Beka stood with the flowers in her hands, trying to figure out where she could put them where they wouldn’t stink up the place. Finally, she opened the door to the Otherworld and tossed them inside, before the smell could make her throw up. Some pixie would love them. Hell, considering the size of the bouquet, a whole tribe of pixies.
“I need to talk to him anyway about this renegade issue. He must know something about it.” She tried again to ignore that nagging voice that said he’d already admitted to working against the Human fishermen. A few childish pranks didn’t make him a villain.
*
A COUPLE OF hours later, there was a brisk knock on the door. Beka looked up from studying an ancient tome on magic and almost dropped the priceless relic on the floor when the door clattered open to reveal a plump woman with long, frizzy, gray-streaked hair and a brightly flowered tunic over puffy-legged tie-dyed pants. Multiple lengths of colorful beaded necklaces were tangled around her neck, and the scent of patchouli preceded her like a trumpeter announcing her presence.
“Hello, sweetie,” Brenna said, sailing into the room. “I hope you don’t mind me letting myself in, but it still seems strange to be knocking on my own door.” She gave a trilling laugh, looking around the place with a critical eye.
“Goodness, you’ve changed a few things around, haven’t you?” Pursed lips suggested a marked lack of approval. “Where are all my throw pillows? The place looks positively drab.”
Beka lowered the book with a sigh and tried to muster up some enthusiasm for this unexpected visit. Brenna had raised her, after all, and taught her everything she knew. Beka was pretty sure that meant she should be happy to see her old mentor. So why could she feel her stomach knotting and her shoulders hunching?
“Hello, Brenna. This is a surprise,” Beka said. “Last I’d heard, you were off enjoying your retirement in some tropical corner of the Otherworld.” She got up and went over to Brenna. They didn’t hug. For all her earth-mother exterior, Brenna didn’t do hugs. “Can I get you some tea?”
“Stand up straight, dear,” Brenna said, settling herself into a chair. “And yes, thank you, something herbal, please.”
“I hear nightshade is a nice herb,” a low voice growled from behind the couch. Chewie sauntered into view and gave Brenna a slit-eyed look. “How about some of that?”
The gray-haired woman chuckled. “Oh, Chewie, you always did love to tease me. I’ve missed you.” A flitting glance bounced over to where Beka stood, juggling mugs and a bottle of honey. “You, too, of course, sweetie.”
“Of course,” Beka murmured. She handed Brenna a steaming cup of tea and sat down nearby with her own.
“What are you doing here, Brenna?” Chewie asked with his usual bluntness. With an equal lack of subtlety, he settled onto the floor at Beka’s feet, making it clear that his loyalties lay with the current Baba, not the old one.
Brenna merely raised an eyebrow, clearly unaffected. “I’m checking in on Beka; I would have thought that was obvious. I heard that she was having some difficulty dealing with her first big task, and I thought I’d just pop in to see if there was anything I could do to help. Offer support and encouragement, you know, that kind of thing.”
Chewie snorted and Brenna pressed her lips together until they made a thin red line. “If you’re going to be unpleasant, dear, why don’t you go take a walk? Beka and I have Baba Yaga business to discuss. Your presence is not required.” She made a shooing motion.
Beka opened her mouth to protest, but the dog just shrugged his massive shoulders and muttered, “I need some fresh air anyway. I forgot how much I hated the smell of patchouli oil.” He gave Brenna a measured look. “I won’t be gone long. I’m assuming this won’t be a lengthy visit.”
Beka’s head swung back and forth between her mentor and her dragon-dog. How had she never noticed before how much they disliked each other? She sighed, wishing Chewie was staying, but knowing that she had to be able to face her predecessor on her own.
“So,” Beka said when the door had swung shut with a particularly sarcastic clang, “who told you I was having problems?”
Brenna waved one hand languidly through the air, her many rings flashing. “Oh, sweetie, everybody knows. The paranormal community here, people back at the Queen’s court; it’s not exactly a secret now, is it?” She reached out and patted Beka’s arm. “You mustn’t feel bad. Everyone knows you’re trying your best. Nobody blames you for failing. You’re just in over your head.”