Wickedly Unraveled

by Deborah Blake

  “I still can’t believe they fired you,” Barbara said, probably a tad too fiercely. “So did the new sheriff ever make any headway on the case of the missing children?”

  “No,” Liam said in a brusque tone, the grooves around his mouth deepening. “And yet somehow he still has his job.” He put his cup down with a decisive clunk and stood up. “Thank you for the coffee. That should keep me going for another couple of hours. I’m going to try and rescue those shutters of yours before they fall off the house entirely.”

  Barbara followed him to the door as he marched over to his truck and grabbed his tool belt. The late afternoon sun had gotten quite warm, and Liam took off his shirt and slung it over the tailgate before attacking the crooked shutters with the fervor of a man being chased by his own demons.

  She stood there and watched for a while, admiring the movement of his muscles under his tanned skin. Eventually Babs came over and stood next to her, holding Kitty the bear.

  “I thought it was not polite to stare,” Babs said. “Did I get that wrong?”

  “No,” Barbara said. “But in this case, because I am technically still married to him, it is allowed.”

  “Human rules are confusing,” Babs said.

  “You’re not wrong,” Barbara said. “You’re definitely not wrong.

  Chapter Thirteen

  To Barbara’s surprise, she was awoken two days later by the muted rumble of a motorcycle coming to a stop in front of the Airstream. She stuck her head out the window to see Alexei, looking as perky as ever despite the early hour. Mind you, she’d seen him look just as energetic after a three day binge of carousing and injury-inducing bar fights. It was more or less his default setting.

  “Good morning, Baba Yaga,” he said. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

  Barbara glanced at the angle of the sun. “Of course you woke me up, you twit. It’s only around five am.” But she had to fight to keep the smile off her face as she said it.

  Alexei squinted at the sky. “Ah, so it is. Well, you go back to sleep then. I’ll just sit out here on the hard ground in front of your decrepit new house and wait for you to be awake enough to hear my news. No hurry.” He gave a huge yawn and stretched. “Just because I drove all night to get here is no reason to interrupt your beauty sleep.”

  “You were in Ohio,” Barbara said, unimpressed by his melodramatics. “With your enchanted steed, it probably took you less than four hours. That’s hardly all night.”

  “Well, it was part of the night,” Alexei said. “And I was awake all the rest of it watching your friend Maya. The least you could do is give a poor Rider a cup of coffee and a piece of pie.”

  “You found Maya?” Barbara said. “You can have two pieces of pie. If the refrigerator can be persuaded to produce some, that is. Come on in.” She would have let him in anyway, of course, but the fact that he had found Maya made her stop playing their games a little sooner than she would have otherwise.

  “Of course it will produce pie for me,” Alexei said smugly. “Your refrigerator loves me.”

  It was true. Everything in the Airstream was more likely to cooperate for any of the Riders than it was for her. Traitor. The one time she’d asked it for pie, she’d gotten nothing but cherry pies for three days. Magical traveling huts could be a pain in the butt sometimes.

  Since there was no way Alexei’s bulk would squeeze into one of the banquet seats designed for more average sized people, he perched on a stool and gratefully accepted a large mug of steaming coffee, black with six sugars. Despite the way he ate there was never an extra ounce of fat on him—all that mass was pure muscle—because his metabolism burned calories as if they were twigs in a bonfire.

  “Good morning, Alexei,” Babs said, climbing down from her bed and then giving it a shove until it folded neatly back up into its spot on the wall. “I named my bear Kitty. Liam said it was okay.” She set the bear down on the couch and sat down next to it, seemingly not at all perturbed by the early hour. Her clothing sense was a little unusual at the best of times, and she seemed to have slept in a pair of orange and pink striped shorts and a purple tee shirt with a picture of a grumpy cat on it.

  “Did he?” Alexei said. “And did you ask him to get you a real kitten?”

  “Not yet,” Babs said.

  “Not ever,” Barbara said, feeling grumpier than the fabric feline. She got her own coffee and a glass of milk for Babs, and set an entire blueberry pie in front of Alexei. “Don’t encourage her, please.” She and Babs got buttered toast with marmalade.

