In a quieter but no less intimidating voice, she added flatly, “I am depending on you, Baba. Bring me this woman. Find the door. Rescue these children. Or else.” The queen looked meaningfully in the direction of the six bewildered women currently shivering under borrowed cloaks. “And don’t take too long about it. You do not want to try my patience.”
FIFTEEN
LIAM HAD INTENDED to drive over and visit Baba as soon as he’d finished his dinner at Bertie’s. The chatter there had been unusually malicious and unpleasant, swirling around the restaurant in snippets of suspicion and superstition, most of it aimed in Baba’s direction. He’d barely managed to choke down his fried chicken and mashed potatoes in between all the conversations he’d had with people who had casually stopped by his table on the way in or out to complain about “what that woman was up to.”
He’d done his best to calm everyone down, but his stomach was in knots by the time he left, Bertie’s usually tender chicken sitting like a rock right under his heart. The threats and accusations were probably no more than hot air—a way for folks to let out their frustrations—but he didn’t like the hysterical quality of some of the allegations, or the way the word “witch” was being bandied about, as if they’d all suddenly slid a couple of centuries back in time.
Liam didn’t suppose that Baba would thank him for disturbing her peace by coming by to warn her, and he suspected she was perfectly capable of protecting herself if necessary. If nothing else, the sight of Chudo-Yudo’s sharp white teeth and enormous bulk were enough to scare away any sensible person. But none of those things was going to stop him from checking to make sure she was okay. Neither was the mocking little voice in the back of his head quietly suggesting that maybe this was just an excuse to catch a glimpse of the lady’s flashing amber eyes and that amazing cloud of dark hair that floated around her shoulders like a tangible aura of magic and mystery.
But circumstances conspired against his good intentions, first with repeated calls from people reporting strange sightings and possible break-ins (none of which turned out to be anything) and then dealing with the violent storm that sprang up out of nowhere, causing intermittent power outages and blocking roads with snarls of fallen limbs. He’d even had to rescue the proverbial kitten up a tree, shinnying halfway up a crooked old oak to fetch down a bedraggled ball of fur with tiny sharp claws and a piercing yowl that far outpaced its diminutive size.
By the time the winds had died down and the rain eased to a gentle drizzle, it was much later than a normal social call would allow. He didn’t let that stop him either, although he did bring a little something along to sweeten the rudeness of his late arrival.
He’d been a little concerned that Baba would have already gone to bed, but apparently he’d worried for nothing, since the Airstream was still brightly lit, the glow from its windows sending shafts of light out to fall on damp grass, scruffy shrubbery, her battered blue BMW, and—most unwelcome sight of all—the three additional motorcycles parked out front.
Liam recognized the white Yamaha, red Ducati, and black Harley from the day he’d seen them at the bar. Apparently Baba’s friends were still in town. Nobody had mentioned odd-looking strangers with even more Russian accents after that night, so he’d kind of hoped they’d gone away. Not that he was jealous, or anything. They just seemed like disreputable sorts, that’s all.
Grabbing a flat box and a plastic-coated to-go bag off the passenger seat, Liam made his way to the front door and knocked briskly. There was a moment of silence as the voices he could hear inside stopped talking abruptly, then the door swung open and a man with long blond hair peered out into the night at him.
“Ah, Sheriff McClellan. What a pleasant surprise.” His acerbic tone suggested that Liam’s appearance was anything but, although his handsome face was smiling.
“Mikhail Day, wasn’t it?” Liam said, transferring the bag to underneath his left arm so he could shake hands with his right. “We met at The Roadhouse the evening you got into town. Nice to see you again.” He took a step forward as they shook, forcing the other man to take a step back. Once inside, he let go and shut the door behind him, wiping a spatter of rain off the rim of his hat.
“I’ve come to see Dr. Yager,” he explained, glancing around the room to look for her. Gregori sat at the banquette table, sipping tea, and the huge black-leather clad form of Alexei lounged on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him and taking up most of the space. Of Baba, there was no sign. “I need to talk to her. Is she in the back bedroom?”
