by Max Candee
“Anna Sophia?” she said, her voice trembling. “What is this?”
“I’ve brought you a heart, Grandmother,” I said. “I didn’t say it was the heart you’d asked for.” I kept my gaze steady on her. “I’ve brought you a broken heart, Granny. One as broken as your mind. Your own. I’ve brought you back your heart. I… I thought you might have missed it.” Even I could hear how harsh my voice was.
Baba Yaga’s lower lip trembled. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. That made no sense.
“You want it, don’t you?” I asked, taking a step toward her. “Come on, reach out and touch it, Granny. Take your heart back. You can’t be complete without it.”
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered. “So very beautiful…” Her voice broke.
Then she was crying with great, gasping sobs coming from her chest, and she fell to her knees. Tears streamed down her face, which looked much younger than it had just a moment ago.
I knelt as well, still holding the box toward her, the light spilling out of it. “Go on, Granny,” I said. “Take your heart back. Take back all the pain you felt. See if you can remember what it’s like to be hurt.”
“Anna, no!” I heard my father cry, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care that Baba Yaga was huddled, curled up, like a child. I didn’t care that she was weeping but was still unable to take her eyes off the glowing box. I didn’t care about the yowls of pain escaping her lips.
“Go on, Granny…”
She stretched out a hand. A look of longing emerged from her tears. “It’s so beautiful,” she said again, “and I want it so much, I’ve missed it so much…” Then she curled herself up again, howling like a soul in pain.
“She’ll die, Anna,” Koschey warned. “Don’t let her touch it. If she touches it now, she’ll die!”
“I want her to die!” I yelled, unable to keep the thought inside me anymore. “I want her to suffer, and I want her to die like she made my mother die! Like she wants Lauraleigh to die!”
“The darkness will take you, Anna. The darkness will take you if you do this, and we won’t ever be able to get you back!”
“I don’t care!” I roared, angry as a she-bear whose cubs are threatened. “Let it!” I felt the darkness unfurling inside me, filling me, and I couldn’t keep a grin from forming on my face, because it felt so good.
Let the darkness take me. With it, I can do so much. I can do anything… I felt the ground rumbling behind me, tendrils of power flickering away from me like little tentacles, searching for something to attack. I knew I could throw all my power at the sniveling creature in front of me who had been the great Iron Queen and destroy her. But I wanted her to do it herself. As she had destroyed my mother, I wanted her to be responsible for her own end.
“Come on,” I said to her. “All you have to do is stretch out your hand, and you can have your heart back.”
“I want it back,” she sobbed. “I do, I do. I want it back so much. But it hurts. I cut it out because it hurt so bad…” She threw back her head and howled. “Why didn’t anybody tell me love could hurt so much?”
“You can have it back, Granny,” I said. “It’s still broken. You can have all your pain back.” I pushed the box toward her, so close she could hardly avoid touching it if she moved again.
Slowly, her hand reached out toward it, inching along the floor. “My heart…” she whispered, “my heart…”
“Anna,” said a quiet voice, “why are you doing this?”
I started. I’d almost forgotten there was anyone else in the room.
Lauraleigh was kneeling beside me. How had she gotten loose? But that didn’t matter. What mattered was the look on her face, which was … disapproving. No, worse. Disappointed.
“You can’t do this, Anna,” she said. “Look at her. You can’t.”
Lauraleigh turned to look at Baba Yaga, still a sobbing mess, and the expression on her face was one of deep compassion. It was like how she had looked in Geneva every time she’d visited with some of the younger orphans who couldn’t sleep because they wanted parents. Lauraleigh had comforted them out of the sheer goodness of her heart.
“You know what she wanted to do,” I said, my voice shaking. “You know what she’s done…”
“But if she didn’t have her heart, Anna,” said Lauraleigh, “how could she have done anything else?”
“I don’t care,” I whispered, “I just want her to die.”
Lauraleigh shook her head. “Oh, Anna,” she said. “What are you becoming?”
I didn’t know what to say.
