(Notes and disclaimer in part 1)


Eventually, he went back to hanging around the Quick Stop, hoping to 
find the old lady again. 

It worked. 

"Young man, I am glad to see you again. Could I trouble you to 
assist me with my groceries?" 

Bob nodded. "Da, babushka." 

The woman smiled. "Ah, I see you've discovered your gift. And your 
friend, he's flown away?" 

Bob carefully loaded the bags into the trunk. "He's gone. And I have 
you to thank for it, Baba Yaga." 

"So you've identified me. I suppose your mother told you stories?" 

"My grandmother. She was from the old country." 

"Yes. The old take us with them and the young make us stay." She 
sighed. "And I suppose you would like him back?" 

"Da." 

"A spell is harder to break than to cast. I'm not just going to snap 
my fingers and change him back again." 

"I didn't expect that you would." 

Baba Yaga placed her hands on her hips. "Well, what are you going to 
do, then?" 

Bob took a deep breath. "In the stories, you take on people as 
servants so they can pay for you breaking a spell. I'll work for you 
for as long as you want if you just change Jay back." 

"Are you prepared for that? If you remember your stories, you will 
know that it can take years to work off a debt to a witch."
 
Bob nodded. "If I can get Jay back, it will be worth it." 

Baba Yaga opened the door to the car. "Very well. Get in." 

Bob was surprised at the witch's choice of housing. She lived in a 
small brick house in a quiet, wooded neighborhood. There were no 
skull lanterns or chicken legs on the foundation, just a slightly 
overgrown lawn and a flowerbed with some suspicious-looking flowers. 
A heavyset redhead woman tapped on the car window. "Ms. Yaga, may I 
help you with your groceries?" 

Baba smiled. "No thank you, Ursula. I've hired a young man to help 
me with these things now. You and the neighbors won't be bothered 
with me for a while." 

Ursula's eyes grew wide. "Does that mean you won't be.um, protecting 
us anymore?" 

Baba patted Ursula on the shoulder. "Of course I will. Anyway, it's 
only temporary. Robert here will only be staying with me for a short 
time." 

Ursula nodded. "Great to meet ya, Robert," she said to Bob. "I live 
next door. If there's anything I can do, just come over and ask." 
Bob shook her hand, and Ursula fled back to the relative safety of 
her well-kempt lawn. 

"I know you have heard of me as an evil hag that eats children," 
Baba said, leading Bob up the walk to the front door, "but there is 
no room for hags here. I've left that part of me back in Mother 
Russia. There are too many things here already that frighten 
children-gangs and serial killers and pedophiles. So I live here and 
grow fat and old and soft." 

Baba Yaga indeed had grown soft, Bob reflected. It had been a week, 
and the hardest task he had been set to was struggling with the 
weeds in the flowerbed. Her house was dark and cozy, with old-lady 
knickknacks and throw rugs all over. There wasn't any huge cauldron, 
nor an enormous cast-iron oven for baking children in. Instead of a 
mortar and pestle, an old Chevy Nova sufficed for transportation. 
The power of the fairytale still seemed to be in effect, though. 

Baba Yaga had shown him some of her most treasured possessions, 
including a comb, a mirror, and a beaded barrette that could turn 
into a forest, a lake, and an army. And Bob counted at least three 
mice that he was pretty sure were people he had gone to school with. 
During the week, Bob had been pleasantly busy with Baba's mysterious 
chores. He had been sent out to a Laundromat to clean someone else's 
clothes. (The someone had been a young man who had caught sight of 
his own basketball jersey, bloodstained, and gone on that night to 
die in a car crash.) He had gathered up loose sticks and flowers for 
Baba to fashion into a crude mannequin and change into a girl for 
someone to take to the prom. Yeah, the old lady had changed quite a 
bit from the monster she'd been in his grandmother's stories. 

"Get up." 

Bob jumped up from his seat on the overstuffed sofa. "Yes, Baba?" 
The old lady looked different. She had changed out of the flowered 
muumuu she tended to wear and into a black dress with skulls 
embroidered on the hem. Her eyes were glowing green and her teeth 
were longer and sharper. 

"Is time to prove your worth. You have worked for me for a week, 
have earned the chance to do this. Now get up. We are going." Her 
accent was stronger, too. 

Bob looked out the window. The sunny residential street had been 
replaced with dark, thick woods. There were skulls on sticks. 
Glowing skulls. And huge, scaly chicken legs were sticking out of 
the side of the house. 

