If anything, Beka looked grimmer. “I know.” She let out a sigh, then shrugged off whatever was bothering her and gave Barbara her usual cheerful grin. “Since you called me, I assume there’s something you need help with. Maybe an ogre you can’t handle with one arm tied behind your back? Or perhaps a handsome prince that’s bothering you, who you’d like me to take off your hands?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh, hah,” Barbara said. She tried to remember the last time a handsome man—prince or otherwise—had showed up. Other than Koshei, of course. But he was a dragon, so she wasn’t sure that counted. Still, what the heck would she do with a Human guy? Even if she met one she found attractive, he’d probably run screaming as soon as he found out who and what she really was. There was a reason Baba Yagas didn’t date. Numerous reasons, actually.
“I am calling about a guy,” she said. “But he’s no prince. I have a situation here involving a so-called guru who might or might not be using magic to influence people. I tracked him back to his arrival in this area a couple of years ago, but then the trail went cold. There was a suggestion that he might have been somewhere around Monterey Bay before he got here, so I thought I’d ask you to check around.”
Beka looked intrigued. “Huh. How did you get involved? The traditional worthy seeker?”
Barbara nodded. “Yup. A guy whose wife ran off to join this guru’s merry band, and took their two little girls with her. Then, when my seeker tried to get them back, our mystery man somehow convinced a judge and a social worker and the guy’s own lawyer that he’d molested them.”
There was a weighty silence for a moment. “Well that just sucks,” Beka said vehemently. “I mean, assuming he didn’t do it.”
“Chudo-Yudo says he’s telling the truth,” Barbara said. “Beside which, he has a token from my old Baba. I’d have to help him anyway, unless I was sure he really didn’t have a good cause.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Beka agreed. “You know, there’s something about this whole situation that sounds familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. What’s the name of the guru-type you want me to look into?”
“Jonathan Bellingwood,” Barbara told her. “If I have to, I’ll find a way to get a lock of his hair or a piece of his clothing, and trace him magically, but it might be easier if I didn’t have to try to get close to him until I’m ready to resolve the situation.” She gave a slightly predatory smile. “One way or the other.”
“Uh-huh.” Beka rolled her eyes. “Try not to turn him into anything too unpleasant until I see what I can find out on my end, okay? I mean, it is just possible that the dude is innocent.”
Barbara shrugged. “Innocent he isn’t, sweetie. After all, he slept with another guy’s wife. But yeah, I’ll hold off on anything drastic until I can get more information. Just let me know what, if anything, you find out.”
“Will do,” Beka said, her voice growing fainter as the connection started to fade. “Let’s try to meet up with Bella sometime soon, if we can. I miss you two.”
“That would be nice,” Barbara said. “Call me if you get anything.”
The mirror dimmed back to black and the candle in front of it snuffed itself out with a whoosh, leaving her sitting in the darkened trailer for a moment until she waved her arm through the air and the lights came back on.
She straightened up, one hand rubbing her back, which ached a little from bending over the mirror.
“You okay?” Chudo-Yudo asked solicitously from the floor by her feet. Long-distance scrying could take a fair amount of energy. “You look like you could use a glass of wine.”
“Good idea,” Barbara said, rising to her feet and heading for the refrigerator with her fingers crossed. It was sweet that he was so concerned. The fates were with her, and a bottle of a nice dry white was lurking in there, right behind the Water of Life and Death in its crystal container.
“While you’re up . . .” Chudo-Yudo added, “You might as well get me a snack.”
Ha. So much for concerned. She pulled a hunk of roast beef out and put it on a plate in front of him.
“So what now?” he asked around a mouthful of meat.
“Now I go join a cult,” Barbara said. “I hear you meet the nicest people there.”
***
It wasn’t easy for Barbara to blend in with a crowd at the best of times, what with her cloud of ebony hair, almost-six-foot height, and the fact that her usual attire consisted of either head-to-toe black leather or colorful gypsy-bohemian skirts. But she guessed that the folks drawn to Jonathan Bellingwood’s events tended to be a little more conventional, so she ended up wearing a pair of black jeans and a white peasant top. She pulled her hair back into a tidy braid and put on flats instead of her usual motorcycle boots. That was as close to “blending” as she was going to be able to get.