“Um, okay,” Beka said. She had really been looking forward to bringing Kesh to the Queen, all wrapped up like a nice, tidy present. But she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. “Don’t worry about me. I’m going to prove myself to be worthy of the title of Baba Yaga, or die trying.”
“It would be better if you didn’t die,” Alexei said seriously.
She rolled her eyes at him. “It’s a Human expression, you goofball.” She gave him a shove in the direction of his bike, but it was like trying to move a chunk of granite.
“Do not forget to use the Water of Life and Death as soon as you get back home,” Gregori added, sounding like a Russian version of Mary Poppins. “You need to be at your full strength to deal with this, and I have begun to wonder if whatever has made the Mer and Selkies sick hasn’t begun to have an effect on you as well. It would be best to be safe, and drink extra Water, just in case.”
The same thought had occurred to her, once or twice. It simply kept slipping away in the confusion of events and the muddle that was her perpetually aching head. But she’d make sure to remember this time.
“You’re right,” she said. “Are you coming back to the bus with me?”
Alexei cast an openly longing glance toward the road above them. “We need to return this cursed boat,” he said. “But then, perhaps, we could be on our way?” He gave Beka a big bear hug, making her ribs creak ominously. “If that is okay with you, little one.”
In truth, Beka would have loved for them to stay, as much for the company as for the help. But they would never consider leaving in the middle of an adventure if they weren’t seriously worried about Mikhail. Which made her worried too.
She mustered up the last of her strength, trying to make it seem like nothing, and grabbed their saddlebags from the bus, bringing them through the ether to materialize with a pop and a tumble of jangly chains on black leather and perfectly polished red.
“You boys go find Mikhail,” she said with a cheeriness so forceful it rattled her teeth. “I’ve got this. And don’t worry about the boat. I’ll make an anonymous call to the cops and they can come fetch it back to its owner.” She made a shooing motion. “Go on, get. And let me know when you find him, okay?”
Hopefully she’d still be a Baba Yaga when they did. She wasn’t sure what the rules were about the Riders contacting a civilian.
Gregori gave her one of his graceful bows and then they were gone, the sound of their departing motorcycles fading before she could draw another breath.
Damn, she hoped her plan worked. Because if it didn’t, without the Riders, she was screwed.
TWENTY-TWO
BEKA LET HERSELF into the bus as quietly as she could, but Chewie woke up anyway, lifting his head up from his paws where he was sprawled out over most of the kitchen floor like a dark, lumpy rug. She guessed he wouldn’t be much of a guard dragon if she could sneak past him, but she’d really been hoping to go to bed and put off the inevitable argument until morning. Well, later morning. It was already after two.
He padded over to greet her, nails clicking on the wooden floor, and blinked rapidly as she turned on the light.
“How did it go?” he asked, looking around. “And where are the Riders?”
Beka grabbed a bottle of ice-cold water from the fridge, thinking she was forgetting something. Exhaustion dragged at her feet and fogged her mind, so overwhelming it made her want to weep with tiredness. She really needed to get some sleep, and soon. But first, she had some explaining to do.
She plopped down on the couch with a sigh, gesturing for Chewie to join her. “It went . . . well, it went. We didn’t catch him, but we did see enough to be sure we had the right guy, and to also discover that he is probably behind the poisoning of the water people’s homes, in addition to being the renegade the Queen wants caught.”
“Huh,” Chewie said. “We should have figured the two might be connected. It never occurred to me though.”
“Me either,” Beka said. “I guess I haven’t handled this very well.”
Chewie stared at her. “You’ve handled it just fine. No one else could have done any better. You’re just hearing Brenna’s voice in your head, telling you you’re not good enough. It’s as though she never left.”
Beka sat up straight, taken aback by the unexpected vehemence in his voice. “What? What are you talking about? Yes, Brenna was always a little hard on me, but she criticized me for my own good, so I’d learn to be the best Baba Yaga I could be.”
Chewie sighed, looking at her as though she were an idiot. “Your own good, my hairy black ass. She criticized you because she felt threatened by your youth and beauty and strength of character, and because she hated the idea of training anyone to replace her. I’ve always thought she picked you because you satisfied the requirement of magical ability, but your innate goodness made it easy for her to manipulate you. Look, you’re still defending her, even now.”