CHAPTER TWENTY
Talon stared at the strange, almost surreal scene before him. The young ruffian was gaping at his hand in disbelief and horror. It no longer looked like a hand. His fingers were now webbed, and his skin was turning a sickly shade of green.
“You...” he spluttered, staring at Yaya with bulging eyes. “You’re a witch! What...”
Yaya rolled her eyes. “See the cloak? The broomstick?” She gestured animatedly towards a dumpster. “Now where’s that broomstick?” she huffed. “Boris!”
“I thought...” the man croaked, his eyes growing bigger and rounder until they popped out of his sockets.
“You thought I was just an eccentric, fashion-challenged grandmother,” Yaya finished for him. She didn’t look offended at all. Instead, she seemed to have lost all interest in him. She was busy looking for her broomstick.
“Boris,” Yaya yelled. “Come out right now! Get your lazy ass over here, Boris!”
Her broomstick emerged from behind the dumpster and scuttled over to her. Yaya snatched her pointed hat off the ground and dusted it off while admonishing her cheeky broomstick. ““Fine help you are, Boris,” Yaya grumbled. “You could have saved him, you know. Now look what you made me do.”
Boris nimbly danced out of reach when Yaya tried to grab his handle. “Come back here, Boris!” Yaya shouted. “Don’t you dare...”
Yaya and Boris carried on as if nothing unusual was happening. Boris wasn’t just Yaya’s preferred mode of transport. He was a flying broomstick, but he was also Yaya’s assistant, bodyguard and companion. Talon had often seen the playful broomstick shaking with silent laughter and glee whenever he managed to pull a prank on Yaya. For a broomstick, Boris was quite a character.
Seeing that Yaya and Boris were paying him no mind at all, the ruffian turned helplessly to Talon. The man opened his mouth and a long, thin tongue flew out and almost slapped Talon in the face. Talon scowled and stepped back.
The thug’s eyes were now much too big for his face, and his nose, ears and lips were disappearing. All his hair had fallen off and his skin was now bright green, smooth and slippery. He continued shrinking, deflating until he vanished into his baggy clothes.
The dirty sweatshirt and jeans fell in a heap in front of Talon.
Talon looked up with a frown. “Yaya,” he said sternly.
Yaya pouted. “I didn’t make him disappear, if that’s what you’re asking. He’s very much alive.”
“Right. So where is he?” Talon demanded.
Yaya pointed to the heap of clothes. “Right there.”
There was a movement under the heap and Talon swore he heard a croak. The clothes began to jiggle until finally, a small green frog hopped out of the pile.
“You turned him into a frog!” Talon exclaimed.
“I did tell him that if he didn’t want to be turned into a frog, he should put the knife down,” Yaya said reasonably. “You saw what happened. By his actions, he chose to be a frog.”
The witch smiled slyly as she removed a glass jar from the folds of her cloak. “You know,” she began casually. “I’ve not been able to brew some of my potions because, you know, there are one or two ingredients that are getting so difficult to procure these days.”
The frog let out a croak of alarm and hopped away from Yaya as fast as he could. Talon didn’t blame him.
“Boris!” Yaya yelled. “Sweep him up for me, will ya?”
Boris abruptly stopped chasing some birds at the end of the alley and flew into action. Spreading his bristles out, Boris jumped in front of the frog to block his escape. As instructed, Boris started sweeping the frog towards Yaya, pushing the frog right into the opened glass jar.
Yaya pounced on the jar and screwed the lid on tight. She pocketed the jar and tried to pat her wild, wiry silver hair into place.
“I was already having a bad hair day,” Yaya huffed. “That kid picked a lousy day to mug me.”
“What are you going to do to him?” Talon said slowly.
“As I said, I could use toe of frog for my potions,” Yaya deadpanned.
Talon sucked in a breath and put out a hand to stop her. “No, Yaya, I can’t let you...”
The witch let out a cackling laugh. “I was just joshing you! Oh my, you shifters take things so seriously. I’ll turn him out into the street, intact, by the end of the day. You’ll be delivering my cabinet this evening, right? I’ll release him then and you can check that he has all his digits.”
Straightening her pointed hat, she sniffed. “Boris would never let me dabble in dark magic. Boris may be mischievous and cantankerous, but he’s a straight arrow.”
Yaya tipped her hat at him as she flounced out of the alley with her broomstick. As Talon watched Boris scuttle after Yaya on his bristles, he replayed Yaya’s words in his mind.
He grimaced as a question dislodged itself from his reeling thoughts.
He really didn’t want to know, but...he had to know.
“Yaya,” he called after her. “Was Boris ever...” A person?
Yaya turned to look him straight in the eye. “Boris is a witch’s broomstick. That’s all he is.”
After a pause, she added dryly, “You don’t think very highly of us witches, do you?”