Babayaga

with a slightly nervous smile.
    “Where is Will?”
    “I’m afraid I saw that odd little man take him away. I was hidden behind a tree but I saw the whole thing.”
    “Why didn’t you help him?”
    “I would have tried but the man had a gun and, well…” Oliver held up his empty hands.
    Zoya looked around. “And the others?”
    “Well, Brandon and the other goon went off with the police in handcuffs. I expect they have some explaining to do. Oh, and Gwen’s lying back there in the grass, surrounded by a flock of curious authorities—the phrase ‘exquisite corpse’ comes to mind.”
    “Who was the little man—?”
    “Let’s walk while we talk, shall we?” interrupted Oliver, looking around. She fell in beside him as they began strolling. “We’re simply out for our evening constitutional, right?” he said. “I parked the car up the way. So, yes, clearly the whole setup was a bit of a double cross. How Brandon expected to get away with it, I can’t imagine. Trying to wrap my mind around the various possibilities. The way I figure it, you were the patsy, Gwen was supposed to serve you up on a silver plate to help get rid of Will and me. An old-fashioned star-crossed love triangle. A desperate gambit that really doesn’t make much sense. Poor Gwen, silly girl, I don’t know why I took her for an innocent when so precious few are. Obviously, my phone call about the pharmacy triggered all this. But I haven’t the foggiest how it all ties together.”
    “Pharmacy?”
    Oliver explained his visit with Will earlier that day. When he was done, Zoya felt as confused as she had felt when Will had first told her about his predicament, only this time she was sober. She did not like the feeling of being outside a mystery, looking in. Usually, she was the riddle that eluded being solved, but now here she was, the one having to be rescued, the one without a clue. There were too many secrets that she was not the author of and did not have any answers for. It made her feel skittish, and now some little man had stepped out of the woods, out of the darkness, out of some past, whom she did not know. But he knew her and that frightened her.
    Approaching the corner, they saw a police car coming out of the park. Oliver put his arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s only for show,” he said reassuringly as the car passed by.
    “We have to find Will.”
    “Mmmn,” said Oliver. “I’m afraid it might be more prudent to—”
    “No,” she said firmly, surprising herself with the steel of her conviction, “we have to find him, now.”
    Looking at her, the constant hint of grin he usually wore slipped away. He appeared to be weighing the timbre of her words. “You realize who we’re up against, right? I hate to admit it, but these fellows are a weight class or two above me.”
    “We are going to find Will,” she said calmly.
    He nodded slowly. “Of course we are, dear.” The ember of a smile flickered back. “Never leave a man behind.”
    After a few minutes of walking, they turned off Avenue Raphael onto Avenue Prudhon, where halfway down the block he led her over to where a parked Chevrolet Bel Air sat between two streetlamps. Oliver opened the door for her, then got in behind the wheel. She could feel the momentum of events pulling her, surging forward out of her control. She did not know why she felt such a strong need to help Will, but the intuition felt overwhelming. In some manner, their lives had become entangled, like accidental knots. She did not know where it was going to end, but she knew that she was willing to fight not to have it end here. It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling, it was debt and obligation, he had saved her, after all, and this was her chance to balance the scales. She had always looked out for herself; men were merely the rungs to be climbed on the ladder of time. She had always taken from them without guilt. But this was of an altogether different nature. Another kind of feeling was lurking in her and she did not want to put a name to it. “Please, we need to go,” she said to Oliver.
    “I agree,” Oliver said, shaking his head as he repeatedly turned the key, “but I’m afraid our car’s being a bit stubborn.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean it doesn’t work. Could be I left the lights on and drained the battery. Could be the starter. The quality on these Chevys is so damn spotty.”
    “So what do we do?”
    “Well, there’s a phone booth