Uncle Jake helped Sabrina to her feet. “What did you do that’s got her so mad?” he asked.
Sabrina choked. “She thinks I stole something from her.”
Just then, Baba Yaga appeared in one of her windows. “She has been touched!” she screamed, pointing directly at Sabrina.
“You’re mucho-crazy-o!” Daphne cried as she struggled to hold Elvis back from attacking the witch. “Worse, you’re mean. My sister didn’t steal anything from you. Leave her alone or things are going to get ugly.” The little girl stepped into her attack stance and made her “warrior face”—a slightly comical expression she believed people found intimidating. Luckily, Granny Relda was nearby to grab Daphne and Elvis and pull them into the house.
“Give me my possession or I’ll destroy this house and everyone in it,” Baba Yaga screamed.
“We have no idea what you are talking about,” Granny insisted.
“The Wand of Merlin!” the witch said. “Your nestling has stolen it.”
“I didn’t take anything from her!” Sabrina cried. “I wouldn’t come near her stinking house for a million bucks!”
“Liar! Thief!” Baba Yaga shrieked.
“I believe Sabrina,” Granny cried. “She has not been out to your home. Someone else must have taken it. If you want our help getting your wand back, all you have to do is ask, but you’re not to come here and threaten my family. I don’t care who you are.”
Baba Yaga disappeared from her window. A moment later, the front door of her house flew open and she scurried into the Grimms’ yard, pointing her gnarled, wart-covered finger at Sabrina. “She—”
“I have never lied to you, Old Mother,” Granny interrupted.
Baba Yaga stopped in her tracks. She eyed Granny Relda skeptically, then looked over at Mr. Canis. “You will find the wand?”
Granny nodded. “We’ll come out to see you in the morning and then we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Fine!”
“Fine.”
The witch turned and hobbled back into her house. A moment later it rose up on its haunches, turned, and lumbered back across the street. It disappeared into the woods, leaving a trail of black chimney smoke in its wake.
Moments later, Puck streaked back into the yard and landed with his sword clenched tightly in his hand. “Where did she go?”
“She’s gone,” Sabrina said.
“Coward! Of course she ran off,” Puck crowed. “She attacked me when I wasn’t ready and then ran back to her woods! Miserable sissy!”
“Well, you can settle your dispute with her tomorrow. We’re going for a visit,” Granny said.
Sabrina turned to her grandmother. “If you think I’m going to that lunatic’s house, you’re as crazy as she is.”
“This is crazy!” Sabrina shouted as she squished through the mud with her grandmother, Daphne, and Puck. A fresh rain had soaked the woods, turning the forest floor into a swamp. Puck followed Sabrina with his sword in his hand. He muttered to himself about what he planned to do to Baba Yaga when he confronted her, while occasionally remembering to insult Sabrina.
“I hear she eats people, Grimm,” he said. “I bet she turns you all into jerky!”
“I don’t want to be jerky,” Daphne cried.
“No one is going to get turned into jerky,” Granny said. “This is going to be nice and pleasant.”
“That’s what people always say before they become jerky,” Puck said. “Don’t worry, folks. I’ve got a score to settle with the witch. She’ll regret the day she laid a hand on the Trickster King.”
Puck’s boasting made Sabrina nervous. Baba Yaga had a two-thousand-year-old reputation for black magic and an even blacker mood. The family journals were filled with rumors of her cannibalism and murders. The last time Sabrina visited her creepy house, Sabrina had had to hop for her life when Baba Yaga turned her into a frog and tried to eat her. The last thing they needed was for Puck to start a fight with the old crone.
They walked until they came upon a part of the forest where the thin, dead trees were close together, their limbs intertwined, as if they were holding one another at the moment of their deaths. Though there was nothing to block the sunshine, the area was dark and gray. Not a blade of grass sprang from the ground. Sabrina realized that the natural sounds of the forest were also gone: the scurrying of animals, the wind in the branches, the crackling of earth beneath their feet—all silenced.
