Wickedly Dangerous (Baba Yaga, #1)(23)
She sipped it from an old silver chalice, a gift from another grateful client, enjoying the velvet texture and hints of rich oak backed by notes of plum and cherry. With her bare feet resting on Chudo-Yudo’s broad back and the mellow buzz of the wine floating through her veins, she finally began to relax for the first time that day.
Naturally, someone chose that moment to knock on the door.
“Gah,” she said, sliding her feet to the floor with a thump. “You have got to be kidding me.” Chudo-Yudo snorted a laugh as she got up and stomped over to the front door. “If that’s some local yokel wanting a cure for his warts, I swear I’ll kill him and bury him in the backyard!”
“You only did that once,” Chudo-Yudo said, his muzzle gaping open in a doggy grin. “And that guy was trying to kill you too.”
“Oh, shut up,” Baba muttered. Nobody gave her enough credit for being bloodthirsty. She yanked open the door and said in an unwelcoming tone, “What?” But the space in front of the Airstream was empty.
“Huh,” she said, and closed the door. “That’s odd.”
She went back over and sat down again, but as soon as she picked up her goblet, the sound of rapping echoed through the trailer. Baba scowled and got up again, bare feet padding across the antique Oriental carpet. She’d reached her hand out to turn the knob, when Chudo-Yudo said, “Uh, Baba? Wrong door.”
She looked at him. “You could have told me that the first time.”
He wandered over to stand in front of the closet that led to the Otherworld. “What fun would that have been?”
Baba rolled her eyes, nudging him with her toe to get him to move out of her way. Irritation made sparks fly into the night air when she rattled the tricky handle and yanked the door open. But her bad mood fled like a startled rabbit when she saw who was on the other side.
“I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed, and threw her arms around the last person she expected to see—and the one she needed the most, right at that very minute.
*
KOSHEI HUGGED HER back, grinning from ear to ear and looking as devilishly handsome as always. His short, dark hair curled endearingly over his forehead, accenting his light blue eyes and high cheekbones. The close-cropped, neatly trimmed beard and mustache gave him the look of a Roman Centurion who’d wandered out of a storybook into a time not his own; fitting, of course, for the long-lived dragon, who had undoubtedly meandered in and out of many a legend before winding up in the middle of hers.
“My darling Baba,” he said, nibbling lightly on her neck before releasing her and standing back to have a good look at her. “I’ve missed you too.” Mischief flashed in his dark irises as he took in her attire.
Baba rolled her eyes, moving away to a marginally safer distance. Not that any distance was safe when Koshei was around. She thought it was unlikely that he’d actually missed her—or noticed how long it had been since they’d seen each other, for that matter. But it was nice of him to say so.
Koshei had been the companion of the Baba before her; for all she knew, he’d been the companion of all the Babas in their line back down through history. After all, dragons could live for a very long time, even without magical assistance. Humans might think the arrangement was strange, but the Babas existed in a different world that went by very different rules. And in that world, which was often a harsh and unforgiving place, you took your pleasure where you could find it.
Koshei glanced around the Airstream, taking in the empty beer bottles and grease-stained pizza boxes the Riders had left behind. “I’m hurt,” he said, without any evidence to demonstrate his claim. “You had a party and didn’t invite me.” Chudo-Yudo snorted with amusement and strolled over to open the fridge with his large teeth, miraculously fetching their visitor a beer without breaking it into sharp-edged shards.
“Good dog,” Koshei said with a straight face, giving Chudo-Yudo the treat he’d had tucked in the pocket of his tailored charcoal-hued pants. “Nice to see you, old friend.”
“Oh, don’t encourage him,” Baba scolded. “You know perfectly well he can only pull that off about a third of the time. The rest of the time I’m left cleaning up a big mess.”
Koshei wrapped one muscular arm around her and smiled cheerfully. “What are you complaining about? You can use magic to clear the place up in a split second. Besides, it’s not like I’m trusting him to carry the Water of Life and Death.” He looked at her meaningfully.
“Fine,” she said, sliding out of his embrace long enough to find two miniscule glasses and get the Water of Life and Death out of the fridge. At Chudo-Yudo’s indignant whoof, she added a small bowl to her treasure trove and returned to sit on the couch next to Koshei. “Just a tiny bit for each of us—the queen doesn’t hand this stuff out like a party favor, you know.”
Golden fire shimmered in effervescent droplets as she poured a precious measure of the liquid from its enchanted flask into each of their cups. The aroma of a perfect spring day filled the trailer, smelling like meadows and seashores and youthful ardor. Baba let one heavenly sip lie on her tongue; it tasted of sunshine and flowers, with a slight aftertaste of dust and decay. Her eyes closed as the power of it overwhelmed her senses for one long, timeless moment, suspending her between the worlds of forever and perhaps.