Wickedly Wonderful

by Deborah Blake

  Beka looked at him doubtfully. “Really? What’s that? Some kind of magical remedy?”

  Chewie shook his head. “S’mores.” He gave her an unsubtle butt with his large head. “And if you make me some, I’ll help you with your research. I just don’t want to hear anything more about you failing. You only fail if you give up.”

  He walked toward the kitchen and Beka followed, but she couldn’t help thinking that maybe giving up was the only way not to fail.

  * * *

  “HOW WAS YOUR visit?” Kesh asked. “Did it go the way you had hoped?”

  “Of course it did. The poor girl is probably rehearsing her resignation speech for the High Queen as we speak.”

  “Good,” he said. “I was quite put out when you sent that shark after her without speaking to me first. And the storm was simply unnecessary. I told you I had the situation under control.”

  “If you had it under such good control, I wouldn’t have had to go have my little heart-to-heart with her now, would I? Still, maybe this way neither of us will have to kill her. I suppose that would be best.”

  “As long as she does not interfere with my plans,” Kesh said.

  “Our plans, you mean.”

  “Right. Our plans. That is what I meant to say.”

  “Of course you did, sweetie. Of course you did.”

  * * *

  “HEY! DO YOU hear that?” Chewie bounded back over to the door.

  Beka hoped to hell it wasn’t a singing telegram or a mariachi band sent to serenade her. But unless they’d started traveling on motorcycles, she figured she was probably safe. So she was right on Chewie’s heels as he yanked the door back open with his teeth.

  Pulling up in front of the bus was a red Ducati and a black Harley. The Harley had fringed saddlebags, lots of bright silver chrome, and an engine that sounded like a roaring ogre. The giant that swung his leg over the saddle as soon as the bike had come to a halt roared almost as loudly.

  “Beka!” Alexei Knight bellowed, coming over to pick her up and swing her around as if she were still a four-year-old child. He planted an enthusiastic kiss on each cheek, his beard tickling her chin, and walloped Chewie affectionately on the head. “Chewie old pal, how are t’ings?” His thick Russian accent made Beka think of borscht and potato dumplings.

  “Unhand that poor woman, you hairy behemoth,” Gregori Sun said, coming up behind his friend and bowing to Beka with his hands pressed together in front of his heart. “Greetings, Baba Yaga. It is a pleasure to see you again. It has been too long.” His accent was barely discernible as a slightly musical lilt to his speech.

  “It has,” Beka agreed with a smile. “The only downside to staying out of trouble is that I don’t get to see my Riders nearly often enough.”

  “You have trouble now, though, yes?” Alexei said. “Or you would not have called us.”

  Beka let out a huff of air. “Yes, I have trouble now.” She glanced around, looking for a third motorcycle. “Where’s Mikhail? Isn’t he with you?”

  Gregori shook his head, his shining black tail of hair swinging against his back. “We finished up with Barbara’s latest crisis a few days ago and each went our own way. Alexei and I met up along the road, but I’m sure Day will be here soon.”

  He glanced at her with a critical eye. “In the meanwhile, perhaps you would like to put some clothes on and tell us about this problem you are having.”

  Beka blushed, tugging down on her long tee and trying to make it cover a little more of her thighs. The Riders had watched her grow up, and were sort of like slightly odd uncles to her, but still, she would like to have presented a slightly more dignified appearance when they showed up.

  “Do not change on my account,” Alexei said with a leer. “I always like a Baba with good legs. There are only so many old crones one can look at in a lifetime as long as mine.”

  Gregori smacked him on the back of the head as he walked by, having to reach up to do it. “Come on, you Cossack. You’ll scare the girl, and then she won’t conjure up any of those wonderful melty things for us.” He looked at Baba hopefully. “What do you call those?”

  “S’mores,” Chewie said helpfully.

  “Yes,” said Alexei. “I would like some more, too, whatever you call them.”

  Beka’s load felt lighter already. It was good to have family. Even if they were loud, ate her out of house and home, and spent most of their time arguing with each other. When they weren’t breaking things. Or people. Yup. It was definitely good to have family.

