Wickedly Powerful

by Deborah Blake

  “Sure, anything.”

  She gnawed on a fingernail for a second, not knowing if she really wanted the answer. “Are you going to call social services on me?” She held her breath.

  Sam thought about it for a moment. “I can’t say I’m happy about your situation, Jazz, especially if it turns out that Bella is really missing, and you’re at that caravan alone.” He held up one hand as she started to protest. “I know; you managed on your own in the woods for months just fine. And I respect that, I do. But that doesn’t make it right, or a good long-term option.”

  He rubbed his face, looking tired and worn. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s see if Bella turns up. If she does, we can all talk about it. If she doesn’t, well, we’ll have to see. But I promise I won’t call anyone without telling you first, and if I do have to call in the authorities, I promise I’ll make sure someone listens to you, even if I have to hire you a lawyer and pay for it myself. No matter what, I’m on your side.”

  Jazz blinked back tears. One adult being nice to her was hard enough to take. Two in one week was enough to break her. If she hadn’t been so tough, that is.

  “Okay,” she said. “I guess that’s fair.” Not that she wouldn’t take off again if she had to, but for now, she needed to stick around at least until she knew Bella wasn’t hurt or in trouble or worse.

  Because she had a bad feeling it might be all three.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  JAZZ WAS DRAGGING by the time she got back to the caravan. She wasn’t sure which was more exhausting, the long walk, the tough discussion with Sam, or worrying about Bella. Either way, all she wanted was to sit down and not think about anything for a couple of hours. Preferably in front of a video game where things blew up a lot. Ha. Not likely.

  Bella’s dirt bike wasn’t in view when Jazz got back, but it was usually kept tucked away underneath the caravan, so that didn’t necessarily mean she hadn’t returned. Jazz opened the door and peered around hopefully. “Bella?”

  Koshka lifted his head from where he was lying sprawled over most of the bed. “She’s still not here. Does this mean she wasn’t at the fire tower?”

  Jazz sank down onto the bed next to him, disappointment draining what little energy she had left. She’d really been hoping that Bella would miraculously have returned by the time she got back.

  “No,” she answered the cat. Dragon. Whatever. “She wasn’t there, and Sam hadn’t seen her since they had a fight yesterday morning.”

  “I thought it was something like that,” Koshka said in a disgusted tone. “Humans. All those complicated emotions getting in the way of basic instincts. It’s just silly.”

  “You don’t think she would have left because she was upset about their argument, do you?” Jazz ran her fingers through Koshka’s soft fur, wishing he purred like a regular cat. She could use something soothing about now. “I mean, not forever, but, like, just to go someplace and be by herself for a while?”

  Koshka shook his large head, careful not to dislodge her hand. “Not a chance. Baba Yagas don’t run away and pout when they’re on the job. And she wouldn’t have left you. Not for this long. Something’s happened. Something bad.” He sounded very certain, and it made Jazz’s stomach clench.

  “What are we going to do now?” she whispered. “Should I go look for her, do you think?”

  “Right, and have you disappear too?” The dragon-cat snorted. “Not on my watch.” He got up and stretched, then hopped down onto the floor.

  “I have a better idea,” he said. “I’m going to contact Barbara’s and Beka’s Chudo-Yudos. It’s time to call in reinforcements.

  * * *

  SAM STARED OUT the window at the diminishing column of smoke. It was smaller than the last time he’d looked, but it was still there. Jake had reported the fire at ninety percent contained, but nobody relaxed until that number hit one hundred. Too many things could go wrong.

  Jake had also told him that no one had seen anyone answering to Bella’s description, although he promised to ask the teams to keep an eye out.

