Wickedly Unraveled

by Deborah Blake

  “Little girls should be seen and not heard,” Katherine said.

  Barbara hid a laugh behind one hand. “Not this one. She’s probably smarter than you are. At least about magic.” She turned to Babs. “A catastrophe is a disaster. Something really bad happening.”

  Babs thought for a moment. “Like what Jazz did?”

  “Exactly like that,” Barbara agreed. Her stomach clenched just thinking about how close her sister Baba, Bella, had come to losing her apprentice.

  “Jazz tried to change time,” Babs said to Katherine in her usual solemn manner. “To give the Riders back their immortality. It was a nice thing to try, but it was a catastrophe.” The girl said the word slowly and carefully, making sure she got it right. “She accidentally made herself ten years older. She almost died. If Baba Yaga says you should not do this spell, you should listen to her.”

  Katherine’s hand shook. “Someone made herself ten years older? That’s awful.”

  “She was sixteen,” Babs explained. “Then she was twenty-six.”

  “More or less. As far as we could tell,” Barbara added grimly. “Plus don’t forget the nearly died part.”

  “Well, twenty-six,” Katherine said dismissively. “That’s still young. It’s a pity about your friend, but I’m no teenager playing with witchcraft for the first time. I know what I’m doing, and it isn’t hurting anyone.”

  “Not now. Not yet.” Barbara shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I simply can’t allow you to continue. Enough chat.” She really wasn’t the chatting type. “This is forbidden magic and I intend to put a stop to it.”

  She took a step forward and gathered a ball of energy in one hand. “Move away from the cauldron. Do it now.”

  “No!” Katherine shrieked. “You can’t destroy my work! It has taken me years to perfect it. I’m going to be rich. And I won’t go back to being old!” She raised her wooden spoon as if it were a wand and began to yell the words of an incantation so vile, they colored the air around her head a sulfurous yellow. A few droplets flew off the end of the spoon and into the cauldron, where they sizzled and stank and spat.

  “STOP,” Barbara commanded, feeling the potential power in the room shift and build. She grabbed Babs by one thin shoulder and shoved the girl behind her. “There’s too much magic loose in here already. You’re going to—”

  But it was too late. Before she could even get the words out, the other witch had finished her incantation and flung her curse at Barbara’s head. Barbara threw up a hasty shield, which shuddered as the hex hit it and then bounced back toward the one who had cast it.

  Katherine flew backward as if she had been punched in the gut, her screams reaching up to shred the herbs hanging from the painted white rafters. Bits of dried greenery drifted down as she slammed into the edge of the cauldron, tilting it sideways so that some of the contents slopped over the side. For a moment, the flames underneath flickered, as if undecided about which path to take, then they shot upward and outward, like the breath of a dragon. Instantly, the kitchen was on fire, the bright red tongue of destruction licking at the checked gingham curtains and devouring the wooden cabinets with crackling glee.

  “Out!” Barbara said to Babs, shoving her in the direction of the door. The air was already so thick with smoke it was hard to breath, and Barbara snapped her fingers to create a small bubble of clarity and oxygen. She cast one quick backward look toward Katherine, but the Human witch lay unmoving on the floor as the room dissolved in chaos around her. Barbara suspected she’d been dead the minute her own spell hit her. There was a certain irony there that Barbara would take the time to appreciate later. For now, she just wanted to get herself and Babs to safety.

  Once outside and a cautious distance away, they turned around to look at the inferno that moments ago had been a charming little house. The fire burned with a fury that far exceeded anything natural, and would soon threaten the trees nearby. Barbara shook her head, thinking of the tree sprite who had brought them there, and made a few arcane gestures toward the ponderous clouds above, which responded by letting loose a torrent of rain neatly centered over the blaze. Before long, there were nothing left but steaming ashes, and a few charred beams reaching up to the sky as if marking the spot for a future cautionary tale.

  “Are you okay?” she asked Babs, leaning down to give the girl a rare hug. It was an indication of how shaken the child was that she not only allowed it but gave Barbara a brief squeeze in return.

