Page 69 of Search for the Lost

“He’s lost the ability to speak.” That was Aspin chiming in, and he didn’t sound entirely disappointed with what he thought was Leo’s new affliction.

Leo shot him a look. “Baba Yaga. She was in one of the books my parents read to me. She’s a witch who lives in a chicken-legged hut.”

Crispin blinked a few times and absently patted the nearest WOLF, which was interesting. Maybe, if they survived this, they could get a pet. Would Minkis mind? “That’s nice,” said Crispin, who seemed to be trying—and failing—not to sound patronizing. “But not especially useful at the moment.”

“It’s completely useful. Because the story said how Baba Yaga would call the hut to her and get it to bend down so she could get in.”

Cypher muttered something about the inanity of children’s stories, but then Aspin elbowed him hard enough to make him oof, which was gratifying. Leo would forgive the lack-of-speech comment.

Crispin gave Leo one of those smiles that said he thought Leo was wonderful and amazing. “How do we do it?”

“Um….” This part was embarrassing. It had been wildly entertaining when Leo was six and trying to prolong bedtime, but now, in the Black Forest, with an audience…. Well, to hell with it. He took a deep breath and shouted.

“Little house

With legs so thin

Come right here

And let me in!”

Then he had to make chicken sounds, which he wasn’t even sure were part of the book; they might have been his parents’ invention. But he didn’t want to risk failure, so he bahk-bahked to the very best of his ability.

One of the WOLFs—the one he’d sort of decided was named Spike—barked a warning as the hut came crashing back through the trees. It stopped several yards away and, making a feather-rustling sound even though it didn’t have any visible feathers, settled smoothly to the ground with its legs tucked underneath.

“Eggs,” Leo said when the thought hit him. “If it laid eggs, would they be just enormous eggs—omelet time!—or would they be little dollhouse-size huts?”

“Beloved,” said Crispin, settling a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Perhaps this is something we can consider at a later time?”

Oh. Right. Leo squared his shoulders and started marching toward the hut’s red-painted front door. He was flanked by Crispin and Aspin, and⁠—

“Halt!”

The three of them spun around to see Dietrich with his very pointy sword inches from Cypher’s neck. “He was trying to sneak away,” said Dietrich. “I assumed you wished him to stay.”

Maybe Dietrich wasn’t quite as dumb as he looked, although Leo still wasn’t his number one fan.

Crispin responded in his Boss Voice, which he’d only recently developed. And which Leo would have to tell him was a huge turn-on. Later. After they discussed chicken-hut eggs.

“Thank you, Dietrich. Good work. I absolutely do not want him skulking away.”

“I don’t skul—” Cypher’s protest was cut off when Dweezil sat on him. All that showed under Dweezil’s very large furry body was Cypher’s unhappy head and one faun hoof that, Leo noted with pleasure, looked as if it might have stepped in WOLF poo.

“Good WOLF!” Leo called, and Dweezil wagged his tail.

Then Minkis started chattering excitedly, a few words in Squirrelese followed by, “Two Chaos men!” Which made Leo swing around to look. He was just in time to see— Oh no.

“Leo?” Crispin squeaked.

Because that was Leo who’d just stepped out of the hut and was walking toward them.

He wore a pair of old jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt with what looked like ketchup stains on the front, and a pair of grimy tennis shoes with one lace untied. He had a little extra padding around his tummy. He’d shaved recently—very recently, as evidenced by the little piece of reddened tissue that was stuck to his chin. He also looked like he’d started to comb his hair but got distracted partway through.

He locked eyes with Leo. “How nice to meet you,” he said in Leo’s voice.

Leo didn’t often get furious, but this was the exception that proved the rule. He narrowed his eyes, balled his fists, and growled as if he’d turned into one of the WOLFs. “Stop it! Right now!” Because it was bad enough when someone he loved had taken possession of his body, but this was a complete stranger.

The imposter didn’t stop, however, and didn’t seem to care that Aspin and Dietrich looked ready to skewer him. Crispin, for his part—wow, he looked terrifying. He looked like his mother, in fact, in very much an I’m-going-to-turn-you-into-a-frog sort of way. Which was also sort of a turn-on, a fact that Leo would prefer not to contemplate even when they had time to discuss eggs and sexy bossy voices.