Wickedly Wonderful

by Deborah Blake

“Don’t worry,” she said, a plan forming in her head as she watched the empty boat bob up and down on the swells. “I can’t dive down that far, but I know someone who can.”

  * * *

  WHEN THEY RETURNED to the shore where they had left Beka’s Karmann Ghia and the Riders’ motorcycles, Beka stared pensively at the fast but not very large boat they’d used to follow Kesh.

  “I hate to say it, but I think we are going to need a larger boat than this for what I have in mind,” she said.

  Alexei looked vaguely guilty. “Uh, that is probably just as well, Beka. We, uh, sort of borrowed this one, and I should probably get it back to its owner before it is missed.” He whistled a bar or two from an old Russian tune, gazing off into the distance so he wouldn’t have to meet her eyes.

  “Alexei! Gregori! Don’t tell me you stole this boat!”

  “Very well, Baba,” Gregori said placidly. “We will not tell you. But Alexei is correct; we should probably return it soon.”

  Beka sighed. She was right back where she started, needing a boat, and only knowing of one she could use at a moment’s notice. At least Marcus already knew about her mission. And about Chewie, who was her secret weapon.

  “That’s okay,” she said. “I think I know where I can get a boat that will take me out there. Then it is just a matter of finding the canisters and figuring out what Kesh has done to poison the water. Once I know the cause, hopefully I’ll be able to fix it. And then I can turn Kesh over to the Queen to face her wrath for everything he’s done.” She said it all so confidently, she almost convinced herself.

  “It sounds like you have everything under control,” Gregori said. Beka thought she detected a strange tone to his voice. “Perhaps you no longer need us after all?”

  She peered at him, and then at Alexei, who still wasn’t meeting her glance. This wasn’t about the stolen boat, then. Or at least, not only about the stolen boat.

  “Out with it,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  Alexei shrugged, like a mountain shifting during an earthquake. “I have a bad feeling.”

  “A bad feeling?” Beka repeated. She scowled at Gregori, hoping he would be slightly more forthcoming than “a bad feeling.”

  Gregori let out a tiny sigh. “We are concerned about Day,” he said. “He should have been here long ago, and we’ve had no word from him at all. We contacted Barbara and Bella, and neither of them has seen him. It is . . . worrisome.”

  “Worrisome, yes,” Alexei said, absently chewing on the braided end of his beard. “I t’ink maybe that sonofabitch has gone and found some trouble without us. That is not right.”

  That was an understatement, Beka thought. She didn’t really understand just how the Riders communicated with one another, but she’d never heard of one being lost without the others knowing where he was, and more or less what he was up to. And if Alexei said he had a bad feeling about Mikhail Day, bad enough that his accent was this thick, then he and Gregori had to be truly anxious.

  “Look,” Beka said, “you guys have been a huge help. I never would have tracked down Kesh’s involvement without you. But I’m sure I can handle it from here. You two should go look for Mikhail.”

  Gregori gazed at her solemnly for a moment, assessing, and then he gave a small nod, his usually expressionless face hinting at equal parts remorse and relief. “When it comes time, do not try to tackle this Kesh by yourself, Baba. Tell the Queen your suspicions and she will send her guards to assist you.”

  “Um, okay,” Beka said. She had really been looking forward to bringing Kesh to the Queen, all wrapped up like a nice, tidy present. But she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. “Don’t worry about me. I’m going to prove myself to be worthy of the title of Baba Yaga, or die trying.”

  “It would be better if you didn’t die,” Alexei said seriously.

  She rolled her eyes at him. “It’s a Human expression, you goofball.” She gave him a shove in the direction of his bike, but it was like trying to move a chunk of granite.

  “Do not forget to use the Water of Life and Death as soon as you get back home,” Gregori added, sounding like a Russian version of Mary Poppins. “You need to be at your full strength to deal with this, and I have begun to wonder if whatever has made the Mer and Selkies sick hasn’t begun to have an effect on you as well. It would be best to be safe, and drink extra Water, just in case.”