Bob almost choked on a nickel. 

Baba Yaga dumped a huge bag of greenery on the floor. Bob recognized 
it well-it was the only herb he knew inside and out. 

"Is medicinal," Baba explained. "You job is to separate the seeds by 
the time I get home. I assume you know the difference?" 
Bob nodded. 

"Very well. I will be out until sunset. If I find a single seed 
mixed in, you will be back at home and lose your friend." 

Bob picked through the pile of pot. The seeds were tiny, and there 
were a hell of a lot of them. If this was medicinal, the witch was 
really getting ripped off. He made a mental note to tell her. 

He sighed. It was going to be impossible to get any of these out. 
The witch would come back, and the seeds would still be mixed in 
with the leaves, and Jay would be gone forever. 

"I'm sorry, Jay," he muttered. A dime rolled out of his mouth. He 
picked it up and pitched it out the window. 

The small brown bird eyed the piece of metal. It wasn't food. Nor 
was it nest-building material. On the other hand, it was shiny. And 
every bird knows what kind of birds like shiny things. 

The sparrow edged out of the general area. Blue jays were loud and 
annoying and sometimes tried to attack you. It wasn't a good idea to 
be around where they were. 

Its suspicions were quickly proved right when the other bird landed. 
The blue-feathered avian cocked its head to one side and stared at 
the coin. 

Another dime flew out the window. 

"Kyah!" The blue jay fluttered up and darted into the window. 

Bob picked up his head and opened his eyes. The seeds were neatly 
arranged into a little pile on the table, and the leaves were even 
packed into a plastic bag. 

Before he could marvel at the sudden proliferation of order imposed 
upon the marijuana, there was a pounding on the door. "I am back. 
Has your duty been performed?" 

The door flew open on its hinges. Baba Yaga swept in. Her eyebrows 
rose when she saw the piles on the table. "Impressive." 
Bob smiled proudly. 

"I hope," Baba added, "you have enough strength left for two more 
days." 

The smile fled. 

"Your next task." Baba Yaga pointed to a tree. Bob dutifully looked 
it at. It didn't look any different from any of the other billion 
trees in the forest that they had been tramping through for hours. 
"I have craving for ghost apples. There are many of them in this 
tree. Go up and pick all of them. I will be back by sundown." She 
dropped a huge wicker basket at Bob's feet and left. 

Bob stared up at the tree. It was really, really tall. And the 
branches were incredibly spindly. And there were leaves-huge, thick 
leaves that were packed so closely it would be impossible to get 
through them. And how the hell was he going to get that basket up to 
the top of the tree? 

He tried shinnying up the tree. He tried stepping on branches, which 
broke. He thought about making a rappel line, but he didn't have any 
rope. He even kicked the tree, hoping that it would shake some of 
the apples down. He stubbed his toe. 

Bob sat down in defeat.  

As if to echo his sentiment, there was a hollow knocking sound in 
the top of the tree. An apple fell right into the wicker basket. 
Bob picked it up and studied it. It was very small, about the size 
of a golf ball, and a deep purple hue. 

Another apple fell. It hit Bob on the head. Then another, and then 
another, and then another. 

Baba Yaga picked up the basket and nodded in approval. "Good. You 
have gathered all of the apples."
 
Bob nodded. 

"I am impressed. I did not think you would be able to do this. 
Still, you have one day left and one task before I turn your friend 
back." She hefted the basket onto her back. "Will be difficult. Will 
be dangerous. You may die," she cautioned him. 

Bob shrugged. 

They stood at the edge of a huge lake. It was a beautiful sight, the 
sun rising over the still blue waters. Bob didn't notice; he was 
still half-asleep. 

"In a few minutes the sun will be completely risen," observed Baba 
Yaga. 

Bob yawned. 

"Then will be your next task," the witch went on. "When the sun has 
risen, the serpent that lives in this lake will wake up. He stole a 
treasure of mine a long time ago, and I want it back from him. Do 
you understand?" 

Bob blinked. 

Baba Yaga sighed. "Defeat the serpent and get back my treasure. And 
you don't need a weapon. You have all the weapons you need right 
with you." She poked him in the throat. "Now get to it." 

Bob wrapped himself in his coat and sat down on the sand to await 
the dawn. 

The sun had risen. It had cleared the tops of the trees and still 
Bob was tired. 

He got to his feet and looked around. No serpent. He spat into the 
water. 