  * * *

  A CRESCENT MOON hung over the nearly deserted beach like an enchanted lantern, casting both light and shadow over Kesh as he sat across the blanket from Beka. As usual, he’d brought a veritable feast of delicacies from the sea, as well as the requisite bottle or two of heady champagne. Beka sipped at hers and tried to stop wishing he were someone else. Like maybe a cranky ex-Marine with broad shoulders and a way of kissing that made her tingle just thinking about it. It was hard to believe that only three weeks before, she hadn’t known either one of them. Life had been much simpler then.

  Farther down the beach, a boisterous group of college-age kids were drinking beer around a flaming bonfire; the sounds of their laughter and the deep rhythmic beat of their music made for a pleasant backdrop when separated by half a mile of sand and rocks. Other than that, there was only the whooshing of the waves coming in and going out and the occasional bird calling on its way back to its nest for the night.

  Their own smaller fire crackled and snapped, sending embers dancing up into the sky like tiny firefly messengers. The smell of the smoke gave a pleasant tang to the sea air, and Beka inhaled deeply, trying to draw the energy of the elements into her core. She was so tired. But it meant so much to Kesh that she be there, she hadn’t had the heart not to show up.

  As if echoing her thought, the Selkie prince said, “I am so pleased that you could join me tonight, Baba Yaga. You have been very busy of late.” It almost didn’t sound like scolding. He handed her a plate laden with dainty, perfectly presented bites of food that she had no desire to eat.

  “Well, I am trying to save your people’s home, Kesh.” She mustered up a smile to ease the sting of her words. After a moment’s consideration, she confessed, “I should probably tell you that I spoke to your father.”

  The darkness made the shadows seem to creep into Kesh’s gray eyes. “Oh?” he said cautiously. “And what did my progenitor have to say?”

  “He told me that the children who’d fallen ill hadn’t gotten any better since the Selkies and Merpeople moved to their new temporary grounds,” Beka said, wishing there was some way to soften the blow. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Ah,” Kesh said. “That is unfortunate.” A smile flickered over his lips; he was no doubt trying to put up a brave front for her, so she wouldn’t feel worse about it than she already did.

  “I’m working as hard as I can, I promise you,” she said. “I’ve got to be close to an answer. I feel as though it is right in front of me, and I just can’t see it.” Frustration made her stomach hurt even more than usual, and she shifted the food around on her dish without eating it.

  “I have every faith in you,” Kesh said. He bit off a piece of bright red salmon with sharp white teeth. “So, did my father say anything else of interest?”

  Beka played with the sand, not wanting to meet his eyes. The coarse grains felt unusually harsh against the sensitive tips of her fingers. “Well, your brother did mention that you and your father had some kind of falling-out and you’d left home.”

  “Indeed, that is true, Baba Yaga,” he said, his voice soft against the sound of the ocean. “However, I am sure it is but a temporary estrangement. Do not worry yourself on my account.”

  Beka looked at him, impressed that even during a difficult time he still concerned himself for her feelings. A lock of dark hair had fallen over his forehead, giving him an endearingly childlike charm, and his admiring smile glinted at her across th
e salty air. She waited to feel something, anything, other than friendly affection, but her heart stubbornly refused to cooperate.

  He still wasn’t Marcus, dammit.

  “There’s a new problem too,” she said, giving up on her plate and laying it down on the striped blanket. She took a sip of champagne instead; the bubbles seemed to calm her uneasy insides, and the expensive wine soothed her frayed nerves. “Something you might be able to help me with, in fact.”

  He bowed slightly regally as always. “Anything I can do, my dear Baba. What is this new problem, pray tell?”

  Beka explained about the renegade the Queen had tasked her with finding, and then took a deep breath. “Kesh, I need you to tell me the truth. Are you involved with this man? You told me you and some friends had been acting against the Humans. If you are mixed up in this, I can help you, but I need to know.”

  Kesh looked hurt. “I cannot believe you would think me capable of such a thing; to betray my own people. Yes, I have played a few harmless tricks on the local fishermen, but surely you would not condemn me for such a small mischief.” His dark eyes gazed at her earnestly.

