Dangerously Driven (Broken Riders)

by Deborah Blake

  * * *

  “I don’t think either of them is likely to come,” Mikhail said to his wife Jenna. He juggled Flora on his knee, feeling his heart lighten at the sound of her high-pitched giggle. Her dark locks hung in wild curls that bounced on her shoulders as he made silly horsy sounds, her tiny hand gripping his own shoulder-length blond hair with a hold of iron.

  Three years ago, a moment like this would have been impossible for him to imagine. A lot had happened in those three years. Some of it very, very bad, and some of it incredibly good. In balance, he mostly thought he’d come out a winner. Except for the continued absence of his brothers, his life was pretty good. A lot more limited in time than it had been, but pretty good nonetheless.

  “What makes you think they won’t come?” Jenna asked, putting supper on the table and then plucking Flora out of his arms to plop the eighteen-month old into her high chair. “You’re usually such an optimist. What’s with the pessimism?”

  “Titten nunnets!” Flora said gleefully. “Dada, Titten nunnets!”

  Mikhail felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Chicken nuggets (in this case, made from organic chickens raised by their neighbors, not some nasty chemical-laced thing from the freezer case at the store) were Flora’s favorite food. But that wasn’t what made him smile. He still lit up with joy every time the small girl called him dad. He wasn’t her biological father—that honor went to a jerk named Stu who had treated Jenna like crap—but Mikhail had been there literally since before Flora was born, and in his heart, she was definitely his child.

  That was a title he’d never thought to aspire to, since the Riders, as the immortal children of a god and three different not-strictly-Human mothers, couldn’t have children. At least so far as they knew. Their father had never said, specifically. But it had never happened in thousands of years, so that seemed likely to be the case.

  Mikhail missed his role as a Rider—missed it as a deep ache in his soul every day—but his role as father and husband more than almost made up for it.

  Maybe that was why he had made a better adjustment to his new life than either of his brothers, although Gregori, who Mikhail talked to occasionally, seemed to be finding his path. Alexei, well, Alexei he wasn’t so sure about. Beka, the Baba Yaga who was usually in charge of the western third of the country, had worked with Alexei on a paranormal issue a couple of months ago in Cape Cod, and swore that he was doing better now. But if that was true, why hadn’t he been in touch?

  “I’m not being pessimistic, exactly,” Mikhail said, dragging his head back into the conversation. “Just realistic. It has been a long time since all three of us were together. First, we hid out in separate corners of the Otherworld to heal. Then we set out on different paths to try and find out who we were if we couldn’t be Riders any more. I’m worried that the more time that passes, the harder it will be for us to come back together.”

  To be honest, he was starting to worry it would never happen. But the thought of spending the rest of his life without his brothers made his heart feel as though it was being squeezed by a giant, a spasm of intense pain almost greater than he had suffered when being tortured by the most vicious person he had ever met. He couldn’t even form those words out loud, for fear that would make them come true.

  “All the more reason to go to Bella’s house,” Jenna said firmly.

  “Oh, he’s going, all right,” a strong tenor voice said from the doorway. A tall woman with a cloud of dark hair stepped into the kitchen as though she belonged there. Which she did, really. “I hope you don’t mind. I let myself in when you didn’t hear my knock. I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.”

  Mikhail grinned at her. “Although you would have anyway, even if you had known.” Barbara Yager waited for no man. Or meal. “Here, take a seat. There’s plenty.”

  Having one of the Baba Yagas as a neighbor would also have seemed impossible three years ago, since neither the witches nor their companion Riders had been the type to settle down. Barbara still periodically traveled around the eastern third of the United States in her enchanted silver Airstream trailer (her version of the updated hut on chicken’s legs) with her dragon Chudo Yudo disguised as a giant white pit bull. When she wasn’t on the road, she lived in the yellow farmhouse she shared with her husband and adopted daughter Babs, a miniature Baba Yaga in training.

