Huge wheels spun futilely, flinging great gouts of mud up to cover the side of the truck and much of the surrounding area until Baba, deciding she’d had enough fun for one day, twitched the tip of a fingernail and boosted it out. Two deep ruts filled with the blue smoke from the truck’s exhaust as it lumbered off in pursuit of its fellows.
Annoyed and disgusted, and not inclined to repeat the entire incident again in an hour, Baba decided to let it keep storming. The rain and thunder suited her mood. Maybe she’d get lucky and the whole county would wash away. The only things left standing would be that damned doorway to the Otherworld and the water-loving Rusalka. She could deal with them both and be done with this place, once and for all.
*
THE RAIN HAD driven Liam into the dubious shelter of a rickety kids’ fort cobbled together from old planks and some bright blue tarps in a corner of Davy’s backyard. Before that, he’d watched, perched up in the oak tree overlooking the yard, as Davy, his mom, and a tiny, hyperactive, brown dachshund had picnicked and played for hours behind the safety of a high wooden fence. When the rain came, driving the family inside, Liam got ready to leave. But as he began to slide down from his lofty roost, he was hit by that visceral feeling that longtime lawmen learn not to ignore, a little voice that said, Don’t go; something bad is coming.
So he waited for them to settle inside, and then he crept down an overhanging branch until he could get close enough to the ground to drop down safely. Which made him think grimly: if he could do it, so could someone else. So he tucked himself into the furthest recesses of the tiny fort and watched through the window as Davy’s mom prepared their dinner amid the warmth and light of a cozy kitchen, and hoped that no one would find him skulking in a child’s playhouse and ask him to explain what the hell he was doing there.
The rain pelted the top of the less-than-waterproof structure, dripping on Liam’s hat and occasionally finding a stealthy path to the back of his neck and down over his shirt collar. The damp seemed to work its way into his bones and his stomach complained bitterly as Mrs. Turner stirred something on the stove that sent tantalizing aromas drifting out the open window, hinting at tomato sauce and onions simmering in butter.
Liam had almost convinced himself that his instincts had steered him wrong when the back door opened again to reveal five-year-old Davy and his dog, whose wiggling body hesitated briefly before heading out into the rain to pee against the nearest tree. Once done, however, the already drenched animal was in no hurry to return back inside.
“Trevor, come back here,” Davy called softly, patting his leg and making what were probably supposed to be whistling sounds, but come out more as whooshing puffs of air. “Come on, boy! It’s almost dinnertime!”
The tiny dog yipped in excited defiance, chasing some smell more interesting than the dry indoors and ignoring his pint-sized master with an attitude that bespoke of common practice.
“Trevor! Trevor!” Davy hissed at the dog, then looked furtively over his shoulder toward his mother, who was rummaging through a cupboard on the far side of the room. Even through the window, Liam could see that she was focused on finding something deep in the cupboard’s recesses that had so far eluded her.
Davy gave one more backward glance and then came sprinting across the yard, intent on recapturing his pet and getting him back inside before his mother discovered them missing, and they both got in trouble. He skidded across soggy leaves and pounced, coming up with the squirming dachshund clasped firmly in his pudgy little arms.
Liam started to pull his too-large body even farther into the too-small fort, worried that the child might spot him, when something wrong tugged at his senses. A foggy gray shadow solidified into a beautiful blond woman, standing almost on top of the boy, who glanced up in surprise, blue eyes wide and mouth opening to call for his mother.
But Maya held out something that looked like a spinning, glowing ball of sunlight, its brightness only slightly defused by the foggy mist that surrounded her. The child’s eyes fogged too, turning to empty marbles the color of the sky at dawn, and then closing altogether. The dog slid unnoticed from his limp grasp to run under the fort, shivering and whimpering.
Liam put his right hand on his gun, and then hesitated. She was so close to the boy, standing right over him. It was too dangerous, even though less than two feet separated him from the creature as she stooped to pick up her latest victim. Liam stepped out of the lean-to, taking a giant step in her direction.
“Step away from the child,” he said in a low, authoritative voice. “Step away now.”