Fleeing the Baba Yaga

Meeting the Baba Yaga

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Chapter Eight

Meeting the Baba Yaga

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Zayn had been knocked out before. He'd taken plenty of medication in the last few years, several of them strong enough to knock him senseless. During some of his worst episodes, he remembered waking up in a daze quite unsure of what month it was, let alone the day. He drank himself into oblivion before. Desperate to try something that could stop the nightmares, he'd drunk enough to pass out for thirteen hours straight. It hadn't really been worth the day of vomiting that followed.

This wasn't like any of those times. When Zayn woke, it was with a strange lethargic confusion. He had the impression of movement, people and voices. He was lying down, his arm pressing against a wall. It took a long time for his brain to surface from the thick undulating fog that was inhabiting it. He blinked. The effort it took to raise his arm felt enormous. Finally, he rubbed at his face, his skin feeling strangely disconnected from the rest of him.

'You're awake,' said a voice.

'Am I?' Zayn slurred.

There was a quiet amused huff. 'More or less. Don't try to sit up. Sephrin really put you under. I guess he didn't want to take any chances.'

'What did he drug me with?' Zayn groaned. The words rolled thickly in his mouth.

'Drug you? Zayn, why didn't you listen to me? I know you didn't want to come back.' It took a monumental effort, but Zayn opened his eyes and turned his head. Sitting beside the narrow bed was the auburn-haired young man.

'You told me to jump out of a three-story building window. That's insane,' Zayn said flatly.

The man's brow knotted together in puzzlement, then his expression cleared. 'You don't remember any of it, do you? It actually worked.'

'What worked?'

The man pointed to himself. 'Do you know my name?'

Zayn shook his head. He stopped quickly because it made his vision swim. 'No.'

The man looked at him in amazement and something like... regret? 'I see. I... I don't know how much worse this is going to make things.'

'How do you know me?' Zayn asked. 'Where am I?'

The man shook his head. 'I think it's best if you didn't mention me. Actually, I know it's best. Get some more sleep. Just tell the truth and say as little as you can.′

'Are you going to help me get out of here,' Zayn asked. He watched as the man backed away.

'I'm sorry. I can't. It won't work again, not now.' He turned.

'Hey. Wait a minute!' Zayn called after him, but the man was already gone. Zayn flopped back against the solid mattress. Just that short conversation had drained him of what little life he had regained. He closed his eyes and was swept away into dreams.

He saw Wren and Chief. The big dog bounded towards him, his tongue lolling. Zayn knelt down with his arms out, ready to greet the dog when suddenly Chief stopped. The dog's fur stuck up along the back of his neck. He began to bark madly, his jaws snapping at the air. Thick white foam soon flecked his muzzle. Wren was shouting something, but Zayn couldn't hear him over Chief's barking.

Zayn woke with a harsh jolt, uncomfortably aware that someone was standing over him again.

'Wake up. She's home and she wants to talk to you.' It wasn't the auburn-haired man this time. It was the other, taller, dark-haired man with yellow eyes like a snake. Zayn stared up at him in confusion and fear. Were they contact lenses? Surely, they had to be. Yellow wasn't exactly a natural eye colour. Zayn struggled to sit up. His body felt stiff and heavy. His shoes were gone. It was only then he noticed how cold he was. Shivering, Zayn struggled to stand up.