Wickedly Dangerous (23 page)

“Uh-huh.” Chudo-Yudo plopped down beside her, his head leaning against one thigh. “You were thinking about the hunky sheriff. I don't blame you. If I weren't a dragon, and a male one at that, I'd be drooling over him myself.” He lifted his muzzle to look at her. “So what are you going to do about him?”

Baba sighed. “Probably something truly unwise.”

“Excellent,” Chudo-Yudo said. “About time. No one should be wise all the time. Not even a Baba.”

BABA SWUNG HER
leg over the BMW's shiny black leather seat and started into the town's only grocery store. The Airstream's refrigerator was still filled with beautiful, glistening red cherry pies—all very good, but not what she wanted for breakfast. So she figured she'd make a quick run into Dunville to stock up before setting out on her mission to watch over little Kimberly.

She brushed against an older woman with tightly curled, improbably orange hair as they passed each other, and started to apologize. The woman's face suffused with anger as she recognized Baba, and she shoved past with a snarl and a muttered, “Some people.” Baba tried not to react, but she could feel her jaw tighten.

Walking around with her basket over one arm, head held high, and shoulders braced, she watched as a man she'd successfully treated for a nasty personal infection ducked around a corner to avoid her. It would have been nice to believe it was out of embarrassment, and not a fear of being seen in her company, but she wasn't that good at deluding herself.

The only friendly face she saw belonged to Jesse, who waved at her from the cereal aisle before being pulled back into a debate between little Trudy and Timmy over the virtues of Cocoa Puffs instead of homemade granola. Otherwise she was either ignored or scowled at.

Soft background music followed her, and the air was scented with the aroma of fresh bread and pungent local cheeses. She'd loved this tiny mom-and-pop store when she'd first gotten to town, finding excuses to come in even when her refrigerator wasn't playing games. Todd, the proprietor, had gone out of his way to welcome her, and his plump maternal wife June had insisted Baba try a homemade cookie from the bakery counter she manned with the enthusiasm of a woman who lives to feed others.

But once Baba reached the front counter and placed her purchases down by the cash register for the clerk to ring up, Todd came bustling hurriedly out of the back room, his normally friendly face closed and resentful.

“You're not welcome here,” he said, pushing the teenaged clerk rudely out of the way and scooping Baba's groceries off of the counter and into the garbage can underneath, as if she had contaminated them beyond saving by her very touch. “You should be ashamed of yourself, coming into a place like this where decent people shop.” His scowl made him look like the monster he obviously thought Baba was. “Children come in here, for god's sake. Get out. Get out right now and never come back. And if you know what's good for you, you'll get out of town too. Your type isn't welcome here.”

Baba could feel her face freeze into a mask of calm indifference. “As you wish,” she said. “I'll just take my business elsewhere.”

A purplish-red flush spread from collar to bald pate, following the trail of his righteous anger. “No one in this town will serve you,” he hissed. “Everyone knows what you are.
Witch
.” He hissed the word. “You tricked people into buying your fake sideshow medicines, and then poisoned them with the stuff. And nobody thinks it is a coincidence that all these freaky things have been happening since you got to town. The Franklins who live down the road from me, their cows dried up for no reason. If they can't sell milk, they'll lose their house, their land, everything.”

“I didn't do that,” Baba said softly, knowing he wouldn't listen. “I wouldn't do that.”

The once kind man pulled a baseball bat from behind the register, obviously kept there in case of would-be troublemakers. He brandished it in her direction with shaking hands. “Get out of my store!” he shrieked.

Baba walked away and didn't look back. She'd lost her appetite anyway.

*   *   *

BACK AT THE
Airstream, there was still pie. Lots and lots of pie.

“Remind me to
never
ask this damned refrigerator for anything specific again,” she said to Chudo-Yudo. “I'm really not looking forward to spending the whole day watching a kid play with nothing more than a slice of pie in my stomach.”

“That's the least of your worries,” Chudo-Yudo said, swinging his big head ponderously toward the back of the trailer. “You've got a guest.”