  Sam was relieved to know that Bella wasn’t out there in the midst of the flames, but he was a lot less happy not knowing where she actually was, or that she was okay. He reminded himself that just because Jazz hadn’t contacted him to say Bella had returned, that didn’t mean the two of them—and the cat that just might be a dragon—weren’t sitting around at the caravan right now having dinner and laughing about how worried everyone had been over nothing. After all, he didn’t even know for sure Bella had a cell phone, and even if she did, and could get a signal, that didn’t mean she’d actually call him. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

  He swung the binoculars around from the smoke to the clearing, but didn’t see any movement around the caravan. He’d been checking periodically since Jazz left, and did manage to catch a glimpse of her arriving back safely, so that was something, but that was the last he’d seen of her. Even the cat seemed to be staying inside. Of course, a lot of the time he had the glasses trained on some other area, so an entire circus could have come trooping in and out and he might have missed it if he wasn’t looking in that direction at the right time.

  Still, he didn’t feel right about any of it. Not Bella being missing. Not Jazz being on her own. A part of him regretted promising her that he wouldn’t call in social services without telling her, but he wasn’t going to go back on his word. Besides, after what she’d told him, he wasn’t sure that being alone in the woods wasn’t a lot safer than whatever she might get sent back to.

  He paced back and forth, scanning the horizon as dusk began to settle over the mountains, turning the sky a darker blue that was almost purple. It was killing him to be stuck here, when what he really wanted was to be out searching for Bella. But he couldn’t leave his post, not even for that. Not while there was a fire.

  He felt like a fool for letting his pride and fear and stubborn insistence that he knew best get in the way of whatever connection he and Bella had begun to have. She was amazing and special and, yes, magical, and he’d pushed her away. And worse yet, he had the awful feeling that if they hadn’t had that stupid fight, maybe she’d be home and safe.

  If her disappearance was his fault, he didn’t know how he’d live with himself. And if something terrible had happened to her, he didn’t know if he could.

  * * *

  BELLA’S BRAIN FELT too large for her skull and throbbed in time with some techno music she couldn’t hear. For a minute, she wondered if she’d had too much to drink, like the one time she’d been crazy enough to take Alexei up on his traditional vodka challenge. The way everything was spinning around seemed vaguely reminiscent of that, but surely she wouldn’t have been crazy enough to fall for that one twice?

  Then her eyes began to focus again, and she could tell she was propped up against a dusty rock wall, bits of which were digging into her ribs, and it all came flooding back. The cave, the Riders, Brenna, and some kind of magical trap that she fell for like a preteen falls for a too-pretty movie idol. Dammit.

  Looking down, she saw that her hands were bound with something that looked like greasy black string and felt like iron. She couldn’t budge it, and when she tried to pry it off with her teeth, some oily substance embedded in the ties burned her mouth and tasted like old rubber tires dusted with bird shit. Ugh.

  Bella gave up on trying to unbind herself for the moment and looked around. Brenna had clearly dragged her into the magical cage where Mikhail Day was already imprisoned, probably because he was in the worst shape and therefore least likely to try and jump her while she hauled Bella in. Mikhail had pulled himself partially upright on the same wall Bella was currently leaning against, although at the moment it looked like it was all he could do to keep from passing out. His face was ashen white, except for a fading purplish bruise around his mouth and a dried trickle of blood under his nose, no longer as straight and perfect as
it had been.

  The blond man still managed to wink at her when he noticed that she was awake. “You should have run when I told you to,” he said hoarsely. “Just like when you were a little kid. You never could do what you were told.”

  Bella started to shake her head, but stopped when it made her ears ring. Whatever magical whammy Brenna had put on the cages and then set off when Bella was sucked in, it packed a real wallop.

  “Sorry,” Bella said. “Worst rescue ever.”

  In the next cage, Alexei gave one of his growling laughs. “Not quite, Baba Yaga. After all, Sun and I came here to rescue Day. That did not go so well either. You may have to get in line for the title.”

  “And I was going to rescue a damsel in distress,” Day added, wheezing a bit. “Since the lady in question turned out to be our not-so-lovely hostess, I think I win the prize for worst rescue.”

  Bella blinked. “Good grief. We should form a support group.”

