“I had creatures too,” Mikhail said. “But mine were some kind of small chittering thing, like demented squirrels on a bad acid trip. They chased me down back roads until I was completely turned around; there were so many of them, it was as if the ground behind me had fur and teeth.” He held up one leg to show them what looked like a series of tiny bite marks in the white leather pants he wore. One white boot had a chunk missing from the sole. “Thank the gods for thick leather, that’s all I can say. They disappeared when the storm came up, but then the road washed out in front of me like someone erased it, and I had to backtrack the long way.” He crunched a pickle between strong, white molars. “Freaky.”
Alexei growled. “That is nothing,” he said, tension making his accent so thick it sounded like Dat iz nuh-tink. “I was riding along, minding my own business, and a stream tried to swallow me up.” Another shot of vodka slid down his throat. Baba had lost track of whether it was number four or five. Of course, he was as big as any two normal men, so he probably didn’t even feel them yet.
Chudo-Yudo raised one furry eyebrow, and eyed the nearly empty bottle suspiciously. Clearly, he was wondering how much of the Riders’ strange tale was real, and how much was the natural Russian penchant for exaggeration while drinking. Baba was wondering the same thing, and said so.
“I’m not making this up,” Alexei said, his long mustache turned down in grim assertion. He reached into one pocket and pulled out a small green frog, who blinked wetly at the assembled company, almost lost in the giant’s large outstretched palm. “I was riding down the road next to a small creek, and the next thing I know, this huge wave of water washes downstream in a rush, overflows the banks, and engulfs the exact spot where I happened to be.”
Baba gaped at him. “What did you do?”
He shrugged, making the entire couch shake. Mikhail held his glass out away from him so as not to spill a drop of the precious liquid inside.
“I held my breath, prayed to all the gods I could think of, and kept going. But I can tell you, if I didn’t have a magical motorcycle that still thinks it is a horse, I would be lying by the side of the road, lungs filled with water and a pissed-off expression on my cold, dead face.” He took a long pull straight off the bottle. “There is something very wrong here, Baba. I swear, that river water had arms in it. I could feel them, cold and hard and clammy, trying to drag me under.”
Baba decided to have another sip of her vodka after all. The stories they’d told sent little mice of doom scampering up and down her spine.
“Maya has to be behind all of this. There’s no other explanation. But I can’t believe she’s that strong a witch and I didn’t feel it.” She could kick herself for not just grabbing Maya when she was standing right next to her. It could have prevented all this mayhem. Of course, then they would have had to try to force the location of the missing children out of her, and something told Baba that wouldn’t be easy. Damn it.
“I don’t think so, Baba,” Gregori said in his calm voice. “This could not have been the work of just one woman. No matter how powerful she is, she can’t have been in three places at once.”
“Plus throwing up one hell of a storm,” Chudo-Yudo added.
“It’s more than that,” Mikhail said, looking up from the depths of his glass. “If those creatures I ran into are from around here, I’ll wear black for a month. We’re clearly dealing with in incursion from the Otherworld.”
Alexei nodded in agreement, the braid at the end of his beard nearly sliding into his vodka. “Yeah, I’d say mine was something from the Otherworld too. Some water elemental, maybe.”
Baba’s jaw dropped open. “That’s impossible. There’s only one way to get from there to here, and there is no way anything came through it without my knowing!”
Four people and one dog turned to look accusingly at the closet. It looked back, rattling its wonky knob as if to say, “Not me, folks.”
“What about another door?” Mikhail asked. “It’s not like you have the only one.”
“Of course not,” Baba scowled. She was very zealous about her job guarding the passageway between the two worlds. “There are a few natural gateways left, but the nearest ones are in Ontario and New York City, and they’re watched over twenty-four/seven. There’s no way an entire battalion of supernatural creatures could have waltzed right through one of those doorways, swarmed across New York State, and nobody noticed. You boys must be wrong.”
