“Luca Moreno.”
“…Who?” Maisha asked tiredly as she rubbed the space between her brows. She sat with her feet propped up on the kitchen table and Ua wrapped around her shoulders.
“Luca Moreno,” Henry repeated, “A Catholic d-d-deacon from Buenos Aires. Apparently he d-disappeared out of the bl-ue, and when he popped up again two months later, he re… refused to say where he’d gone. The members of the church all said his personality has changed as well. They say he’s been p-possessed.”
“Possessed!? Ha!” Maisha scoffed, “He just snapped. He’s Catholic, he’s on his way to priesthood, people lose it every now and again when they’re all…” Maisha waved her arms flippantly, “pent up like that.” Henry’s face twitched.
“O-o-o-one of the bishops of the Archdiocese of Buenos Aires had called him ‘The North Ssssstar of the Catholic Church, guiding C-Catholics to a brighter f-future.’ He’s at l-l-least the fourth theological prodigy to disappear like this recently.”
“Internationally? Isn’t that low? Look Henry,” Maisha said sardonically, looking up from Ua to face her dear friend. But when their eyes locked, she hesitated. His expression appeared a bit off, his arms crossed as they always were when he felt frustrated, and his eyes slightly misty. Maisha realized her dismissiveness may have been a bit rude and backpedaled. “Ahem, I mean, you say at least four instances… What were the other three?”
Henry perked up slightly. “Lorenzo Bianchi aged 21 from Rome, Italy, disappeared without a trace. Callum Clan MacLeod aged 20 from Glasgow, Scotland, d-disappeared for a whole year and refused to return to the church after resurfacing. H-h-he also refused to explain where he had been. Marek Wojcik aged 23 from Warsaw, Poland, disappeared for a m-month, returned for a week but refused to speak at all, then disappeared again without a trace. Each of them w-were in some way praised by their respective ch-ch-churches as being leaders for future generations prior to their disappearances. All in the past th-three years.”
Maisha let out a “hummm” and nodded slowly. “I’ll be honest, Henry, I don’t really see the significance of all this. The only connection I see is that young men in stressful positions keep snapping from the pressures placed upon them.” Maisha paused and glanced at Henry’s freckle-smattered face. “But… I trust your instincts. You know more about the theological scene than I ever will. If you think there’s something going on, I don’t see the harm in investigating further.”
Henry smiled and nodded, then as if suddenly remembering something exciting, clasped his hands together and exclaimed, “Ah! That brings me to the next o-o-order of business. A group of Presbyterians are headed to Argentina for missionary wo-rk. Even though I’m not from their den-n-nomination, they want me to join since I can speak S-Spanish and Portuguese. My church also wants me to go. They say they’d like me to lay the p-p-path for future missionary work for Pentecostals in South America. It might be a g-good opportunity to investigate the goings on of the organizations down there. I c-could even look into this Luca M-Moreno business in person. Wh-What do you think?”
Maisha frowned. “Do you have to travel with the Presbyterians? Why don’t I just escort you there? Argentina is so far away… What if you get stuck somewhere along the way? I can’t just come get you if I don’t know where you are…”
“Ha! W-w-worried about me, Maisha? Well, it would be o-odd if I just appeared in Buenos Aires out of no-nowhere. And no one else will b-be able to return home with a snap of their f-f-f-f-fingers, either. It's just the nature of tr-traveling. And b-besides, I can give you a vague itinerary for-r our trip.”
“Well, it’s better than nothing I suppose… I still don’t like it, but if you really want to go, I support you of course. New information would certainly be useful to me… But not if it puts you in any significant danger…”
“Ahaha I d-doubt there will be any significant danger. Most of the trip will likely be by steam-sh-ship.”
“The steamship is the most worrisome part of the journey… how long will it take to get there? A week?? Two weeks??”
“P-p-probably more like a month on the ships-”
“A MONTH?!”
“W-we don’t have the Wandering Runes like witches do, Maisha, we c-c-can’t just travel across the world in a day.”
