Dangerously Charming (7 page)

Chudo-Yudo gave a snort, tiny wisps of smoke dissipating into the air. “It's still inside her, silly. Can't you smell the hormones?”

Barbara sniffed, but all she could smell was maple syrup and dark, rich coffee with a hint of blue roses. Still, when she focused on Jenna's energy, she could clearly make out the tiny separate but attached aura of a growing Human life. Well, didn't that just complicate things. She didn't know what the hell Day thought he was up to, but she was going to give him a swift kick the next time she got him alone. Assuming she did, of course. He'd been avoiding her and her two Baba Yaga sisters since they'd rescued him from Brenna ten months ago. And now he'd clearly only turned up so that he could dump whatever problem this was on her. They'd see about that.

“So, you're pregnant,” Barbara said to Jenna. She had a sudden, unsettling thought. “Wait, it isn't Mikhail's, is it? I mean, I thought he couldn't, that is, we don't know anymore, but—”

“Oh no.” Jenna's cheeks turned quite pink in her normally pale face. “I only met Mick a few days ago. My car broke down and I twisted my ankle while I was walking through the woods in a storm. I showed up at his cabin and he took me in until I could walk again. I wasn't going to say anything about the curse, but when I had a bout of morning sickness, somehow I ended up telling him the whole story.” She blushed again. “He's very easy to talk to. You know, when he isn't being horribly rude.”

“Horribly rude? Day? You're joking.” But Barbara could tell by looking at the other woman that she wasn't. She knew that his experiences in Brenna's cave and the loss of his immortality had changed her friend, but she was surprisingly dismayed to hear that he had come so far from the man she knew, who couldn't have been rude to a woman if you held a gun to his head.

Day stared ahead stoically, not commenting.

“Well, I was in his home when he clearly wanted to be alone,” Jenna said with a shrug that didn't quite cover the hurt. “You can't really blame him.”

Barbara could, actually, but that was an issue for another time.

“Why don't you tell me about this faery curse,” she said. “And we'll see if there is anything I can do. But I have to warn you, such things are complicated.”

“Complicated?” Jenna said. “What do you mean?”

Barbara sighed, tapping the side of her coffee cup with one blunt-cut nail. “Faeries. Curses. Fairy tales. They're a pain in the ass, frankly.” At her feet, Chudo-Yudo
woof
ed in agreement. “There are all sorts of rules and traditions that have to be followed. Sometimes they work in your favor; sometimes they don't. And when they don't, they
really
don't.”

“The Queen already told us that she couldn't help me,” Jenna said. “And that you couldn't either.”

“Oh?” Barbara stared at Mikhail, not at Jenna. “Then why are you here?”

“The Queen very clearly pointed out that you would not be allowed to do anything in your capacity as Baba Yaga,” Day clarified.

“Ah,” Barbara said. Things were becoming clearer.

“And the faery involved, Zilya, has already made one attempt to seal her claim on Jenna's baby.”

“Huh. As I said, fairy tales, very annoying.”

Jenna blinked at her. “But, uh, aren't you a fairy tale? I mean, the Baba Yaga is a fairy tale, right?”

Barbara gave her guest a sharp-edged grin. “Yep. And sometimes I'm a pain in the ass too. Let's just hope in this case, I can be a helpful one.”

“I could use all the help I can get,” Jenna admitted ruefully. “But I'm not sure where to start.”

“The beginning is always a good place, I find,” Barbara said, only a trifle sharply. “Why don't you start there and just go on. Tell it as though it were a story, if that makes it easier.”

Jenna nodded. “Okay, then.” She took a deep breath. “Once upon a time in a land far, far away, my many, many-times-great-grandmother Rose lived in a small village in the middle of Europe. She was nothing much to look at, so I've been told, but sweet and generous of spirit, and hardworking. From the time she was young, she'd been best friends with the son of the local blacksmith, and it was widely accepted that they would marry as soon as they were old enough.

