Babayaga

Offended and shaken, she knew, too, that Will would never stop trying to find her. Once he had tried and failed with every tool in his arsenal, he would begin to search for her on foot. He would sense that she was gone and then he would go out searching blindly. He would run down endless trails to stone-cold dead ends, he would look for her in empty hotel lobbies and sun-bleached squares, he would wander through twisted warrens of uncountable cities and sleepy port towns, he would stumble across the jagged terrain of a thousand torn horizons. Perhaps the owls would lead him back to her, but probably not. It was for the best if they let him go, for he should never stop, he should always be running the wrong way. Yes, she thought, never slow down, Will, keep searching, fruitlessly, endlessly, let this be your punishment, for my heart burns, like the stinging, raw palm of some lost and drowning sailor when the storm has pulled the last rope from his grasp. Who knows if I will heal or if I will ever be whole. You have softened me, made me vulnerable, creating a weakness here in my heart where I can afford none. You asked a lioness to be a lamb, you asked a crocodile to help you ford the river, you lay with the viper and dared to ask her not to bite, and the sad thing is, I tried, with every fiber, every muscle, I tried, Will. But now, I will live forever and this pain shall never perish, and that is why I curse you. I have made you heroic, and you will stay strong for a long time, broad-chested and sharp-eyed, and my curse will drive you onward, she thought, until, finally, you are broken, like a blind and ruined horse tearing through the briars. Maybe the owls will guide you back to me, maybe not, but I hope with my whole heart they keep you running the wrong way. I hope they make you suffer through it all. It is the oldest and most simple curse on earth, and when properly applied, no cure can be found. Some might call it love.

“Zoya, Zoya, Zoya…”

HISTORICAL NOTE

The Central Intelligence Agency’s infiltration of various European literary movements centered in Paris has been vigorously documented. The agency’s influence on global, especially European, advertising during the same era is more anecdotal, though any serious research would possibly reward the diligent. While popular mythology dates the decline of Detroit as coincident with the ’67 Twelfth Street Riot, in fact the “Paris of the Midwest” began losing its sizable population more than a decade earlier (see Time magazine’s article “Detroit in Decline,” published in 1961). As for the immigration of various castes of Russians into Western Europe following the 1917 revolution—including White Russian nobility, Orthodox clergy, and other curious figures—this too has been the subject of both history and speculation.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the coven who coaxed & encouraged, first Liz Boone and my mom & sis and also Stephanie Cabot, Sylvie Rabineau, Jennifer Barth, Carolyn Mugar, Audi Martel, Sophia Rzankowski, Catherine Bull, Kat Hartman, Helen Ectors, Shannon Cobb, Valerie Elbrick, Susanne Hilberry, and the two stars who guide me through the dark, Nora Montana & Carolina Rose.

Much gratitude too to my ever-bemused editor Sean McDonald & the crew at FSG, to Lorin Stein & the gang at The Paris Review, and special thanks to Ambassador Hartman for leading me to his tailor.

ALSO BY TOBY BARLOW

Sharp Teeth

Copyright Notice

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Copyright

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

18 West 18th Street, New York 10011

Copyright © 2013 by Toby Barlow

All rights reserved

First edition, 2013

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Barlow, Toby.

Babayaga / Toby Barlow. — First edition.

pages   cm

ISBN 978-0-374-10787-1 (Hardcover)

1. France—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3602.A775624 B33 2013

813'.6—dc23

2013008712

Illustrations by Matt Buck

www.fsgbooks.com

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eISBN 9780374709594