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The shadows under the furniture grew longer, stretching toward me.
Get out. Get out now!
I bit my lip. A quick drop of blood burned on my tongue, the magic in it nipping at me. Clarity returned for a second, and light dawned in my head. Badzula. Of course. The endars failed to rip us apart, so the volkhvi went for plan B. If Muhammad won’t go to the mountain, the mountain must come to Muhammad.
Saiman walked out of the bedroom. His eyes were glazed over.
“Saiman!”
“I must go,” he said. “Must get out.”
“No, you really must not.” I sprinted to him.
“I must.”
He headed to the giant window.
I kicked the back of his right knee. He folded. I caught him on the way down and spun him so he landed on his stomach. He sprawled among the ankle-tall ferns. I locked his left wrist and leaned on him, grinding all of my weight into his left shoulder.
“Badzula,” I told him. “Belorussian creature. Looks lik
e a middle-aged woman with droopy breasts, swaddled in a filthy blanket.”
“I must get out.” He tried to roll over, but I had him pinned.
“Focus, Saiman. Badzula—what’s her power?”
“She incites people to vagrancy.”
“That’s right. And we can’t be vagrants, because if we walk out of this building, both of us will be killed. We have to stay put.”
“I don’t think I can do it.”
“Yes, you can. I’m not planning on getting up.”
“I believe you’re right.” A small measure of rational thought crept into his voice. “I suppose the furniture isn’t really trying to devour us.”
“If it is, I’ll chop it with my sword when it gets close.”
“You can let me up now,” he said.
“I don’t think so.”
We sat still. The air grew viscous like glue. I had to bite it to get any into my lungs.
Muscles crawled under me. Saiman couldn’t get out of my hold, so he decided to shift himself out.
“Do you stock herbs?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Do you have water lily?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Laboratory, third cabinet.”
