Wickedly Wonderful(80)
Beka’s head was buzzing, filled with confusion and doubt. How did Brenna even know that Beka had been thinking of giving up being a Baba? Did everyone know? Was that the only choice she had left—the only way to save the water folk? Surely there was some other option. But right this very minute, she couldn’t think of what that might be.
Brenna put her mug down on the table with a decisive click that sounded like a death knell. “I should be on my way, sweetie. Things to do, people to enchant, you know how it is. If you want to get in touch with me, simply send out a magical call; I won’t be far away. You just think over what I said. I’m sure you’ll do what’s best. That’s how I raised you.”
Beka wasn’t sure how long she sat there after Brenna left, huddled on the couch with her knees drawn up to her chest and her hands over her face. Her own breath seemed too loud in the silent bus, but her thoughts were even louder. Give up. Don’t give up. Give up. Don’t give up.
When Chewie came back, she didn’t even bother to raise her head. She was just so tired.
“I take it the reunion was less than a shining success,” the dog said in a grumpy tone as he plopped down next to her. The couch groaned in protest. “I knew I should have stayed.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” Beka said. She sighed as she straightened out her cramped legs. “Your being here wouldn’t have changed the truth of what she said to me. Everyone knows I’m failing as a Baba Yaga, and it isn’t fair to the Selkies and the Merpeople.”
“Oh, for the love of—” A thin stream of smoke slid out of Chewie’s nostrils and curled in an undeserved halo around his head. “You don’t seriously believe that, do you? Shit. I knew that woman was going to undermine your confidence, just the way she always did. I should have stayed and eaten her.”
Beka was so shocked she almost fell off the couch. “Chewie! A Chudo-Yudo can’t eat a Baba Yaga—that’s just wrong!”
“She’s an ex–Baba Yaga,” the dragon muttered. “And it might be wrong, but I still think I should have done it. Look at how much she upset you.”
Beka gave him a halfhearted smile. “You can’t go around eating everyone who upsets me, Chewie. If nothing else, you’d get indigestion.”
He woofed at her, licking her face affectionately. “It would be worth it. Besides, I know a really good cure for indigestion. Works for discouragement too.”
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.