“You have no idea, Your Majesty,” Barbara said, gazing at them with regret. “Their loss has nearly destroyed those who love them. But alas, I can’t take them back, not like this.”
The Queen narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, you cannot take them back, Baba Yaga? This wrong must be righted. It is your duty.”
“Indeed, Your Highness, there is nothing I would like more,” Barbara said, staring at Mary Elizabeth—so close that a few strides would bring the girl to her side, and yet so far from being truly found. How was Barbara supposed to face the girl’s mother now? Another band tightened to add to the already crushing pressure around her chest. She would have liked to have blown up a moon too, if she thought she could get away with it.
“They have been here too long,” Barbara explained. “When I rescued them the last time—” Argh. Time shifts. There was no good way to talk about them. “That is to say, in the timeline I experienced, the children had only been here a short time. In this timeline it has been a year or more, and they have either aged too much or not at all.”
She looked at their blank eyes with sorrow, and added in a quieter voice, “And your enchanted land has worked its magic. I suspect they no longer remember where they came from or who they truly are. Unless I can somehow change things, these children can never be returned to their parents. It is too late.”
The King and Queen exchanged frustrated glances, and the Queen turned her basilisk glare in Barbara’s direction.
“Well then, Baba Yaga, it is clear that you will have to find some way to fix this unraveled time line of yours. There is nothing We can do, since Our magic rules only the Otherworld, not that which lies on the other side of the doorway. So it is up to you.”
The fan tapped one more time on the arm of her chair before coming to rest, quivering. Much like Barbara’s knees.
“You will fix this, Baba Yaga.” The “or else” went unsaid, but clearly implied. “And you will fix it soon.”
“Crap,” Chudo-Yudo muttered.
Barbara couldn’t have said it better herself.
Chapter Eight
“I will do my very best, Your Majesty,” Barbara said, straightening her spine. “But before I go, there is one more matter I need to speak of.”
She looked around at the members of the court who still watched them avidly, their faces alternately either amused, appalled, or coolly unaffected by the drama unrolling before them.
“But it is of an extremely sensitive nature, and perhaps best kept between ourselves,” she suggested, as tactfully as possible.
The Queen raised one elegant silvery-white eyebrow, but following Barbara’s gaze around the clearing, nodded to acknowledge her point.
“Go away,” the Queen said to the courtiers, waving her fan gracefully through the air.
The courtiers went. The Queen was clearly in no mood to be argued with.
“Very well, Baba Yaga,” the Queen said when it was just her, the King, Barbara, Chudo-Yudo, and Babs. “What can possibly be so important and so delicate a topic that We cannot discuss it in front of Our court?”
She took a dainty sip of effervescent wine from a goblet on the golden table next to her. Barbara couldn’t be sure, but she suspected that the Queen had only acquiesced to Barbara’s request to buy herself a few moments to recover from her shock and anger.
“It is about Brenna,” Barbara said. “I spoke to Beka, and she told me that you’d allowed Brenna to resume her duties as Baba Yaga. You know that normally I would never question your actions, Majesty, but I have to tell you, you have made a terrible mistake in doing so.” She held her breath and waited to be turned into something.
The King cleared his throat. His ebony stare pierced her to her core. “I beg your pardon?”
“Brenna,” Barbara repeated. “She is evil. A menace to all we hold dear. And she is undermining Beka’s confidence so much you are likely to lose her as a Baba Yaga entirely. Which is exactly what Brenna wants.”
“My dear Barbara,” the Queen said in a cool tone. “We admire your loyalty to your sister Baba, but it was necessary to return Brenna to her role as Baba Yaga—on a strictly temporary basis—in order to allow Beka more time to grow into her position. She failed spectacularly on her first major solo assignment, and even allowed her portion of The Water of Life and Death to be stolen out of her traveling hut when her Chudo-Yudo abandoned his post to assist her. We had no choice.”