Lauraleigh stood up. She looked from me to Baba Yaga and then back. She bit her lip.
I knew what that meant. “Don’t you dare help her,” I said, though my voice wasn’t very assured. Why was I talking like this to Lauraleigh, my best friend, the kindest person I’d ever met? The darkness inside me hesitated.
“I’m sorry, Anna,” said Lauraleigh. “But I can’t let you do this.”
She stepped away from me and knelt beside the box. She reached out with her hands.
“Lauraleigh, no!” I cried. “You can’t touch someone else’s heart. You’ll die…”
“I’m sorry, Anna,” she said. And she plunged her hands into the silver-and-violet light.
* * *
What happened next was almost indescribable. I’m not even sure what I saw.
I saw Lauraleigh’s hands cutting through the beams of light, and I heard her gasp as they curved around Baba Yaga’s heart. Suddenly it was as if I could see and hear the hearts of everybody in the room; the hum grew louder until all the air around us was vibrating to the beats of our different pulses. I saw the hearts more as colors than as human shapes: Uncle Misha’s forest-green soul, Egor’s slate-gray soul mixed with flecks of rust and gold, and the sheer purity of Lauraleigh’s as she lifted Baba Yaga’s heart from the box — and did not die.
The two pieces of Baba Yaga’s broken heart lay in Lauraleigh’s palms, pulsing with light although they no longer emitted beams of light. Lauraleigh pushed the halves back together and held the whole in a single palm. She traced the scar with a finger that glowed with all the intensity of her compassion, and I saw the scar mend. She kneeled before Baba Yaga and held the heart out to her, and Baba Yaga took her heart into her hands and did not die.
She was still crying, but she didn’t look like my grandmother anymore. She didn’t look like anyone’s grandmother. She barely looked as old as Lauraleigh, and she was beautiful. As she had been long ago when she had cut out her own heart…
The girl who had become Baba Yaga lifted her heart in her hands and pressed it to her chest. She squeezed until the heart began to shrink and all that could be seen was purple light escaping from between her fingers. She opened her mouth and filled it with her heart. She swallowed. And she screamed as if it were burning her inside.
Lauraleigh bent over and kissed her on the forehead, as she’d do to a child going to sleep.
The rest of us didn’t move. Inside me, the darkness was howling, infuriated that Baba Yaga should be shown compassion by anyone.
Ripples of purple light were dancing over Baba Yaga, and she was still screaming. Her eyes looked like they had gone blind, no pupils or irises, just a solid wave of black that slowly turned to violet.
There was a noise. I turned and saw the door of my father’s cage swinging open. Baba Yaga’s magic was failing.
From out of the cage walked Koschey the Deathless, the Eater of Death, Keeper of the Kingdom of the Dead, his head held high and his back straight. No longer a pathetic imprisoned old man but a being beyond all imagining.
My father.
He came toward Baba Yaga. Lauraleigh drew back when the awesome shape of my father reached them. He stretched out a long pale hand and touched Baba Yaga on the forehead, and she ceased to scream. The ripples of purple began to flicker onto his hands like little bolts of lightning, and he threw his head back and drew in a breath. Baba Yaga’s body started to shake,
and his too. I could see the stream as he feasted, as she let go of all the power she had stolen from him, all the magic, all the prana, and he took it back into his being. I saw the power flowing, his body growing and glowing, his hair turning black and the weariness leaving his bones. I felt the ground trembling all around us as if an earthquake were rumbling. And maybe one was, because surely nothing this powerful had happened in the world for centuries.
Koschey drew his hand away from Baba Yaga’s forehead. She fell unconscious to the floor, and he turned toward me, his robes flowing around him like water.
He approached me and didn’t say a word. I shrank back in terror. This could not be my father. There was nothing human in this embodiment of sheer power who was striding toward me, strong and unavoidable as a thunderstorm, his eyes golden and merciless.
