Three witches. Three ancient traditions. One ritual that was supposed to guarantee eternal youth, unlimited luck in love, and a lifetime supply of free food.
Instead, Helga, Ivet, and Gertrude wake up on a lawn in contemporary Russia, staring at a sign that reads "GAS LAWN. FINE 5000 RUBLES." Their pentacles display "NO SERVICE." Their crystal ball has exploded like a jar of pickled cabbage. And the only magic that still works is Gertrude's ability to bake perfect bread.
To return home, they need seven ingredients. But in a world where mandrake root is replaced by ginseng from the pharmacy, virgin tears come from a woman weeping over subpar eclairs, and the blood of a black rooster is sourced from a white chicken with a black soul, nothing is quite what it seems.
Their journey takes them from battling babushkas armed with ladles to collecting sacred cat spittle at the Duomo. They acquire a homicidal garden gnome named Fritz who has spent fifty years waiting for revenge against his orderly Swiss neighbors. They attempt to fly on a plastic broom that explodes more spectacularly than their dignity. And somewhere along the way, they begin to realize that getting lost might be the best thing that ever happened to them.