They continued on and soon found themselves on a path of bleached stones. Sabrina had followed it once before and knew where it led—straight to the man-eating witch. She also knew that the stones of the path were not what they seemed. It wasn’t long before Puck noticed they were peculiar as well.
“These are human skulls!” he cried, digging one out of the ground and holding it up to the group.
“Don’t be frightened, Puck,” Granny said.
“Frightened? This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!” the boy said. He moved the skull’s jaw up and down like a spooky puppet and then stuck it next to Daphne’s face. “Hey, little girl, how about a smooch?”
Daphne shrieked and hid behind her sister. Granny Relda scolded Puck and demanded he return the skull to the path.
“What happened to your claims of revenge, Trickster King?” Sabrina asked the fairy. “All of a sudden Baba Yaga is like a movie star to you.”
“Just because I’m going to unleash hellfire on her doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate her style,” Puck said.
“Granny, what happened to her bodyguards?” Daphne asked as she peered ahead. The notoriously deadly Bright Sun, Black Night, and Red Star—each a bizarre hybrid of an animal and a man—usually guarded the old witch, but they were nowhere in sight.
“Don’t worry about them,” Puck said. “They won’t be showing their ugly faces around here. They know better than to cross paths with me.” The boy’s voice cracked at the end of the sentence. Puck looked around as if someone else had made the noise. He said the word “me” again with the same result.
“Sounds like you might be coming down with a cold,” Granny said.
“Everafters do not get colds!” Puck argued.
“Nonetheless I think I’ll make you some chicken soup when we get home.”
The group continued down the path and soon Baba Yaga’s hut came into view. A fence made from ancient human leg and arm bones surrounded it. Granny Relda pushed open the fence and led the family into the yard. Sabrina eyed her grandmother with awe and envy. The old woman was fearless. She strolled to the front door as if she were visiting an old friend. Sabrina wondered if she would ever feel that courageous.
Granny knocked, and a moment later the door flew open.
“The Young and the Restless is on,” Baba Yaga seethed. She was holding a bowl of cereal in her hand and eating it with a spoon.
Granny shuffled her feet. “I’m sorry. We thought you’d want us to get started as soon as possible.”
The witch frowned but waved everyone into the house. The inside was as disturbing as the outside. In a corner, dusty burlap bags leaked green ooze onto the floor. Along the wall stood stacks of crates, one of which seemed to have something inside struggling to break free. The brick fireplace was lit, and the flames formed the desperate faces of people who seemed to be begging for help. Sabrina shuddered to imagine herself trapped with those poor souls, suffering for eternity in Baba Yaga’s home. Still, the most unsettling feeling wasn’t the filth and despair that seemed to permeate the air, it was the odd sensation running up and down Sabrina’s spine. At first she thought it was just nerves, but she soon realized that what she felt was more like hunger—a nervous, unnatural craving. Every drop of blood, bit of muscle fiber, and strand of hair in her being was awake and starving. She glanced around at the wands, spell books, and magical rings the witch left lying about. Baba Yaga didn’t deserve these things. Look how she mistreated them!
“Are you going to be OK?” Daphne asked. She squeezed Sabrina’s arm.
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Sabrina took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s get out of here as soon as we can.”
“Where are your guardians, Old Mother?” Granny Relda asked the witch.
“They failed me,” the witch snapped.
“That’s not what I asked.”
The witch screamed in rage. “Don’t question me! I created them for a purpose. They were to guard my possessions. They failed. You needn’t know more.”
Sabrina could easily read between the lines. Baba Yaga’s guardians were dead. Their bones were probably part of the fence outside.
Puck, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to the conversation. He was busy snooping around the room, opening cabinets and peeking into drawers as if he owned the place. “This book looks like it’s made out of human skin!” he exclaimed when he picked up a discarded tome off the floor. The cover looked like leather, but had hair growing out of it.
“It is!” Baba Yaga cackled.
Puck looked like he wanted to hug the old hag. “This place is like my Disneyland.”
“Uh, hello?” Sabrina said. “What happened to the hellfire?”
Puck scowled and put the book back on the floor.
“Old Mother, tell us what you know about your missing wand,” Granny said as she took out her notebook and pen.