  “Now, are you going to tell me about Maya, or am I going to have to turn you into something that eats flies for breakfast instead of pastry?” she said to Alexei.

  He gave his rumbling laugh, as unimpressed with her threats as ever.

  “She wasn’t very difficult to track down,” he said. “Just as you thought, she is still with Peter Callahan, although the balance of power in their relationship has clearly shifted. Any illusion that he was the one in charge is gone now.

  “The only reason it took me this long to get back to you was because I thought you’d want me to watch her for a bit, and see if I could figure out what she is up to.”

  “And what is she up to?” Barbara asked.

  “Nothing good,” Alexei said with a shrug. “I talked with some of the people in town and then backtracked to the last few places Callahan’s company sent him. It appears that all of them have experienced mysterious problems. Machinery not working for no obvious reason. Sinkholes swallowing up entire operations. One well site in Pennsylvania apparently had quite a spectacular explosion. You’ll have to ask Jazz if she has turned up anything looking at that fancy computer of hers, but I’m guessing his company isn’t too happy with him about now.”

  “Is anyone blaming him for causing the problems? Or looking in Maya’s direction?” Barbara was a little concerned about Alexei going around asking pointed questions. He wasn’t exactly subtle, and even with his best intentions, he tended to stand out in a crowd. She had hoped to stay off of Maya’s radar until they had gathered more facts and had something resembling a plan of action. Oh, well. What was done was done. Maybe Maya hadn’t gotten wind of his presence.

  “I don’t think so,” Alexei said. “Most of the folks I talked to were putting it down to bad luck or incompetence, and seem more likely to blame the company.”

  It was hard for Barbara to feel sorry for a business that made money from destroying the earth and polluting the water, but in this case she almost did. Almost. She definitely felt sorry for the people who lived near the fracking sites. It was unlikely that Maya cared much about collateral damage.

  “I’ve got another interesting tidbit for you,” Alexei said, holding out his mug for a refill. “I think you’re going to like this one.”

  “Oh?” Barbara raised an eyebrow.

  “You sent me a message asking if Peter’s son was with him. Initially I was going to say no, since there are no obvious signs of a child in the house. No toys in any of the bedrooms or children’s clothing. No babysitter when Callahan leaves for work, and the school bus doesn’t stop there.”

  “I’m sensing a but,” Barbara said, intrigued.

  “But I looked in the refrigerator when no one was home, and there is food suitable for a child—nothing fancy, just things like juice boxes and cheese snacks and such. But I’ve never seen a grownup drink from one of those silly little boxes.”

  Barbara’s eyebrow went higher. “You broke into the house Maya and Callahan are living in?”

  Alexei gave her a wide-eyed look. “The back door lock was broken. Well, it is now, anyway. Flimsy things, those locks. They just don’t make them like they used to.”

  Barbara stifled a groan. Just as she’d thought. Not subtle. Still, it was important information. “So you think young Petey is locked up somewhere in the house?”

  “Not sure,” Alexei said. “I checked the basement and attic and didn’t find anything, but I couldn’t stay long wit
hout risking discovery, so it’s possible I missed something.”

  “Well, the Maya I knew was awfully good at illusions, so she could have him tucked behind a hidden door,” Barbara said. She weighed how much she needed to know the answer to Petey’s location versus the chances of tipping Maya off to the fact that a Baba Yaga was looking into her activities. Although frankly, giving Alexei’s general lack of anything resembling stealth, that ship had probably already sailed.

  “The Queen isn’t going to be interested in supposition,” Barbara finally said reluctantly. “Not to mention that I’m not too happy about leaving any child in the indelicate hands of that rusalka. I guess you’re going to have to go back there and see if you can find out for sure. But do try to be a little discreet,” she said sharply.

  “What do you mean, discreet? I am always discreet.” Alexei thumped his chest forcefully, making the entire Airstream rock.

  “Uh huh,” Barbara said. “If by discreet you mean ‘like a bull in a china shop.’”

  “I don’t even like china shops,” Alexei muttered. “Although bull can be quite tasty.”

