.” The vampire’s eyes regained their original colour. “A vampire, to be precise. The scent of dark magic lingering in the air is really thick.”

Jonathan bent down, picking up Anya’s blackened necklace from the ground. There was no longer any latent light magic in it. Whatever corrupted the relic was powerful enough to override its protective charms.

“That item came from the Scottish Witch Market, didn’t it?” The necklace had drawn Lucy’s attention as well. “I’d recognise their craftsmanship anywhere. Oh dear, it seems like that vampire destroyed it as well.”

“Isn’t it protected by light magic?” Jonathan queried. “I thought vampires are afraid of that.”

Lucy shook her head. “That’s a popular misconception. Vampires are afraid of holy magic, not light magic. In fact, our dark magic corrupts light magic easily. Light magic repels spirits, not Nephilim or demonic beings. It just so happens that most relics infused with light magic also happen to be blessed with holy magic as well. Unfortunately, this necklace only possesses light magic.”

Jonathan inhaled sharply in realisation. “This woman was so desperate to take Anya’s necklace for herself. Could it be that she’s haunted by a spirit?”

“Are you saying the Ghost Of Glasgow is an actual ghost? I don’t think so. This woman had been haunted by a vampire for many years.”

“What do you mean?”

Lucy furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. “It’s all coming back to me now. She was catatonic when we met her, wasn’t she? I didn’t recognise the signs back then, but I do now. The reason behind her comatose state is because a vampire repeatedly used hypnosis magic on her.”

Jonathan almost faltered at the revelation.

“Hold on, I think I recognise her too,” Lucy said. “She’s not Baba Yaga. She’s Natasha, the disciple of Baba Yaga! There’s no mistaking it; she’s famous among us Nephilims.”

“Is that why your memories were taken?” Jonathan speculated. “Someone knew that you would recognise Natasha in a single glance, so they sought to take them away?”

“No point speculating pointlessly. And there’s no time to waste,” Lucy said urgently. “The stench of murder is still strong enough to recreate what happened. Let us see the truth for ourselves.”

The woman muttered under her breath as dark particles swirled around her fingertips. There was a slight shimmer in the air as reddish-dark lines began spreading as though reality itself was cracking. With a final dramatic wave of her hands, Lucy flicked the black liquid from her fingers onto the surrounding walls. Jonathan stepped back unconsciously as a slightly reddish hue blanketed everything in the room except for Lucy and himself.

The door behind him opened without warning, and a huge figure walked right through him.

“Dinner time, Baba Yaga,” the slightly translucent chief warden grunted, leaving a plate of brownish mush carelessly beside the bed. “Eat it, or don’t. Just don’t die on my watch.”

The door closed.

Natasha got out of the bed gingerly to pick up the plate of food but froze for some reason. Fear spread over her face as she clutched Anya’s necklace tightly and began praying feverishly in Russian.

“Your gods cannot help you, Natasha. This is your Purgatory.”

Jonathan’s ears pricked at the familiar-sounding voice. The recognition was faint, but he had definitely heard that unique-sounding Scottish accent before. Natasha trembled, praying louder as a dark figure separated itself from the shadows and walked menacingly towards her.

“No way…” Jonathan breathed. “It’s her…”

Morevia Wright snapped her fingers as the bedsheet began tying itself into a familiar-looking knot. She leaned in closer to the old woman as red began flickering in her irises-

“Otoydi ot menya!” Natasha wailed, shoving the pendant in her face. It was no use. Morevia snatched it from her neck and squeezed hard. The relic cracked as black particles drowned out the pulsating light in it. She tossed it onto the floor carelessly.

“Jonathan Warner and Anya Sechina.” Morevia shoved the woman against the bedframe roughly. “What did you tell them?”

The woman only responded by praying louder.

“Oi, I asked you a question!” Morevia yelled as the bedsheets hung themselves over Natasha’s neck. “Answer me, you stupid old hag!”

Natasha whimpered, shaking her head fearfully.

“Fine.” Morevia’s voice dropped to a whisper. “No last words for you then. You won’t be spilling any more secrets.”

She turned away and waved a hand.

Jonathan watched in horror as the bedsheets tightened around her neck, lifting the old woman up. Her eyes bulged and a strained gurgle escaped her throat as she twisted and struggled against the fabric, clawing desperately at the bedsheet tying itself onto the stationary ceiling fan. But it was no use.

And just like that, her unnaturally long life was over.

There was an unceremonious thud as her legs spasmed for the last time, kicking over the cupboard by her bedside. A dark stain formed itself on her pants as her bladder let go, leaking urine along her wrinkled legs.

Morevia Wright stared at the corpse expressionlessly before vanishing into the shadows as quickly as she came.