He started to walk in that direction, and Mikhail stepped into his path. “I’m sorry you came out here for nothing, Sheriff,” he said with smooth grace, “But Baba . . . er . . . Barbara isn’t here now. She stepped out for a bit of fresh air. No telling when she’ll be back, I’m afraid.” He put one muscular arm around Liam’s shoulder and started to usher him back toward the door.
Liam ducked around him and placed both his packages on the countertop. “Really? She went for a walk at ten o’clock at night. After a big storm? That seems a little strange.” An eyebrow emphasized his skepticism.
Gregori lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You know our Barbara,” he said, his lilting accent more noticeable than Mikhail’s, who sounded as if he had practiced hard to remove it. “She is rarely predictable.”
“I doubt I know her at all,” Liam muttered. “But yes, she is that.” He faked a bright smile as he looked around at the three men. “Not to worry—I brought pie from Bertie’s and a little something for Chudo-Yudo. Is he here, or out walking too?”
Alexei perked up. “What kind of pie?” he asked, sitting up straight. Mikhail scowled at him, but the big man just grinned. “What? I can’t help it, I love pie.”
“Chocolate pecan pie,” Liam said, opening the box and pulling it out so they could see the glistening mound of whipped cream on top. “If it’s not the best thing you ever tasted, I’ll eat my sheriff’s hat.” Which he laid on the counter next to the pie, in case they hadn’t figured out yet that he wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon.
A large head nudged the top of his thigh, and he looked down to see Chudo-Yudo, mouth gaping in what Liam hoped was benign curiosity.
“There you are,” he said, pulling his secret weapon out of the bag he’d carried it in. “I told Bertie about you, so she gave me this.”
“This” was a huge bone from that night’s roast, with large meaty shreds still clinging to it. Chudo-Yudo’s eyes widened and he stood up on his hind legs, almost knocking Liam down as he bestowed a wet doggy tongue wipe on the sheriff’s face before grabbing the bone and wandering off to sit in a corner, gnawing on it. A rumble almost like a purr emanated from his broad white chest.
Mikhail looked from the dog to Alexei, who was hovering over the pie, sniffing hopefully. One suspiciously finger-shaped section of whipped cream was missing, and the big man was making a noise not unlike that coming from Chudo-Yudo.
The blond man’s mouth curved into a reluctant grin. “You seem to have solved the riddle that gets you past the door keepers,” he said, shaking his head. “I suppose you might as well stay, although Baba could be gone a long time.”
“I’m in no hurry,” Liam said cheerfully. He moved over toward the coffeemaker sitting on the counter. “Why don’t I make us some coffee to go with our pie? I’m sure Barbara wouldn’t mind.”
He reached one hand out toward the container marked Coffee that sat on the counter, but a slim beige hand already rested on it. Liam blinked. He hadn’t even seen the other man move, but somehow Gregori had gotten there before him.
“Why don’t you allow me to make the coffee,” Gregori said easily, edging into Liam’s personal space so he was forced to move out of the way. “This coffeemaker is a little . . . temperamental . . . best to let me do it.”
“Uh, okay,” Liam said. “Point me to the cupboard where she keeps the plates, and I
’ll slice us each a piece of pie.”
He turned around, and Alexei already had a huge chunk lying in the middle of one equally large hand and was eating it with his fingers.
“I’m good, thanks,” the big man said around a mouthful of chocolate and nuts. Whipped cream fringed the edges of his mustache like ice on a pond.
Mikhail handed over plates and forks for the rest of them with a dramatic eye roll. “Just ignore our ill-mannered friend,” he said. “He was raised by wolves.”
Chudo-Yudo raised his head and barked.
“Good point,” Mikhail responded. “I didn’t mean to insult the wolves. They actually have much better etiquette than Alexei.”
Liam looked from the man to the dog and back again. “You know, Barbara does that too. Talks like she is actually carrying on a conversation with the animal.”
“Does she?” Mikhail drawled, eyes a deep, guileless blue. “Fancy that.”
