Wickedly Dangerous

by Deborah Blake

  “My darling Baba,” he said, nibbling lightly on her neck before releasing her and standing back to have a good look at her. “I’ve missed you too.” Mischief flashed in his dark irises as he took in her attire.

  Baba rolled her eyes, moving away to a marginally safer distance. Not that any distance was safe when Koshei was around. She thought it was unlikely that he’d actually missed her—or noticed how long it had been since they’d seen each other, for that matter. But it was nice of him to say so.

  Koshei had been the companion of the Baba before her; for all she knew, he’d been the companion of all the Babas in their line back down through history. After all, dragons could live for a very long time, even without magical assistance. Humans might think the arrangement was strange, but the Babas existed in a different world that went by very different rules. And in that world, which was often a harsh and unforgiving place, you took your pleasure where you could find it.

  Koshei glanced around the Airstream, taking in the empty beer bottles and grease-stained pizza boxes the Riders had left behind. “I’m hurt,” he said, without any evidence to demonstrate his claim. “You had a party and didn’t invite me.” Chudo-Yudo snorted with amusement and strolled over to open the fridge with his large teeth, miraculously fetching their visitor a beer without breaking it into sharp-edged shards.

  “Good dog,” Koshei said with a straight face, giving Chudo-Yudo the treat he’d had tucked in the pocket of his tailored charcoal-hued pants. “Nice to see you, old friend.”

  “Oh, don’t encourage him,” Baba scolded. “You know perfectly well he can only pull that off about a third of the time. The rest of the time I’m left cleaning up a big mess.”

  Koshei wrapped one muscular arm around her and smiled cheerfully. “What are you complaining about? You can use magic to clear the place up in a split second. Besides, it’s not like I’m trusting him to carry the Water of Life and Death.” He looked at her meaningfully.

  “Fine,” she said, sliding out of his embrace long enough to find two miniscule glasses and get the Water of Life and Death out of the fridge. At Chudo-Yudo’s indignant whoof, she added a small bowl to her treasure trove and returned to sit on the couch next to Koshei. “Just a tiny bit for each of us—the queen doesn’t hand this stuff out like a party favor, you know.”

  Golden fire shimmered in effervescent droplets as she poured a precious measure of the liquid from its enchanted flask into each of their cups. The aroma of a perfect spring day filled the trailer, smelling like meadows and seashores and youthful ardor. Baba let one heavenly sip lie on her tongue; it tasted of sunshine and flowers, with a slight aftertaste of dust and decay. Her eyes closed as the power of it overwhelmed her senses for one long, timeless moment, suspending her between the worlds of forever and perhaps.

  Koshei made a sound like a boulder crashing down a hillside. “Gods, that’s good.” He leaned his head back, pale cheeks flushed with the aftermath of drinking an elixir that both extended life and aroused it. When he looked at Baba again, myriad gold flecks were mirrored in his eyes. A playful smile tugged at sensual lips in a way that made Baba remember all over again why she had been so glad to see him walking through the wardrobe door.

  “So, do you want to tell me what is going on that required you to call in the Riders?” he asked, flicking an empty cardboard box with one long finger. “Is there anything I can help with?” He moved his hand to slide up over her thigh, playing with the edge of the silk that lay there. “Things have been way too quiet lately. I’m bored.”

  Baba touched her tongue to her lower lip, trying to catch one last hint of sublime sweetness before returning to harsh reality. The eternal energy of the Water pulsed hotly in her veins, distracting her from the current crisis and making her think of dark caves and passionate lovemaking in the long nights of the Otherworld.

  She took a deep breath to try to focus and explained the situation with the missing children to Koshei as succinctly as she could while still listening to infinity echoing at the back of her mind.

  “If you want to help,” she said finally, gazing up at him and finding the expression she expected—patient, listening, and a little bit amused at her concern for the mayfly lives of humans, “you could have a look around the Otherworld when you go back. See if you can find out who my mysterious woman might be. I’m guessing she’s a local witch with unusual power, but she had a touch of the Otherworld about her, so maybe someone from the other side has had some dealings with her.”

