Wickedly Magical (Baba Yaga, #0.5)(10)
But if Jonathan Bellingwood was Human, how was he affecting all these people? Barbara couldn’t see anything obvious, but clearly there was something Not Right here. And she was going to have to find out what it was if she was going to have any hope of getting Ivan’s little girls back to him as she’d promised.
It looked like she was going to have to go into the belly of the beast—the commune itself. Drat. That meant she was going to have to play nice with others. Not her best talent, even on a good day. There’d better be chocolate.
***
Back at the Airstream, Barbara told Chudo-Yudo what little she’d discovered, and what she thought her next step would have to be. Her companion wasn’t too happy about it.
“I wish I could go with you,” he grumbled. “You know I hate waiting around here all by myself while you are off having all the fun. But I have to stay and guard the Water of Life and Death.”
Barbara patted him roughly on his broad white head. “At least you can magic up your own food whenever you’re hungry. You’re a lot easier to deal with than a normal dog. Not that anyone would refer to you as normal.”
“Don’t be insulting,” Chudo-Yudo said. “But do be careful. After all, you don’t have any idea what tricks this guy has up his sleeve.”
“Now you’re being insulting,” Barbara said, somewhat miffed. “I’m a Baba Yaga. I have yet to meet a Human who can best me.”
“You were born Human too, you know,” the dragon-dog reminded her. “You’re not invincible.”
“True,” said Barbara. “But I am really, really cranky. It’s my superpower.”
“Good point,” Chudo-Yudo said. “And by the way, I think your mirror is ringing.”
Barbara grabbed the scrying mirror and sat down, quickly sliding into a trance state and trusting Chudo-Yudo to watch for interruptions.
“Beka!” she said. “Did you find something? I’m about to go into the compound, if I can, and it would be nice to have more to go on than a grieving father’s accusations and some vague suspicions.”
“Then I’m going to be your new favorite person,” Beka said through the mirror’s glimmer with a grin. “Because I’ve got a couple of actual facts for you.”
“Well, you were my old favorite person too,” Barbara said. “Along with Bella, of course. But if you can give me something concrete, I’ll bring you a bottle of wine the next time I’m back in California.”
“From that winery you saved from a pixie infestation, or whatever it was? The grateful owners still sending it to you by the case? That’s good stuff. And I think I’ve earned two bottles.”
“Okay, spill it. What do you have?”
“John Bell,” Beka said, a little smugly.
“Who?”
“John Bell,” she repeated. “That’s who your Jonathan Bellingwood was until a couple of years ago. Plain old John Bell was a used car salesman around the Santa Cruz area. Apparently did pretty well for himself; his boss said the guy could convince a little old lady to buy a Maserati. But something happened after that last big earthquake we had here. Bell changed.”
“Changed how?” Barbara asked. “Did he suddenly lose the ability to sell fast cars to old ladies?” She snickered.
“Just the opposite. According to his boss, Bell was making deals right and left. The problem was, half the people who signed on the dotted line couldn’t afford the cars he sold them, and some of them came back and complained later that—and I am quoting his boss here—‘They didn’t know what came over them.’”
“Aha,” Barbara said. “That sounds interesting.”
“Oh yeah,” Beka said. “Eventually he was fired from the dealership, and after that he suddenly got religion. Started up some kind of New Age pseudo-Wiccan group promoting Gaia worship and getting back in touch with nature. It was apparently pretty successful for a while too.”
Barbara snorted. Getting close to nature wasn’t a religion for Baba Yagas; it was their job description. “So what went wrong? I assume something did, if he moved out here and started over again with a different name.”
Beka nodded. “I told you I thought something about this sounded familiar. Seems like Bell makes a habit of gathering kind of a harem around himself. The women find him irresistible, although I can’t figure out why. Wanting to go out with the guy, sure. Wanting him enough to be willing to share him with a bunch of other women? I don’t get it. Of course, I’m not exactly an expert on dating, am I?” She sighed. The Baba Yaga curse didn’t spare even the cute blond ones, apparently.
“Anyway, his last devotee in the Santa Cruz area turned out to be the underage daughter of a powerful politician, and Bell found himself in for a lot of unwelcome scrutiny. Last anyone knew, he’d disappeared, leaving behind a bunch of folks who suddenly couldn’t figure out why they’d walked away from their perfectly good lives and joined a cult, handing over large chunks of their money in the process.”
“Hmph. Interesting,” Barbara said. “It sounds like whatever he’s doing to influence people only works for as long as he’s around.”
“Yep,” Beka nodded. “I’m wondering if he found something—some powerful arcane talisman, maybe—after the earthquake. You know how every once in a while a big shake-up will temporarily open a door to the Otherworld and let something through.”