“Then a mysterious woman appeared in the woods near the village. She was very beautiful, with shining hair and fine clothes. The young blacksmith, who was only seventeen, was flattered by her interest and spent many a fine afternoon in her company when he should have been working, or helping Rose with her chores.”

“Aha,” Barbara said. “Enter the faery, stage left.”

“Something like that,” Jenna said. “The story passed down through the family says that her loveliness and charm, even when she was glamoured to appear as a Human noblewoman, entranced the blacksmith, John, and they dallied together for a time.

“But John was an honorable man, and already engaged to his childhood sweetheart, Rose, a plain but decent girl who lived in his village. Although he was intrigued and flattered by Zilya's attentions, he eventually chose Rose over her. Zilya was furious, and couldn't understand how some plump and homely Human girl could ‘steal' the man she wanted. Although, of course, Rose loved him with all her heart, and Zilya was incapable of such an emotion.

“When Rose became pregnant on their wedding night, Zilya flew into a rage and cursed the girl and her entire line, swearing to steal a child in each generation as payment for the man who was stolen from her. Rose, who knew her lore of the fae folk, demanded a way to free herself from the curse, and Zilya gave her an impossible riddle. Alas, no one in Rose's line has ever been able to decipher the riddle, and so the curse continued into the present day.”

Jenna sighed. “And that brings us to me. I was so determined
that the curse would end with me, since I am the last of my line. But as you can see”—she patted her barely visible belly—“I underestimated the power of the curse. Now my only chance is to figure out the riddle and beat Zilya before she can take my baby too.”

“No one in your family was ever able to make any sense of it?” Barbara asked. “I know it was designed to be tricky—they always are—but there are rules to these things, and one of the rules is that the riddle has to provide an answer for the one who is clever enough to unravel it.”

“My grandmother is the only one who even got close,” Jenna said. “She devoured every fairy tale she could get her hands on. I remember her reading most of them to me when I was growing up. She told me that her research eventually led her to the land of the faeries, and she was finally able to make her way there with great difficulty when she was in her fifties, right after my mom got pregnant. But the Queen had to rule in Zilya's favor, apparently, because the curse predated her ban against such things.”

As Barbara listened to Jenna tell the story of her great-great-whatever-grandmother's misadventures, her heart sank. She really liked the girl and she wanted to be of assistance, but it clearly wasn't going to be that simple. Faeries, bah.

“You can't help her, can you, Baba?” Chudo-Yudo said, his massive head sagging onto his equally large front paws.

Barbara shook her head. Frustration bubbled up like a mishandled potion. Helping worthy seekers on their quests was usually one of her least favorite parts of the job, but she would have made an exception in this case. After all, the woman liked her dragon-dog. And Day brought her. Barbara
really
hated the idea of letting Day down, especially after everything he'd been through.

“So, what do you think?” Jenna asked eagerly, her icy blue eyes wide and filled with hope.

“Zilya, huh?” Barbara said. “I'm not really familiar with her, although I can ask a few friends at court if they know anything
about her.” She got up to get a chocolate chip oatmeal cookie. Yes, she'd just eaten pancakes, but cookies helped her think. She offered one to Jenna, who nibbled on it absentmindedly.

“But here's the big problem,” she went on. “Remember how I said there were all kinds of rules about these things?”

“Sure,” Jenna said. “Like how my many-great-grandmother was able to force Zilya to give her a riddle that would enable her to undo the curse, if only she could figure it out. Because there was a rule that said Zilya had to. Mick and I talked about that while we were walking here.”

Mick, eh?
Barbara raised an eyebrow. There was more going on here than met the eye, or she wasn't the scariest witch in town.

She tapped her finger on the table. “Exactly. Only that's the problem. Normally, if someone came to me with Ye Olde Evil Curse, I'd be able to jump in with both booted feet because the person who cast the curse in the first place didn't play fair. But since your great-grand was clever enough to insist on the riddle, tradition was satisfied. My hands are tied. You have to solve this one yourself, I'm afraid.”