  When Mikhail and Jenna got together at the end of a long and very strange adventure and needed to find a place to raise Flora, it seemed only natural to settle in next door to Barbara, Babs, and Liam, a Human sheriff who had somehow tamed the untamable mythical witch. As a result, Mikhail had stayed in touch with all the Baba Yagas—Barbara, Bella, and Beka—and had a better idea of what had been going on than either of his brothers likely had. She was right. There was no way he was going to miss this gathering.

  He hoped his brothers would defy his expectations and show up, but either way, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. He was only sorry that Jenna and little Flora weren’t coming too. But the invitation was for Baba Yagas and former Riders only.

  “Not to worry,” he assured Barbara. “I can’t wait to see how things have worked out with Jazz. I still can’t believe she and Bella have had to spend more than a year in the Otherworld. I’m sure Sam is happy to have them back full time instead of for quick visits.”

  “We all will be,” Barbara said firmly. She and Beka had been covering Bella’s territory as well as their own since the High Queen had decreed that Jazz undergo an intensive magical training on the other side of the doorway between the worlds. Mikhail was sure they would all be relieved to have things back to normal. Or at least, as close to normal as they would ever get again. As always, the thought of what he’d lost made his stomach clench, but he’d learned to live with it. It hardly hurt at all anymore. Only three minutes out of every four.

  “So, I’m planning to take the Airstream and Babs and Chudo Yudo and set out tomorrow,” Barbara said. “We thought we’d get there a little early so I could catch Bella up on what’s been happening in the middle of the country while she was gone. Plus, Babs has questions to ask.”

  Jenna and Mikhail both laughed at that; Babs always had questions to ask. She had been stolen from her Human parents as a baby, hidden away and raised in the Otherworld by Melissa, Liam’s insane former wife. Not exactly the kind of start that produced a typical child.

  When Barbara and Liam had rescued the little girl, the strange twists and turns of time in the Otherworld had aged that baby to about six years old in what had been less than a year on this side of the doorway. With her parents murdered, and no way to explain her rapid growth to any relatives who might have claimed her, it would have been impossible to bring her back as herself. Luckily, she showed strong magical abilities, and Barbara was able to convince the queen to allow the child to be trained as a Baba Yaga.

  Babs was now about nine, a dark-haired, solemn, wide-eyed pixie of a girl who rarely spoke to strangers and was still a bit awkward with Human societal norms. But she was also bright and inquisitive and affectionate to those few people she allowed close to her, and not at all intimidated by living with a huge dog who was occasionally a small dragon. Or even by Barbara, who most people found at least a little bit scary, even if they didn’t know why.

  “Babs is going?” Jenna said. She handed Barbara a beer, which the tall woman accepted graciously. “I thought families weren’t invited to this particular occasion.”

  She wasn’t complaining, Mikhail thought. He knew perfectly well she’d rather stay home. His Jenna was plenty tough in her own right, but all three Baba Yagas together could be a little...overwhelming.

  Barbara shrugged, snagging a chunk of lightly breaded chicken from the platter in the middle of the table. “Babs isn’t just family; she’s a Baba Yaga in training. This is Baba business, so she goes. But Liam will still be around if you need anything while we’re gone.” She nodded at Mikhail. “I thought I’d see if you wanted to catch a ride with us in th
e Airstream, save you the ride halfway across the country on your Yamaha.”

  Mikhail laughed. “Nah, it will actually be nice to take a little bit of a road trip on the old girl. It’s not too bad—about eighteen hundred miles. It would probably take a little over two days of driving on a mundane bike, plus stops to rest, but my trusty steed Krasivaya can do it in a lot less if she puts her enchanted mind to it.” Both the Riders’ magic steeds-turned motorcycles and the Baba Yaga’s enchanted ex-huts could bend time and distance in ways no one could quite explain. That made it faster and easier for them to get to problem areas when necessary. Very handy.

  He turned and smiled at Jenna, enjoying the way she smiled back with a warmth she saved especially for him. “Besides, I don’t want to be away from my ladies any longer than I have to be. So you go ahead, I’ll be a couple of days behind you.”

  Barbara stared down her long nose at him and narrowed her amber eyes. “So long as you show up in time for the party.”

  “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” Mikhail promised. “I just wish...”

