Morozko nodded. “So you are paying the First Throne a visit, eh?”  Baba Yaga clucked.  She took a jar of poison dart frog legs swirling in preservative and plopped them into her stew.  The hag sampled the concoction and smiled in approval. “That is the idea, yes.”  Morozko helped himself to the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of vodka.  He popped the cork off with his fangs and poured himself a glass. “Can we go to Sparrow Hills?” Anya referenced the steep hill above the Moskava River immortalized by so many Russian poets. “Of course, mooncalf.”  Morozko tossed back a shot.  The vodka warmed his belly as the liquid found its way to the furnace of his stomach. “Well then, get a move on.”  Baba Yaga chuckled, making a dismissive gesture.  “Do not keep my witch daughter waiting, soap brains.”  She ushered them out onto the porch.  “Little hut, little hut, turn your back to Buyan and your f

“I absolutely will not tolerate Chort’s hairball in my banya.”  Morozko uttered a string of curses, peeling his shirt off as he changed into pajama pants.  Anya sat on her bed, petting Aym, her eyebrows raised.“He is my familiar, and his name is Aym,” Anya said.  “And it is not just your banya, I live here too.  And now, so does Aym.  Is that right, little beast?”  Anya scritched Aym’s pert ears.Aym purred with laughter.  “Bannik, surely there is room in your dive for a dapper cat like me?”Morozko narrowed his eyes.  “The schmoozing cat sleeps outside the door.  I will not have a cherti spying on us in our sleep, waiting to eat you,” he said through gritted teeth.Aym grinned.  “Let's put my bruised past behind us, eh?  I'm now the faithful servant of my witch mistress.  And I'm sure we can agree that her so

“I do not trust Kosti,” Morozko hissed, looking at Anya.  “I do not like how he danced with you.  I do not like how that blasted koldun even looked at you.”“You know that he is a koldun too?” Anya asked.“Of course he is.”  Morozko wiped dust from his jacket.  “A powerful one.”Anya shivered.  “He creeps me out.”  Anya did not want to admit that she was also intrigued by Kosti, albeit in a sickening way.Later that night, as Anya slaved over homework at her rickety desk in the kitchen, Iosif came in, his fur bristling as he swept.  He moved about frantically. “Whatever is wrong, Osya?” Anya asked.Iosif let out a low moan.  “Something is amiss.  I have seen something horrible in my kasha.  There is a dark presence in this inn, only I cannot place the face.  I fear it is your cherti.”

Outside was madness.  A fire had been set, and enemies ran mad-dash between the tongues of flame.  The inn’s guests fought for their lives.  Cherti and witches swarmed the field.  Guts spilled onto the snowy ground; vampir went for necks and vodyanoi summoned water from the mill pond to drown opponents.  Vila and leshy battled above. The kolduny and witches that had been staying at the inn formed a circle, casting spells to turn the tide of the battle.  They summoned a storm, directing lightning to strike the swarms of vila above.  The vila’s lightning-charred bodies fell from the sky. As the sky darkened and storm winds picked up, the flames grew higher, setting fire to the inn.  Aym ravaged the enemy, ripping out their throats, his iron hide impenetrable to arrow and sword.  Anya punched bolts of golden flame at her opponents, letting her rage manifest as magic.  Morozko struggled to defend her

Winter dragged his chains of hoarfrost across the ground, and December came roaring into the world. Morozko was in Father Frost's kingdom of eternal snow, in the northern-most corner of Buyan, where the spirit of winter reigned supreme.  Kind but capricious, Ded Moroz – or Father Frost in Anya’s lilting English – was known for granting maiden's wishes and freezing the less fortunate.  Morozko, thankfully, carried a furnace inside him from his wayward father’s side, so he was impervious to the cold.  He was temping as a bartender for the time being, working under his love-fickle mother Snegurochka: Ded Moroz's granddaughter and present-deliverer to a myriad excited Russian children. Morozko had wandered far and wide over the past month, rushing as a cloud of steam across the harsh Russian winter-scape.  He had settled himself in the darkest corner of Buyan, closest to the deathless lands, where the northern lights