She had never expected to have a family. Never even thought she wanted a man who loved her unconditionally. Or a child to raise as her own, as much for the child herself as for the girl’s potential as a future Baba Yaga. And yet somehow she had been blessed with both. She wanted that feeling back. Wanted it with a strength that surprised and overwhelmed her, making her fingers tremble and her knees weak with need and suppressed grief.
She would never have imagined that love could make you so vulnerable. Or that knowing this, she still would do whatever she could to get it back.
Thankfully, these unusually maudlin musings were interrupted by a knock at the door. Or where the door would have been, had it not been playing its usual games. Barbara could hear someone walking around to the other side of the Airstream and sternly ordered the trailer to put the door back.
A minute later, there was another knock, and she opened the door to find a confused Liam standing on the steps, holding an envelope in one hand.
“I think I’ve been breathing in too many varnish fumes,” he said, shaking his head. “I could have sworn this door wasn’t here a minute ago.”
“It tends to blend in with the rest of the Airstream,” Barbara said blandly. “What have you got there?”
“Um, you’re not going to believe this,” he said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “But a bird dropped off this invitation to dinner. I’m guessing it is from you?” He didn’t sound all that certain. About anything, at the moment, poor guy.
Barbara turned to look at Babs, one dark eyebrow raised in question. Babs gazed back, looking innocent, but Barbara wasn’t fooled. Apparently she wasn’t the only one missing family time.
“I expect that Babs was working on that and left it outside, and a bird found it and picked it up,” Barbara said, motioning him inside. “I guess it’s lucky it got to you at all. I hadn’t been planning on a guest for tonight, but you’re welcome to join us for whatever it is that’s on the stove. I’m pretty sure it has chicken in it. There’s plenty, whatever it turns out to be.” She made a few arcane gestures behind her back in the pot’s general direction, in hopes of encouraging it to be edible.
Liam let out a chuckle, clearly not sure if she was joking or not. “You don’t know what you’re making?” he said. “That sounds…adventurous. I like to cook, actually, and I’m not half bad at it, if I do say so myself. The two of you will have to come over for dinner at my house sometime.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Barbara said. Babs just nodded, but her brown eyes were sparkling.
Chudo-Yudo grumbled, no doubt because he would have to stay behind to guard the Water of Life and Death. Barbara, not wanting the moment to be ruined by a large pouting dragon-dog, opened the refrigerator and pulled out a gigantic t-bone steak. She tossed it on the stove to char it briefly on both sides, the way he liked it. Usually he took care of the charring part himself, but if Liam was already doubting his own sanity, she couldn’t imagine how he’d feel after seeing flames shooting out of a white pit bull’s mouth.
“Wow, that’s a big steak,” Liam said. “I thought you said you weren’t sure what dinner was.”
“Oh, this isn’t for us,” Barbara said, sliding the steak onto a large pottery platter decorated with traditional Russian motifs. She hoped that this time Chudo-Yudo would remember not to eat the plate too. She placed it on the floor in front of the dog and dished up the rest of their food and put it on the table. Keeping her fingers crossed, she opened the fridge again and took out two of Liam’s favorite Blue Moon beers that hadn’t been there a minute ago.
“This is delicious,” Liam said, digging into the food on his plate. “Is there white wine in it?”
Barbara shrugged. “Probably. I know I tossed in some mushrooms and onions and garlic.”
“You can’t go wrong with those,” Liam agreed. “I think you were teasing me when you said you couldn’t cook.”
“The stove does most of the work,” Barbara said, not explaining that some of that work was magical.
“But the refrigerator makes very good pies,” Babs added, trying to be fair as always.
Poor Liam got that slightly glazed look in his eyes again, but clearly decided to humor the cute kid. “I’m sure it does, honey.” He took a hurried swallow of his beer and Barbara tried not to laugh.
They were just finishing up, and Barbara was wondering if in fact the fridge could be persuaded to produce a pie, or at least a nice simple cheesecake, when there was another knock at the door.