  He picked up the rest of the pie, his fork, coffee mug, and the last couple of pieces of toast. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go take a little nap out under your lovely trees before I head back.”

  “No problem,” Barbara said. “Just try not to—”

  But he was already gone.

  Around eight that night, Barbara tucked Babs into bed and gave Chudo-Yudo a stern look. “I shouldn’t be gone long,” she said. “I need to meet up with Bella and Beka, and Beka sent a message saying that Brenna was off dealing with some kind of Baba Yaga business without her, so the coast was clear for us to visit her.”

  “Why does she not come here?” Babs asked, her arm curled around Kitty bear, with a book in her other hand. “Then you could all read to me.” For some reason, Babs had fixated on being read to as one of the few forms of affection and attention she was comfortable with, and Liam had done so every night, occasionally assisted by Barbara. Babs was an odd mix of older than her theoretical age, strangely wise and focused, and much younger, since her first few years hadn’t born any resemblance to a normal childhood.

  “She said she isn’t feeling well,” Barbara said. “So she’d rather we came to her.”

  Chudo-Yudo raised his blocky white head and stared at her. “She isn’t feeling well.”

  “Yeah, I know. Baba Yagas don’t get sick.” Barbara felt a frown wrinkling her forehead and consciously smoothed it out so as not to worry Babs. “I’ll talk to you when I get back, okay? No letting Babs stay up until midnight this time. Not that I expect to be gone that long.”

  “Hey, it’s the witching hour, and she’s a little witch…”

  Worst babysitter ever.

  She tugged on Babs’ hair. “You’re in charge,” she said to the child. “Ignore whatever he says. I’ll be back soon.”

  Barbara slipped through the closet portal and took the most direct route she could find through the Otherworld to Beka’s location. Sooner or later Barbara would have to face the Queen again, but she was really hoping to have a few more answers before that happened.

  A crimson forest by the side of an azure lake gave way to rocky outcrops that looked like they had been there since the age of the dinosaurs and probably had been. Although to the best of her knowledge, there had never been dinosaurs in the Otherworld. It got their less-inclined-to-extinction cousins, the dragons, instead.

  The winding path finally led to a foggy spot that called to Barbara’s senses on a molecular level—the doorway that led to another Baba Yaga’s home. Each doorway had its own particular flavor, for lack of a better term. Beka’s tasted like salty air and briny shrimp and carried with it the echo of seagulls crying against the setting sun. Bella’s caravan bore the impression of pine-scented woods, and ripe berries hanging on bushes, and the sound of owls hooting in the night. Barbara had no idea what her Airstream felt like to the others; to her, that tugging feeling just meant home.

  She met up with Bella right outside the swirling mists that indicated a portal—in theory, one which any denizen of the Otherworld could access, although few would be foolish enough to try unless they had a very good reason.

  “She’s not feeling well?” Bella said instead of a more polite greeting. “What the heck is up with that?”

  Barbara shook her head. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” They exchanged a silent look of agreement before walking through the mists.

  They came out into the cheerful surroundings of the inside of a refurbished school bus. Pale wood paneled the walls, floor, and ceiling, and maple shelves covered all the wall space that wasn’t windows. Nautical-themed decorations made from shells, driftwood, and brightly blown glass balls hung here and there, and the futon that served as both bed and couch was covered in a blue-green cloth in ocean shades.

  The only slightly jarring note was the collection of knives and swords that ran along the top of the walls, but since Barbara had an affection for sharp objects, they made her feel right at home.

  The time difference meant that the late afternoon California sun still shone through the bus windows, but there was no sign of Beka. Bella and Barbara walked outside, pausing as always to admire the brightly painted mural of a seascape—complete with a scantily-clad mermaid—that adorned the exterior of the bus. Then they turned around to look for their friend.

  “What the hell is that?” Bella asked, appalled and taken aback.

  Barbara gazed in the direction Bella was pointing and felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. “I’d say it’s a damned hut,” she answered, staring at the ramshackle house in disbelief. “I know it’s traditional, but I think this is going a step too far.”