“It was here one moment and gone the next,” the witch said, flashing Sabrina an accusing look.
“Can you show us where you kept it?” Granny said.
The crone hobbled into the next room. The floor was covered in dust and what looked like human teeth. There was an overstuffed reclining chair in the center of the room, across from a television on a rickety stand against the wall. The jawbone of a ferocious-looking animal rested on top of the TV with an old wire hanger wrapped in tinfoil sticking out of it, making a very disturbing antenna.
“I kept the wand in here,” the witch said as she gestured around the room.
“OK, girls. Here’s where we get to put your training into action,” Granny Relda said. “Have a look around, and remember, keep an eye out for things that are out of place.”
In the last two months Granny Relda had been teaching Sabrina and Daphne to see—or rather, to observe—things. She believed good detectives had to use all of their senses to get a true picture of a crime scene. Her method included sniffing for odd scents, listening for unusual sounds, and peeking into dark corners. Sabrina had her own method, though. She believed the best way to find a criminal was to think like one. All she had to do was think about what she might have done if she were trying to get away with something. When she combined her approach with her grandmother’s, she discovered that she could spot things that others missed.
She scanned the room, wondering what her grandmother might mean by “out of place.” Ancient wallpaper was peeling from the walls—nothing odd there. The old woman wasn’t exactly Martha Stewart. The floor had an enormous stain Sabrina hoped wasn’t blood. In the far corner was a table covered in vials and little glass jars filled with greenish liquid. All manner of disgusting objects floated inside them.
“Sabrina?” Daphne said. “What do you see?”
Sabrina studied the table but saw nothing unusual, if you considered a pile of dead chameleons normal. Still, Granny had taught her to be thorough, so she took a peek under the table. There she spotted a small hole in the baseboard. Daphne joined her and pointed out that there were little greasy paw tracks in the dust around the hole. The witch had mice.
“When did you notice the wand was missing?” Granny asked.
“Late last night,” the witch said.
“Was anything else taken?”
“No. Do you know who did it yet?”
“We just got here,” Granny said.
The witch scowled. “Tomorrow I will take matters into my own hands, Relda Grimm.”
“Old Mother, please,” Granny pleaded. “You have to give us some time.”
“You heard me. Tomorrow!”
hen the family returned home, Granny sent the children to wash up while she prepared one of her signature dishes—corn flakes in avocado sauce. The old woman was under the impression that the odd recipes she had collected on her adventures around the world were enjoyed by her whole family, but the old woman was very, very wrong. Sabrina couldn’t stand her grandmother’s cooking. Day after day she had suffered through tulip root soup, Chinese beetle bread, crocodile steaks, creamed bacon with butterscotch nuggets, horseradish-flavored oatmeal, and Limburger pancakes. She might have been able to change the menu if she wasn’t surrounded by people who would eat anything. Daphne scarfed down whatever was put in front of her, even dishes that Elvis would turn up his huge snout at, and Elvis wasn’t exactly a New York Times food critic. Puck rarely looked at the food he shoved in his mouth, and that afternoon was no different. He kept Granny rushing back to the kitchen to refill his plate. He even tried to steal a couple of rolls from Daphne, but the little girl used her fork to defend them.
“Puck! What is wrong with you?” Granny asked, exhausted.
“I’m starving!” the boy fairy said as he shoved a celery stalk into his mouth. “I could eat a horse and that’s not a joke. I should know. I’ve eaten a horse!”
Daphne let out a little whimper. She had a fondness for ponies.
“Arthenus the World-Smasher bet me I couldn’t do it,” Puck said between bites. “That rat still owes me a million dollars. He tried to welch when I wouldn’t eat the saddle. The saddle is not technically part of the horse, is it?”
Everyone stared at the boy.
“Well, it’s not, right?”
Mr. Canis entered the room and took a seat. Squeezing into his chair was getting harder and harder for him. Soon, Sabrina suspected, he wouldn’t be able to join them for dinner at all.
“Mr. Canis, our friend Puck has some odd symptoms. Earlier he had a crackling throat and now he can’t seem to get enough to eat,” Granny said with an odd smile.