  “I know,” Barbara said. “We all wish that. Who knows, maybe Gregori and Alexei will surprise us.” Her eyes twinkled. “Something tells me this get together might be full of surprises.”

  Uh oh. Mikhail had the sudden feeling he should brace himself. Baba Yagas and surprises were rarely a good combination.

  Chapter 2

  Three days later, Mikhail was riding through Nebraska, enjoying the somewhat stark scenery and the bittersweet pleasure of the long drive that echoed so many others he had taken before.

  It still seemed strange not to have his brothers beside him; Alexei on his huge black Harley, dressed head to toe in black leather covered with silver chains, his braided beard blowing in the breeze, and Gregori in his red leathers perched on his matching red Ducati as they ate up the miles with ease. The White Rider, the Black Rider, and the Red Rider—figures out of Russian mythology to most. It was hard to believe those days were over. But Mikhail never wore white anymore. Never. Not now that he was no longer the White Rider.

  They had grown up spending part of the year with their various mothers in different parts of Russia and the other part in the realm of the gods, far removed from earthly concerns. Their father, Jarilo, a relatively unimportant god in the Slavic pantheon, mostly ignored them, leaving the three half brothers to run wild through the mystical land where it was always summer. Gregori, the oldest, tried to instill some sort of order into their lives, but wild Alexei could almost always be depended on to lead them into trouble. He, Mikhail, the youngest, worshipped his older brothers, and spent much of his time charming treats for them all out of the palace cooks.

  When they reached manhood, Jarilo sent them out to do the work for which they had been created, acting as companions, assistants, and occasionally brute muscle for the Baba Yagas who lived in the deep dark woods of Mother Russia. Over time, the Babas spread out to cover most of the known world, and other Riders were born to aid the newer additions.

  The Babas aged (albeit slower than a normal Human, thanks to the elixir called the Water of Life and Death brewed for them by the High Queen) and retired and were replaced by other Babas. Only these Riders remained unchanged, eventually following three of the Baba Yagas of the original lineage when they left Russia and went to the New World.

  Then a former Baba named Brenna decided she wasn’t willing to give up the power and the magic, and hatched an insane plot to steal the Riders’ immortality and make it her own. She failed, thanks to the other Baba Yagas and Koshka, Bella’s dragon-cat. But by the time the men had been rescued, the damage was already done. Their charmed lives were over, and nothing would ever be the same again.

  They had been created for one purpose, spent their very long lives serving that purpose to the best of their ability, and then one day, it was simply...gone. And it seemed that the ties that had bound them together were gone along with it.

  Each of them had been wracked with guilt in the aftermath of Brenna’s vicious torment. Mikhail, because he had allowed himself to be fooled by Brenna’s ploy that used his weakness for a damsel in distress, since his capture had been used to lure the others into her trap. Alexei, because he thought his great strength should have been enough to protect his brothers and break them free, and Gregori, because he was the eldest and the wisest, and felt that he should have been able to outthink the deranged mind that held them.

  In their guilt and grief and shock, they had all gone off alone to try and find a new purpose that would fill the now-limited days that remained. And they all had eventually discovered heretofore unknown paranormal abilities, probably inherited from their mothers and only allowed to surface once the more powerful influence of their father waned with the loss of their immortality. And they had all found love, as unexpected and unsought after as it had been wonderful.

  But they hadn’t yet found their way back to each other.

  That was why Mikhail’s drive, while beautiful, also carried with it pain and loss and grief, blurring his vision so much that he almost missed the nondescript old Ford that was pulled off to the side of the road, and the frantic woman standing next to it, waving him down.

  For a moment, he hesitated. After Brenna, he’d sworn never to rescue a damsel in distress again. A vow he’d kept until one literally landed on his doorstep at a rented cabin deep in the woods of the Adirondacks, in the form of a pregnant woman on the run from a faery’s curse. That woman had turned out to be Jenna, and the universe made it clear that he’d had no choice but to help, vow or no vow. Considering the way things had turned out, he couldn’t regret that.

  And he’d only caught a quick glimpse of the woman by the side of the road, but he was sure he’d seen a huge belly.