“Oh. I see.” Long black lashes blinked back tears, but Jenna held her head up high. “Thanks for listening, anyway.”

Dammit.
She really liked this girl. She had spunk. And she'd talked Babs into going to school without a fight. That bought her something right there.

“Hang on a minute,” Barbara said, holding up one hand. The fact that it happened to be the one holding the cookie only took away from the drama of the gesture a little. “I didn't say I wouldn't try to help, just that I couldn't do anything in my official position as Baba Yaga. But you already knew that. If the Queen sent you to me, even obliquely, she must have thought I could do
something
.”

Under the table, Chudo-Yudo made a coughing noise that sounded a lot like
“Softie.”

“Is your dog okay?” Jenna asked, bending down and looking at him with concern. “It sounds like he might be choking.”

“Not yet,” Barbara said with a growl. “But if he keeps up the wisecracks, it might become a distinct possibility.”

Chudo-Yudo chuckled and moved over to lay his huge head on Jenna's foot, generously allowing her to scratch his favorite spot under his chin in case it made her feel better.

Barbara drummed her fingers on the table, thinking so hard that some spindly geraniums in a ceramic pot on the windowsill grew three inches and turned from red to pink. “There has to be something . . . You said that no one in your family has ever been able to figure out this riddle?”

“No. My grandmother thought that there was something in it that indicated part of the answer might lie in the faerylands—sorry, the Otherworld. But she didn't get any further than that.”

“Huh,” Barbara said, thoughtfully chewing on her cookie and scattering crumbs all over the table. “This riddle, can you recite it for me? The Queen must know it; she knows almost everything her people are involved in. Maybe she thought I could come up with a clue that could help you unravel it.” She smiled at Mikhail. “And my friend here was always great at riddles. Between us, perhaps we can see something you didn't. I'm guessing that's what the Queen had in mind, although it is always hard to tell with her. She's about as easy to read as a muddy lake in a snowstorm.”

“Um, wouldn't that be cheating?” Jenna asked, a hesitant smile flitting over her face.

“Not if you do the solving yourself,” Barbara said. “I can't actually tell you the answers, even if I could figure them out. But maybe I can at least find you a place to start and a hint or two. And there is nothing to stop Day from helping you solve it.”

He choked on a pancake and pushed his plate away.

Ha.
As if she was going to fall for the old “unload my problem on you and run away” routine. The Queen might be subtle and devious, but Day was as clear as glass.
Nice try, old friend, but I'm onto you,
Barbara thought smugly.

“That would be great,” Jenna said. “To be honest, I'm completely stuck. I've been going over and over it since I was
a kid and my mother first taught it to me, but it all just seems like nonsense.”

“All good riddles do,” Barbara said. “That's what makes them riddles. But the classic fairy-tale curse riddle usually comes in three parts. The first part tells you what you did, the second part spells out what's going to happen to you because of it, and then the rest of the riddle contains the solution to breaking the curse. So that's what you really want to focus on.”

She refilled their coffee cups and got them each another cookie, plus one for Chudo-Yudo so he'd stop giving her that pitiful look. “Okay, I'm ready. Let's hear it.”

Jenna took a deep breath and recited the riddle, her voice a mixture of resignation, desperation, and a persistent, lingering layer of hope.

“I chose a man and he chose me

You should have simply let it be

I chose a man and he chose you

Now this choice you both shall rue

You stole mine so I'll steal yours

Each mother's child that she adores

From every generation born

The first new child she will mourn

This curse unbroken now shall be

Down into eternity

Unless you find the pathway through

And solve the riddle with this clue

A rose's cry at rock enchanted

The sun's bright ray where none is slanted

A magic key to a gift divine

True love must merge when stars align”

“Well, well, well,” Barbara said. “Isn't that interesting?”

Chudo-Yudo picked his head up. “What am I missing?”

Barbara ignored him, although she'd happily explain it later, when the other two weren't there.

“Did you get something from that?” Day asked. “Already?”