The place was beginning to feel like Grand Central Station. She’d always hated that place. Only went there when she had to use the official portal hidden deep underground.
She got up and peeked out the window and growled under her breath, “NOW you make a door? We don’t want one.” But it was too late.
Maya simply opened it and stalked in, looking blonde and polished and beautiful (and not at all green and drippy, as her true form had appeared the last time Barbara had seen her in the Otherworld). Behind her, an expensive convertible was parked at an angle, as if its driver had been in a hurry. Or, as it turned out, in a gigantic snit.
“How dare you!” Maya hissed at Barbara, not even bothering to look past her to see if she was interrupting anything. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, Baba Yaga, but I am not one bit amused to have been dragged in front of the Queen to answer a series of ridiculous questions. I have no idea what makes you think it is any of your business what I do, but you had better keep your long nose out of my business if you know what is good for you.”
“I don’t think so,” Barbara said calmly. “First of all, the Queen does what the Queen wants to do. I have no control over her at all, as I’m sure you are aware. I just gave her some information, which happened to be true, as you are also aware.”
“Information,” Maya spat. Her perfected wound chignon quivered. “I don’t know where you got your information, or why you thought it would be a good idea to go poking around in matters that don’t concern you, but I strongly suggest you cease such ill-advised meddling. I hear you have a young ward now. It would be a shame if something bad happened to her.”
Liam suddenly appeared at Barbara’s shoulder, as if summoned by Maya’s last words.
“Did I just hear you threaten a child?” he asked, quiet fury resonating like a snake’s warning rattle under the calmness of his tone.
Barbara thought he was as sexy as hell. Not that she couldn’t handle Maya on her own, but he didn’t know that.
“Oh, my. I didn’t know Barbara had company,” Maya said, suddenly all charm and batting eyelashes. “And such lovely company at that. I was just joking, sheriff. Ms. Yager and I know each other from our homeland, and as I was passing through town, I thought I’d just stop by and say hello.”
“I’m not the sheriff anymore,” Liam said through gritted teeth. “But that doesn’t mean that I am going to stand by and allow anyone to harm a child. You didn’t sound as if you were joking to me, Ms. Freeman. In fact, you sounded like a very angry woman making some dangerous threats.”
Maya’s smile lost a bit of its wattage but she kept going gamely. “Dear me. It’s a shame you lost your job. I remember you from when I was living here last year and it seemed like you were just terrific at it.”
She exchanged the smile for a sad little head shake. “If you’re worried about someone causing harm, though, you might be better off looking closer to home. Barbara isn’t to be trusted, I’m afraid. She tells lies. Many, many lies.” Maya gave Barbara a pointed look, then stalked back out to her car and roared off into the night.
“What the hell was that all about?” Liam asked. “And what did she mean about you telling lies. Have you been lying to me about something?”
Barbara sighed. An honest answer to that question could only get her into more trouble. But she couldn’t give him a completely dishonest answer without it coming back to bite her later. She suddenly remembered why she’d avoided relationships for
so long.
Chapter Fifteen
“Not so much lying as not bringing up certain topics of conversation,” Barbara said, hoping to cut this particular conversation short. “Sensitive subjects I knew might upset you. I assure you, I really did buy this house, and I really do need you to fix it up and make it habitable for me and Babs. Now, how about dessert?”
Sadly, Liam wasn’t going to be that easily distracted. She would have been surprised if he had been. “Which subjects?” he asked. “And why was Ms. Freeman so angry with you? Who is this Queen she was dragged in front of—is that a nickname for some woman in power you both know?”
Barbara gave an inward sigh, knowing what was coming. “She’s angry with me because she knows I believe she was involved in the disappearances of the children here, and I mentioned that belief to someone fairly high in our mutual social circle.”
Wait for it…
“You think what?” Liam said, a vein standing out on his neck. “Do you happen to have any proof? And have you told this to someone official?”