“Or Maya found another door,” Gregori said quietly.
The silence that followed that simple sentence resembled the hush after an explosion, before the chaos hit and bits of things began raining onto the ground.
“Another door,” Mikhail repeated. He shook his head. “Impossible.”
“‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,’” Gregori said.
“Huh?” Alexei just stared at him.
“Sherlock Holmes, you moron. Don’t you ever open a book?” Mikhail smacked the large man on the shoulder, then shook out his hand. “Damn. I have got to remember not to do that.”
Baba thought about it for a minute while the boys argued good-naturedly about the merits of Russian versus English literary works. It should, in fact, be impossible for a new door to the Otherworld to simply appear. But the existence of one would certainly explain much of the strange activity in the area, if Otherworld creatures were responsible for the damage and mischief the locals were experiencing. And if Maya was from the other plane, a glamour could mask alien features, rather than disguise human ones. Not to mention that would sure as crap explain the huge golden stag that had almost killed her. She had sensed something Otherworldly when she first saw Maya at that meeting, but she’d dismissed the feeling. Maybe she’d been too hasty.
“You know,” she said, thinking aloud, “there was one time when a huge earthquake somehow accidentally opened a portal that hadn’t existed before. Do you remember?”
“Nineteen sixty, Lumaco, Chile,” Gregori said. “The South American Baba called us in to help with cleanup. It was a nightmare.” He looked thoughtful. “I’d forgotten about that. But there haven’t been any earthquakes here lately, have there?”
She shook her head, curling one strand of black hair around her finger and chewing on it absently as she pondered. “Noooo . . . but they’ve been doing all this drilling deep into the shale. Fracking, they call it. You don’t suppose that could have opened up a new doorway, do you?”
“No matter how improbable,” Gregori said again. “If there was one, that would explain where all the creatures we sensed came from.”
Baba could feel the blood rush out of her face, and she suddenly felt as if the air temperature had dropped twenty degrees. “Oh gods. And why we haven’t been able to find any trace of the missing children here. She took them to the Otherworld.”
Four sets of eyes looked at her, appalled. “But. But that’s against the rules,” Chudo-Yudo said, dropping his current bone on the floor with a crunch. “No one is allowed to steal Human children and bring them across anymore. That’s punishable by banishment!”
The Riders’ faces grew, if possible, even grimmer. Banishment was one of the most feared punishments in the Otherworld. For people who lived almost forever, “never able to go home” was a very long time.
“Maya didn’t strike me as the type to care about rules,” Baba said. “But if those kids are on the other side . . .”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. They all knew that humans who spent any amount of time in the Otherworld were sometimes changed in ways that were next to impossible to undo.
“We can look for them there,” Mikhail said, doubt coloring his voice like gray smoke, “but if someone wants to hide something in the Otherworld, it usually stays hidden.”
Baba knew he was right. In a place that constantly changed and shifted acc
ording to the needs and desires of those who lived there, there were too many forgotten corners and veiled niches to search before it was too late.
“I asked Koshei to see if he could find anyone who knew Maya on the other side,” she said, knowing he would have already reported in if there was any news. “Maybe he’ll turn up something that can help.”
Gregori cleared his throat and gave Baba a meaningful look.
“What?” she said. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
Mikhail added his own cool blue gaze. “Somebody has to tell the queen and king.”
“Oh, no,” Baba held up both hands as if warding off a blow. Or something a lot worse. “Not me. The last time someone gave the queen news that really upset her, she turned six of her handmaidens into swans. For all I know, they’re still swimming around in the royal moat. One of you should tell her.”
“I’d make a lousy swan,” Alexei said with a slightly slurred snort. “Probably sink like a stone. Besides, you’re the one who called us in on this; we’re just the hired help.”