  Mikhail slowed, feeling the quivers of his PTSD pricking at his nerves and making him twitch. But he turned the Yamaha around and rode back the way he’d come. He might not be a Rider anymore, or the Mikhail Day he had once been, but he’d be damned if he’d let the trauma from a bad experience keep him from coming to this woman’s aid. It was highly unlikely it was some kind of magical trap, after all. He had nothing else for anyone to steal. And if it was? At least he would go out with no regrets.

  “Oh, thank god,” the woman said when he’d gotten off his bike and removed his helmet to let his long blond hair fall to his shoulders. “I been here for twenty minutes, and the only people I’ve seen just kept going.” She was almost as fair as he was, with pale skin and a stomach that jutted far out in front of her otherwise slim body. Panic had etched lines around her blue eyes and sweat dotted her tense face.

  “Did your car break down?” Mikhail asked in a gentle voice. He knew it was scary to be a woman alone in the middle of nowhere, and he tried his best to seem unthreatening. Since he was a big man with broad shoulders and muscular arms, that might have been tough, but he had always been charming, and he flashed her a low-wattage version of his “trust me, I’m harmless” smile.

  Tears ran down her face. “No, the car is okay. I had to stop and pee,” she patted her large belly. “I think the baby is resting right on top of my bladder.” She shook her head, as if to rid it of the irrelevant fact. “Anyway, I dashed into the trees really quickly with my daughter Ella. She’s two, almost three. And when my back was turned, she ran off down a path. By the time I caught up, she had fallen into a cave!”

  The look of panic got even stronger, and her voice took on an edge of hysteria as she tried to explain, her breathing ragged and uneven. “I can hear her crying, but I can’t climb down into the cave like this. There’s no cell signal here, and for all I know she could be hurt, or even dying. You have to help me.” She wrung her hands, tears pouring down like rain, her expression pleading. “Please. Please. You have to save my little girl.”

  Aw, hell.

  * * *

  It had to be a cave. Of course it did. He could almost hear the universe laughing.

  Mikhail didn’t have anything against
caves, other than the fact that he never wanted to go into one again.

  The very thought made him shudder. Brenna’s cave stank of mold and fear, its floor and sides perpetually ran with moisture. He and his brothers were always cold, and after a while the walls seemed to close in around him, Alexei’s and Gregori’s screams echoing even when they were silent. Caves. He freaking hated caves.

  Mikhail rotated his head to try to loosen up his shoulders, and took a deep breath. “I guess you’d better show me where it is,” he said. “I’m Mick,” by the way.” He grabbed a flashlight out of one of the Yamaha’s saddlebags. The hand holding it gave a treacherous wobble, which he ignored by force of will.

  “Louisa,” the woman said, then led him down a barely visible trail, probably made by wildlife, since it was an unlikely spot for hikers.

  “There,” she said, stopping in front of a slanting hole that led underground. “She fell down there.” She bent down and hollered, “Ella, Ella, can you hear me? It’s mama!”

  Mikhail thought he might have heard a thin wail in return, but it could have been the wind whistling through the hollow space if there was another place where it came out above ground. The hole was simply that—an empty spot in the woodland floor, like a gaping maw waiting to swallow up an unwary traveler. Or anyone stupid enough to go in after one.

  He gave Louisa a cheerful smile. “Don’t you worry; I’ll bring her up for you.” He paused. “But if we’re not back in an hour, you might want to go for help. At least you’ll know she’s not alone down there.” He eyed the cave entrance. It was relatively small and more oblong than round. Louisa was right; she never would have fit inside. As it was, he was going to have a tough time squeezing his large shoulders through without losing some skin.

  Still, it wasn’t as though there were any choice. He lowered his legs down into the emptiness, feeling around for a protrusion that might act as a step. When he found one, he slithered in, only to slip and fall the last few feet down into the belly of the earth. If he grabbed at the dirt as he fell, digging his nails in deep, that was only to steady the transition. Not because he was fighting the instinctive desire to lift himself right back out. Crawl out on his hands and knees, if that’s what it took.