More official than the High Queen of the Otherworld? No.
“If I had mentioned it to your current sheriff, would he have believed me?”
Liam clenched his jaw. “That’s not the point.”
“I see,” Barbara said, as patiently as possible, considering that he was completely and totally in the wrong. “Then what is the point, exactly?”
“The point,” he repeated through gritted teeth, “is that civilians should stay out of police matters. You are a smart woman. You should know enough to leave these things to the professionals.”
“Even when the professionals are incompetent?’ she asked sweetly. He could hardly argue, since everyone seemed to agree that the new sheriff was an idiot.
He made a growling noise that reminded her a little of Chudo-Yudo. “Yes,” he said. “Even then. Thank you for dinner, Ms. Yager. I’ll be back tomorrow to work on the house.” He nodded his head less brusquely at Babs and stalked out the door.
Well, at least some things seemed to be consistent, no matter which timeline she was in. She made a quiet growling sound of her own and walked over to the refrigerator. “There better be chocolate fudge cake in here,” she said.
Luckily for everyone, there was.
Barbara heard Liam’s truck drive in first thing in the morning and made the sudden decision that she wanted to be elsewhere. She couldn’t tell him the truth, at least not more than she had already (and look how well that had gone) and she couldn’t face his stony silence. Or another argument.
“Grab a bag,” she told Babs. “We’re going to go collect some magical supplies.”
“Are we gathering herbs?” the girl asked, jumping down from her current perch on her bed and pulling her shoes on eagerly. She loved being out in the woods as much as Barbara did.
“Yes and no,” Barbara said. “We’re going to get some things I need for Jazz’s spell. From the Otherworld.”
Babs pulled off her sneakers and ran to get changed into something more suitable. Barbara followed more slowly to do the same.
Chudo-Yudo shook his massive head, making white fur fly through the air. He didn’t have to shed, but he seemed to enjoy leaving traces of himself everywhere he went. “Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked. “You know that if you walk through her world for more than a few minutes the Queen will know, and expect you to show up eventually to report.”
“Beats the alternative,” Barbara muttered, glancing out the window. “Besides, I am going to have to do that eventually. Might as well get it over with. And I need those ingredients if I am going to experiment. The Otherworld is the only place to find some of them.”
“Uh huh.” The dragon-dog followed her gaze. “So it’s a case of the Lady or the Tiger, eh? Which one is the Queen?”
“We’ll find out when we see her,” Barbara said. She grabbed a couple of containers she thought they might need and headed toward the wonky closet door, Babs on her heels.
“What if that sheriff comes looking for you?” Chudo-Yudo asked.
“Ex-sheriff, not that he seems capable of remembering that,” she said. “I doubt he will. But if he does, you’re not allowed to eat him.”
“Damn,” Chudo-Yudo said, and subsided in a heap in a patch of sunlight on the floor. “I don’t get to have any fun.”
“A dozen centaur tears,” Babs read off the list. “I think I met a centaur at court once. They’re the ones who have the head and torso of a man and the body of a horse, right?”
“That’s right,” Barbara said, leading the way past a series of bright purple bushes with pretty red berries. If the berries hadn’t been smoking slightly, they might have been more tempting. Not that it was a good idea to eat anything in the Otherworld unless you knew for certain it was safe. Sometimes not even then. “That was Chiron, the leader of the centaurs. Most of them don’t go anywhere near the castle. They’re not a very sociable bunch, at least with those outside their own race.”
“Oh,” Babs said. They walked on for a while as she thought. A transparent bird the size of an eagle whizzed by their heads, only visible as it brushed by some trees that sprinkled it with golden dust.
“Are all centaurs boys, or are there girl centaurs too?” she asked finally. “None of the books show the girls. Are they shy?”
“Not exactly,” Barbara said. “I met one many years ago, when I was about your age. She was very pretty. And quite skilled with a bow and arrow. Extremely skilled. I suggest we look for the boys today. They’re merely difficult to deal with, not impossible.”
