Wickedly Dangerous

by Deborah Blake

  The queen nodded sadly. “Well said, mortal. And so it will be. The rule will be obeyed and all those who are foolhardy enough to break it shall be punished most severely.”

  She reached out one pale, long-fingered hand to stroke Mary Elizabeth’s hair. “It is a pity, though. They are so lovely, and they bring such youthful joy to this ancient world.”

  Liam looked around at all the gloomy despondent faces, the weeping women and stony-faced men. Baba saw the moment when a spark of an idea kindled behind those kind hazel eyes.

  “What are you thinking?” she whispered, a little concerned. They were about to walk out of here with all the children and their skins intact, something she’d had very little hope would happen. Liam didn’t know the Otherworld like she did; a single ill-spoken word could still get them turned into swans. And she’d make a terrible swan.

  But he just handed Mary Elizabeth to her, and pried Petey’s arms off of his leg, attaching them around Baba’s instead. Then he swept a deep bow to the queen and said, “Your Majesty, if you’ll allow me, I may have a suggestion.”

  One perfect eyebrow raised, the queen gathered her skirts and seated herself back on her throne. “I’m listening,” she said.

  Baba held her breath and seriously considered taking up prayer for the first time in her long life.

  “As Baba explained,” Liam said with a grave expression, “I am a sheriff. It is my job to enforce the laws of my community, much as you enforce yours.”

  The queen nodded.

  “It is true, as one of your subjects pointed out, that not all children are as lucky as these ones. Some are unwanted, even abused.” There was a disapproving rumble from the surrounding crowd, but Liam ignored them, speaking only to the queen and her consort.

  “In my years as sheriff, I have sometimes come across children who were terribly mistreated; damaged in ways that scarred them mentally and physically, leaving them broken in ways that no one can fix. These children will likely never be adopted, or be able to create happy, normal lives for themselves as adults.”

  “That is a terrible disgrace,” the queen said. “You should be ashamed to be part of a race that would do such things.”

  Liam sighed. “Sometimes I am, Your Majesty, sometimes I am. But the point is this: if I understand Baba correctly, the children who are brought from our world into this one eventually forget everything about where they came from, and who they were. Is that right?”

  The queen lifted her head, her long neck straightening as the meaning of his words sunk in. “Are you saying you would voluntarily bring us such children to raise as our own?” Around the circle that surrounded them, glimmers of hope began to appear, as beautiful and uplifting as the phoenixes that soared overhead.

  He nodded. “There would not be many, god willing, but there will always be an unfortunate few for whom forgetting would be a mercy. They would undoubtedly be difficult, in the beginning, until their memories start to fade. But if you can assure me that such children would be treated well, and cared for tenderly while they healed, I would be willing to do so, yes.” It was clear to Baba that he had at least one particular child in mind, perhaps one he’d been unable to help through conventional means. Children were Liam’s soft spot, just as they were hers.

  Baba hugged Mary Elizabeth to her chest, her heart so full she could barely contain it. She would never have thought of such a thing, but it was a perfect solution, both for the children and those who would finally be able to have a child to call their own. No one would lose a child they loved, and perhaps some good could come from the evil humans sometimes visited upon their innocent and defenseless young. As a Baba Yaga, she wished she’d thought of it herself, years ago.

  “We would have to work out a way to communicate,” Liam added. “And it might be tricky to explain the disappearance of even those who are not truly wanted by anyone.”

  The king smiled benignly. “That part is easy. In the old days, we would create a changeling—an exact facsimile of the child we’d taken, made out of wood and animated through magic. The problem then was that most parents could detect the difference, since changelings cannot truly mimic Human emotions and actions. But since, as you say, these particular children are damaged and unwanted, it is likely that no one would notice, or else be simply relieved that the younglings were now more docile and well behaved. And the amount of magic needed for such a thing is minute; it should not affect the balance between our worlds.”