Gregori gave a particularly Russian shrug, one shoulder shifting up and down expressively. “Sorry, Baba, you’re going to have to do it. And better sooner than later. You know how the queen feels about people who keep secrets from her. And despite your autonomy in this world, the Babas all report to the queen at the end of the day. She rules over all magic. You do not want to piss her off.”
Baba sighed, drank the rest of her vodka down in one fiery swallow, and stood up as decisively as her slightly shaky knees allowed. “Fine. I’m going. I’m going.” She turned to Chudo-Yudo. “I’m leaving you in charge. Try not to let the boys wreck the place while I’m gone.”
The dragon-dog licked her hand. “Try not to get turned into anything nasty. I’d hate to have to eat you.”
She’d taken two steps in the direction of the wardrobe, when Mikhail said, “Stop.”
FOURTEEN
“WHAT?” BABA ASKED, just a little testy. Maybe he was going to offer to go in her place after all.
“Is that what you’re wearing?”
She started to roll her eyes but thought the better of it after glancing down at her bare feet and funky skirt. “Damn. Definitely not a good idea.” The queen was a stickler for protocol.
She ran into the back bedroom and changed quickly into her formal court attire, coming back out dressed in a scoop-necked red silk tunic that hugged her curves, and black velvet tights tucked into high leather boots so glossy you could see your reflection in them. A narrow silver sword sat on her right hip, and a small ornate dagger was on the left, both hanging from a jeweled belt. Her usual wild mass of dark hair was caught up sedately in a gossamer net decorated with tiny garnets and rubies that glittered like stars in the gold filigree, and around her neck was a simple necklace in the shape of a dragon with ruby eyes.
“Better?” she asked, twirling around so they could all see. The stiletto heel of one boot dug into the carpet under her feet, and a tiny orange salamander gave a high-pitched squeak and wiggled out of harm’s way.
Mikhail waggled his eyebrows at her, leering enthusiastically. “Much! You clean up quite nicely, Baba.”
Gregori and Alexei nodded in agreement. Even the dog looked impressed.
“You know, Chudo-Yudo,” she said. “Since the boys are here, they could guard the Water of Life and Death for you, and the doorway for me. You could come with me,” she said hopefully. “Wouldn’t you like a chance to change out of that big furry form and spread your wings again?”
He shook his massive head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather be a live dog than a dead dragon. No way am I taking bad news to the queen. But be sure to give her my regards.”
Baba shrugged. There was no point in more stalling—time to go tell the most powerful woman in the Otherworld that not only was there a breach in her defenses not one of her people had caught, but that someone had been using it to break the rules on both sides of the gateway. That was going to go over well.
She walked over to the closet door and opened it—directly onto the passageway, with no juggling required. It figured that it worked without arguing . . . the one time she wished it wouldn’t.
* * *
ONCE ON THE other side, however, things didn’t go so smoothly. In theory, since she had a specific destination in mind, the door should have opened nearby, and a short walk would have taken her directly to court. Instead, she ended up in a murky back corner she recognized from her youthful misadventures as the home of an antisocial troll and his wife, a carnivorous tree fairy named Lucinda. Not people she wanted to meet up with again, even if she hadn’t been in a hurry. Focusing on her goal of seeing the queen and king, Baba took a deep breath and followed the nearest path that led elsewhere.
Thorny blue vines caught at her feet as she almost tumbled headfirst into a ravine filled with giant roses in garish hues of acid pink, electric green, and maroon. Petals larger than her hand rained down on her head as she tried to catch her balance, and the sickly-sweet fragrance caught in her throat. She concentrated harder, fighting her way out of the dell and onto another path.
Iridescent lizards the size of Buicks sunned themselves on desert rocks piled one on top of another until it seemed they would reach the sky. Nothing else lived under the cloudless ochre canopy except spiky cacti and a carpet of low-growing red moss that bled orange as she trod across it in her equally spiky boots. She chose yet another path.