  Brenna shambled over to the edge of the cage and sneered at them all in turn. “Witty banter, how charming. And I certainly hope that there won’t be any other ill-advised rescue attempts. I’m running out of room in here.” She cackled, sounding uncannily like the wicked witch she was. Bella kind of resented the cliché, but she figured that was the least of her worries.

  She took a deep breath, mustering all her focus, and lifted her bound hands in front of her so they were aimed at Brenna. Then she muttered an arcane phrase that should have resulted in a bolt of energy flying across the space between them. Instead, there was a burning sensation, and a few sparks fizzled for a moment at the tips of her fingers before fading into nothingness.

  Brenna gave a deep chuckle. “Ha! Nice try, sweetie. Those ribbons aren’t just for show, you know. They’re binding your magic along with your hands. Can’t have you trying anything silly now, can we? You’ve already been quite enough trouble as it is.”

  She bent down close enough to the bars that Bella could smell the reek of patchouli oil over the other noxious aromas in the cavern. The woman’s many colorful dangling bead necklaces clinked against the bars as she reached one dirty hand through to tug on the ties around Bella’s wrists. Apparently satisfied, she straightened back up and gazed around her. “Three Riders and a Baba Yaga. Not so impressive now, are you?”

  Bella felt anything but impressive, truth be told. But the Riders were in much worse shape than she was, so it was up to her to get them out of here. If she’d thought the Queen would be irate over her failing to track down the three Riders, that would be nothing compared to how Her Majesty would react if she found out that Bella had found them and then allowed herself to be captured by an aging former Baba Yaga. They’d probably end up playing an epically unfortunate game of “animal, vegetable, mineral.” And Bella really, really didn’t want to end up as a rock. Not even a pretty, shiny one.

  Since there didn’t seem to be any way to fight her way out, or magic her way out, maybe she could talk her way out. Somewhere under that demented exterior there had to be some vestige of the woman Brenna had once been. At the very least, Bella had to try and get through to her. If she couldn’t convince Brenna that what she was doing was wrong, maybe Bella could at least stall until Koshka came to track her down. Unfortunately, it would probably take a few days before he was sufficiently worried to abandon his job guarding the Water of Life and Death. That was going to take a lot of stalling.

  Bella took a deep breath and mustered up what she hoped was a convincingly sympathetic tone. “Look, I know you didn’t want to retire, Brenna. And the Queen was just talking the other day about how we needed more Baba Yagas to deal with the increase in natural disasters brought on by Human activities. Why don’t you let us go, and I’ll see if I can convince Her Majesty to reinstate you. I know all this was just a big mistake.”

  Brenna laughed bitterly. “The mistake was the Queen’s, thinking I would ever be willing to give up the magic and the power of being a Baba Yaga after so many years. Not to mention the youth.” She picked up a hank of her frizzy gray hair, and waved it at Bella. “Do you see this? Who would want to look like this, I ask you? It was one thing to don the guise of an old, arthritic woman. It is entirely another to live in it.” She spat on the ground in front of the cage.

  “We’ll explain that to the Queen,” Bella said earnestly. “Once we remind her of your long years of service to the crown, I’m sure she’ll be happy to give you enough of the Water to at least keep you from aging.”

  For a moment, she almost thought Brenna was buying it, but then the witch shrugged and twirled her beads around one gnarled finger. “It doesn’t matter,” Brenna said. “I don’t need her or her secret potion anymore. I have a potion of my own.”

  “The Riders told me you were working on an elixir,” Bella said, gritting her teeth so she didn’t scream at Brenna for exactly how she’d been going about that task. “But they also told me it wasn’t working. Let me take you back to the Otherworld. We’ll figure something out.”

  “Ah, but it is working,” Brenna said, leaning toward the cage. “I’ve gotten some of my power back already, and soon I’ll have the rest, and more. My potion will make the Queen’s look like grape Kool-Aid.”

  “That’s not possible,” Bella said slowly, as if talking to a not-very-bright child. “There is no way to make such a thing.”