  The same thought had occurred to her, once or twice. It simply kept slipping away in the confusion of events and the muddle that was her perpetually aching head. But she’d make sure to remember this time.

  “You’re right,” she said. “Are you coming back to the bus with me?”

  Alexei cast an openly longing glance toward the road above them. “We need to return this cursed boat,” he said. “But then, perhaps, we could be on our way?” He gave Beka a big bear hug, making her ribs creak ominously. “If that is okay with you, little one.”

  In truth, Beka would have loved for them to stay, as much for the company as for the help. But they would never consider leaving in the middle of an adventure if they weren’t seriously worried about Mikhail. Which made her worried too.

  She mustered up the last of her strength, trying to make it seem like nothing, and grabbed their saddlebags from the bus, bringing them through the ether to materialize with a pop and a tumble of jangly chains on black leather and perfectly polished red.

  “You boys go find Mikhail,” she said with a cheeriness so forceful it rattled her teeth. “I’ve got this. And don’t worry about the boat. I’ll make an anonymous call to the cops and they can come fetch it back to its owner.” She made a shooing motion. “Go on, get. And let me know when you find him, okay?”

  Hopefully she’d still be a Baba Yaga when they did. She wasn’t sure what the rules were about the Riders contacting a civilian.

  Gregori gave her one of his graceful bows and then they were gone, the sound of their departing motorcycles fading before she could draw another breath.

  Damn, she hoped her plan worked. Because if it didn’t, without the Riders, she was screwed.

  TWENTY-TWO

  BEKA LET HERSELF into the bus as quietly as she could, but Chewie woke up anyway, lifting his head up from his paws where he was sprawled out over most of the kitchen floor like a dark, lumpy rug. She guessed he wouldn’t be much of a guard dragon if she could sneak past him, but she’d really been hoping to go to bed and put off the inevitable argument until morning. Well, later morning. It was already after two.

  He padded over to greet her, nails clicking on the wooden floor, and blinked rapidly as she turned on the light.

  “How did it go?” he asked, looking around. “And where are the Riders?”

  Beka grabbed a bottle of ice-cold water from the fridge, thinking she was forgetting something. Exhaustion dragged at her feet and fogged her mind, so overwhelming it made her want to weep with tiredness. She really needed to get some sleep, and soon. But first, she had some explaining to do.

  She plopped down on the couch with a sigh, gesturing for Chewie to join her. “It went . . . well, it went. We didn’t catch him, but we did see enough to be sure we had the right guy, and to also discover that he is probably behind the poisoning of the water people’s homes, in addition to being the renegade the Queen wants caught.”

  “Huh,” Chewie said. “We should have figured the two might be connected. It never occurred to me though.”

  “Me either,” Beka said. “I guess I haven’t handled this very well.”

  Chewie stared at her. “You’ve handled it just fine. No one else could have done any better. You’re just hearing Brenna’s voice in your head, telling you you’re not good enough. It’s as though she never left.”

  Beka sat up straight, taken aback by the unexpected vehemence in his voice. “What? What are you talking about? Yes, Brenna was always a little hard on me, but she criticized me for my own good, so I’d learn to be the best Baba Yaga I could be.”

 
; Chewie sighed, looking at her as though she were an idiot. “Your own good, my hairy black ass. She criticized you because she felt threatened by your youth and beauty and strength of character, and because she hated the idea of training anyone to replace her. I’ve always thought she picked you because you satisfied the requirement of magical ability, but your innate goodness made it easy for her to manipulate you. Look, you’re still defending her, even now.”

  “She rescued me from a hellish fate,” Beka said indignantly. “And she raised me to be a Baba. What more could I have asked for?”

  “A little kindness, maybe? An occasional ‘Well done, Beka’?” Chewie said, poking his cold nose into her hand and giving it a lick, as if to make up for his comments. “Never mind. This isn’t the time for this conversation, although it is long overdue. You beat her at her game anyway, by turning out to be a lot stronger than she ever thought you’d be.”

  Beka had never loved that silly dragon more than she did at this very moment, although she thought he was vastly overestimating any strength she might have. Her whole body ached, and there was a tremor in her hands that made her quickly put down the bottle before he could notice.