  “I am not harmed,” Babs said. Her solemn pixy face was as composed as ever, but her dark brown eyes were wide and troubled. “Is that woman dead, Baba Yaga?”

  “Nothing and no one could have survived that,” Barbara said, straightening up and waving her hand in the direction of the smoking ruins. “But she was gone before the fire started, a victim of her own curse and an unfortunate clash of two powerful and incompatible magics.”

  Barbara muttered a curse of her own under her breath, although this was a much more mundane one. She didn’t know how things had gotten out of hand so fast. It was a little late now, but she kicked herself for underestimating the other woman’s power. Just because Katherine had been Human, and seemed so…ordinary, Barbara had made the mistake of assuming she was harmless. This is what came of spending most of your time fighting Paranormal threats and people who were outright evil. Barbara hadn’t expected so much trouble from someone who was simply misguided. Not an error she would make again. It was a pity the price for learning the lesson had been so high.

  “I’m sorry you had to experience that,” she said to Babs. Barbara’s own magical mentor had had no qualms about exposing a small child to the more brutal realities of a Baba Yaga’s job, but Barbara had hoped to make Babs’ childhood a little less traumatic than her own. Although truth be told, the girl’s harrowing and unconventional start to life had probably prepared her for almost anything.

  Babs patted Barbara’s hand. “It is all right. I know bad things happen. She should not have attacked you. That was not wise.”

  Barbara gave her ward a crooked smile. “People are often unwise when fighting for things that are very important to them. If I had realized just how significant that elixir was to her, I would have approached Katherine differently.” She tugged on a strand of dark hair. “I would still have destroyed it, but there would have been less talking first.”

  Ah, well. What was done was done. “Come on, little one. We have places to go that aren’t here, thank the goddess. Let’s go see what the boys have rustled up for lunch, shall we?” She looked at the witch’s house one more time, shook her head, and they headed back down the road.

  It was a relief to see the Airstream sitting in the parking lot, its silver exterior gleaming in the sunshine. Barbara practically leapt up the three metal steps to get inside, skidding to a stop when she saw Chudo-Yudo dozing on the hand-woven carpet and no sign of food preparation.

  “Hey,” she said indignantly, nudging the dragon-dog with her boot, “What happened to lunch? You didn’t eat it all, did you?”

  He lifted his huge white head and woofed at her indignantly. No doubt he’d just said something rude in Dog. “Welcome back from your walk and what the heck are you talking about? Since when do you expect me to cook?” He looked past her as Babs came in. “And who is that? Are you picking up strays now?”

  “Very funny,” Barbara said. “Where’s Liam?” She glanced around, but there was no sign of him.

  “Liam who?” Chudo-Yudo said, lumbering to his feet. He walked over to sniff at Babs, looking a bit baffled. “Wait. I know you, don’t I?”

  “Of course you do, you silly dragon,” Babs said, patting him on the head. He was so large and she was so petite that their shoulders were practically at the same height. “You are my best friend.”

  He sniffed her again, then licked her hand. “Right. Babs. For a minute there…huh.” He subsided onto his back haunches, a confused expression on his furry face.

  “Seriously, Chudo-Yudo, where i
s Liam? Things went horribly wrong out there and I just want to eat our lunches and get back on the road.” She walked toward the back of the trailer to check the bedroom and the bathroom. Empty. “Liam? If this is some kind of game, it’s not a good time.”

  “Baba Yaga? Who are you looking for? There is no one here but me.”

  Barbara stared at Chudo-Yudo. He didn’t look like he was kidding. A sharp-edged sword of dread gripped her heart and for a moment, the room swayed around her.

  “Barbara?” Babs whispered her name, clearly picking up on Barbara’s unease. “Where is Liam?”

  Biting her lip, Barbara headed back to the bedroom without answering. She held her breath as she opened the sliding doors to the closet that ran along the side wall. Black leather and crimson silk still hung where they always had, alongside the few formal outfits she kept for the times she had to dress up to visit the Queen. But there were no blue jeans or men’s tee shirts, or overly large boots shoving her own shoes out of the way.