Her heart skipped a beat as she moved quickly toward the tiny but sumptuous bedroom. Maybe Liam had . . . but no, it was Koshei who waited for her, looking as handsome and relaxed as ever as he sprawled comfortably on her bed, tasseled pillows propped up behind him in vivid crimson and azure silk. Only someone who knew him as well as she did would have been able to detect the tension in his muscles and the shadows that lurked at the back of his bright blue eyes. Something told her this wasn't just a social call.

He put down the leather-bound herbal book he'd been thumbing through and said, “About time you got back. The queen is asking for you.” He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and got up, giving her a quick hug before tugging her relentlessly in the direction of the wardrobe that led to the Otherworld.

“I can't go like this!” Baba protested, gesturing at the simple tee shirt and black leather pants she wore.

Koshei shook his head, looking grim. He did give her a minute to change, turning his back although he'd never done so before.

“The queen isn't going to care what you're wearing,” he said when she was ready, glaring at the handle to the closet so it squeaked in protest and opened promptly onto the foggy path to the other side. “The Otherworld is starting to warp. We lost one whole section of the enchanted forest this morning. It was there, then it wasn't. No one knows what happened to the creatures that were inside at the time.”

He suddenly looked very much like the warrior he was as he added, “The queen wants answers, and she wants them now. This woman Maya is throwing the entire Otherworld out of balance with her mischief and it is starting to show.” He gave Baba a hard look. “If you're going to find this unauthorized doorway, you'd better do it soon. The Otherworld is running out of time.”

*   *   *

WHEN LIAM GOT
to the sheriff's department, hoping to find a way to set up the deputies' patrols so he would be free to keep an eye on Davy's parents' house, he found a summons to an emergency meeting of the county board instead.

Hat literally in hand, he stood in front of a dozen hostile faces and forced himself to stay cool as he listened to Clive Matthews rant on about how Liam had been seen consorting with a known criminal, when he should have been out searching for innocent missing children.

“There has been no evidence Dr. Yager has committed any crimes,” Liam pointed out. “Her record prior to arriving in Dunville is spotless, and she was cleared of any involvement in Maya Freeman's beating. All you have is rumor and innuendo, and the last time I checked, those things did not a criminal make.”

“There's no smoke without fire,” a businessman named Harry Williams muttered. “You can't tell me that so many people would be talking about her if there wasn't
something
going on.”

“That's
exactly
what I'm telling you,” Liam explained as patiently as possible, despite the rage that bubbled just below the surface. The rim of his sheriff's hat crumpled under the pressure from his clenched fingers, and he forced himself to take a deep breath and loosen his grip.

“These rumors are just that: rumors. Maybe they are being spread by someone with a grudge against Dr. Yager. Possibly they are just the result of a town that has been dealing with months of stress and grief and fear, and is looking for a scapegoat. She's a stranger in town and she's different from the folks around here, and that makes her an easy target. But it doesn't mean she has actually committed a crime.”

Matthews shook one stubby finger dangerously close to Liam's nose. “Listen to me, Sheriff,” he spat. “Your job is already hanging by a thread; don't make things worse by associating with a woman who is obviously trouble. I'm warning you for your own good. Some people are considering suing her for making them sick with her phony herbal cures. And the county will be revoking her permit to park in Miller's Meadow.”

“As soon as we can find the damned paperwork,” someone else grumbled.

“Yes, yes,” Matthews agreed. “As soon as we can find the paperwork. And when I figure out who gave her permission in the first place, heads are going to roll.”

“Never mind all that,” one of the mayor's cronies said. “I think we should have the sheriff kick her out of town, permits or no permits. The woman is a menace.” He glared at Liam as if the sheriff were somehow responsible for the missing paperwork, his morning indigestion, and possibly the high price of gas.

“She hasn't done anything illegal,” Liam repeated, hanging on to what was left of his patience the way he was hanging on to what was left of his job—by his teeth, and barely. “I can't just go around telling people to leave town because a few folks have decided they don't like 'em.”

“I don't see why not,” Harry Williams growled under his breath.

“Because you hired me to uphold the law,” Liam said through his teeth, “not to make it up as I go along.”