  “Yes, well, maybe,” she said ruefully. “But it turns out that my taste in men is pretty lousy.”

  “Ah.” Chewie sat back on his haunches. “It was the Selkie prince, then. I’m almost sorry to be right.” He thought about it for a moment. “On the other hand, I told you so.”

  Beka rolled her eyes, a movement that hurt more than it should have. “Yes, you did. And since I actually watched him murder a man in cold blood a couple of hours ago, I can’t even work up the will to argue with you. Dammit.”

  Chewie smirked, his black tongue lolling. “It could be worse, you know.”

  “Really? How?”

  “You could have slept with him.”

  Beka shuddered. “Gah. True enough. Although I didn’t do much better picking the one I did sleep with.” Dammit again. And now she had to go ask him for help. Maybe she could just throw herself in the ocean instead. Holding on to a big, heavy rock.

  “So what did you do with the sonofabitch? Is that where Alexei and Gregori are, taking him to the Queen?” Chewie asked.

  “No. Kesh took a couple of mysterious containers and the dead body of the man who brought them to him, and drove his boat out to near where I’ve been diving. And he didn’t come back up again while we were there. Not that it would have mattered, since as Gregori pointed out, there was no point in trying to capture a Selkie on the open water.” She took a deep breath. “And the Riders left. They went to look for Mikhail; they’re afraid something has happened to him.”

  “Wait, what?” Chewie’s muzzle wrinkled. “You mean they just left you to deal with this by yourself?”

  “Not by myself,” Beka said, leaning forward and giving him a big hug. “I’ve got you. In fact, you’re a vital part of my cunning plan.”

  “Oh, great,” Chewie said. “You’ve got a cunning plan. Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like it?”

  Because you’re not going to like it, Beka thought. But out loud, she said, “Are you kidding? You get to be the hero of the story for a change, instead of complaining that you’re stuck here, guarding the Water of Life and Death and missing all the action.”

  He perked up a little at that, but still looked at her doubtfully, cocking his head to the side. “Uh-huh. And what exactly is it your plan requires me to do that is so heroic only I can manage it?”

  Beka took a deep breath. Everything was riding on her being able to persuade Chewie to break one of the most basic rules of being a Chudo-Yudo. But without him, her plan had no chance at all, and she could kiss her career as a Baba Yaga good-bye.

  “You’re going to do what you were born to do, Chewie. You’re going to go for a swim. A really long, really deep swim.”

  * * *

  BEKA FORCED HER feet to move toward the pier where the Wily Serpent was docked, even though every fiber of her being wanted to run in the opposite direction. Or walk, maybe, since it was really early and she’d barely gotten any sleep.

  It had taken almost two hours to convince Chewie that it would be okay for him to leave the bus and go with her out on the ocean. The main duty of a Chudo-Yudo was to guard the Water of Life and Death that his Baba Yaga was entrusted with by special favor of the Queen of the Otherworld. The Water was precious and rare, which was why it stayed hidden away in a special compartment. (Or, in the case of Beka’s Baba-sister Barbara, tucked away behind the orange juice in her refrigerator. As Barbara liked to say, it was the last place anyone would ever look.)

  Chewie took his duties very seriously and rarely left the bus if Beka wasn’t there. He occasionally ran down to the beach below to sport amongst the waves, but even then he was close enough to sense if the magical defenses on the erstwhile hut sent up a warning of an intruder. It took all of Beka’s persuasive powers to talk him into going with her today, and if it wasn’t for the urgent nature of the mission, and the lives at stake, she was sure he would have refused.

  And it wasn’t until after they left the bus that she realized she’d still forgotten to take the dose of the Water as she’d promised Gregori. It would have been nice to get the boost, but it would just have to wait until they got home.

  They’d set out soon after the sun came up, because Beka was afraid that the boat would have already gone out if they waited too long, but when she reached the end of the pier, there it was. She didn’t see Marcus or his father, but Chico and Kenny were hard at work, repainting the fading trim and scrubbing the deck.