  One broad shoulder lifted in a shrug as calloused fingers moved to cup her bottom and lift her onto his lap. “I’m happy to do it,” he said, scorching her with his glance. “But it is going to be a little difficult to track her down if you’ve never seen her without her glamour. For all you know, she isn’t even a she.” He muffled a short laugh into the skin over her collarbone, licking a line of fire across her body.

  Baba’s breath caught on a sigh. From under closed lids, she teased him by saying, “So, you don’t think you can find out who she is? Pity. I should have asked one of the Riders to find out.”

  Koshei snorted, lifting his mouth from her tender skin just in time to keep the flames from singeing her. “Foolish girl. Of course I will find her. In the morning. For now, I have better things to do.” He smiled his devilish smile and caught her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss that made her want to dance naked under the moonlight on a distant shore, while drums beat and torches flared.

  And then, for some inexplicable reason, Liam’s face rose up in her mind, like water thrown on a bonfire; cool and dousing, reminding her that she was supposed to be doing a job. She pulled back from the kiss abruptly, blinking as if drawn back from a dim cavern into bright daylight.

  Koshei roared with laughter at the confusion on her face. “You’ve met someone,” he said, an unholy glee lighting up his already bright eyes. “Someone who has taken root in that impenetrable heart of yours. It’s about time.”

  Baba shook her head, trying to settle her thoughts back into their comfortable patterns. “No. Well, maybe. He’s a Human.”

  The dragon tilted her chin with one gentle hand. “You’re Human too, darling Baba, for all that you try to deny it. If you like him, have a fling. That’s what the Humans call it, right?” His lips curved in an almost-wistful smile. “Spend a little time with him. Enjoy him while you can. That’s what Babas do, when they find a man who attracts them. There is no need to make it so complicated. “

  Baba sighed. “He’s not the type to have a fling, Koshei. And I’m everything he can’t stand; chaos to his lawfulness, lies instead of truth. I don’t stay in one place, and he never leaves this one. And I’m not sure his heart isn’t already given elsewhere.” She snuggled against Koshei’s reassuring warmth, enjoying the familiar feeling of his rock-hard chest beneath her cheek. “Besides, he knows I’m hiding something. He’s the sheriff investigating the children’s disappearances, and I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m involved.”

  A puff of sulfur-scented breath moved her hair restlessly. “Well, that’s inconvenient, isn’t it?” She could feel his lips move in a sympathetic smile on the top of her head before he tipped her face back so she could see the affection in his deep, pale eyes.

  “I do not know this man,” Koshei said, his voice a quiet rumble in her ears. “But if he cannot see your value, then he does not deserve to have you.” He pulled her into a hug and slid his lips gently across hers. “I, on the other hand, appreciate you very, very much. I shall miss our nights together.” He laughed as he released her and headed back toward the closet door.

  Baba opened her mouth to protest and then closed it again with a snap. Damn that sheriff. Even when he wasn’t around, he was causing her trouble.

  * * *

  BABA LURKED IN the gnarled shadow of an old oak outside the stately blue-and-gray Victorian that housed the East Shoreham Oil and Gas Company’s regional office. Sh
e’d seen Peter Callahan leave half an hour ago, dapper and well pressed even at the end of a hot summer’s day. He’d gotten into a buttercup-yellow Jaguar and driven away, leaving behind him the lingering taint of exhaust fumes and dirty money.

  The lights finally switched off behind the louvered windows of the only room that still showed any signs of occupation, and a few minutes later the tap, tap, tap of stiletto heels and the snick of a lock heralded the arrival of the woman Baba had been hoping to see. She waited for Maya to put one hand on the door of her sedate rental car before popping up out of the background like a spring-loaded trap.

  “My goodness!” the blond woman said, clutching her chest in apparent alarm. “You startled me.” Piercing gray eyes hid behind fluttering mascara-laden lashes.