“Hmm,” Maisha sighed thoughtfully, “again, why don’t you just travel separately? We could come up with a story so that your arrival isn’t odd. We just have to get the timing right. Skip the steamship, I’ll just escort you directly to Buenos Aires-
“Maisha,” Henry grabbed one of Maisha’s hands, “I want to spend this t-time with the Presbyterians. I think I’ll learn a lot from them. And I w-want the experience of traveling by boat.”
Maisha pursed her lips, squeezing the hand that held hers.
“Then at least I’ll pick you up. I’ll escort you back home. No need to travel by steamship twice…” Maisha muttered.
“Hah. Fine. S-s-sure,” Henry held up his hands in defeat, “I’ll make up some e-excuse to travel separately f-for the wa-ay back.”
“Then you can stay here with us for a month so that the time works out for when you return home.”
“Ha, a-alright. But what about the other three staying with you now? Can you trust them knowing about me?”
“Hmmm. I think it will be alright. They’ve already discovered you anyhow…”
“Wh-what?! H-h-h-how?!”
“Well… you were the first person Morg met with after she turned her parents into frogs.”
“R-r-r-right, but I didn’t think I was sig-s-significant enough for her to talk about me? If we had known S-Songbai would show up like this I… I’m s-s-sorry, Maisha, I sh-should have be-en more c-c-careful.”
“No no, not your fault…” Maisha’s mind turned to the tree filled with eyes, Morg’s personal sentry keeping watch over the house. “Certainly not your fault,” she muttered “And it's all worked out. I trust Songbai to this extent.”
Henry nodded slowly.
“Well,” Henry said after a pause, “My father will be wondering where I am if I’m gone for much longer.”
“Yes,” Maisha agreed, “You ought to leave soon. Songbai and the girls went on another one of their camping trips but should be back in a couple of hours. Best you’re long gone before then…”
The two stood up and made their way over to the door. Maisha drew a symbol with her forefinger before turning the latch and revealing a quaint town on the other side. The air was frosty and the gnarled trees lining the cobblestone streets had all lost their leaves to winter. Across the street from them sat a row of shops- a bookstore, a barber shop, a dress shop, etc.
“Ah!” Henry exclaimed, eliciting an worried, “What?!” from Maisha.
“N-no, nothing, just that I know exactly where I am. This is the closest you’ve gotten me to home actually, you’re getting really g-good at splicing the Wandering Runes, Maisha.”
Maisha smiled, looking rather pleased with herself.
“I’ll come find you at the same place in a week,” Maisha said, “We can talk more about your trip then. Take care of Ua.” She held out an arm to pass the green snake to him. Henry hesitated.
“M-m-maisha… I’m worried things a-a-are getting too dan-ngerous. Perhaps it's… best if Ua stays with y-you.”
“Tch. Nonsense. It’s because things are becoming dangerous for you that you need to keep him with you.”
“Miassssssssha’ss right. I can sssss take care of mysssself. And I’d be worried ifsssss I wasssssn’t with you.”
“Well… alright,” Henry conceded, holding out his arm. Ua immediately slithered up his sleeve, making Henry grimace.
“Sure you weren’t trying to simply pawn him off on me there, Henry?” Maisha asked with a smirk. Henry held up his hands innocently.
“Pawn off sss?! PAWN ss OFF?! Henry lovessssss ss me. I’m not ssssome nuissanccccce to be gotten sss rid of,” Ua grumpily protested, sticking his head partially out of Henry’s sleeve and flicking his tongue irritably.
“Tha-a-at’s right, Ua is n-no nuisance. Th-though I do-o wish he’d find a better place to hide than in m-my sleeves,” Henry said dryly. Ua slunk back into Henry’s sleeve with a sheepish look.
“Ahaha!” Maisha chuckled at the exchange. “Take care of each other. Stay safe,” she added, leaning through the doorway to pull Henry into a quick half-hug.
“You too, Maisha.”
And with that, they parted ways.
