Wickedly Dangerous (Baba Yaga, #1)

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