  “Ah, but there is,” Brenna said, pointing one long, bent finger at the large tome sitting on the end of her worktable. “And I found it.”

  “What, in that dusty old book?”

  Brenna cackled. “That’s not just some dusty old book, sweetie. That’s the lost journal of a man named Pyotr, written long before the Baba Yagas spread out past the boundaries of the lands where they originated.”

  Bella could feel her heart fall into her boots. “Pyotr? Mad Pyotr? But he was insane! What do you think you can learn from the journal of a madman? I thought the Queen destroyed that manuscript long ago.” Hell, they’d all thought that. She couldn’t believe it still existed. And that Brenna had found it. This was an even worse nightmare than she’d realized.

  “You know how hard our dear Queen finds it to throw away anything of value,” Brenna gloated. “I discovered it hidden away in the back of one of the libraries at the palace, while I was wandering around trying to find some way to spend my enforced retirement. It wasn’t even locked up, if you can believe it. Just tucked in a silver box on a shelf, along with a number of other oddities. Once I realized the treasure I had, I borrowed it. That’s what libraries are for, isn’t it?”

  “Who was this Mad Pyotr?” Day asked weakly, looking at Bella with a baffled expression. “And why have I never heard of him? I thought I knew everything of importance that happened at the court for the last two thousand years or more.”

  Bella shook her head. “This was a secret—known only to the Queen and King, and to all the Baba Yagas, who are told the story as a cautionary tale when they finish their training.”

  “Oh, go ahead and tell them,” Brenna said, wandering back to stir whatever toxic brew she had in her cauldron. “They might as well know, since they’re going to die because of it.”

  Bella’s heart sank even further, if that was possible. At this rate, it was going to reach China. She wasn’t sure what the Queen would say about her sharing the long-held secret with the Riders, but she wasn’t going to pass up any opportunity to find out what Brenna was up to. Plus, you know, stalling.

  Bella tried to find a more comfortable position against the wall. “Once upon a time, a Baba Yaga found a boy child abandoned in the forest. Or maybe she stole him. Those things happened, back in the long-ago days. Either way, she decided to raise him as a Baba Yaga.”

  “What?” Alexei’s voice was indignant. “But only women can be Baba Yagas.”

  “Exactly,” Bella said, and went on with her story. “She raised the boy in secret, and as he grew, she gave
him the Water of Life and Death in the hope of making him magical. It worked, in the beginning, but eventually the Water drove him mad. Or maybe he was mad to begin with and the Water just made it worse. No one really knows.

  “It was never intended to be used long-term by a mortal man. Certainly not as often as she gave it to him, or starting so young,” she went on. “The Queen, who created the enchanted elixir to begin with, and who is the only one who knows what is in it or by what magical process it is made, designed it specifically for use by the Baba Yagas, all women.”

  “When you say he went mad,” Gregori asked quietly, “what exactly do you mean?”

  Bella’s stomach flipped over, just thinking about it. The tale was always passed on in full, graphic detail, to ensure that each new Baba Yaga never for one moment would consider making the same mistake. Those details were engraved on her brain like acid, but she thought she could just give the Riders the highlights and that would be good enough.

  “Initially, it was fairly benign,” she said. “He began to have conversations with imaginary creatures and would stay up late at night tracking the movements of the stars, which he swore contained the code for messages only he could understand. Eventually he moved on to trying to read the future in the entrails of animals, sometimes while they were still alive.” She shuddered. As a young woman, this was the part of the story where she’d thrown up. There had been pictures. Magical images projected on a hut wall, but no less vivid for all of that.

  “Let me guess,” Gregori said dryly. “The Queen finally found out and she was Not Pleased.”

  “To say the least,” Bella agreed. “In fact, I think it would be safe to say she was furious as only the High Queen of the Otherworld can be. She turned the Baba Yaga into a tree, as an example to all. And then hired a local woodsman to chop it into kindling. They say it was a spectacular bonfire.”