*
“The Ugly Bear,” Morg read aloud when they arrived at the tavern. She scrunched up her face and bared her teeth, mimicking the ugly bear face engraved on the tavern plaque. “How come it's called ‘The Ugly Bear’?”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Maisha opened her mouth, happy to divulge the rather interesting story.
“We-”
“And how come the bear looks so angry? Does the owner really hate bears? And what is a tavern anyways? My dad would go to the one in town a lot but he would never let me come along.”
Maisha let out a long sigh at Morg’s incessant prattling, feeling foolish for even trying to answer any of her questions. Xisa helpfully gave Maisha a consoling pat on the arm. Though she couldn’t understand most of what her companions were saying, she had gathered the gist of the situation and couldn’t help but sigh along.
“How come you guys are so quiet?” Morg suddenly asked, as if she hadn’t just been sucking all the air of the conversation.
Having finally lost her patience, Songbai pinched the young girl on the cheek and scolded, “Quiet? How are we supposed to get a word in with your non-stop chatter, eh?”
“You ush-ally inn-errupp me!” Morg fought to respond as Songbai mercilessly tugged at her chubby cheeks.
“Well that’s just not how conversations work,” Songbai rebutted matter-of-factly. “If you want people to talk to you, you need to leave them space to do so!”
“Ooojay. Shorry Shon Laoshi.”
“Let’s hurry inside, it's cold out here!” Maisha suggested, opening the door to the tavern and ushering everyone through. Though outside a quiet snow fell on empty streets, inside, the tavern bustled with life. A warm fire crackled in a nearby fireplace and the clattering and clinking of dishes could be heard behind the counter. People hopped back and forth between the bar and the tables, ordering snacks and mingling. Maisha seemed to know most everyone there, charismatically greeting the smiling faces as soon as they stepped through the door.
The four of them sat down at the bar, though Morg from the start couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting, opting to lay on her stomach on one of the stools rather than to sit in it properly. Xisa propped her head on one hand and stared at her reflection in the giant mirror lining the wall in front of them. She looked much healthier than when she first arrived here. Though she was still pale and gangly, a rosy hue had taken to her face and her arms actually looked a little muscular. Even her messy hair had taken on a healthy sheen. Though she wondered if that was simply an effect of the black sludgy hair potion she’d begun to take daily…
“Maisha! And… Songbai?! Well it’s great to see you both!” came a booming voice from behind the counter. Xisa looked up to see a large woman staring down at them with twinkling blue eyes and curly brown hair.
“Olga. It’s been a while,” Songbai said with a smile.
“It’s great that you’re back,” Maisha said with a wide grin, “Ahhhh, the solstice just wasn’t the same without the tavern open.”
Olga beamed. “The usual I suppose, then, Maisha?” the tall woman asked as she set a carafe of water and a couple of glasses down on the counter in front of them.
“Yes, yes, you know me well, Olga. And add an order of your earl grey eggnog if you have it. Without any alcohol.”
“Of course, of course, we have it. Songbai? Anything for you?”
Songbai tersely shook her head.
“And how is Björn?” Maisha asked as Olga began pulling out various bottles.
“Ohhh fine, fine. The same.” She paused, a wistful look passing over her face, before continuing, “And Songbai? What brings you here?”
“Ah, she’s been helping me out with these two,” Maisha answered in Songbai’s stead as she gesturing toward Morg and Xisa. “Both kids found themselves in ehh… unfortunate circumstances. One of them only speaks Chinese, so I miraculously convinced Songbai to help me out with the language barrier. At least for a little while.”
“Kids? Two? I only see… Ah!” Olga finally spotted Morg, the golden-haired child still laying on her stomach on the stool. “Young lady, sit properly!” Olga boomed authoritatively. Morg scrambled upright, looking a little startled by the sudden schooling. Maisha cleared her throat.
“Strict with the kids as always, eh, Olga?”
“Of course,” Olga responded proudly as she poured a light purple liquid into a glass and set it in front of Maisha. “But more importantly, Maisha, I see that Yaga’s rubbed off on you!” she said with a wink. Songbai frowned.