  Leaving the closet, she ran to the small bathroom and yanked open the miniscule medicine chest over the sink. No men’s toiletries or extra toothbrush. Nothing to show that Liam had ever been there. In the back of her head she could hear a muffled screaming as her heart broke into a million pieces.

  “He’s gone,” she said calmly, as if her world hadn’t just burned down as surely as the witch’s house had done. “I don’t know why, but he’s gone.”

  Chapter Three

  “Who is gone?” Chudo-Yudo asked, and Barbara stared at him briefly before walking on numb feet into the living area and subsiding onto the couch. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting weird. I mean, even more weird than usual.”

  “You really don’t remember him at all, do you?” she said, some puzzle pieces beginning to slide reluctantly into places they shouldn’t fit. “Liam McClellan. Sheriff of Clearwater County. My husband.”

  “Your what?” Chudo-Yudo’s mouth dropped open. “Are you hallucinating? You don’t have a husband.”

  Could she be hallucinating? There had been a lot of fumes filled with powerful magic floating around in that kitchen. Was it possible that all her memories of a tall, rugged lawman were just a figment of her own imagination, created in an instant out of years of loneliness and longing? It didn’t seem possible, but then, much of what she did and experienced came down on the far side of impossibility anyway.

  She dropped her face into her hands, but then sat up straight as cool metal met her skin. “Look,” she said, holding out her left hand so the ring on it was clearly visible, the diamond in the dragon’s mouth winking up at her. “This is the ring he gave me. It’s real. He’s real.” Her insides shuddered with mixed relief and fear. He was real. Gone, somewhere, somehow. But real. She hadn’t imagined him.

  Chudo-Yudo swung his ponderous head between her and Babs, still standing near the doorway, her face pale and set. “You remember this person, little one?”

  Babs nodded. “Liam. He is Barbara’s husband. My foster father. He is kind. We all live together in a yellow farmhouse.” She turned to Barbara. “Do you think he went back to the farmhouse? Maybe we should go home and look.” Hesitant hope glimmered in her eyes.

  Barbara pulled herself together with an effort. Something was very wrong here. Liam wouldn’t have left her—left Babs—without a good reason. And why couldn’t Chudo-Yudo remember him at all? She had a really bad feeling.

  She reached into her back pocket for the phone she had reluctantly started carrying at Liam’s insistence. Technology instead of magic. Bah. But sometimes it was handy. She tried their number at home, and then his cell. Both of them mocked her with a recorded voice that told her the numbers weren’t in service, and it was all she could do not to melt the useless gadget into a lump of black plastic and electronic bits.

  “When did you start carrying a cell phone?” Chudo-Yudo asked. “What the hell is going on here?”

  “I don’t know,” Barbara said. “But something is very, very wrong. An hour ago, I had a man who loved me and we were all headed to Niagara Falls for our first family vacation. Now he has vanished and you don’t even remember that he existed. For a minute, you didn’t remember Babs either, and you’ve barely left her side since she came to live with us almost four years ago.”

  “Did the magic do this?” Babs asked quietly. “The not-compatible magical powers and the bad witch’s curse?”

  “I don’t know,” Barbara said. “But I have to believe there is something uncanny at work here. None of this makes sense, otherwise.” Hell, it didn’t make sense anyway. But she had to start somewhere.

  “I can’t think of any reason why Liam would have gone on to Niagara Falls without us, so let’s head back home and see if we can find him there, okay?”

  Babs nodded. “Yes, please. I would like to go home.”

  Chudo-Yudo glanced around at the interior of the Airstream. “We are home,” he growled. “No, wait, don’t tell me. We live in a yellow farmhouse.” He stalked off to lie down in the kitchen, gnawing loudly on a large bone he pulled out of a cabinet that normally held plates.

  Barbara could still hear him muttering under his breath as she and Babs headed out to the truck. She couldn’t blame him. Hopefully, things would get clearer when they were back in Dunville.

  “We lived in that?” Chudo-Yudo said as they stood in the driveway looking at the farmhouse on South River Road. “In what century?”