Barbara was afraid that the sound of her teeth grinding together would be audible to their majesties. “You don’t understand. Brenna tricked you.” She backed up a little. “That is, she fooled us all. But I promise you, what I say is true. In the timeline I lived through, she did horrific things.”
“What horrific things?” the King asked. He sounded more amused than alarmed. “Admittedly, she was becoming somewhat erratic toward the end of her career, a tad eccentric, even for a Baba Yaga, which was why We insisted it was time for her to retire. But peculiar is far from evil. Surely you exaggerate.”
“I only wish I did, Your Highness,” Barbara said grimly. She shuddered as she remembered everything Brenna had put them all through. “Brenna spent years chipping away at Beka’s confidence and persuading both Beka and Your Majesties that she wasn’t ready to assume the mantle of Baba Yaga. Brenna didn’t want to give up the power, or the longevity that comes from drinking The Water of Life and Death. Of course, none of us realized that until it was too late.”
“Most Baba Yagas are happy to finally set down the burden of their obligations and live out their retirement in a comfortable corner of Our lands,” the Queen said. “Yes, Brenna resisted more than most, no doubt from an overblown sense of duty, but eventually We persuaded her it was time to hand over her role to Beka, who she had trained so ably. Or so We thought, until the girl made such a mess of things.”
“Brenna hurt the Riders,” Babs said, her face set and stern. She had been so quiet, they had all nearly forgotten she was there. “And she tried to kill Bella. So Bella’s Chudo-Yudo Koshka turned back into a dragon and incinerated her.” She looked up at Barbara. “Incinerated. Is that the right word?”
Barbara nodded, tamping down a smile. “Yes. Yes it is.” She turned back to the Queen. “What Babs said is true. In our reality, Brenna captured the Riders through trickery and deception and then held them captive with magic, torturing them for weeks in an attempt to steal their immortality for herself. By the time we found them, it was almost too late, and only a massive dose of The Water of Life and Death allowed us to save their lives. It was too late to save their immortality, which was gone forever.”
The Queen’s already pale complexion turned ashen, and she reached out for the King’s hand without taking her amethyst eyes off Barbara’s amber ones. “The Riders lost their immortality? Such a thing is impossible. And one Baba Yaga trying to kill another? We cannot believe this.”
“I realize it is difficult to comprehend,” Barbara said in a marginally softer tone. “I would not have believed it myself if I had not seen it with my own eyes. But I assure you, Brenna is quite insane. She may be able to mask it with her patchouli-scented aging hippie persona, as she did in our time, but behind that mask lies cunning madness and an unquenchable thirst for power and immortality. She was the one who stole the Water of Life and Death from Beka’s hut-turned-bus. Remember, Brenna knew exactly where it was kept, because she had once lived there.”
The King tapped one slender finger against his lips. “That would explain how someone got past the hut’s defenses. Even without Beka’s dragon there to defend it, the Water should have been safe. We did wonder about that at the time it happened.”
“No,” the Queen said sharply. “We have, reluctantly, accepted that there is something very wrong with the timeline. But this, this is simply Too Much. We saw the Riders not long ago and they were just fine, and as immortal as always. We simply cannot believe what you say.”
“But Your Majesty,” Barbara protested. Or started to.
The Queen held up her fan, a signal that the conversation was over. “We shall summon Brenna here and speak to her about your accusations. That is as far as We are willing to go.”
Barbara held back the bitter and argumentative words that rushed up her throat and threatened to spill out of her mouth. Talking to Brenna was the absolute worst thing the Queen could do. Better to say nothing than to provoke a woman so insane that the last time around they had barely survived her machinations.
But a subtle shake of the head from the King told her that she had pushed the Queen as far as she could go. One more word and Barbara might well become the first Baba Yaga statue to adorn the royal gardens.
So instead she just bowed, and said nothing. The King let out a barely perceptible sigh of relief. No man, not even a King, likes to be caught between two stubborn and strong-willed women.