  “At least a step,” Bella agreed. “Maybe a whole flight of stairs. What on earth are Brenna and Beka thinking? Do you think they’re just parked next to it because it was a convenient spot, or are they actually living in it?”

  Beka stepped out of the doorway, squinting at the sun as if it hurt her eyes. “Living in it,” she said. “Hideous, isn’t it? For some reason Brenna took a liking to it, and the bus was getting pretty small with both of us living in it, so she decided we should use it as a home base. I think maybe it is her idea of a Baba Yaga joke.”

  Barbara didn’t think it was a very good one. She’d hoped that Beka would come with them to hang out in the bus, but instead she invited them into the house. Hut. Whatever it was.

  Once inside, Barbara felt a shudder running down her spine. The place gave her the creeps. It was dark and dank, the few windows covered with heavy moss-colored curtains, so hardly any light got through. A cauldron bubbled sullenly over a fireplace with a crooked stone chimney, and the air smelled like a combination of smoke and noxious herbs. More herbs, both fresh and dried, hung from the rafters and from hooks on the walls, and jars of disreputable-looking and thankfully not readily identifiable items marched in uneven rows across a line of shelves.

  After a minute, she realized the source of her instinctive unease. It reminded her vaguely of the cave in which Brenna had imprisoned and tortured the Riders, although the basic structures was nothing alike. You could take the witch out of the cave, but you couldn’t take the cave out of the witch… Barbara almost looked overhead for stalactites.

  “Well, it’s uh, cozy, I guess,” Bella said.

  Beka laughed. “It’s a pit,” she said. “But I’m not in any position to argue. We’re on the road in the bus a lot anyway. Brenna took my Karmann Ghia off to do some mysterious errand, so I figured that if you wanted to meet up, now was a good time. She took Chewie with her. Not that I’m worried about him ratting me out.” Chewie was her Chudo-Yudo, who took the form of a huge black Newfoundland dog. He’d always preferred Beka to Brenna.

  “Plus you said you weren’t feeling well,” Bella reminded her. “Are you okay now?”

  “I’m just tired,” Beka said. “And I feel a little flu-y. I might be f
ighting a bug of some sort. Brenna has had us working some late nights, and I’m a bit run down. No big deal.”

  “It’s kind of a big deal,” Barbara said. “Baba Yagas don’t get sick. If you really don’t feel right, maybe you should have an extra dose of the Water of Life and Death. You are drinking your share, aren’t you?”

  “Sure,” Beka said. “You worry too much.”

  “Uh huh.” Barbara wanted an excuse to get out of the gloomy shack and away from the reek of unsavory magic. “Let’s go sit in the bus. You can get a dose of the Water, and Bella and I will be right by the doorway to the Otherworld if Brenna comes back sooner than expected.”

  “Good idea,” Bella said, heading for the exit with an unseemly haste that made Barbara think she wasn’t the only one whose skin was crawling.

  Bella shook herself like her dragon-cat when she got back out into the sun. “Whew. I don’t know how you stand it, Beka.” She turned back to gaze at the youngest Baba Yaga. “Crap,” she said. “You look like shit. Nothing personal.”

  Now that they were outside where the light was better, Barbara could see what Bella was talking about. Beka was even paler than the last time they’d seen her, with bluish-gray circles under her eyes, her shoulders drooping as if it took too much effort to hold them up straight. When Barbara let her vision go slightly out of focus and looked at the younger woman’s aura, what she saw looked ragged and uneven, as if tiny psychic mice had been nibbling it.

  “Look at her aura,” Barbara demanded. “Tell me that seems right.”

  Bella shrugged at her. “You know aura reading isn’t one of my talents,” she said. “But I’m not going to argue with you. I can’t believe Brenna let you get so run down, Beka.”

  “Hmph,” Barbara snorted. “Let her. Right.”

  “What are you implying?” Bella asked.

  “I’m not implying anything,” Barbara said. “I’m coming right out and saying it. I think Brenna is doing this. She’s somehow stealing Beka’s life energy, just the way she stole the Rider’s immortality and vitality. Different timeline, different approach, but I’ll bet she’s trying to do exactly what she did in my world—extend her life and increase her power by any means possible.”