  Baba snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. You probably knew I was here as soon as I hit the street.” Amber dueled with gray; the result—a draw. For now.

  “Well, you’re not exactly subtle, are you?” the woman calling herself Maya said, pert button nose wrinkled in distaste. “I’ve met ogres who were less obvious. You really need to rein in your power a little bit more. Even these idiotic mortals will figure out there is something odd about you sooner or later. And then where will the rest of us be?”

  “I don’t know about anyone else,” Baba said, “but you’re going to be gone from this place, so it won’t make a bit of difference to you what the locals figure out.”

  She was five inches taller than the other woman, even with the stiltlike heels Maya had on, but the seemingly delicate form didn’t appear to be at all intimidated. Of course, behind her glamour, she could have been a ten-foot-tall, cyclops with fangs, for all Baba could tell.

  Maya pouted prettily. “I don’t know why you have to be so difficult. I was here first, after all. And I’m not doing anything to you. Why don’t you just leave me be and go about your business?”

  “Because you’re stealing Human children,” Baba said. “I have a problem with that. Which means you have a problem with me.”

  “That’s a pity,” Maya said, dropping the sweetness from her voice and letting the venom slide through. At their feet, the weeds poking through the sidewalk withered and died; nearby grass turned brown in sympathy. “You see, I have things in motion here that are too big to stop, and I have no intention of leaving until I have everything I came for.” She glared at Baba. “Why don’t you just run off and fix those horrible wildfires in Wyoming. Surely they need a Baba Yaga there more than this tiny, insignificant town does.”

  Baba shrugged. “One of my sisters is already dealing with that. I think I’ll just stay here and fix you instead.” Her steady look made it clear that she had a permanent solution in mind, if that was what turned out to be necessary. Suppressed power crackled at her fingertips, and even the brash Maya paled briefly as the trees around them swayed.

  “Tell me what you’ve done with the missing children and how to get them back, and I’ll allow you to leave this town unscathed,” Baba added.

  Glee flitted across the little blonde’s visage, although it was quickly replaced by a more cautious cunning. “You don’t even know where they are, do you?” Maya said, licking her crimson lips. “You probably didn’t even know for sure I was involved.”

  Baba gave a wolfish smile, completely lacking in humor. “But I know now, don’t I?” she said softly. “So I suggest you simply hand them over and count yourself lucky that I’m letting you off with a warning.”

  Maya sneered. “Warn me all you want, Baba Yaga. Those children are far beyond even your reach now, dead and buried and rotting in the ground with the rest of the trash. And you’d better stay out of my way if you know what’s good for you. I can make things very difficult for you, otherwise. I’ve been amassing power and influence in this area for months. You have nothing but a worn-out old dog and that shiny tin can you call a house.”

  Baba’s fingers twitched with the desire to reach out and slap the smugness right off her adversary’s pretty little face, but there were people walking by across the street, so she restrained herself. Barely. Nobody insulted her house. Not even in the old days when it was a wooden hut running around on oversized chicken legs.

  “I have an ally or two of my own,” she said calmly. “I am not without friends.”

  “Ha,” Maya retorted. “I hope you’re not depending on that pathetic sheriff to help you. He can’t even do his job, and he doesn’t want a woman like you. He’s a broken man going through the motions, that’s all; he’s no threat to me or my interests.” She tossed her head, glittering chandelier earrings bouncing against her swanlike neck. “He has to do what his bosses tell him, and Peter Callahan owns them all.”

  An unpleasant smirk held the echo of pointy teeth. “And I own Peter Callahan, even if he hasn’t realized it yet. So I advise you to leave town while you still can. You may be stronger and tougher than most Humans, but Babas aren’t immortal. You might want to keep that in mind.”

  With that, Maya slid into her car, slammed the door, and peeled out of her spot, not even bothering to look for oncoming cars driven by insignificant mortals.

  Baba sighed, watching her leave. That could have gone better. On the other hand, at least she knew for certain that Maya was behind the disappearances. And that somewhere, the children were alive and well. Maya may be great at disguising herself and excel at making friends in low places, but thankfully, she was a terrible liar.

