Baba nodded, but said, “Keep out of sight, Gregori. You were all seen with me at the tavern, unfortunately, so she’ll know who you are. And keep away from the locals—I’ve already had people down at the local diner ask me if I was related to the Ivanovs, because we all have Russian accents.” She frowned at this, since she’d been certain hers was so faint as to be nearly undetectable. Apparently not. “The last thing we need is a bunch of people wondering why the place has suddenly been overrun with foreigners.”
He blinked at her, unspoken reproach in the tiny movement.
“Right, sorry. What was I thinking?” She grinned. “If you don’t want her to see you, she won’t.”
“And I have no desire to mingle with the peasants,” Gregori said. “We leave such things to you, dearest Baba.”
“About that sheriff,” Mikhail winked at her as he got up from the table. “You know he likes you, right?”
She would have said she didn’t remember how to blush. She would have been wrong. Heat flooded her checks as she shook her head. “Don’t be absurd. I’m his biggest suspect.”
Laughter rumbled its way out of Alexei’s huge chest. “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you, Baba.” He chucked her under the chin like he used to when she was only as tall as his knees. “You grew up to be a beautiful woman. Men are attracted to you all the time; you just don’t notice.”
“She noticed this time,” Mikhail teased, and Chudo-Yudo let out a barking laugh.
“Oh, get out of here,” Baba said with asperity. “Go do your jobs and stop trying to provoke me. Just because you’re immortal doesn’t mean I can’t turn you into toads and lock you in a golden cage for a decade or two.”
“You only did that once,” Gregori pointed out. “And the guy was trying to kill you at the time.”
“So maybe I need more practice,” Baba snapped. “Who wants to go first?”
The three Riders all left in a hurry, the sound of their engines lingering in the air like a symphony of metal, magic, and mayhem waiting to happen.
SEVEN
BABA CHANGED INTO a short red silk chemise and settled into a tapestry-covered chair, trying to calm her frazzled nerves with a good book and a glass of merlot from a winery in the Napa Valley whose vineyards she’d saved from a pixy infestation. The owners, a pair of old hippies whose years of acid use allowed them to see things most people didn’t, gratefully sent her a few of their best bottles every year.
She sipped it from an old silver chalice, a gift from another grateful client, enjoying the velvet texture and hints of rich oak backed by notes of plum and cherry. With her bare feet resting on Chudo-Yudo’s broad back and the mellow buzz of the wine floating through her veins, she finally began to relax for the first time that day.
Naturally, someone chose that moment to knock on the door.
“Gah,” she said, sliding her feet to the floor with a thump. “You have got to be kidding me.” Chudo-Yudo snorted a laugh as she got up and stomped over to the front door. “If that’s some local yokel wanting a cure for his warts, I swear I’ll kill him and bury him in the backyard!”
“You only did that once,” Chudo-Yudo said, his muzzle gaping open in a doggy grin. “And that guy was trying to kill you too.”
“Oh, shut up,” Baba muttered. Nobody gave her enough credit for being bloodthirsty. She yanked open the door and said in an unwelcoming tone, “What?” But the space in front of the Airstream was empty.
“Huh,” she said, and closed the door. “That’s odd.”
She went back over and sat down again, but as soon as she picked up her goblet, the sound of rapping echoed through the trailer. Baba scowled and got up again, bare feet padding across the antique Oriental carpet. She’d reached her hand out to turn the knob, when Chudo-Yudo said, “Uh, Baba? Wrong door.”
She looked at him. “You could have told me that the first time.”
He wandered over to stand in front of the closet that led to the Otherworld. “What fun would that have been?”
Baba rolled her eyes, nudging him with her toe to get him to move out of her way. Irritation made sparks fly into the night air when she rattled the tricky handle and yanked the door open. But her bad mood fled like a startled rabbit when she saw who was on the other side.
“I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed, and threw her arms around the last person she expected to see—and the one she needed the most, right at that very minute.
*
KOSHEI HUGGED HER back, grinning from ear to ear and looking as devilishly handsome as always. His short, dark hair curled endearingly over his forehead, accenting his light blue eyes and high cheekbones. The close-cropped, neatly trimmed beard and mustache gave him the look of a Roman Centurion who’d wandered out of a storybook into a time not his own; fitting, of course, for the long-lived dragon, who had undoubtedly meandered in and out of many a legend before winding up in the middle of hers.
“My darling Baba,” he said, nibbling lightly on her neck before releasing her and standing back to have a good look at her. “I’ve missed you too.” Mischief flashed in his dark irises as he took in her attire.