Liam took his pie and slid into the banquette table, with Mikhail across from him. Gregori brought over a steaming cup of coffee and placed it in front of the sheriff, then stood next to Alexei at the counter to eat his own piece with considerably more dignity.
Liam lifted his mug, a heavy pottery creation decorated in shades of deep purple and carved with symbols he didn’t recognize, and took a deep sniff. “Hey, does anyone else smell roses?” he asked.
The other men just looked blank and shook their heads, although Liam could swear that one of them choked back a laugh. He shrugged, figuring it didn’t matter, and let the deep sweet bliss of Bertie’s pie dissolve on his tongue like a forkful of love with whipped cream on top. His eyes closed in ecstasy for a moment, but then snapped back open at a distinctive creaking sound. Liam gazed in disbelief as the wardrobe at the end of the kitchen swung open and Baba stepped through the door.
“Son of bitch!” she said, as she bumped her head on the doorframe on her way out. “I always forget to duck. Damn, that smarts.” Behind her, the clothing that usually hung there seemed to have been replaced by a swirling gray mist filled with iridescent sparkles. Before she slammed the door shut, Liam could have sworn he saw a tiny green and pink hummingbird fly by, vanishing even further into impossible depths.
Alexei and Gregori moved toward each other as if to try and block Liam’s view of the closet, probably not realizing it was already too late. So he couldn’t see Baba when she asked testily, “What the hell is wrong with you two? Why are you standing there like a couple of mismatched statues in Aphrodite’s garden?”
They shifted aside to show Liam sitting at the table, and he was treated to an intriguing slideshow of shock, anger, consternation, and something a little like fear as various expressions came and went on Baba’s normally unreadable face. She finally seemed to settle on resignation, and took a hesitant step in his direction.
“Uh, hi,” she said, lifting a hand in greeting.
“Hi yourself,” Liam said, feeling remarkably calm, under the circumstances. “Did you just walk out of that closet?” He looked her over, taking in her unusual attire, jewels, sword, and all. She looked exotic, stunningly beautiful, and in some intangible way, more herself than he’d ever seen her.
“Nice outfit. Special occasion?” He was fairly certain she hadn’t just come from a costume ball. Unless it was one that involved some kind of giant pumpkin and a fairy godmother.
“There’s pie,” Alexei mumbled, mouth full, and retreated to sit on the couch, out of the line of fire. “It’s really good pie.”
Chudo-Yudo made a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter and covered his eyes with one mammoth paw.
Gregori just sighed and said, “You might as well tell him, Baba. And while you’re at it, you can tell all of us what the queen said when you broke the news that Maya had discovered a door into the Otherworld.”
He cut a piece of chocolate pecan rapture, put it on a plate, and nudged her into the seat opposite Liam. “Here. You look like you could use this.” He handed her a full cup to go with it.
“Did he say ‘door to the Otherworld’?” Liam asked incredulously. His coffee mug suddenly weighed about twenty pounds, and he put it down before he dropped it. “What the hell is the Otherworld? And why are you wearing a sword?” He wondered if it would help if he pinched himself, and tried it surreptitiously under the table. Ow. Nope. The room was still filled with crazy Russian men and one impossibly gorgeous, frustrating, mysterious woman. Who was wearing a sword.
“I think I’m going to need more coffee,” he said. “A lot more coffee.”
* * *
BABA WANTED TO beat her head against the table. Barring that, she’d be willing to settle for someone else’s head. There were four names on her short list already. It was bad enough to come back from the court with the queen’s threat still ringing in her ears, but to discover that the Riders and Chudo-Yudo had allowed the already curious sheriff in, just in time to watch her walk through a doorway from nothing . . . well, that made her night perfect.
“Try the pie, Baba,” Mikhail suggested with a gentle smile and no visible sympathy at all. “It’s practically magical.”
She dug her fork in, more for an excuse to avoid looking at Liam than because she had any appetite for dessert, but once the creamy-smooth bittersweet chocolate melted on her tongue, she had to admit, it was pretty amazing pie. “Bertie’s?” she asked, finally daring to meet the sheriff’s gaze.