A scaly head arose from where his saliva had landed. Bob stared at 
it in horror. It looked like a snake, but it had-oh God-enormous 
eyes made out of fire. And it was huge. 

The serpent turned its head around and began moving out to the 
middle of the lake at top speed. Bob ran for it. As soon as he hit 
the water, the freezing shock of it made him shriek. 
The serpent stopped and seemed to wince. 

Bob shrieked again, experimentally. The serpent arched its neck out 
of the water and hissed at him. 

Bob took a deep breath. "Aiiiiiiiiiiiyayayayayaiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee-"
remembering the way his grandmother screamed at the kids who 
always traipsed across her lawn, an ancient Russian war cry from the 
steppes of Siberia. 

The serpent roared and rushed toward him, tongue dripping acid. Bob 
stepped aside and let it slam into a tree. 

They repeated this dance for what seemed to be hours. The serpent 
may have been powerful, but it was also stupid. Every time Bob 
yelled, the serpent barreled toward him; every time, Bob dodged it 
and made it run into a tree or a rock or something similarly 
immovable. 

Eventually the sun was getting low, and the serpent was getting 
tired. It barely bonked into Bob's chosen tree.Then it lay still. 
Bob crept cautiously toward it. Had the dumb beast chosen this 
moment to try a subterfuge? 

It was lying on its side, mouth open and tongue lolled over its jaw. 
Its eyes were closed. 

Bob tapped it and rolled its head over. Clearly dead. He wondered 
how he was going to find the treasure now. 

"I see you have done what I asked you to." 

Baba Yaga was standing behind him, grinning. "I am very proud of 
you, child of silence. You have served me well and carried out each 
task." 

Bob hung his head. "Not all. I didn't find your treasure." 

Baba Yaga laughed. It wasn't the cackling of a witch, but a high-
pitched sound, like bells. "Is right here." She reached into the 
mouth of the serpent and pulled out a flower. 

Bob's eyebrows rose. 

Baba sniffed the flower, twirled it around in her fingers, and then 
opened her mouth and ate it. "Come, Robert. We go back." 

After dinner, Baba Yaga stood up and stretched. "Ah, I feel it 
working." She patted her hair. Her fingers went to the part of her 
steel-gray tresses and she dug in as though she was trying to work 
something loose. Bob was transfixed. 

She slowly brought her fingers down over her hair. As she did, it 
changed from grey to honey blonde. Bob could see a transparent film, 
like a snakeskin, separating from her epidermis. 

She continued with her slow shedding, carefully peeling bits of her 
skin off. Wrinkles disappeared, features softened, brown spots 
became soft pink flesh. 

At last the deed was done. Her old skin lay in tatters about her on 
the rug. 

She brought her head up to meet Bob's eyes, and he could see that 
she was beautiful. 

Baba Yaga smiled. "You have brought me back my youth. Now enjoy 
yours." 

Bob blushed. Then she whacked him on the head with a walking stick. 

Bob awoke. 

He was in his own bed. In the apartment that he and Jay shared. Used 
to share, because birds didn't live inside. 

Bob got up and looked in Jay's room. 

There was a huge pile of blue feathers scattered around the bed. Bob 
had made the bed and smoothed the sheets before he went to find Baba 
Yaga, but there was a lump in the middle of the bed. Jay's blonde 
head was sticking out of the blankets. 

Jay propped himself up on his elbows and stretched. "Hey, Lunchbox. 
Where ya been?" 

Bob's jaw dropped. 

"I had sort of a nice time," said Jay. "I was a bird! I got to fly." 
He grinned at the memory. "But I had to eat bugs and shit. That sort 
of sucked." He hopped out of bed and went to the kitchen. He wasn't 
wearing anything, from whence Bob supposed the phrase "naked as a 
jaybird" originated. 

Bob followed him. 

Jay stopped and turned around. "And you know what? I missed you." He 
wrapped his arms around Bob's waist and kissed him. 

Bob was very surprised. 

Jay detached himself from Bob and opened the fridge. "By the way, 
you were really good with that serpent thing." 

"You were watching?" Bob stammered. 

"Yeah. I didn't know you could sound like that, Tubby." 

"And hey, I figure you owe me for helping you with those apples and 
the pot that witch gave you." 

Bob gaped. "But I did all those things to help you-" 

Jay laughed. "Yeah. I was just shitting you." He kicked the fridge 
closed and snuggled up to Bob. "I owe you my life, man." 

"I love you too," said Bob.