“Well, as far as I can see, you're not doing much of a job at either,” Matthews said, his double chin quivering indignantly. “I suggest you remedy that while you still have one.”

*   *   *

LATER THAT AFTERNOON,
Baba returned to the Airstream after a long, fruitless, frustrating day spent skulking around Kimberly Chamberlain's house, her day care, and then back to the house.

After being ranted at by the queen and half her court earlier in the day for her failure to find and close the mystery doorway, Baba had
really
been hoping to run into Maya. Preferably with a truck.

But everything had been quiet. Baba had been reassured to see that the girl's parents seemed to be taking every possible precaution; she hadn't seen the child left alone for a second.

On the other hand, since they were being hypervigilant, Baba had been forced to use all of her wiles not to be seen, at one point actually spending two very uncomfortable hours pressed against a tree, projecting oaky thoughts with all her might. She was afraid to look too closely in the mirror for fear she'd see green leaves growing out of her dark hair.

Liam had stopped by briefly on his way in to work to give her a cell phone so they could reach each other should one or the other of them manage to spot Maya. Baba had just snorted down her long nose, holding the little plastic gizmo by the tips of two fingers as though it might suddenly start to ooze some mysterious green slime.

“What am I supposed to do with this thing?” she'd asked. “Give it wings and send it flying to you? Bah.” Instead, she'd given him a medallion to hang around his neck, tucked under his shirt so no one would see. An enchanted coin, broken into two halves, which would allow either of them to summon the other. He'd rolled his eyes at her, but had finally given up and slid the talisman over his head.

Now she pulled her half out from under the green tee shirt she wore (had it been black before she left the trailer . . . or maybe blue? she couldn't remember) and glared at it. The medallion remained stubbornly silent, unimpressed by her hard amber stare.

Fine
, she thought, climbing the steps to the Airstream and feeling a rush of relief as she eased through its door, like an animal returning to its lair. She'd find something to eat, put her feet up, and relax for an hour before going back out to watch some more. The Riders had assured her they could keep an eye on the five children who were less likely targets, especially since three of them lived fairly close to each other in an area near the town's small park.

Chudo-Yudo sniffed at her as she came in, and gave her the lick on the hand that was as close as he got to a hug.

“Tough day?” he asked, scratching behind an ear with one enormous back paw.

“Useless day,” she said. “At least so far. Anything happen here?”

“I ate two squirrels and a skunk.”

“Nice. That explains the breath.” She wiped surreptitiously at the place where he'd licked her hand. Although, having missed both breakfast and lunch, she was half inclined to send him out to catch something a little less disgusting for her to eat.

A quick prayer to the gods in charge of independent-minded refrigerators seemed to pay off, though, and when she opened the door, a whole roasted chicken greeted her with a showy display of crisp brown skin and plump legs, like a Vegas showgirl after a day by the pool. Inviting mounds of ivory mashed potatoes sat in a dish next to the chicken, and the wild carrots she'd picked during her wanderings had miraculously reappeared. Creamy fresh butter in a crystal bowl seemed to chat conversationally with the Water of Life and Death behind it, an occasional soft note added in by a leftover piece of pie.

“That's more like it!” Baba exclaimed, putting her hand out to start pulling things out of the fridge. Her stomach grumbled in raucous agreement.

“I'm not sure this is a good time to start making dinner,” Chudo-Yudo warned from behind her. He was up on his hind legs, peering out the window and down the road. “It looks like we have company. And I don't think they're coming for a neighborly potluck.”

Baba closed the refrigerator reluctantly, patting its stainless steel surface as if to reassure it of her speedy return. A glance over Chudo-Yudo's furry white shoulder made it clear that it was likely to end up an empty promise.

A long procession wound its slow dusty way up the narrow, pitted road, led by an oversized red truck on a jacked-up chassis with monstrous tires and a Union Jack painted slightly off-kilter on the side. A dozen more reasonably sized trucks in various colors followed it up the gravel highway, interspersed with a few SUVs and even one VW Bug, which bobbled along between two large vehicles like a comma in a run-on sentence. To Baba's unhappy eyes, it looked like a rainbow of iron and steel and plastic, fueled by fury instead of refracted prisms of light.