Maya pouted prettily. “I don’t know why you have to be so difficult. I was here first, after all. And I’m not doing anything to you. Why don’t you just leave me be and go about your business?”
“Because you’re stealing Human children,” Baba said. “I have a problem with that. Which means you have a problem with me.”
“That’s a pity,” Maya said, dropping the sweetness from her voice and letting the venom slide through. At their feet, the weeds poking through the sidewalk withered and died; nearby grass turned brown in sympathy. “You see, I have things in motion here that are too big to stop, and I have no intention of leaving until I have everything I came for.” She glared at Baba. “Why don’t you just run off and fix those horrible wildfires in Wyoming. Surely they need a Baba Yaga there more than this tiny, insignificant town does.”
Baba shrugged. “One of my sisters is already dealing with that. I think I’ll just stay here and fix you instead.” Her steady look made it clear that she had a permanent solution in mind, if that was what turned out to be necessary. Suppressed power crackled at her fingertips, and even the brash Maya paled briefly as the trees around them swayed.
“Tell me what you’ve done with the missing children and how to get them back, and I’ll allow you to leave this town unscathed,” Baba added.
Glee flitted across the little blonde’s visage, although it was quickly replaced by a more cautious cunning. “You don’t even know where they are, do you?” Maya said, licking her crimson lips. “You probably didn’t even know for sure I was involved.”
Baba gave a wolfish smile, completely lacking in humor. “But I know now, don’t I?” she said softly. “So I suggest you simply hand them over and count yourself lucky that I’m letting you off with a warning.”
Maya sneered. “Warn me all you want, Baba Yaga. Those children are far beyond even your reach now, dead and buried and rotting in the ground with the rest of the trash. And you’d better stay out of my way if you know what’s good for you. I can make things very difficult for you, otherwise. I’ve been amassing power and influence in this area for months. You have nothing but a worn-out old dog and that shiny tin can you call a house.”
Baba’s fingers twitched with the desire to reach out and slap the smugness right off her adversary’s pretty little face, but there were people walking by across the street, so she restrained herself. Barely. Nobody insulted her house. Not even in the old days when it was a wooden hut running around on oversized chicken legs.
“I have an ally or two of my own,” she said calmly. “I am not without friends.”
“Ha,” Maya retorted. “I hope you’re not depending on that pathetic sheriff to help you. He can’t even do his job, and he doesn’t want a woman like you. He’s a broken man going through the motions, that’s all; he’s no threat to me or my interests.” She tossed her head, glittering chandelier earrings bouncing against her swanlike neck. “He has to do what his bosses tell him, and Peter Callahan owns them all.”
An unpleasant smirk held the echo of pointy teeth. “And I own Peter Callahan, even if he hasn’t realized it yet. So I advise you to leave town while you still can. You may be stronger and tougher than most Humans, but Babas aren’t immortal. You might want to keep that in mind.”
With that, Maya slid into her car, slammed the door, and peeled out of her spot, not even bothering to look for oncoming cars driven by insignificant mortals.
Baba sighed, watching her leave. That could have gone better. On the other hand, at least she knew for certain that Maya was behind the disappearances. And that somewhere, the children were alive and well. Maya may be great at disguising herself and excel at making friends in low places, but thankfully, she was a terrible liar.
EIGHT
BABA SPENT THE rest of the evening riding around Clearwater County and checking on the land; now that she was well and truly involved, she thought it was best to get a feel for the essence of the place. Part of a Baba Yaga’s gift was the ability to tune in to and manipulate the elements: earth, air, fire, and water. In some places in the Old World, they had even been viewed as goddesses, although the old Baba used to say that it was better to be an herbalist—less responsibility and shorter hours.