Wickedly Powerful Read online

  Having one of them rap on her window in the middle of the night was definitely a first.

  “Are you the Baba Yaga?” the small being asked, in a voice almost too high-pitched to hear.

  “I am one of the Babas, yes,” Bella said. “Are you in need of assistance?”

  “Not me, Baba,” said the sprite. It looked like a miniature, somewhat androgynous Human, if Humans were three inches tall with diaphanous wings like a dragonfly, and a long tongue that could unroll itself to catch insects or sip sap from a tree. “I carry a message for another. ‘Give to Baba Yaga,’ he says.” It looked curiously around the caravan. “Told me to look for a big, shiny silver can.”

  Bella choked back a laugh. That was one way to describe Barbara’s Airstream trailer, she supposed. “That home belongs to another Baba Yaga. Did this person want you to look for her in particular?”

  The sprite shook its head, shaggy bark brown hair slipping down over its wide-set eyes. “No. Just said, ‘Find a Baba’ and told me about that one’s hut. You are a Baba. You will do.” It held up one little hand. “Wait.” It flew back out the window, moving so quickly that Bella could hardly see it, even knowing it was there.

  “What do you suppose that was all about?” Bella asked as Koshka padded up to join her at the head of the bed.

  “Sounds like you might be here on a Baba mission after all. I told you that nagging feeling you had was probably a summons.” He licked one massive paw, not terribly interested.

  Bella sighed. Sometimes a Baba was Called to deal with a problem, usually by someone who was familiar with the old tales and knew that such a thing was possible. A summons could be as obvious as a written invitation, or as subtle as a sudden yearning to drive in a completely different direction from the one where you’d been heading. A Baba didn’t always know she’d been Called until she got to where she was going.

  Bella had already begun to suspect that her presence here had something to do with the mysterious fire she’d found. But what that had to do with a tree sprite bearing a message from someone looking for a Baba Yaga was anyone’s guess.

  She sat up on her knees as the sprite flew back in through the open window, carrying something almost as big as it was, its wings laboring as it struggled under its unlikely load. Bella’s respect for the little creature rose a couple of notches; how far had it carried this unwieldy package, looking for the right person to give it to?

  The sprite dropped its burden gratefully into Bella’s outstretched hand, and she took a closer look at what it had brought her. At first glance, she thought it was a small scroll, tied with a black string. But on closer examination, the paper appeared to be made out of thin, once-white leather, and the thong was a tight braid crafted out of straight black hair. A sinking feeling started in her stomach and made its way up to her heart.

  “Where did you get this?” she whispered. “Who gave it to you?”

  The little being gave an approximation of a shrug, wings fluttering a little slower. “Two days’ travel, maybe three?” Sprites didn’t have much sense of time or distance, so that didn’t really help her. “From the place of the rising sun,” it added.

  It had come from the east, then. That at least gave her a direction. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Assuming the sprite hadn’t been distracted along its journey.

  “Did you see the man who gave you this? Did he have long black hair in a tail, and a dangling mustache?” The tie binding the message looked as though it could have come from Gregori Sun, her favorite of the three Riders who had always assisted the Baba Yagas—Sun, Mikhail Day, and Alexei Knight.

  No one, not even the Babas, really knew much about the Riders; just that they were powerful, immortal, and always there when a Baba needed them. Until recently, when Day had disappeared after helping Barbara with a problem out on the East Coast. Sun and Knight had vanished a little later while out looking for him.

  Still, no one had been terribly worried. After all, the Riders (who rode black, red, and white enchanted steeds that manifested these days as a black Harley, a red Ducati, and a gleaming white Yamaha) were nigh on invincible. Even the haughty rulers of the Otherworld treated them more like favorite cousins than like subjects to be ordered about.

  But Bella was worried now. The message the sprite had brought her could only have come from the Riders, or at least two of them, if the white leather and black hair were anything to go by. And she couldn’t imagine a situation that would cause the men to send a tiny sprite for help, but she could see the evidence of desperation in the palm of her hand. The hair that held the tiny scroll rolled tight still had a few roots at the ends, as if it had been pulled out by force rather than neatly cut, although the braiding itself was arranged and precise, much like Gregori himself. The scrap of dingy leather must have been torn from Mikhail’s white leather pants, but Bella had never seen the Rider anything but immaculate. The other two always teased that he could roll around in the mud and still come up sparkling.

  “Who gave you this?” she asked again. “Was he slim and dark? Huge and hairy like a bear? Tall and blond and handsome?”

  The sprite shook its head. “I saw him not, Baba,” it said. “I flew far from home in search of mushrooms, and followed a singing ribbon of magic to a tiny hole in some rocks. Faint it was, the call, and stopped as soon as I arrived. When I answered, this was pushed out through the crack, and a voice whispered to take it to the Baba Yaga. It said something about the shiny silver can, then said, ‘please, please, please.’ Then there was nothing more.”

  Bella pulled off the dark tie and unrolled the piece of leather with shaking fingers. The writing on it was faint and brownish red; it looked as though it had been drawn on painstakingly with the tip of a fingernail, rather than spilling neatly from a pen. She had to brighten the light inside the caravan to make it out at all.

