“Sorry to barge in unannounced,” Barbara said. “I was wandering around in the Otherworld and apparently it decided you could help me with a problem I’m dealing with.” She gave her fellow Baba Yaga a wry smile. “No idea how, though.”
Bella lifted an eyebrow. “Huh. Well, why don’t you tell me all about it and we’ll see what we come up with. I’ve learned over the years never to underestimate the magic of the Otherworld. I swear, sometimes it seems almost sentient.”
Barbara snorted. She’d grown up popping in and out of the Otherworld with her mentor, and if anything, she thought Bella’s assessment wasn’t giving the mystical land enough credit. If it thought Bella had the answers Barbara sought, odds were, Bella did.
As the younger Baba fixed them both tea on her tiny stove, Barbara greeted Bella’s companion. Unlike Barbara’s Chudo-Yudo, and the one that lived with Beka in her converted school bus, Bella’s Chudo-Yudo was a female dragon who took the form of a huge Norwegian Forest Cat. Kashka, as Bella called her, was about forty pounds of muscle, fur, and attitude, and with her gray-brown pelt, tufted ears and feet, and wide ruff, she looked more like a lynx than a domesticated cat. Of course, Chudo-Yudo didn’t look all that tame either. For good reason.
“Hello Kashka,” Barbara said politely, inclining her head in the cat-dragon’s direction. “It’s nice to see you.”
Kashka stretched, slowly rising from where she’d been sprawled over much of the bed that spanned the back of the caravan, and her wide mouth opened into an exaggerated yawn that showed sharp white teeth. “Hello, Baba Yaga,” she said, then lay back down and seemingly went back to sleep. Only the slit of green showing from under mostly closed eyes revealed her interest in their unexpected guest.
Barbara stifled a laugh. She’d always thought the cat shape suited Kashka’s haughty disposition quite well. In contrast, her mistress was vibrant and cheerful—when she wasn’t losing her temper and setting things on fire. Still, no one was perfect. All three Babas—not true sisters of the blood, of course, but related by magic and mission—had their own little flaws.
The two Baba Yagas sipped strong black tea while Barbara related Ivan’s tale, and what she herself had discovered since meeting him. When she’d finished, Bella looked thoughtful, playing with a strand of hair until the whole mass tumbled down from its bun. Barbara handed her the stick that had been holding it up without comment. It looked like Bella had been wandering through the woods and just picked up whatever was handy, as usual.
“I’m not sure what you could come up with that I haven’t been able to think of,” Barbara said. “But I’m open to any suggestions.” She narrowed her amber eyes at Bella’s sparkling gray ones suspiciously. “You’ve got something, don’t you? Come on—spill it.”
Bella laughed. It was rare that she could come up with an answer when the older Baba couldn’t; especially since this one actually touched on the other Baba Yaga’s specialty.
“I think so,” she said, dimples flashing. “But we’ll have to go back into the Otherworld to see if I’m right. The plant I’ve got in mind doesn’t grow here on this side.”
Barbara shook her head in amazement. “A plant? I’m the damned botanist. What kind of plant would you know of that I wouldn’t?”
“One that grows in the forests,” Bella said, slipping her feet into low, soft boots and grabbing a light jacket. “I spend a lot more time there than you do, on both sides of the doorways.”
She ruffled her hand through Kashka’s dense fur, eliciting a deep, rumbling purr. “This shouldn’t take long. Can I bring you back anything?” One green eye opened and closed without comment.
“I guess that’s a no,” Barbara said, rolling her eyes. “Come on then, sister mine. Show me this miracle plant that is going to solve all my problems.”
“Ha,” Bella said. “If we’re lucky, it will solve one of them. For the rest, you’re on your own.”
***
Barbara was in a much better mood when she stepped back through the wardrobe door, ignoring a tiny winged something that buzzed noisily around her head before disappearing back into the swirling gray mist.
“You’re whistling,” Chudo-Yudo observed. “You must be feeling better.” He pointed his muzzle at the purple tentacle currently slithering wetly across the threshold. “Bringing home a friend?”
Barbara scowled into the fog, and used the tip of her sword to nudge the tentacle, none too gently. “Really?” she called out. “You really thought that was a good idea?”
The tentacle withdrew promptly, leaving a trail of slime behind. Barbara shut the door securely and snapped her fingers to clean up the mess. She loved being in the Otherworld, but some parts of it were definitely less attractive than others. It wasn’t all beautiful pointy-eared fairy maidens, that’s for sure.