BABA TURNED SIDEWAYS past blue-tinged trees covered with hanging chartreuse ivy and slipped back through the door to the mundane plane. Stepping out of the minuscule wardrobe, she banged her head on the low doorframe and muttered a few rude words; it seemed like both worlds were against her today.
She had hoped for a pleasant stroll; something to wash away the vague feelings of unease she couldn’t explain. A trip to the Otherworld should have been a calming retreat. But none of the paths she was used to seemed to be there, and her friends on the other side were either hiding or having fun without her. Something was clearly off-kilter, but she wasn’t in the mood to figure out what. It was her job to watch over the doorway between the Otherworld and the mortal lands, but it wasn’t her job to police either. And she had enough problems on this side of the door. There was something “off” about the local environment; she just couldn’t figure out what it was. If she stuck around long enough, she’d have to look into it.
As she slammed the closet shut behind her, Chudo-Yudo lifted his massive head from where it was resting on what looked like the remains of one of her favorite spike-heeled boots and said, “About time you got back. We’ve got company.”
Baba’s heart did a little dance to music only it could hear. “Oh?” she said in a casual tone. “Anyone we know?”
The dog snorted. “It’s not that yummy sheriff, if that’s what you were hoping. It’s a woman. She’s wearing a uniform like his, but she fills hers out a lot better.” His tongue lolled in a leer.
“Has she been here long?” Baba asked, walking over to look out the front window. Chudo-Yudo padded over to stand next to her and gave a canine version of a shrug.
“You know I’m not good with time. If it’s not a century, it’s not long. But I can tell you that she spent a while walking around this thing trying to find a door, before she gave up and went to sit on her car and wait.”
“Oh for the love of all that’s sacred!” Baba smacked the wall with one curled fist. Hard. “House! Make a damned door and leave it there.” There was a brief pause, and then the front entrance reappeared, shimmering for a moment before settling into place with a disgruntled thump.
Baba glared at it. “How am I supposed to blend in with the Humans if you keep playing these silly games? I have half a mind to go back to living in a hut with chicken legs.” The Airstream seemed to shiver. “Right, then. Let’s see who our unexpected guest is.”
She opened the door and stuck her head outside, taking a minute to check out her visitor before the woman noticed her. Uniform aside, the woman didn’t seem like anything unusual; pretty in an unexciting sort of way, if you disregarded the droop to her shoulders and the sadness on her face. Baba didn’t, of course. Those things meant something in her line of work.
“Hello,” she called. “Were you looking for me?”
Her visitor jumped up, startled. “How . . . I couldn’t find, I mean . . .” her voice dwindled away as she took a few steps toward the trailer. She walked slowly, her feet dragging as if unsure they wanted to take her in this direction, but eventually ended up at the front door. The difference between the deputy’s five foot two and Baba’s five foot ten was noticeable; the woman had to tilt her head to look directly into Baba’s amber eyes.
“Are you Barbara Yager?” she asked, finally meeting Baba’s gaze.
“I am.” Baba didn’t smile. Those who sought her out always had to past certain tests. Getting through the door wasn’t supposed to be easy. If it were, then everyone would want to do it.
“Uh,” the woman squirmed a little, but didn’t look away. “Are you also the Baba Yaga?”
“I am. And you are?”
“Belinda Shields,” she said. And then added. “My daughter is the one Sheriff McClellan was looking for.”
“Ah.” That explained part of it. “So, are you the one who called me here, then?” Baba scowled, but the woman stood her ground.
“No, that was my mother, Mariska Ivanov. She’d heard stories in the Old Country about how the Baba Yaga sometimes helped those in need. I mean, she told me the stories too, when I was growing up, but I thought they were just fairy tales and—”
“And she believed,” Baba said, cutting to the marrow of the matter. “And so she summoned me, and now you’re here.”
“Yes.” Belinda squared her shoulders and looked Baba in the face. “Can you prove you are who you say you are?”
Baba suppressed a sigh. Things used to be a lot simpler, back in the old days. “You’re not supposed to need proof, you know.”
The smaller woman stared at her through red-rimmed eyes. “I’m a cop. Humor me.”
Tiny swirls of energy flowed from Baba into the ground. “Fine. How’s that for proof?” She gestured at Belinda’s feet, which were now firmly attached to the earth by the thorny vines of a wild rose entwining mockingly around her boots, poking tiny holes in the thick brown leather.