  “Is that . . .”

  Koshka leaned his large head in close and touched the pink tip of his tongue delicately to the surface of the message. “Blood. Yes. With a hint of magic in it.” If a cat could look worried, Koshka did.

  “What does it say, Baba?” the sprite asked curiously.

  There were only three words, each written in straggling capital letters. The message said:

  CAVE

  HELP

  BRENNA

  That was all. But it was enough.

  FOUR

  BELLA YAWNED OVER her cup of tea, feeling the effects of her interrupted sleep and the hours that followed spent questioning the sprite for any details the small creature could remember and then mulling over the contents of the note and what it could mean. The pungent steam of the peppermint leaves in her cup did its best to prop open her drooping lids as she eyed the tiny parcel on the table before her.

  “What do you think, Koshka?” she asked her irritatingly alert companion. Dragons could go weeks without sleep if they felt like it. Unlike the mostly Human Babas. “Should I contact Barbara and Beka and tell them about this?”

  Koshka reached out one claw and delicately touched the scrap of leather, then sniffed at the claw before retracting it. “What good would that do? They’re both busy with other things. They wouldn’t be able to do anything but worry, and you’re doing enough of that for all three of you.”

  Bella bit her lip but didn’t bother to deny it. How could she not worry, with the Riders missing and this disturbing evidence that they were in some kind of trouble? She couldn’t even imagine what kind of mess the powerful immortals could get into that they couldn’t get themselves out of—or, for that matter, what on earth she could do about it if they were dealing with something too big even for their combined skills to triumph over.

  “Maybe I should bring it before the Queen,” she said dubiously. Her mentor Baba had always taught her that it was better to keep off the Queen’s sometime chancy radar whenever possible. But this was an emergency, wasn’t
it? Or, at least, an alarm bell that could possibly mean an emergency. Oh yeah, the Queen would love that.

  Koshka dropped his head down onto his paws, stretching out to take up most of the limited space on the drop-down table and causing Bella’s teacup to wobble precariously. She grabbed at it, watching the leaves slosh around in the bottom of the cup and wishing that she could read the answers she needed in their ragged patterns. Sadly, she wasn’t that kind of witch.

  “I’d leave the Queen out of it for now,” Koshka said. “No point in riling her up if you don’t have to.”

  Bella opened her mouth to argue, but was distracted by the sound of knocking coming from the front of the caravan. But not from the door.

  “You had to mention her name, didn’t you?” Koshka muttered as he jumped off the table.

  It did seem rather as if just thinking about her had summoned the monarch, Bella thought. Or at least, the monarch’s representative, since the Queen would never deign to rap on anyone’s door, and only someone from the Otherworld would be knocking on the inside of the cupboard that also doubled as the hidden entrance to that magical world. Although occasionally the Babas would travel that way as a shortcut to see one another, which gave Bella a moment’s hope.

  Until she twisted the knob twice to the right and once to the left, and opened the door to see a four-foot-tall orange salamander dressed in a top hat and tails. Definitely not a Baba Yaga.

  “Good day, Baba,” the salamander said, bowing politely. “I bring greetings from my mistress, Her Most Royal Majesty Queen Morena Aine Titania Argante Rhiannon. She bids me to convey her desire that you attend Her in Her gardens, as promptly as possible.” He bowed again, almost dislodging his tall hat.

  “And by promptly, you mean . . . ?”

  “Now, if not sooner,” the messenger confirmed. He bowed once more, this time in Koshka’s direction. “Chudo-Yudo, sir. A good day to you too.” And then he turned and disappeared back into the swirling mist that was all that could be seen of the Otherworld from this close to the other side, the tip of his orange tail disappearing last like the Cheshire Cat’s smile.

  “Well, crap,” Bella said, closing the cupboard door behind him and banging her head against it gently a couple of times. “What do you suppose that was about? She called us all to a meeting not too long ago and then canceled it. Now she’s summoned me again. Do you think she somehow knows about the message from the Riders already?”

  Koshka shrugged with the confidence of one who knew he had to stay behind and guard the caravan and therefore didn’t have to go and face the Queen, a woman known for both her exquisite beauty and her occasional cataclysmic fits of pique. “I don’t see how she could have, but maybe you’d better take it with you to show her just in case.”

  He looked her up and down. “And if I were you, I’d get changed first. Somehow I don’t think that the Queen would be amused by bunny slippers and a tee shirt that says, ‘Have fun storming the castle.’”

  * * *

  FRONDS OF LEMON yellow willow branches swished slowly back and forth along the sides of the path, despite a notable absence of wind. Translucent dragonflies with outsized iridescent wings darted through the leaves, their high-pitched choral song echoing up into the boundless sky. Bella smiled at a small gnome woman who was sweeping the steps of her hut, its roof not much higher than Bella’s waist. The little woman waved before she went back inside; everyone in the Otherworld knew the Baba Yagas.