  Liam nodded, and Baba exhaled a sigh of relief. It was settled, the queen was happy, and now they could go home.

  Unfortunately, this blissful thought was interrupted by a high-pitched, caterwauling shriek that rang out across the room like fingernails on a chalkboard.

  THIRTY-ONE

  LIAM’S HEART SHATTERED into a million pieces at the sight of Melissa, writhing between two burly guards, each of whom had a firm grip on one skinny arm. Her face was a mess of torn skin, pink and blotchy from crying, and her red hair was ragged and dirty, hanging in long stringy clumps. She was barely recognizable as the sweet, attractive woman he’d once called his wife. In front of the trio, another guard walked next to a small girl with asymmetrical pixie-cut dark hair, a snub nose, and a solemn demeanor. She looked to be about six years old, too young to be so self-possessed. Melissa’s wails cut across the room like a scythe, making all heads turn in her direction and scattering the birds overhead to safer perches far up in the rafters.

  He took an involuntary step in her direction, stomach churning and hands clenched, but Baba stopped him.

  “Wait,” she said quietly. “I know this is hard to witness, but wait.” She patted his back lightly, three quick taps that were like a bear hug coming from anyone else. So he waited, although he felt as though his soul was being flayed and shredded.

  “What is this?” the queen asked, disgust flitting across her normally impassive countenance. She narrowed her eyes at the lead guard. “Who are these people?”

  “You ordered us to search Maya’s residence, Majesty, once Zorica told us how to find it,” the warrior said, nodding in the giantess’s direction. She huddled in one corner of the throne room, trying to make herself seem smaller and failing miserably. “We found these two Humans there and assumed that the child was one of those who had been taken. So we brought them both to you.”

  Next to Liam, Baba wrinkled her long nose. “I thought you said there were only three children missing,” she whispered. “Do you know who that child is?”

  He peered more closely at the dark-eyed sprite, who gazed coolly back in his direction, but he didn’t recognize her. “There were only three. Maya must have stolen this one from somewhere else.”

  “Is this one of yours?” the queen asked Liam.

  He shook his head. “No, Your Majesty.”

  “Explain this,” the queen demanded of Maya. “Who are these Humans and what are they doing in my realm?”

  The Rusalka let out a dramatic puffed-air sigh that reminded Liam of the teenagers he occasionally arrested for shoplifting or spray-painting graffiti on historical landmarks. But she’d apparently decided that she had nothing to lose by complying with the queen’s demands, now that she had lost her last playing piece in the game.

  Or perhaps she simply wanted an opportunity to brag about her own cleverness, despite the end results.

  “I found this woman a couple of years ago,” Maya said, pointy chin held proudly in the air. “She had accidentally wandered through a newly opened portal—caused by the disruption of the earth the Humans call hydrofracking—dazed from abusing her body with alcohol and who knows what else. Her mind was so far gone, she barely even noticed she was in a different world.” She rolled her murky sea glass eyes at the frailty of mortals.

  “I took her home with me and cleaned her up, fed her, and, once I had convinced her to show me the location of the door, procured an infant to repla
ce the one whose death had caused her to fall so far into despair and madness.”

  Liam’s rage warred with his sorrow like rival boxers in a grudge match at hearing this depressing tale. Poor Melissa—not run away with the circus after all, but lost down a rabbit hole to a fantastical world, then falling into the clutches of a selfish, ambitious creature who used a shattered and despairing woman to further her own demented plans. He suddenly felt as bloodthirsty as Baba, wishing he had torn Maya apart with his bare hands when he’d had the chance.

  Baba heard the little growl at the back of his throat and gave him a tiny crooked smile in sympathy. “Wait,” she said again. “We need to hear this.” Pat. Pat. Pat.

  “And where, pray tell, did you get the infant?” the king interjected, nodding at the small child. “I assume this is she?”