  Beka felt just awful. Kesh had been nothing but supportive, and here she was accusing him of being in league with criminals. She should have known better. “I’m sorry, Kesh. It’s just, well, in all the times we talked, you never even mentioned that you weren’t living under the sea with your family anymore. I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought. That maybe you were hiding something.”

  The Selkie gave her a wan smile. “Perhaps I was only hiding my concern that you would not wish to be associated with me, if you knew I was no longer a prince of the realm.”

  “Kesh, how could you think that?” Beka patted his hand where it lay next to hers on the blanket. “I don’t care if you are a prince or not! I like you for you.” She was so relieved to discover her friend wasn’t guilty, it made her dizzy. Or maybe that was the wine. “You’ll tell me if you hear anything, right? After all, you have all sorts of connections with the local paranormal folk.”

  “No one has approached me as yet, alas,” he said. “But I will make some enquiries amongst my friends, if you think that would be useful.”

  It was nice to feel like she wasn’t alone. Between Kesh and the Riders, surely she could satisfy the Queen’s demands and fulfill her obligations to the paranormal community.

  “That would be great, Kesh,” she said enthusiastically. “The Queen has threatened to bring Brenna back to replace me if I can’t figure out who this mystery man is and stop him.”

  Kesh’s long fingers tapped the side of his glass for a moment, then stilled. “Is that so? I thought that Brenna was out of favor with their majesties.”

  “What? I don’t think so,” Beka said. “I thought the Queen just insisted she retire because she’d been a Baba Yaga for so long, and it was time for her to have a break. I was taught that eventually all Babas had to step down, because otherwise continuing to drink the Water of Life and Death would have unpleasant side effects. For those who started out Human, anyway. Mind you, after over two hundred years, you would think anyone would want to stop working.”

  “Hmmm. Perhaps I heard wrong,” Kesh said. “Either way, it would be a great shame for you to be replaced by anyone. Unless, of course, that was what you wished. Are you, perhaps, considering giving up your role as Baba Yaga? You are still young enough to start another life. I might even have some suggestions, should you find yourself in such a position.”

  Beka snorted. “I don’t think so, although the thought has certainly crossed my mind. The Riders are here now—two of them, at least—and with their help, I’m sure to be able to fix this mess before the High Queen loses her patience.” She hoped so, anyway. The Queen wasn’t known for her tolerance of failure.

  “The Riders are here? How nice to know.” He gave her a smooth, sweet curve of the lips, and held out a morsel of succulent lobster. “You have a great deal to do, my darling. You must keep your strength up. Drink some more of your lovely champagne and try a piece of this rare blue lobster. I caught it for you myself, just this afternoon.”

  The moonlight seemed ensnared by his glinting eyes, captured and reflected in a distorted double vision of matching crescents as sharp as knives. Beka blinked, thinking he was right. She really needed to keep up her strength. Smiling, she opened her mouth and took a bite.

  * * *

  KESH FOLLOWED BEKA back home, pausing at the edge of the clearing where the bus was parked to ponder the evening’s conversation. He was tempted to go closer and look through the windows to see if she was working on some new magical experiment, but he did not wish to attract the attention of the Riders or that cursed Chudo-Yudo. For some reason, the monster had taken against him. Suspicious beast.

  Of course, he was poisoning the dragon-dog’s mistress, and plotting to kill her, but his charm always worked on stupid animals, paranormal or otherwise. And it wasn’t as though Chudo-Yudo had any way to know what Kesh was up to. Thankfully, that charm still seemed to be working on the Baba Yaga, although she mysteriously continued to refuse his romantic advances. Something to do with that damned sailor, no doubt, although why anyone would choose a coarse Human fisherman over a refined Selkie prince was beyond his comprehension.

  He pouted into the darkness, annoyed by the way her stubbornness had forced him to change his plans. It seemed that Brenna’s attempts to discourage Beka had failed. And now the Riders were here. That truly was unfortunate. He might be able to take advantage of Beka’s relative youth and inexperience, along with her idiotically trusting nature (so un-Baba-like), but the Riders would not be so easy to fool. Nor were they likely to be willing to join in his efforts to torment the Humans who despoiled his ocean.