They finally ended up at a grove of trees on the edge of a small emerald green lake. Iridescent blue cattails sunned themselves and purred amongst the elegant fronds of tall ferns. Dragonflies that looked like miniature dragons flitted back and forth, playing some kind of complicated game that seemed to involve dropping bit of crystals onto lily pads far below.
A group of male centaurs wearing colorful beads braided into their long hair and manes were idly watching the dragonfly antics as they stood nearby chatting about whatever it was centaurs chatted about when they were at home.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Barbara said. “You are looking particularly regal today.”
One of the group made a snorting noise that sounded more horse than man and trotted over to meet them. His companions followed, although they let him take the lead.
“What brings the Baba Yaga to our part of the Otherworld?” the leader asked. “It isn’t often we have such an unexpected honor.”
Babs tilted her head to the side, considering, then looked up at Barbara. “Is that sarcasm?” she asked. She was still struggling with some of the nuances of conversation.
“I believe it was,” Barbara said, fighting back a smile. “Well done.”
The centaur stomped one front hoof impatiently. “Who is this little person? Is it not enough we have to deal with you?”
“Manners, Polkan,” Barbara admonished him. Not that centaurs cared much about such things. “This is Babs, my apprentice. She wanted to see the greatest races in the Otherworld, so I brought her here. Perhaps I made a mistake.” She took Babs’ hand. “Let’s go visit the ogres instead. They’re very large.”
“Harrumph,” Polkan said. “Very large and very ugly. Why would you want to subject this poor girl to that? Besides, ogres are hardly in the same class as centaurs.”
“It is true,” Barbara said. “You are much more handsome. But since you clearly aren’t in the mood for visitors, I should probably take her to see the griffons. They’re beautiful and they like children, which you clearly don’t.”
“Oh, pish tosh,” Polkan said. “I like children just fine.” He patted Babs clumsily on the head. Centaurs might be antisocial, but they were also very vain. The idea that any other creature might be considered greater than they were was unacceptable. “When you grow up to be a Baba Yaga, little girl, you will remember this day when you met the centaurs in all our glory.”
>
“Glory is all very well,” Barbara said. “But kindness and generosity of spirit are also part of what makes any race great. Maybe we should go visit the unicorns. They are always kind to children.”
Polkan sputtered. “Kind! Kind! There are no creatures kinder than the centaurs. Everyone knows this.”
“I must have forgotten,” Barbara said, and then in a thoughtful tone, “You know, Babs is working on a special project for me. It requires twelve magical tears. We were going to get them from the unicorns, but if you wouldn’t mind…”
“Of course not,” Polkan said, puffing out his massive chest. “Our tears are the most magical of all.” He hesitated. “Although we do not cry very often. That is probably what makes them so special, but I’m not sure how we would give them to you.”
Barbara whipped a glass vial out of her bag. “Normally I would tell you a very sad story,” she said. “But we don’t have that much time, so I am afraid we will have to use a considerably cruder method. I apologize, and thank you in advance for your cooperation.”
She moved closer and reached up to place the vial under one large, long-lashed eye. Then she quickly yanked out one of the sensitive hairs from his chin.
“OW!” Polkan yelled, and two tears rolled into the vial. She repeated the maneuver with five of the other centaurs (after Polkan refused to let her do it to him a second time).
“Thank you,” she said. “You truly are the greatest, most handsome, kindest creatures in all the Otherworld.”
“Go away, Baba Yaga,” Polkan said in a grumpy tone. “Sometimes it is too much work to be this great.”
Babs and Barbara made their way through a swamp filled with geysers that shot rainbow-colored water into the air, and then past a tiny village made up of miniature houses that only came up to Barbara’s knees. Finally, they arrived at a small, neat white cottage with a thatched roof and a shiny brass door knocker set precisely in the middle of the red door. A plaque above the door knocker said “SMYTHE.”
Wickedly Unraveled Page 16