  Maya shrugged, seaweed hair flopping around her shoulders. “Once I had access to the door, I began to explore the world beyond. Not far from where the portal opened, there was an isolated farmstead. I killed the parents, took the child, and burned the place to the ground. It was quite simple.” A regretful look flitted over her pallid face.

  “Alas, even the dim-witted Humans would have suspected something if I used the same trick twice, so once the woman had been calmed enough by her new baby to be able to give me useful information, I started simply stealing the children away. The added fear and misery this caused was even more fun than watching that building burn to smoking ashes.” A horrible sharp-toothed smile accompanied the agreeable memory.

  “I remember that fire,” Liam said, shocked. “We assumed the baby had perished with her parents. But that was only eight months ago.” He pointed at the little girl. “The baby wasn’t even a year old. This child must be at least five or six.”

  The queen shrugged. “Time flows strangely here in the Otherworld, and differently for different Humans. Do your tales not tell of those who ventured here for a day or a month, only to discover that many years had passed when they returned home, and all those they’d loved were dead and they themselves forgotten?”

  The blood rushed from his face, but Baba said reassuringly, “Don’t worry; the Baba Yagas are immune to this effect, so we can come and go as needed between the worlds. And since you’ve been with me, you should be fine. No more time will have passed back home than we have perceived here.”

  He drew in a shaky breath. “Oh. Good.”

  But then she added, “Obviously for Melissa, though, it has been years, and for all that time she had been raising this child as if it were her own.” And his heart plummeted to the tiled floor again, lying there in smoking ruins like the farmhouse Maya had burned.

  “Melissa?” The queen’s sharp ears had been following their conversation. “You know this Human woman?”

  Liam gave another shallow bow, although his spirit wasn’t in it. “Her name is Melissa McClellan, Your Majesty. And she is—was—my wife. She disappeared two years ago. I had no idea she was here.” He swallowed hard. “When she disappeared, I assumed she’d run away.”

  The queen’s expression softened slightly. “Then the baby she lost was yours?” She inclined her head. “We are sorry for your loss. It is a dreadful thing, to lose a child.”

  Then the queen glanced from him, standing upright in his uniform, to the wreck that was Melissa, her gaze fixed on the dark-haired child as she alternated crooning at the girl and screaming obscenities at the guards who held them apart.

  “You seem to have borne up better under the hardship,” the queen said in a wry understatement. “It’s a pity.”

  Liam lowered his eyes to the ground, seeing a distant, happy past rather than gemstone tiles and fanciful designs. He sighed. “Yes, Your Majesty. It is.”

  “And what do you propose to do with this unexpected child, Baba Yaga?” the king asked. “You were told that you might take all the children back to their homes as your reward for aiding this kingdom. I am sure my beloved consort would agree that this child falls under that agreement.”

  Baba turned to Liam, her expression bemused. “Huh. What do you think, Liam? Does she have anyone waiting for her at home?”

  He pondered the question as he looked across the expanse of floor at the self-contained yet somehow impish-looking girl. “I don’t recall the family having any close relatives. And even if there were some, frankly, I’m not sure how I’d explain a baby that was now a six-year-old, even though less than a year has passed. Thank goodness that hadn’t happened yet with any of the other children.” He shook his head. “But I can’t see leaving her here either. Especially with Melissa.” The idea was appalling.

  “That’s a point.” Baba stared at the child, looking thoughtful. She tapped one slim finger against her lips. “I might have a solution. Do you mind if I try something?”

  Hell, it wasn’t as though he had any better ideas. “Go right ahead.” This should be interesting.

  Even the queen looked intrigued as Baba walked over to where the child stood, taking in the exotic court scene with wide dark brown eyes.

  “Hello,” Baba said, kneeling down so she was at the same height as the little girl. “My name is Baba Yaga. Do you have a name?”

  The little girl blinked, throwing a glance over her shoulder at where Melissa stood, still now, her head hanging down. “The Mother calls me Hannah,” she said, with a tone that implied she wasn’t all that thrilled with the woman she called “the Mother” or the name, or both.