He stretched out a hand to my forehead as he had to Baba Yaga’s. I tried to escape but there was nowhere to run. His touch was like a thunderbolt; there was nothing of the peace, nothing of the love I had felt when we had touched before. I gasped. It almost hurt.
I felt Koschey peer into my soul. It was as if his hand weren’t just resting on my forehead but had actually plunged into me, searching and groping as if trying to find something. The darkness inside me tried to dissipate, but it was too late; Koschey was inexorably gathering it together. I felt like his hand was clutched around my heart.
Even as I felt all this, once again, I saw the world through his eyes. I saw my own soul and the darkness he was searching for. I saw Egor in the corner of the room, his eyes hidden behind his hands, and I knew that he could not bear to see this much power. I saw Uncle Misha; dear, kind old Uncle Misha, and the terrible worry on his face.
I saw Baba Yaga stretched out on the floor, her soul still black as tar. But at its center, there was a small purple spark, the tiniest of flames, that might, just might, grow and start taking her back to the light.
I saw a small white hand stretch out toward my daughter — I mean toward me — glowing almost as pure as Sereda’s, almost as kind. And I felt Lauraleigh’s hand rest on my shoulder as Koschey began to drag the darkness out of me. I clutched Lauraleigh’s hand, feeling for her compassion, fixing my soul on the whiteness of hers as the screaming darkness fought against my father’s relentless grip.
It hurt. It hurt as if he were pulling my heart out of my chest. But I knew that it was for my own good, that it would be worth it to have all that evil taken out of me. I hadn’t even known it was possible. But now Koschey was as mighty as he had ever been; who knew what he could do?
My father paused as if there were some obstruction he couldn’t get past, and my heart clenched in fear. But he drew a deep breath and suddenly let out a long, powerful cry. It wasn’t even a word, just a noise, almost a musical note. I could feel how it pushed aside all the haze of magic and power that filled the room, how it overcame the hum, how it redoubled his own power.
He drew the darkness out of me, raising it over his head, forcing it into the shape of a ball, his every muscle straining to control it — and his cry went on and on. I saw that swirling globe of black smoke, one small trail still attached to me, and Koschey’s eyes fixed on it as his voice rose to an overpowering note of command.
The sphere crumpled in his hand. He closed his fist over it and squeezed as I would an orange, and it was no more.
He stood in the middle of the room, a near god, my father, and little lightning bolts of power played on his arms and the hem of his robe.
There was utter silence. No longer did I feel that darkness curled inside me, and my heart almost burst from relief. All the magic that had thrummed around us was gone. I fell sobbing into Lauraleigh’s arms.
Chapter 27
Dear Diary,
I’m so grateful that Lauraleigh exists. That she’s my friend. That she came with me. That she still likes me.
That she saved me from what I almost turned into.
Whether she knows it or not, Lauraleigh is the wisest person I will ever know.
It’s weird that Dad’s free now and Granny has become so … almost normal. The way they talk together, they’re just like two old friends. Which I suppose they are. After all, who else knows what they’ve been through? Even I know only a fraction of what they have experienced over so many millennia.
I don’t know if I’ve forgiven Baba Yaga, but I don’t think I have any right to judge her now. I know what it’s like to have the darkness take you over. I know what I almost did. I still had my heart, and yet I would have let the darkness take me. The only reason I didn’t is Lauraleigh. It’s not Baba Yaga’s fault that she didn’t have a Lauraleigh to stop her all those years ago.
Dad told me confidentially that getting her heart back wouldn’t suddenly make Baba Yaga nice. Her soul is still black, but there is that little touch of light in it now, and maybe that can grow. Mostly, she just seems tired. She can’t even be bothered to watch TV anymore. Actually, she threw that TV out.
I’d like to think that everything’s over now, I’m safe, and I can just go on and live a normal life. But somehow, after everything I’ve been through, I’m starting to doubt that will ever be an option.
I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.
* * *
Baba Yaga’s hut was just that again: a hut. And there was sunlight peeping in through the windows. We were sitting at the table, all of us exhausted.