“Adopting kids left and right out of the goodness of her heart… What an inspiration!” Olga continued, her blue eyes gleaming with admiration. She reached underneath the bar and pulled out a large bottle filled with a creamy looking liquid.
“Tch. Inspiration? Baba Yaga?” Songbai sneered. “The slimy woman. I wouldn’t be surprised if she rescued all those kids for the sole purpose of eating them later.”
Fsshhhhht!
Maisha immediately spit out the purple elixir she had been sipping, soaking Songbai’s chin and collar with the scent of lavender and gin. Olga slowly set down the bottle in her hands.
“Baba Yaga is one of the greatest, kindest witches of our time,” Olga seethed. “When she returns, if you say anything of the sort to her face, I will personally make you regret it.”
Songbai’s expression darkened. “No need to worry there,” she responded, dabbing her chin with her sleeve. “I plan on leaving this island the moment Yaga returns.”
Olga gruffly set down the promised glass of eggnog and stormed off to serve other customers.
Xisa watched the escalating conversation with great interest, her gaze switching between the people beside her and their doppelgangers in the mirror. It was too bad she had no idea what was being said.
“Sorry, Songbai, didn’t mean to spit on you there…” Maisha grabbed a napkin and began dabbing at Songbai’s collar.
“I’ll just never understand the world’s reverence for Yaga,” Songbai sighed before casting a sideways glance at Maisha. “Sorry,” she muttered, almost as an afterthought.
Maisha gently set down the gin-soaked napkin. After a pause, she said, “She’s powerful, she’s kind, few witches are known to have ever lived as long as her, especially while still keeping their wits about them. She’s beautiful, she’s charming and, well, she really has done a lot of good in the world.”
Songbai crossed her arms. “Hm. I’m not convinced,” she muttered grumpily in return. A subtle grin played at the corners of Maisha’s lips for a split second before she resumed a more somber demeanor.
“Well, you’re entitled to your opinion,” she replied evenly. “Xisa, Morg, try this,” Maisha said, turning to the girls and gesturing at the glass of eggnog. Morg immediately grabbed up the cup and brought the creamy drink to her lips.
“Umm,” Morg mumbled, scrunching up her nose and pushing the glass toward her friend, “you can have the rest if you want it, Xisa.” Xisa took a sip. A thick and creamy sweetness coated Xisa’s mouth, the bitter tannins and citrusy notes of the black tea and bergamot providing a nice balance to the otherwise saccharine beverage. Xisa eagerly took another sip.
“Haha, do you like it?” Maisha asked in Chinese. “Morg says she doesn’t want any more of it, so the rest is yours!” And with that, Maisha turned back to Songbai and the two adults continued chatting.
Xisa peeked at her friend through the mirror, feeling baffled. Did Morg really not want any more of such a delicious drink? In the mirror, Morg flashed Xisa a mischievous grin and held up two fingers over Xisa’s head like bunny ears. Xisa let out a puff of air and cast a sidelong glance at her playful friend. But to her surprise, Morg had already maneuvered herself into a different position with her head resting on the counter and her arms covering her face like she was sleeping.
Tch. What a lame trick. Xisa thought to herself. She turned back to her eggnog. In the mirror, Morg began making a series of rude faces at Xisa; sticking out her tongue, squeezing her face into unnatural shapes, even going so far as to pick her nose and act like she was about to wipe it on her. Xisa made to smack at Morg’s gross hands, but her hand only caught air. She snapped her head around to face Morg, who once again had her head resting on the table.
Ha! Fine, then I’ll just watch you THIS way so that you can’t keep pulling these dumb pranks. Xisa thought to herself, turning in her barstool to face Morg. After a while, Morg began sinking down, maneuvering herself once again to rest her stomach on the stool rather than to sit properly, her body hidden beneath the counter.
“Morg,” Maisha said as soon as she noticed, “I’m sorry, but can you sit normally? I’m afraid we’ve already angered Olga enough for one day.”