He nodded, not taking his eyes off her. “Yep. Now, about that explanation . . .” He tilted his chin up, clearly not going anywhere until she answered him.
“Fine,” she said, resigning herself to the inevitable. “But I’m warning you, you’re not going to believe me.”
Broad shoulders shrugged, and she was distracted again by the sheer male presence of him. The tiny cleft in that stubborn chin, almost covered by the late hour’s stubble; the strength in his arms; the powerful line of his shoulders as they moved under his slightly muddy uniform jacket. The back of one calloused hand was curled around her favorite coffee mug, revealing a line of thin new scratches that looked red and sore. She wanted, just for a moment, to reach out and heal them with her touch, wishing she could save him that small amount of pain, if nothing else. It seemed unlikely, at this point, that there was much else she could protect him from.
“Barbara?” Liam’s slightly impatient voice called her back to reality. “Or should I call you Baba?”
She sighed. “Sorry, it’s been a rough night. I was . . . daydreaming . . . there for a moment. Sorry.” She took another bite of pie, chewed, and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Yes, you might as well call me Baba. My real name is Baba Yaga, although in this world, most know me as Barbara Yager.”
He raised a dubious eyebrow. “This world?”
“Yes,” Baba said. “There is this, what some call the mundane or Human plane, and the Otherworld. The Otherworld is a place where magic exists, and it is home to creatures out of legend, many of which you might recognize and some which are beyond your comprehension.” Tired, she rubbed a hand across her face, wishing she could have had this conversation some other time. Sometime when her head was clearer, or her heart less muddled. Or never. Never would have worked for her.
Liam’s hazel eyes stared at her as though wondering if she was making fun of him, or merely out of her mind.
“And you’re dressed like something out of a Renaissance Faire because that’s how everyone dresses in this Otherworld of yours?” he asked, pointing at the jewels in the net restraining her usually unruly hair. “It must be a pretty fancy place.”
“You have no idea,” Mikhail said, pushing Baba out of the way so he could get another piece of pie. “She’s actually somewhat underdressed. But she doesn’t like to stand out, our Baba.”
“I don’t know how she could avoid it,” Liam muttered, the sideways compliment making her heart skip a beat. But then he
shook the stray thought out of his head and added, “So you’re trying to tell me that you just went through your closet to visit a magical land, like Alice through the looking glass?”
“More like the kids going through the wardrobe into Narnia,” Baba replied, hoping that they’d at least read some of the same books, even if she hadn’t seen his movies. “But yes, something like that.”
Liam was abruptly on his feet, moving past Mikhail and yanking the closet door open. He stared at black leather and red silk, his face an almost comic mix of satisfaction and disappointment, like a kid who finally proves to himself that Santa doesn’t exist.
“Uh-huh,” he snarled. “Pull the other one.” He walked back over to stand in front of Baba, arms crossed over his chest, muscles tight. “How about now you tell me what is really going on?”
Baba ran out of reasonable, which was bound to happen eventually. It was never her best thing anyway. “Fine,” she snarled back at him. She rose from her seat and said to the others, “Better make room.” Three sets of faces looked alarmed and tucked themselves into the corners of the trailer the best they could.
Liam just looked confused. “Make room for what?”
“Chudo-Yudo,” she said, and gestured at the dog.
As Liam turned to see what she was talking about, Chudo-Yudo moved into the middle of the lounge area, which was as close to a clear space as the Airstream allowed, and shook himself, as if shedding water. Instead, he was enveloped in a greenish-purple mist that sparked and glowed, letting off an odor like charred meat, cold starlight, and eternity. When the mist cleared, the dog was gone, and instead there was a large dragon with scalloped iridescent black scales and blazing red eyes curling in on himself to take up as little room as possible. Still, his tail rolled out onto the tiled kitchen floor, and one leathery wing poked Alexei in the stomach until the burly biker moved a little to the left with an oof.
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