  He had a point. The yellow farmhouse clearly hadn’t been inhabited in some time. In fact, it looked exactly like it had when she had bought it—derelict and abandoned, with a yard full of overgrown bushes and weeds, and a couple of windows boarded up where they’d been broken by time or vandals. There was no sign of the garden she had sweated over for the last three summers, or the tree house Liam had built for Babs in an old oak tree on the other side of the drive.

  They walked up and peered in through the dusty glass of the windows that were still intact, but the house was as empty as it looked. No furniture, no cozy kitchen, no clothes or books or pictures. Apparently everything they owned now was in the Airstream. Oddly enough, after a lifetime spent in just that situation, she felt absurdly bereft to have lost the few things she and Liam had collected in their life together. As Babs snuck her cold hand into Barbara’s larger one, Barbara suspected the little girl felt the same, for all her calm demeanor.

  “Maybe we should ask Anna if she has seen him,” Babs said in a small voice.

  “Anna?” Chudo-Yudo asked. “Is this another imaginary friend?”

  Barbara rolled her eyes at him. “Liam is not imaginary. Just temporarily misplaced. And Anna is the ghost who was here when we got the place. She’s pretty harmless, so I never bothered to make her leave.”

  She took out her key, which slid into the rusty lock under protest but then turned easily enough when she gave it a nasty look. Not that she couldn’t have unlocked it with magic, but she was trying to prove a point. To Chudo-Yudo or to herself, she wasn’t sure. Either way, the house might look as though they had never lived there, but she still had the key that opened the door. That must mean something.

  “Hello? Liam, are you here?” It was clear from the layers of undisturbed dust that no one Human had walked on the wide wood boards in years. “Anna? Anna, it’s me, Baba Yaga. Will you come talk to us?”

  A vaguely female shape wavered in the dim light that curved around the edges of the open door. If you squinted, you could barely make out shadows that hinted at long fair hair and an apron over a nondescript ankle-length dress.

  “Who are you?” a thin voice asked. “Go away. Boo.”

  “Boo yourself,” Barbara said acerbically. Anna’s attempts to frighten people off were pathetic at best, and most visitors never even sensed her. She’d been murdered by an abusive husband many years before and the gory and notorious crime was the reason the house had sat empty for so many years before Barbara finally came along and bought it for a song. Once they’d had a nice chat, An
na had actually been happy for the company.

  But it appeared that the ghost’s memory had been affected too. A brief interchange—before she disappeared again—made it clear that she had no idea who Barbara and Babs were, had never heard of Liam, and thought the big white dog was going to bite her. Although how he would do that, Barbara wasn’t sure.

  Sighing, she locked the door behind them and they walked back up to the Airstream. Babs’ sneakers with their cheerful red laces scuffed dispiritedly through the bits of leaves and debris that cluttered their once neat lawn.

  “What do we do now, Baba Yaga?’ she asked. “Where do we look if he is not here?”

  Barbara could only think of one other place he would be. The other place he considered home. “We’re going to the sheriff’s department,” she said.

  “Going to turn yourself in for crimes against sanity?” Chudo-Yudo said.

  “Ha,” Barbara responded. “No, but keep up the wisecracks, and they might have to arrest me for animal cruelty.”

  “Oh, great. Woman bites dog. Again,” he said. “Film at eleven.”

  The Clearwater Sheriff’s Department served both the town of Dunville and the rest of the county, neither of which had the money to support a police force on their own. The building that housed it was unprepossessing at best—a long narrow single story built out of red brick, with straggling shrubbery and dirty windows. Barbara was simply relieved that it looked the same as the last time she’d seen it. If Liam was inside and okay, she swore she would kiss the cracked linoleum floor.

  She left Chudo-Yudo and Babs in the Airstream, although it was hard to say who was keeping an eye on whom, and rode her classic royal blue BMW motorcycle over instead. Tucking her helmet under one arm, she pushed open the stubborn old glass door and headed to the front desk. An older woman with a narrow homely face and short gray hair sat behind it perched on a stool while she talked into a headset, simultaneously typing what looked like an incident report. She held up one finger for Barbara to wait, hit a button on the computer and another on a complicated-looked switchboard.