Mr. Canis examined Puck closely, then took a deep sniff in Puck’s direction. “Interesting.”
Puck sat up and turned his head from the old woman to the old man. “What? What’s wrong?”
Granny Relda smiled and shook her head. “You’ll see.”
Puck scowled and turned to Sabrina. He stuck out his tongue, exposing a mouthful of half-chewed food, then laughed when she turned green.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Sabrina, who had lost her appetite once again, handed the boy her plate and got up from the table. “I’ll get it.”
She crossed the room and opened the door. Standing on the porch was Morgan le Fay. She looked distraught.
“I need your help,” she said. “I’ve been robbed.”
Sabrina sighed. “I think I’m seeing the beginnings of a pattern.”
Everafters unnerved Sabrina. She didn’t like talking animals or inanimate objects running around. Trolls gave her the willies, the memory of her encounter with Rumpelstiltskin still haunted her, but witches were the spookiest of them all. Most of the ones she had met were covered in warts and misplaced puffs of hair. They smelled funny and laughed at things that were disturbing. Even the seemingly normal-looking Glinda, who was actually quite pretty, had an odd way of talking—a sort of singsong that grated on Sabrina’s nerves. All in all, she could do without witches.
Morgan le Fay, on the other hand, was a beautiful, curvy woman with jet-black hair and big bright eyes. She was funny, smart, and a little sarcastic, which, as a New Yorker, Sabrina held in the highest regard. She also had a seductive charm that made men of all ages crazy. Uncle Jake nearly knocked over the dining room table when Granny asked him if he’d like to drive them to Morgan’s house.
The enchantress lived in an apartment not far from the Metro-North train station. Her place was nothing fancy. The pavement leading to the front door was crumbling, the yard was filled with mud and crabgrass, and there were several rusty bikes lying in a neglected shrub out front. Parked by the curb was a van with a
giant mouse stepping onto a mousetrap on top. The words RODENT WRANGLERS were painted on the van’s doors.
The family followed Morgan as she sashayed to her front door. Waiting there were half a dozen men who quickly removed their hats, straightened their hair, and sucked in their potbellies when they spotted her.
“Morgan,” one of the men said. “I fixed that leaky sink.”
“Oh, Steven, you’re a doll,” Morgan said as she reached up and kissed the man on the cheek. “I only called about it yesterday.”
“Morgan, I’ve gone to the hardware store and picked up all the paint for the living room,” another man said proudly, as if he had just won a gold medal in the Olympics.
“Morgan, I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow to change your oil,” another man said.
“Morgan, I put in a new hot water tank for you.”
“Morgan, I fixed that crooked mirror in your bathroom.”
“Morgan, I spackled that hole in the kitchen ceiling.”
“Oh, boys, you really must let me pay you something for all the hard work you’re doing,” she purred.
“Absolutely not!” the men cried, then turned and shot one another angry, jealous looks.
“Boys, I’m so happy you came by, but I have some guests right now,” the beautiful witch said. The men looked as if they had waited in line all day to ride the carousel only to hear the fair was closing for the night. They threw out a few halfhearted “of courses” and promised to return at a time that was more convenient for Morgan. She thanked them all and gave each a hug. The men strutted to the parking lot as if they’d just won the lottery. Moments later, they were arguing. A second after that, they were all in one big fistfight.
“Boys will be boys,” Morgan said with an embarrassed smile. She unlocked her apartment door and led the group inside, where Sabrina’s ears were assaulted by a terrific racket of rockets, machine guns, and helicopters. She could actually feel the floor rumbling beneath her shoes from the volume. She wondered if she hadn’t just stepped onto a battlefield until she noticed a very pale and pudgy young man playing the most violent video game she had ever seen. The man looked to be in his late twenties, though his three-day beard, paunchy belly, and tired eyes made him seem much older. He wore a ratty T-shirt that read ONE RING TO RULE THEM ALL, and he was surrounded by delivery pizza boxes and hamburger wrappers. If he noticed that anyone had entered the room, he made no sign of it.