“Yes, Maisha,” Morg said with a sigh before sitting upright again and putting her head back down on the counter. If she hadn’t been acting so impishly mere minutes ago, Xisa would have worried her friend was actually feeling a bit down.
“Actually Maisha,” Morg said, lifting her head back up. Maisha turned back towards the girls, giving Morg an inquisitive look.
“Actually…” Morg trailed off momentarily, looking a little blank. “Actually, can I sit outside for a while? I’m feeling kinda warm.”
“Outside? It’s freezing out there!” Maisha hopped out of her chair and wound her way over to Morg. “Literally freezing. If it starts sleeting, you’ll almost certainly catch a cold! Let’s just try taking off your sweater first, okay?”
“…Okay” Morg muttered as Maisha began helping her out of her sweater.
“Safya! Tabitha! It’s great to see you both!” Maisha exclaimed as the two women took seats next to where Songbai and Maisha were sitting. Maisha folded up Morg’s sweater and took it back to her seat with her. Morg gave the newcomers a brief glance before settling back into her previous position- head on the counter with her arms covering her face.
“Ha. I just saw you yesterday, Maisha,” responded the smiling woman beside Tabitha. Whereas Tabitha wore flowery clothes- a light pink turtleneck with a dark pink, long floral-print skirt and lemon yellow suspenders- the other woman, Safya, dawned more seasonally appropriate attire. Long black pants and an off-white sweater, with a heavy blue-grey coat draped across her arm and her curly black hair held back with a silvery-white headband. Xisa thought the woman would have no trouble blending into the snowy environment outside.
“Oh and I have something for you,” Safya said, pulling something out of her bag. “Here. The book you requested.”
“Excellent!” Maisha cried, clasping her hands together happily.
“Though honestly, Maisha,” Safya continued, “You might have better luck asking Dante.”
“Well I’d love to, if I could track him down.”
“Ahh, that’s true, he’s been out of town for a while now.”
“Dante?” Songbai asked, joining the conversation.
“The lensmaker.”
“He spends most of his time in Cyewen when he’s not traveling.”
“Ah, I’ve heard of him.”
As the adults continued speaking gibberish, Xisa turned her attention back to the delicious beverage in her hands, sipping happily at the eggnog. In the mirror, Xisa could see Morg once again playing little tricks- making annoying faces, acting like she was going to lick Xisa’s arm or blow her nose on Xisa’s shirt. Xisa rolled her eyes and turned away, deciding to ignore her obnoxious companion. But as she found herself examining the creamy beverage in her hands, wondering how such a thing was made, Xisa saw something silvery glinting in the corner of her eye.
Xisa warily side-eyed the mirror in case her friend had resumed her pranking, only to see Morg creeping toward her with a steak knife, its menacing edge mere inches from Xisa’s stomach. Xisa’s heart dropped. She leapt backwards out of her seat, her heart pounding as fast as a humminbird’s.
“Watch out, little miss!” exclaimed a strange man with rabbit ears and a leporine face when Xisa collided into him. Xisa snapped her head up to glare at Morg, anger bubbling up in her chest- even for a joke, this was going too far! But when she looked at where Morg had just been sitting, her friend… had disappeared? Xisa straightened her back and began looking around the tavern, a sense of unease blooming in her heart.
“Miss?” the rabbit-faced man repeated, looking a little concerned. Xisa blinked a couple times before bowing her head apologetically to the man and slowly sitting back down on her stool.
She swiveled around, looking for wherever Morg had run off to, until finally she found her friend across the room staring up at some sort of bird statue. Xisa’s brows knit together introspectively. Her suspicion growing, Xisa stood up and slowly backed away from her seat until she could watch both Morg and her reflection at the same time. In the tavern, Morg stood near the back wall as she stared dumbly up at the bird statue, seemingly fascinated.
But in the mirror, Morg sat at the bar. And with a cruel smirk on her face, a murderous glint in her bright green eyes, she stared straight at Xisa.