“We have given you an assignment, Baba Yaga,” the Queen said. The fan tilted so that it pointed in the direction of the path back up toward the castle. The audience was clearly at an end, along with the Queen’s patience. “Fix this mess. Repair the unraveled time line so the children may be returned to the other side of the doorway where they belong. That is all.”
Oh, wonderful. That is all. Just accomplish the impossible, Barbara thought.
She and her two companions all bowed and made their way out. There was nothing else to do.
“That could have gone better,” Chudo-Yudo said thoughtfully as he, Barbara, and Babs climbed back through the cupboard door into the Airstream. “But it could have gone worse.”
“I don’t see how,” Barbara said, overwhelmed both by the immensity of her task and the lack of support she’d gotten to achieve it. Not that she had really expected otherwise.
Chudo-Yudo let out one of his barking laughs. “Well, you’re not quacking or saying ribbit. Under the circumstances, I’d count that a win.”
The three of them spent a while down by the creek, mostly decompressing from the stress of their visit to the Otherworld, or in Barbara’s case, thinking madly. (Although not necessarily productively.)
She watched idly as Babs cast a line into the slow-moving water, and then stood resolutely with her fishing pole waiting for a bite, guarded by her faithful dragon-dog. Liam had taught the girl to fish last summer, and it was one of the activities they’d shared with each other. Barbara wondered if Babs was missing Liam too. The girl was so self-contained, it was hard to tell.
Of course, Barbara was hardly one to talk. She was missing Liam so much it hurt to breath, but no one would have seen the aching of her heart if they were looking. She wasn’t the crying type. More like the kick ass and take names type. She just needed to figure out whose ass to kick, that’s all.
She spent part of the time debating whether or not to tell Belinda her daughter was safe. Would it comfort the woman to know her daughter was well, but forever beyond her reach unless Barbara pulled off a miracle? Perhaps not. For the moment, Barbara decided reluctantly, it would probably do more harm than good.
Kind of like knowing that Liam was alive but had no idea who Barbara was. Or that in another life, they had been deeply in love. Of course, Barbara thought, it wasn’t as thought Liam was as out of reach as little Mary Elizabeth. He was only a few miles away, although for all he knew of her, he might as well have been on the moon.
Or maybe not?
She hopped up, brushing dirt and grass off the bottom of her black leather pants, and strode over to where Babs and Chudo-Yudo were standing. Babs was crouched over, hands on her knees, having an intense conversation with a large carp. Her fishing pole lay on the bank beside her, forgotten for now.
“Excuse me,” Barbara said to the carp. “I’m sorry to interrupt. It won’t take a minute.”
When you grew up in a fairy tale, more or less, you learned to be polite to everyone, just in case. You never knew when a fish was an enchanted prince or a powerful elemental in disguise. Even if it was just a carp, good manners cost nothing.
“What’s up?” Chudo-Yudo asked, showing large, very sharp teeth in a big yawn.
“I’ve had an idea,” Barbara said.
“Great Chernobog, no,” Chudo-Yudo said, flopping down on the ground dramatically. “May the Black God deliver us from your brainstorms.”
“Oh, shut up, you overgrown lizard.” Of course, sometimes good manners were simply a waste of time.
Babs emitted a giggle, a rare and precious sound. In the early days, she would get upset over these kinds of exchanges, thinking that Barbara and Chudo-Yudo were genuinely fighting. Now she knew better and mostly found them entertaining.
“What is your idea, Baba?” the girl asked.
“It’s a surprise,” Barbara said. “But I need to go into town for a little while. Will the two of you be okay here by yourselves?”
Most Humans would probably be appalled by the idea of leaving a (more or less) nine year old alone with only her gigantic dog as a babysitter. Of course, most Humans wouldn’t realize that the dog was really an ancient and intelligent dragon who could keep her safe in almost any situation, or that the petite and pixie-like child was surprisingly capable of taking care of herself. She’d had to do so in the Otherworld from the time she could walk and talk.
Barbara only hoped that no well-meaning social workers stopped by while she was gone. Chudo-Yudo would probably eat them.
