London’s biggest psychiatric ward was way up north of the city, beside a prison barely half its size. If there was something the government loved doing, it was segregating its citizens into conveniently localised spaces. And in this case, the city’s most dangerous people.
The light evening had just fallen when Jonathan rolled up to the institution in a borrowed car from the Paranormal Bureau. She had been silent throughout the whole journey, although it was obvious to Jonathan that something had spooked her in the past few days. He did not bother probing; he knew Anya long enough to understand how stubborn she could be.
The duo walked through the looming gates and headed for the reception.
“Baba Yaga?” The chief warden raised an eyebrow at them. “How did you know we have this patient here? I’m going to need some identification.”
“Inspector Anya Sechina,” Anya said before Jonathan could open his mouth. “Authority of the Metropolitan Police, Paranormal Division. This is my partner. Jonathan Warner.”
The warden’s gaze shifted to the silver-haired woman beside them. “And you?”
“Her name’s Lucy Carpenter. She’s an important witness,” Jonathan spoke up hurriedly. “Please, we need to speak with Baba Yaga for an investigation.”
The truth, of course, was so that Jonathan could keep an eye on Lucy at all times. But obviously, he had to come up with a more solid excuse to let her in. Rapid clicks permeated Lucy’s idle humming as they waited for the guards to finish verifying their identities.
“Everything seems in place,” the warden said. “You should’ve saved us all some trouble and told us that Angus sent you. He’s a whitelisted individual in this place.”
“Thank you.” Jonathan grinned in relief as the gates opened for them.
“Word of advice though, I wouldn’t place my hopes on getting anything out of Baba Yaga,” the warden called out to them. “She’s been catatonic for even longer than I’ve been here, and I’ve worked here for more than thirty years. That woman acted out a few days prior for no damn reason too. There’s an emergency button in every room. It looks like this.”
He pointed at a simple red button. “Don’t hesitate to press it if you get in trouble.”
“How about cameras?” Anya asked.
“We have them everywhere as well, but we can’t avoid blind spots,” he replied. “There’s one in Baba’s room too, but… Well, she messes it up from time to time. We can’t get a steady feed from her; it keeps cutting off during her dinner time. It’s definitely because she’s a wi— Well, I’m assuming you know what I mean, since you’re acquainted with Angus.”
Jonathan nodded. “Thanks, mate. We’ll be careful.”
~ ~ ~
If the point of an asylum was to rehabilitate the mentally ill, this room was certainly doing a dismal job. It was more of a prison, or some kind of metaphor for the emotional indifference to the mentally broken. White upon white splashed over the bare walls wrapping the room, interrupted only by patches of mould and the occasional fingernail scratch.
The concrete cage was windowless, of course, to prevent its literal nutjob of a prisoner from offing herself. Fluorescent light replaced the glory of the sun without all its warmth, and a big red button sat conspicuously beside the sole patient chained to her bed.
“Well met, Baba Yaga. I am Paranormal Investigator Jonathan Warner,” Jonathan said as the handle-less door closed behind him. “I have come on the behest of Changeling Angus, and I have some questions for you.”
The old witch did not even bother to look at him. Well, either that or she simply couldn’t. The warden sure wasn’t lying when he said that Baba Yaga was in a catatonic state.
“Do you find this symbol familiar?” Jonathan shoved his phone in her face. No time to be courteous now. Every minute of leaving this case unsolved only increased the risk of finding another murder victim.
Baba Yaga groaned in response. Jonathan took it as a yes.
“Of course you do. You survived an attack from the Ghost Of Glasgow, didn’t you?” he continued. “How did you do that? Is there anything you can tell me about her?”
She groaned louder, her eyes shivering slightly as they shifted to him.
“Just tell me something, anything!” The man’s voice was getting louder. “Why did she target you? Did you know her beforehand—”
He felt a hand pull his shoulder roughly.
“What, Anya?” Jonathan said in an annoyed tone.
She shook her head. “That’s too much, Jon. Can’t you see she’s in distress? Pressing her further won’t get us any answers.”
“I don’t care. She’s the only lead we have. I need to get some answers today!” Jonathan turned back to the old woman, who was now staring at Anya’s necklace for some reason.
“Don’t be so hasty, Jon.” Anya pulled him back. “Let me try.”
Jonathan stepped away reluctantly.
“Baba Jadwiga,” she began in a thick Slavic accent, before launching into full Russian. It might have just been Jonathan’s imagination, but life seemed to flow back into the old woman’s face the longer Anya spoke.
Baba Yaga finally broke her silence with a raspy Russian word. Anya shut her mouth immediately, wordlessly nudging her to continue. The word slowly grew into a phrase, and the phrase quickly bloomed into a sentence.
It wasn’t long until the old witch was practically monologuing in her native tongue. Jonathan caught bits and pieces of familiar words such as ‘Natasha’ and ‘infarmátsiya’, which clearly meant ‘information’, but they occurred too rarely for him to make out their meaning.
“So, what’d she say?” Jonathan asked Anya, who was looking deeply concerned now.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Anya mumbled. “She told me her name is Natasha, but she refuses to give out any information unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless I give her my necklace in exchange for information.”
Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. This old witch wasn’t as senile and helpless as she looked. But why did she set her eyes on Anya’s necklace? That relic only served as a conduit for a human to tap into the latent magic in the air. What use would a powerful witch like Baba Yaga have for it?
“Now that’s just terrible of her!” Lucy commented out of the blue, stomping up to the old woman. “I’m going to give her a piece of my mind.”
She was all up in Baba Yaga’s face before anyone could stop her.
“Hey, that isn’t very nice of you,” Lucy pointed an accusatory finger. “We’re trying to stop a murderer here, for goodness sake. This is no time to be greedy.”
Baba Yaga was trembling violently now, as though Lucy’s motherly chiding genuinely frightened her. Jonathan stared at her, watching her carefully. What was she playing at—
“Vampir! Baba Yaga, pomogi mne!” She broke into a fit of hysterical screams. Chains rattled as the witch struggled desperately against them.
“Christ, what the hell?” Jonathan covered his ears, barely blotting out the grating noise of the woman wailing her lungs out. Anya reached for the red button.
Baba Yaga lunged towards her and yanked her necklace.
“Shit!” Jonathan struggled with the crazy old hag, but her grip was abnormally strong. Anya choked as the relic dug into her neck—
The necklace chain split without warning and Jonathan tumbled onto the floor along with his partner. Lucy quickly helped them up, but their ordeal was not yet over. With an anguished yell, Baba Yaga ripped the bed handles off and flung her body towards the fallen relic. Her fingernails caught Anya’s face as they dug in deep, leaving behind a long scratch dangerously close to her eye.
“Leave the necklace, Anya! Get out of here!” Jonathan yelled, pointing at the now-open door. He stepped in front of his partner as Baba Yaga broke off what remained of her teeth on his impenetrable wrist. Jonathan kicked her hard in the torso, sending the witch crashing into a wall.
He made for the exit, pushing Anya out of the room just in time for the door to close behind them.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvmZ9QFvt5d