  “Ahoy the boat,” she said, standing by the short gangplank that connected it to the dock.

  “Hey! Beka! Look Chico, it’s Beka!” Kenny dropped his scrub brush into his bucket with a splash and raced over to meet her. “And her . . . um, what is that thing, anyway?”

  Beka laughed, surprised by how pleased she was to see Kenny’s open, sunny face. “This is Chewie. He’s a Newfoundland.”

  “Hola, chica,” Chico said. “It is nice to see you back here. Marcus told us that you were done with your diving, and we thought maybe we weren’t going to see you again.” He eyed Chewie with the admiration of a true dog lover. “Dios mio, that is some big dog. We had donkeys in my village back home smaller than him.”

  Chewie gave a proud woof and Beka whispered, “Stop showing off. You’ll scare the natives.”

  “I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you,” she said. “I didn’t realize it was cleaning day.”

  Kenny’s face fell, his big grin sliding away like an eel hiding from a hawk. “Yeah. Marcus Senior, he ain’t doing so good, and the fishing has been pretty bad. He’s thinking about maybe selling the boat, so he’s got us spiffing it up a little.”

  “Oh. Damn. I’m sorry to hear that.” Her heart ached to hear that Marcus’s father was losing his battle; she’d actually grown to like the crusty old sailor. And, of course, without his father and the boat to hold him here, Marcus would be gone in a flash. Not that it made any difference to Beka’s life. But still, she’d kind of liked the thought of knowing he was out on the Bay, even if she couldn’t be with him.

  Focus, Beka, focus.

  “Uh, is he here? Marcus, I mean?” Beka could feel herself flushing and stared down at the oily water underneath the pier, watching the swirls of iridescence moving back and forth with the waves as boats chugged in and out of the harbor.

  “He’s here,” Chico said. “Hang on. Kenny, you want to get Mr. Marcus for the lady?”

  “Sure,” Kenny said, and turned around to yell over his shoulder, “Hey, Marcus! Beka’s here!”

  Chico rolled his eyes and muttered something in Spanish. “I meant you should go and fetch him, idiota, not wake up everybody on the whole pier.”

  Kenny glanced up and down the dock, where most of the boats had already set sail for the day. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

  Beka stifled a laugh at their antics, but her sense of humor fl
ed when she caught sight of Marcus, coming around the starboard side of the ship. He looked just as amazing as he had the first time she’d seen him, his hair curling a little from the damp air, those broad shoulders straining his tee shirt. His hazel eyes had an amber hue as they gazed at her, the sun lighting him from behind like a corona. She fought the desire to run to him and throw herself into his arms. She knew she wasn’t welcome there.

  “Beka!” he said, sounding surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you. Did you make some kind of arrangement with my da that he forgot to mention?”

  She shook her head. This was the part she’d been dreading since she figured out last night that she was going to need to use the boat again. What was she going to do if he turned her down? For a minute, she was tempted to lie and say yes, she’d already talked to his father, but she’d lied to Marcus enough already. Look at where that had gotten her.

  “Um, no,” she said, “and I’m sorry to hear that he isn’t doing well. Is he in the hospital?”

  Marcus gazed from her to Chewie, obviously puzzled, but for now, he simply answered the question. “No. He’s just tired and resting at home. It’s hard to tell how much of his exhaustion is the cancer, how much is the treatment, and how much is plain old discouragement.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here, Beka?”

  She’d just been asking herself the same thing. She must have been out of her mind to think this would work. But Marcus already knew about her—and more importantly, about Chewie—and she didn’t know how in hell her plan could work using a boat full of people she had to come up with some kind of reasonable explanations for.

  “Can I talk to you?” she asked, trying to keep the pleading out of her voice. “Alone?”

  Marcus stared at her for a minute, then turned to Chico and Kenny. “Why don’t you guys take a lunch break.” He pulled out a couple of bills from his wallet and handed them to Chico. “It’s on me.”

  Kenny’s face scrunched up in confusion. “But Marcus, it’s only seven in the morning.”