Sticky dirty-white threads crisscrossed the dusty passageway. It seemed to be the inside of some ancient dungeon or basement, although not one Baba recognized. The only light came from a far-off corner, where a strange clicking sound heralded the arrival of a gigantic white spider that let off a malevolent glow as if to attract anything foolish enough to seek solace in the dark. Fangs dripped wetly over a gaping maw as the arachnid raced across the room, setting the web to vibrating like a possessed and weeping harp. Baba turned and sped back in the direction she’d come from.
An endless chartreuse forest held no path at all. Only trees, as far as the eye could see, blocking out the dim pseudosun of the realm, and replacing it with gloomy shadows that colored the air with sadness. There were tall trees whose branches creaked and groaned in an unseen wind, and small trees, struggling to survive in the footsteps of their elders, bent and twisted with the effort. Unhealthy-looking mushrooms sprouted from cracks and crevices, pale yellow gills under gray caps spotted with oozing black spores. As she watched, a bird nibbled on one, and let out a horrible shriek, its last breath bubbling out like lava as it died.
“Okay,” Baba said out loud. “That is just about enough of this nonsense.” She swiveled on one heel so fast, the air hummed, her sword thrust forward to catch the tail of a pale string bean of a creature, all bulbous eyes and long nose, as it slid behind the cover of a lurking tree. Chameleon-like, the creature’s coloring changed to match the bark of the tree trunk it had been endeavoring to hide behind, which explained why it had taken her so long to catch a glimpse of the source of her tortuous, meandering route.
Leaving its tail skewered in place, she used the hand not holding her sword to drag the four-foot-tall being out into the open. Its mouth opened and closed like a fish thrown on dry land, but the only sound that came out was an indignant squawk.
“I hope you have more to say for yourself than that,” Baba said grimly, her fingers tightening around the creature’s throat. “After you’ve led me hither and yon for the last hour, I’m not in the mood for excuses. Who are you, and why have you been hiding the path to the palace from me?” She shook him briskly, to further emphasize how very out of patience she was.
Eyes wide, the creature said in a hoarse squeak, “Not my fault, Baba Yaga! Not my fault! Rusalka made me hide path from Baba Yaga! Told me to! Told me to!”
Baba scowled down at him. She was pretty sure it was a him anyway, although she wasn’t go
ing to look closely enough to find out for sure. “What do you mean, a Rusalka told you to lead me astray?”
The Rusalkas were water nymphs with bad reputations and worse habits. In the Old Country, they’d been known for luring young men to their deaths by disguising themselves as beautiful maidens, then drowning any man foolish enough to follow them back to their streams. Occasionally, they killed children as well, back in the days when wee ones were sent out to gather wood or herbs without someone older to watch over them.
Now that almost all the mythic creatures had been restricted to the Otherworld, Rusalkas were simply beings out of stories told around the fire on cold winter nights. They had no power in the human world, and little enough left here.
“Why would a Rusalka care where I go?” Baba asked the squirming manikin. “And why would you do what she said? Water nymphs have no right to command the likes of you.”
The weedy little skulker whined and moaned, clutching at its tail with one six-fingered hand. Its fingers were long and the undersides were covered with tiny suckers; clearly its natural environment was a far wetter place than this forest. “This one different,” it insisted. “This Rusalka strong and powerful. Very angry about what Humans do to water in the mundane lands. Makes water creatures like Rusalka weak and sick on this side. She no like being weak. Has many friends. Drinks their magic like wine. Trades for it. Many, many friends.”
“Who?” Baba demanded. “What friends?”
“Don’t know!” the creature said in a low voice, bulging eyes glazed with what looked to Baba like genuine fear. “Don’t care! Rusalka scary. She say do, I do.”
Baba pulled her sword loose with a moist snick and held it under the creature’s lengthy nose. “I am a lot scarier than any Rusalka,” she said with quiet threat. “I suggest you stop messing with me and run away to hide until this is over.” The creature whimpered and wrapped both narrow hands around its punctured tail.
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