“We will be fine,” Babs reassured Barbara. “I am having a fascinating discussion with Clive about the local wildlife.”
Barbara looked around. “Clive?”
Babs gestured at the carp.
“Ah, I see. Well, you and Clive have a nice time, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Remember, we are having dinner with Belinda and her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Ivanov, tonight, so after your chat, be sure and get washed up. I’ll be back in plenty of time for us to go.”
Babs nodded and went back to talking to the fish.
“What are you up to, Baba Yaga?” Chudo-Yudo asked, resuming a more dignified position.
She winked at him. “You’ll see, old friend. You’ll see. You might say I’m hedging our bets.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the dragon-dog said. “But there better be treats in it for me.”
“Hopefully there will be treats in it for all of us,” she said, and strode off to ride the BMW into town.
Barbara and Babs rode over to Belinda’s house around five, leaving Chudo-Yudo lying on the sofa contentedly chewing on a giant rawhide bone Barbara had brought back with her from town. (Hint: if your dragon demands a treat, it is probably best to give it to him. Or her, as the case may be. Your furniture lasted a lot longer that way.)
The deputy’s small white house sat a little way off the road, a row of pine trees along the front edge and a patch of colorful tulips lining the path to the front door. Belinda’s cruiser was parked in the driveway next to an older model Honda Civic. An unused swing set sat forlornly toward the side of the yard, its bright plastic seat hanging crooked, one chain banging rhythmically in the breeze, as though to say, “Come play with me.”
But when they knocked on the door, delicious aromas drifted out over Belinda’s shoulder. The deputy looked much the same as she always did: mousy brown hair pulled back into a tidy French braid, tiny gold studs in her ears, wearing neat but well-worn jeans under a blue tee shirt that hung a little loosely on her thin frame. Her smile seemed a tad forced, although it widened when she spotted Babs.
“Hello, Dr. Yager,” she said. “Come on in.” She motioned them into the house and down a small hallway into a cozy living room. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting an extra guest. I should have realized.”
“I brought Babs. I hope it is okay,” Barbara said. “And please, call me Barbara. I don’t go in much for formal titles.” Ha. Except the one that only a few people knew.
“Of course. The more the merrier. Would you like a cookie, Babs?” Belinda asked. “My mother just baked some this afternoon.”
“Ah, yes,” Belinda said, sadness visible in her already shadowed eyes. “We used to have that rule here too. Now I wish I’d broken it a little more often.” She shrugged at Barbara. “But parents do have to set parameters, I guess.”
Barbara snorted. “Babs mostly comes up with these rules on her own. I’m not sure where she gets them from. Books, I suppose, since we don’t watch television. I’m not much on rules, myself. I think the only ones I ever gave her were ‘don’t set anything on fire’ and ‘no practicing magic unsupervised.’” She almost added something about her husband being the one who took care of the mundane do’s and don’ts, but stopped with the words on her tongue, remembering she didn’t have a husband. Dammit.
“Uh, sure,” Belinda said, looking a trifle confused. “Setting things on fire is usually a bad idea, unless you are having a barbeque.” She looked up as an elderly couple entered the room. “Oh, there you are.” She turned to Barbara. “I don’t think you had a chance to meet my parents the last time you were in town. This is my mother, Mariska, and my father, Ivan.”
Turning back to her parents, she said, “Mama, Papa, this is Barbara Yager and her daughter Babs.”
Mariska Ivanov smoothed back her snowy white hair, which was braided and wound into a bun, and tugged at the embroidered tunic she wore. “Dobriy vyecher, Baba Yaga,” she said. “Dobro pozhalovat' v nash dom.” Good evening, Baba Yaga. Welcome to our home.
“Spasibo, chto prinyali menya,” Barbara replied in the same language. Thank you for having me. “You wished to see me?” She knew that Mariska spoke perfectly fluent English, so Barbara wasn’t sure if the woman was simply being polite in greeting her guest in their shared tongue, or if there was something Mariska wished to say without being understood by her daughter.
Wickedly Unraveled Page 8
