It was the annoying hairball that Mrs. Sprewel doted on. Normally it didn't wander around loose, and Esther's suspicions were fully aroused. She moved to intervene, but she wasn't quick enough. The dog took a flying leap at Vanya. Esther screamed—but the sound was barely out of her mouth when the dog, instead of going for Vanya's jugular, snatched the chicken breast out of his hands and took off with it around the corner of the house.

It wasn't Baba Yaga that had brought the dog, it was the charm. Vanya was so insistent on eating the damn chicken that the charm had been forced to draw someone or something else to take the chicken away from him. So much for Ruthie's love potion, if that's what it was.

And from Ruthie's face, it was indeed a cataclysmic failure. But she controlled herself, and managed a smile. "I guess that means the chicken is good enough to eat," said Ruthie.

"I'll bet that piece was particularly fine," said Esther.

Ruthie smiled at her, but there was rage barely concealed behind the grin. "I suppose I did save the best for Ivan," she said. "But it turned out to be the dog's piece."

Vanya was, of course, oblivious to this barely disguised jab, but Esther heard it, and she knew that Ruthie had a great deal of malice in her. She has been influenced by Baba Yaga, thought Esther. Ruthie had faults, but malice wasn't one of them. Still, people surprise you.

Katerina murmured to Esther in proto-Slavonic, "That dog is going to be mounting every cat and squirrel in the neighborhood."

The dog had not come alone. Terrel Sprewel was standing there holding a kite in his hands. "Sorry about the dog," he said. "I guess he followed me over here and smelled the chicken."

"No problem," said Vanya. "Dogs are dogs. Next time you step on him, though, make it count."

Terrel laughed—it must be some in-joke, Esther thought, since she had no idea what Vanya was talking about.

Ruthie's hands were stroking the lid of a Tupperware tray. Whatever was in there, Esther was reasonably sure, was Ruthie's backup plan. Cookies or brownies laced with laxative?

Terrel was battling on, embarrassed. "I just wondered if, you know, after the picnic or whatever, you wanted to take a turn with the kite."

"Good idea," said Vanya. "My wife, Katerina, I don't know if she's ever flown a kite." He turned to her and asked in proto-Slavonic.

But Katerina wasn't looking at the kite at all. "The dog," she said.

Ruthie opened the Tupperware container. Brownies.

Vanya looked where Katerina was looking. So did Terrel. Vanya was halfway there before Esther saw. The dog was lying by the fence, its legs trembling, its back as tightly bent as a bow.

Vanya picked up the dog. In his arms it shuddered and died.

Terrel approached Vanya in awe. "What was in that chicken?" he asked.

Everyone turned to look at Ruthie. She was standing now, looking in horror at the dog. "It can't be the chicken," she said.

And Esther believed her. Ruthie had been acting as if the chicken had a love potion in it. If she had known it was lethal, Esther doubted she would have sent Katerina away.

"Oh, Ivan," said Ruthie. "You were that close to eating it. You have to believe me, I didn't know."

"I believe you," said Vanya. But he turned away from her, and toward Katerina, taking her hand. It had the effect of closing a door in Ruthie's face.

In proto-Slavonic, Katerina said to Vanya, "I can't wait to eat the rest of the meal."

But Esther was watching Ruthie, who had dumped the Tupperware tray of brownies onto the lawn and was grinding them into the grass with her feet. She saw Esther looking at her. Tears were streaming down her face. "If I were any damn good as a cook maybe he would have married me," said Ruthie. "But I never thought this shit would really hurt anybody."

"It's all those additives," said Esther dryly.

Ruthie gathered up the rest of the food and put it back in the hamper. "I'm going home," said Ruthie. "I'm sorry about the dog. I—I'm sorry about everything."

"Bye, Ruthie," said Vanya. "Thanks for lunch."

In halting English, Katerina echoed him. "Bye, Rut'ie."

Clutching her hamper to her, Ruthie staggered around the side of the house. Somehow her wig had become askew on her head. It suited the moment.

Esther walked over to where Ruthie had ground the brownies into the lawn. The brownies themselves might be biodegradable, but Esther wondered what the poison would do to the grass. Not to mention the insects that lived in the lawn.

Well, she'd find out soon enough. A wasp landed on the mess of brownies and was crawling all over it. In fact, it looked for all the world as though it were deliberately smearing it on its abdomen.

On its stinger.

The wasp rose into the air and headed straight toward Vanya.

"The wasp!" shouted Esther, realizing at once that she had found Baba Yaga's familiar.

Vanya turned around just as the wasp reached him. It was going for his throat. Whatever the poison was, apparently Baba Yaga knew it was potent enough that just the little bit carried on the wasp's stinger would be enough. And there was no way Esther could get there in time to stop it. The question then was how quickly the poison would act. The dog had died in only a couple of minutes.

Piotr's voice came from right beside her. She hadn't heard him come back out. "Vanya, close your eyes!" A stream of liquid spurted fifteen feet from Piotr's hand, catching the wasp as it reached Vanya's neck. Vanya was splashed with the stuff and there was definitely some of it in his eyes, but all Esther cared about at the moment was the wasp. It crawled feebly for a second on the neck of Vanya's T-shirt. Then it dropped dead into the grass without stinging him.

"Got the little bastard," said Piotr. He was holding a can of Raid Wasp & Hornet Killer.

"My eyes!" shouted Vanya.

Piotr was already reading the directions on the can. In Old Church Slavonic he called out, "Wash his eyes with water, and keep on washing them!"

Esther turned on the hose as Piotr got the business end pointed at Vanya's eyes. Not too strong, just enough to bathe the eyes, not sandblast them. Katerina fussed over him, helpless because she didn't understand the magic that Piotr had sprayed from the can.

Terrel looked at them in awe. "Man, you guys are really quick with wasps." He picked up dead Edwin, whose little corpse had fallen when Vanya grabbed at his eyes. "I better get home with the dog," he said.

"No!" said Vanya.

"Wait a minute, Terrel," said Esther, in her heavily accented English.

In proto-Slavonic, Vanya explained. "If he takes the dog home dead, they're going to find the poison and then we have to explain how Ruthie was trying to kill me and got the dog by mistake. I don't think we want to testify at Ruthie's trial."

Esther moved immediately to examine the corpse Terrel was holding. She closed her eyes, passed her hands over the animal, and then stroked its belly while inhaling deeply. Sniffing.

In Ukrainian she said, "She didn't use any kind of detectable poison. It was a spell carried on a potion. There'll be nothing that a chemist would recognize."

"How did you do that?" asked Katerina. "How did you test it without tasting it?"

Esther was ready to explain, but then Terrel, increasingly frustrated with all the unintelligible language, interrupted. "I got to get home with this."

Vanya answered him in English. "You've got to know—it wasn't poison that got him. Nothing that any vet is going to find if there's an autopsy."

"They do autopsies on dogs? Cool."

"They do when people think the dog must have been poisoned. But I'm telling you that there won't be any poison to find. So why mention anything beyond finding the dog dead?"

Terrel's face was impassive as he answered. "You mean I don't get to tell Mom how he twitched his little legs while he was croaking?"