The other men just looked blank and shook their heads, although Liam could swear that one of them choked back a laugh. He shrugged, figuring it didn’t matter, and let the deep sweet bliss of Bertie’s pie dissolve on his tongue like a forkful of love with whipped cream on top. His eyes closed in ecstasy for a moment, but then snapped back open at a distinctive creaking sound. Liam gazed in disbelief as the wardrobe at the end of the kitchen swung open and Baba stepped through the door.
“Son of bitch!” she said, as she bumped her head on the doorframe on her way out. “I always forget to duck. Damn, that smarts.” Behind her, the clothing that usually hung there seemed to have been replaced by a swirling gray mist filled with iridescent sparkles. Before she slammed the door shut, Liam could have sworn he saw a tiny green and pink hummingbird fly by, vanishing even further into impossible depths.
Alexei and Gregori moved toward each other as if to try and block Liam’s view of the closet, probably not realizing it was already too late. So he couldn’t see Baba when she asked testily, “What the hell is wrong with you two? Why are you standing there like a couple of mismatched statues in Aphrodite’s garden?”
They shifted aside to show Liam sitting at the table, and he was treated to an intriguing slideshow of shock, anger, consternation, and something a little like fear as various expressions came and went on Baba’s normally unreadable face. She finally seemed to settle on resignation, and took a hesitant step in his direction.
“Uh, hi,” she said, lifting a hand in greeting.
“Hi yourself,” Liam said, feeling remarkably calm, under the circumstances. “Did you just walk out of that closet?” He looked her over, taking in her unusual attire, jewels, sword, and all. She looked exotic, stunningly beautiful, and in some intangible way, more herself than he’d ever seen her.
“Nice outfit. Special occasion?” He was fairly certain she hadn’t just come from a costume ball. Unless it was one that involved some kind of giant pumpkin and a fairy godmother.
“There’s pie,” Alexei mumbled, mouth full, and retreated to sit on the couch, out of the line of fire. “It’s really good pie.”
Chudo-Yudo made a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter and covered his eyes with one mammoth paw.
Gregori just sighed and said, “You might as well tell him, Baba. And while you’re at it, you can tell all of us what the queen said when you broke the news that Maya had discovered a door into the Otherworld.”
He cut a piece of chocolate pecan rapture, put it on a plate, and nudged her into the seat opposite Liam. “Here. You look like you could use this.” He handed her a full cup to go with it.
“Did he say ‘door to the Otherworld’?” Liam asked incredulously. His coffee mug suddenly weighed about twenty pounds, and he put it down before he dropped it. “What the hell is the Otherworld? And why are you wearing a sword?” He wondered if it would help if he pinched himself, and tried it surreptitiously under the table. Ow. Nope. The room was still filled with crazy Russian men and one impossibly gorgeous, frustrating, mysterious woman. Who was wearing a sword.
“I think I’m going to need more coffee,” he said. “A lot more coffee.”
*
BABA WANTED TO beat her head against the table. Barring that, she’d be willing to settle for someone else’s head. There were four names on her short list already. It was bad enough to come back from the court with the queen’s threat still ringing in her ears, but to discover that the Riders and Chudo-Yudo had allowed the already curious sheriff in, just in time to watch her walk through a doorway from nothing . . . well, that made her night perfect.
“Try the pie, Baba,” Mikhail suggested with a gentle smile and no visible sympathy at all. “It’s practically magical.”
She dug her fork in, more for an excuse to avoid looking at Liam than because she had any appetite for dessert, but once the creamy-smooth bittersweet chocolate melted on her tongue, she had to admit, it was pretty amazing pie. “Bertie’s?” she asked, finally daring to meet the sheriff’s gaze.
He nodded, not taking his eyes off her. “Yep. Now, about that explanation . . .” He tilted his chin up, clearly not going anywhere until she answered him.
“Fine,” she said, resigning herself to the inevitable. “But I’m warning you, you’re not going to believe me.”
Broad shoulders shrugged, and she was distracted again by the sheer male presence of him. The tiny cleft in that stubborn chin, almost covered by the late hour’s stubble; the strength in his arms; the powerful line of his shoulders as they moved under his slightly muddy uniform jacket. The back of one calloused hand was curled around her favorite coffee mug, revealing a line of thin new scratches that looked red and sore. She wanted, just for a moment, to reach out and heal them with her touch, wishing she could save him that small amount of pain, if nothing else. It seemed unlikely, at this point, that there was much else she could protect him from.