Dad wasn’t that awesome, terrifying figure anymore; now he just looked like a rather old man, although it was hard to tell his age. His face was lined, but his hair was black, almost as if he’d dyed it. His eyes were brown, not golden. Nothing about him would make anyone suspect who he was.
Baba Yaga was old again. Getting her heart back hadn’t changed her age; it couldn’t turn back the years. She was still guilty of doing all those things since she’d cut her heart out, for which she would have to face the consequences. But her eyes weren’t the same; their blackness had a hint of violet now.
Once I’d stopped crying, I managed to stand up, only to find myself smothered in a huge hug from Uncle Misha. Evidently when he and Egor had realized that Lauraleigh had gone missing, they decided to risk going through the ghosts to find her. That’s when they discovered that the Horsemen were no longer around Blackwood Castle. The ghosts had paid no attention to them. Of course, when Egor and Uncle Misha got to Baba Yaga’s, she captured them with no trouble. The Horsemen had cut off their retreat, and neither of them had nearly enough power to battle her on her ground.
Olya was sleeping on the bed. Lauraleigh had gone to fetch her — she was the only one I trusted not to scare the child — and found her unconscious by the fence. Uncle Misha carried the little girl inside, and Egor laid his palm on her forehead and sent her to a proper sleep where she could rest and revive. Her memories would be fuzzy; some of them would be lost, and that, we all agreed, was a good thing.
There was no sign of the Horsemen. That seemed less good. They had been bound to Baba Yaga. Did losing her power mean she’d lost them, too? And if so, what would they do next?
There was so much to talk about.
The most powerful witch in the world shuffled around her kitchen, muttering about her aching knees. She took a can down from a shelf. “I think we could all use some tea,” she said. She chuckled. “I’m fairly sure this one’s not poisoned.”
“Let me help,” said Lauraleigh.
Baba Yaga waved her back to her seat. “Shush, child, you’ve done enough. The least I can do is make some tea.”
“No,” Lauraleigh said, “I’d really like to, I’d—”
“Lauraleigh, rest,” I said. “You don’t know where things are here. For that matter, do you even know how a samovar works? Besides, I can help easily.” I pulled Squire out of my bag, conjured up a little flame, and woke him up.
“Why, you little runaway rascal!” Baba Yaga exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for you for years. Has he been with you all this time?”
I nodded. Squire q
uivered in fear on my shoulder.
“Oh, don’t worry, little one,” said Baba Yaga. “I won’t bite. Come on, help me make some tea. I wasn’t going to use magic, but since you’re here…” And she puttered around making tea for all of us.
Egor had laid his head down on the table. He had fallen asleep, and small bubbly snores started to come out of his nose.
Uncle Misha gathered Egor gently in his arms and carried him to the couch, where he laid him down. “He’s not used to this much excitement,” he explained.
Koschey smiled with understanding.
Uncle Misha looked out the window. He seemed worried. “The Horsemen are still gone,” he said in an uncertain tone. “There’s no trace of them.”
“Ah,” said Baba Yaga as she came back with our glasses of tea. “I’m not sure that’s good news for you.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed. “They have felt my power breaking,” she said. “They probably won’t obey me any longer. Who knows what they’ll be up to now?”
She sat, looking excessively weary. We took our glasses of tea as Squire handed out sugar cubes. Lauraleigh looked surprised when everyone except her popped a sugar cube in their mouth and took a sip of tea. In turn, I was surprised I remembered that typical Russian way of drinking tea, but feeling the cube grow warm and its sharp edges break and crumble was an old pleasure.
Always game, Lauraleigh did the same, and I smiled as I caught the enjoyment in her eyes.
“What’s going to happen with the ghosts?” Lauraleigh asked.
Koschey took a breath. “I’m not entirely sure,” he said. “I’ll have to look over the situation first. Talk about it with my old friend here…” He looked at Baba Yaga.
She chuckled. “I daresay we’ll find a solution,” she said. “Though who knows what my Horsemen will do, now that they don’t have to listen to me.”