  No, it was time to move on to his end game. Ahead of schedule, but what was one to do? And there was one bit of good news amidst the bad: that the Queen was actually considering giving Brenna back her position as Baba Yaga if Beka could not prove herself capable of doing the job. Kesh thought it was easily possible that the Queen had never intended to follow through on the threat, but nonetheless, Brenna would be very pleased to hear of it.

  Almost as pleased as she would be when her adopted daughter was dead and unable to thwart her plan to return to the power and influence of being a Baba Yaga. With an ally like Brenna, Kesh could not fail to win.

  Such a pity about Beka, but all wars had their incidental casualties. And she would only be the first of many.

  TWENTY-ONE

  WHEN THE MUTED rumble of a vehicle came in through the open window the next morning, both Beka and Chewie’s heads swiveled in that direction.

  “Now who’s here?” Beka exclaimed in disbelief. Normally she could go months without anyone coming near her bus. Lately it seemed like Grand Central Station. Of course, it didn’t help that she could tell from the sound that it wasn’t Marcus’s Jeep.

  “Maybe I should put in a revolving door and start selling tickets,” Chewie muttered. “At least it would pay for more chocolate and marshmallows.”

  Beka moved to open the door, and what she saw made her feel better than she had in days.

  “I don’t believe it!” she said, running down the steps and over to the large silver Airstream. A tall woman with a cloud of long, dark hair climbed out of the passenger side of the silver Chevy truck pulling the trailer. She moved with the dangerous grace of a panther. Or a Baba Yaga.

  “Barbara! What are you doing here?” Beka asked, screeching to a halt with Chewie on her heels. “You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon.”

  “I am on my honeymoon,” her sister Baba said with a wide smile. “We just happened to be in the area and I thought we’d stop in and say hi, since you couldn’t make it to the wedding.”

  A slim, attractive man with sandy brown hair came around from the other side of the truck, followed by a small, solemn-looking pixie of a child who peered at Beka from behind his long legs.

  “This is Liam,” Barbara said,
putting one proprietary hand on his arm. “And this is Babs, my adopted daughter.” Her pride in them both softened her usually severe countenance in a way that Beka had never seen before.

  “Hey,” Liam said, a good-natured grin lighting up his face. “I’m glad we finally get to meet. Barbara has told me all about you.”

  Beka grinned back. “Not as much as she’s told me about you, I’ll bet. Is it true that you are more powerful than a locomotive and can leap tall buildings in a single bound?”

  “I think you’re confusing me with Superman,” Liam said. “I’m just a small-town sheriff. Barbara is the one with the superpowers in this family.”

  “Are you kidding? You got Barbara to marry you. If that isn’t a superpower, I don’t know what is.”

  Liam laughed. “You might have a point there. She wasn’t exactly easy to woo.”

  Barbara scowled. “I was easy.” She thought about it. “I didn’t kill you and bury you in the backyard. It could have been worse.”

  Little Babs stuck her head out from behind Liam’s knee to say, in a piping tenor voice, “You lived in the Airstream. You didn’t have a backyard.”

  Barbara laughed. “Don’t mind Babs; she’s very literal. That’s what spending the first few years of your life in the Otherworld will get you.” She turned to the girl. “This is Beka, one of the other Baba Yagas I told you about. Can you say hi?”

  “Hi,” the girl said, pushing a hank of short, dark hair behind one ear. “I’m going to be a Baba Yaga when I get bigger. But I’m only five, so today I get to see the Pacific Ocean. That’s good, right? I’ve never seen an ocean before.” She looked at Beka, tilting her head to one side like a crow eyeing something shiny. “Barbara says you get to see the ocean every day. Is it nice?”

  Beka nodded, completely enchanted. “It is nice,” she said. “Are you going to go swimming?”

  Babs looked up at Liam. “I am, right? You’re going to teach me to swim and I’m going to wear my special clothes for getting wet in.” She gazed at Beka with a slightly baffled expression. “Barbara says there are clothes for getting wet in, and clothes for staying dry in. That seems silly to me. Does it seem silly to you?”