  EIGHT

  BABA SPENT THE rest of the evening riding around Clearwater County and checking on the land; now that she was well and truly involved, she thought it was best to get a feel for the essence of the place. Part of a Baba Yaga’s gift was the ability to tune in to and manipulate the elements: earth, air, fire, and water. In some places in the Old World, they had even been viewed as goddesses, although the old Baba used to say that it was better to be an herbalist—less responsibility and shorter hours.

  Most of the county was lush and lovely, green and verdant in the waning summer sunlight. Waving rows of corn murmured at her as she passed, and cows trotted their calves over to the field’s edge to show them off, lowing proudly over black-spotted rumps and twitching tails. Red-tailed hawks soared on thermals above her as they headed for their evening roosts.

  But there were places where an encroaching darkness showed to her acute senses as blemishes on the otherwise healthy landscape. Here, a stream where toxic minerals leached in from below, studding the water with pockets of slimy gray algae. There, trees hacked down and fields lying ruined and fallow as the debate over their future raged in meetings like the one she’d attended. Even if the county passed the ban on future fracking, it was too late for some places, where it would take decades for the scarred land to repair itself. The damage made her sick to her stomach, and echoes of bad dreams haunted her like the voices of the damned.

  Acid anger boiled in her veins. No matter how long she lived, she could never get used to the callous disregard with which so many humans treated the natural world. Perhaps because their lives were so short, and therefore none would be around to reap the disastrous harvest of their shortsighted choices.

  As the dusk slowly hid the countryside from view, she turned her headlights back in the direction of the Airstream, looking forward to a cold beer and an evening spent in an environment that didn’t cry out piteously for her to heal it. She slowed her usual precipitous speed as she turned onto the dusty back road. It was long and winding and its gravel surface was pockmarked with ruts and holes. Even she wasn’t crazy enough to take that road at full bore.

  Which was probably all that saved her.

  Her only warning was a flash of shimmering antlers as an enormous golden stag raced across her path, kicking up dirt and greenery as it charged directly in front of her, a blur of hide and horn and incredible mass. She yanked the handlebars sharply to one side, veering out of its way, braking and swearing and feeling the bik
e go down in a sickening nightmare of churning wheels, scraping metal, and the agonizing impact of body against ground.

  She lay there for a moment, the breath knocked out of her, heart racing, then reached out one gloved hand to turn the key off and allow the tortured engine to tick slowly over into silence. Of the stag, there was no sign. Cicadas buzzed in the underbrush, the dust from the road tickled her nose. She could feel blood oozing slowly from a scrape along her jaw line, although her helmet had done its job protecting her head.

  Slowly, she levered herself up into a sitting position, counting bones and finding them all in place. Her worst injuries seemed to be where her left side had scraped against the gravel as she’d gone down; both elbow and knee were bleeding and bruised, the leather that had covered them torn away by the force of the skid. Still, without the leathers, most of her skin would have been shredded instead, so she had no complaints. It hurt like hell now, of course, the throb of it pulsing in her veins, but by tomorrow she’d be mostly healed, and in a few days there would be no sign she’d been in an accident at all.

  Her beloved BMW, however, was another story.

  She knelt down by the mangled remains of her motorcycle and patted it gently, as one would a wounded horse. Unshed tears burned against the back of her eyelids. She could use magic to fix her clothes and a few sips of the Water of Life and Death to speed up her own already accelerated healing, but metal was resistant to enchantment. It had been hard enough to convince it to leave its original oversized flying mortar-and-pestle form; once it had taken the shape of a motorcycle, it became vulnerable to the human world, its only magic an ability to travel faster than should have been possible.

  The rear wheel still spun lazily, turning in lopsided circles as if to say let’s get out of here. But the crooked handlebars and crumpled front fender made it clear that her poor, beautiful bike wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. The front tire was already sagging, and the acrid smell of burned rubber assailed the flower-scented summer air and gave her an excuse for her stinging eyes.