  Liam winced when he heard the name. But of course Melissa had used their dead child’s name; she probably no longer had any idea they weren’t one and the same.

  “Huh,” Baba said again. “I see.” She looked the girl in the eyes as steadfastly as if she was talking to another adult. “Tell me, do you know that there are two worlds—this one, the Otherworld, and the mundane plane, where the Humans live?”

  Hannah nodded. “The Mother told me stories about that other place. She didn’t like it.”

  “Mmm,” Baba shrugged. “Well, she had kind of a tough time there. It makes sense that she wouldn’t. But believe me, it can be a very nice place. Did she also tell you that you are a Human, and that you come from that world, not this one?”

  Hannah shook her head, spiky hair swinging around her ears. “The other one told me that. She used to call me ‘Human child,’ like it was a bad thing.” The little girl narrowed her eyes at Maya, who was dripping dourly in front of the throne. “But I didn’t care. I don’t like her.”

  “Who does?” Baba muttered under her breath.

  Liam could see her brace herself, as if something as yet unknown to him, but important to her, was riding on the answers to her next questions. He had no earthly idea where she was going with all this. Or unearthly idea, for that matter. But somehow, despite everything, he’d come to trust her. Whatever it was, he had no doubt it would be in the best interests of the child.

  “You get to make a choice,” Baba said. “Do you want to stay here, with her?” She pointed at Melissa, who seemed only marginally interested in the conversation, her attention captivated by an enormous blue butterfly fluttering amidst some yellow orchids.

  The little girl shook her head fiercely. “No. She’s wrong.”

  Baba raised an eyebrow. “I see. And how do you know that?”

  “I just know.”

  “And me?” Baba asked. “Am I wrong?”

  A dark head tilted sideways to survey her, eyes like bottomless pools examining her closely. “No,” Hannah said finally. “You’re good.”

  Baba smiled. “Well, there might be some who disagreed with you, but I’m glad you think so.” She straightened up and walked to a silver candelabrum nearby, a huge silver monstrosity covered with glowing beeswax candles. She blew one out, plucked it from its base, and brought it back over to the little girl.

  “Can you light this?” Baba asked, holding out the tall white taper.<
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  Hannah looked around. One courtier held out what looked to Liam like flint and steel, but Baba waved it away.

  “How?” the girl asked. “I don’t have anything to light it with.”

  “Just think it lit,” Baba suggested. “Want it to be lit.”

  Long dark lashes blinked. The whole room seemed to be holding its breath, although Liam wasn’t sure why. Suddenly, the candle whooshed into flame. Baba smiled.

  “Nicely done,” she said, and put the candle back. Then she held out her hand to the girl and walked with her to where Liam stood with the other children gathered around him at the foot of the throne. Baba addressed the queen and her consort.

  “With your permission, Majesties, I will take this child back with me to the mundane world.” Baba said. “I believe we might suit each other well.”

  Liam blinked. What the hell? Was Baba saying what he thought she was saying?

  The queen gave a regal nod. “Ah,” she said, figuring it out before Liam did. “It is about time you found a child to train as a new Baba. An elegant solution indeed. We approve.”

  “You’re going to make that little girl into a Baba Yaga?” Liam said, not sure if he should protest or applaud. “After everything she’s been through?”

  Baba shrugged, looking down at the child with her usual restrained half smile. “She doesn’t really fit in either world, nobody else wants her, and she has a gift for magic. That’s kind of the definition of a Baba.”

  The child gazed up at Liam with her held tilted sideways, her dark steady gaze reminding him of the intelligent mockery of the crows in the cornfields back home.

  “Besides,” Baba added. “Can you think of anything else to do with her?”

  Liam opened his mouth, but another loud shriek rang out instead. For a moment, he thought he’d somehow made the horrible discordant sound himself, but then he realized that Melissa had finally tuned in to the conversation.