Nadia looked up and acknowledged us as we approached. She and Elsa began conversing in a language that sounded vaguely like Russian. The two chatted for a few minutes, each one periodically looking over at me. Finally, Nadia turned to face me completely. “This is going to hurt,” she said, sizing me up. “But it will be over quickly.”
I glanced around the lake, taking in our surroundings. There were a few other walkers strolling nearby, but for the most part it was empty. I wasn’t sure how this old magic was supposed to work, but I was pretty sure we didn’t want any witnesses. Nadia picked up on my thoughts and shook her head.
“I will come to you, to your home, in a few days,” she said. “In the meantime, I need something of yours, a hair or a fingernail.”
I looked over at Elsa at a loss, never having been a party to this kind of request before. In response, she yanked a hair off my head and handed it to Nadia. The elderly witch immediately reached into the pocket of her cardigan and took out a white handkerchief. Carefully, she put the hair inside the cloth and folded it closed. Then she returned the material to her pocket.
“How will I know when to expect you?” I asked, once again exposing my ignorance. But the old woman smiled and patted my arm.
“Don’t worry, I will find you.”
I wasn’t worried. I had read Nadia’s intentions while we were standing together and I was certain she meant me no harm. It was hard to tell her age, but she was well over 200 years old, judging by the color of her aura. I was getting good at reading tones and hues, and hers were not the stuff of the modern world. After a few more moments of pleasantries, we said goodbye and parted.
A few days later, I was working on my laptop at home when there was a knock on the door. Lily was over, sitting on the couch reading a book. Elsa was in the living room doing yoga. “It’s Nadia,” Elsa said from the other room, rising from her mat to open the door.
It seemed rude to stay seated, so Lily and I both got up and walked to the door to greet her. In the dusk light, Nadia looked much younger. She arrived with another colorful headscarf covering her hair, but up close her skin was moist and pale, almost flawless. She caught me scrutinizing her. “Thanks to the old ways, I age more slowly than one might think,” she said, looking at me directly.
Before I could ask what her secret was, she urged us to move in to the kitchen. The four of us walked in, and I took a seat at the peninsula. Nadia stood at the counter, unpacking a small bundle she had removed from her sweater pocket. Slowly, she unrolled the cloth to reveal a small brown glass jar filled with a clear liquid, and a paintbrush. The brush was made of a dark wood and was ornately decorated with symbols I could not decipher. The hairs of the brush were stark white and shaped into a point.
“Are you left-handed or right-handed, “ Nadia asked, grabbing my attention away from her supplies.
“Right,” I said as she placed the jar and brush on the counter.
“OK then. We’ll do your left hand because it will be sore for a day or two.”
This conversation made me a little uneasy. I had a vision of my left arm blackened and hanging limply from my side. Lily came up behind me and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be scared,” she said quietly. “I’ve seen this kind of old magic before many times. It will feel a little like getting a tattoo. A short sting, and then the next day your skin will feel as if it has been burned.”
I washed my left forearm in the sink and dried it. Then, following her directions, I laid my arm on the counter. Nadia removed her heavy cardigan, saying she was warm, and instructed Elsa to bring her a candle and some salt. Elsa brought both items to her and took a step back.
“Dim the lights,” Nadia said to no one in particular. Lily got up and turned off most of the lights in the kitchen, leaving a single bulb above the stove for illumination. Then Nadia lit a small white candle and picked up the glass bottle. She ran the