  Bella loved the Otherworld, although she wouldn’t have wanted to live there. It was a little too unpredictable for her tastes, as was its Queen. But Bella found the multihued forests charming and the varied flora and fauna (and people) fascinating. If she hadn’t been on her way to court, she would have taken more time to wander the endless trails and enjoy the way the land shifted and changed with every step. As it was, though, she walked as fast as she could without breaking into an undignified trot, and got to the royal gardens only slightly out of breath.

  With one last tug at her scarlet tunic and one last check to make sure her black silk pants were neatly tucked into her boots and her rebellious hair was still clinging precariously to its jeweled pins, she took a deep breath and walked down the crushed crystal pathway that led through a carved ebony gate.

  Once inside, she made her way toward where the Queen and King sat amidst a crowd of elegant beautiful courtiers, all dressed in vibrant silks, satins, and velvets in as many colors as the flowers that surrounded them. The scents of gardenias and roses filled the air, and birdlike creatures swooped and dived among the abundant growth. There was no true sun in the Otherworld, but in the virtual daytime the light was bright and clear and the air was almost effervescent in its purity.

  The last few nobles in her way took notice of her presence and shifted gracefully to allow her passage with the haughty manner of people who had intended to move anyway, their helpfulness only the most minor of coincidences. Bella didn’t take it personally. Anyone who had lived for thousands of years tended to develop a bit of an attitude, in her experience.

  Her eyes widened when she spotted both Barbara and Beka, also decked out in their formal going-to-court, don’t-want-my-head-chopped-off best, but as protocol demanded, she ignored them until she’d paid homage to the royal couple.

  The Queen and her consort were a study in contrasts, although both of them were gloriously regal and inhumanly attractive. The Queen glittered from her silvery-white hair, arranged in complicated braids looped around the top of her head and topped with a crown of diamonds and amethysts the color of her icy purple eyes, to the tips of her silver shoes. Her gown was a froth of frosted blue lace, sprinkled with aquamarines, sapphires, and chalcedony that made it look as though she had captured a piece of the sky and wrapped it around her slim, straight-backed form. The King wore more muted tones of topaz and amber silk, and his dark hair and neatly pointed beard gave him an air of self-contained dignity, although his emerald-colored eyes, a shade brighter than Bella’s own, held a hint of humor and affection as he greeted her.

  “Ah, and here is Our final Baba Yaga,” he said, his voice as melodious as the birdsong in the air around them. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

  As if she’d had any choice. The King and Queen ruled the Otherworld and all the paranormal creatures on either side of the doorways. The Babas weren’t under their control, strictly speaking, but they did report to the Queen and depended on her to provide the Water of Life and Death that boosted their powers and prolonged their lives. Besides, Bella wasn’t sure if anyone had ever told the Queen “no” and lived to tell the tale. She certainly wasn’t going to find out what happened if you tried it.

  Of course, she wasn’t foolish enough to say any of that out loud, instead bowing deep first to the Queen and then to the King. “I am at your service as always, Your Majesties,” she said.

  The Queen waved one graceful hand, at once an acknowledgment of Bella’s words and a motion for her to move back a few steps to stand with her sister Babas.

  “What’s going on?” she whispered to Barbara, who looked tough and striking in her usual head-to-toe black leather, her cloud of dark hair restrained in a jeweled net, and a sharp silver sword hanging from an ornate belt. Standing on Barbara’s other side, Beka’s shimmering green and blue skirt and top looked even more vivid than usual, her long, straight blond hair tied back with a matching ribbon.

  Barbara gave a minute shrug and whispered back, “No idea,” and gave Bella a brief squeeze, which was the equivalent of most other people’s full body hug.

  The Queen leaned forward on her seat, which appeared to have formed itself from a small, sturdy tree that grew directly from the ground underneath her, no doubt at her command. Decorative vines twined around the arms and back, turning from shades of blue to yellow as they flowed from her chair onto the King’s.

  “My dear Baba Yagas,” she said. “We are concerne
d.”

  “Oh hell,” muttered Barbara, then endeavored to look innocent when the Queen raised an elegant eyebrow in her direction. It wasn’t a look she carried off well, but luckily the Queen chose to ignore the interruption.

  “As I am sure you are all aware, Our friends the Riders have been out of contact for an unusual amount of time. They have not been seen either in your world or in the Otherworld.”

  Of course, she didn’t use that exact word, but rather a musical ancient phrase that Bella’s mentor had told her translated to something roughly along the lines of “the one true place.” To Bella’s ears, it sounded like chiming bells, slightly off tune for Human ears.

  “Have any of you by chance heard from them since We last spoke to you?”

  Beka bit her lip and Barbara looked worried. All three of them shook their heads. “No, Your Majesty,” they chorused.

  Bella couldn’t decide whether to mention the note or not. Did it count as hearing from the Riders if she couldn’t be sure it came from them? Her “no” wavered in uncertainly after the other two.

  The Queen tapped an ornamental fan on the arm of her throne, once, twice, three times, as if coming to a decision.

  “Very well,” she said. “Enough waiting. It is not like the Riders to disappear with no word to Us or any of the Baba Yagas. We are out of patience. It is time for them to return home.”