“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.
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.
“Noooooo,” she screamed, face contorted with frenzied madness. “Not my baby! No! You can’t take my baby! Not again! It’s not fair! Liam! Liam! Please!” Her tearstained countenance turned blindly toward him, as a sunflower turns to the sun. “Please, Liam, don’t let them take my baby!”
A giant hand squeezed his heart so hard, he was sure it must burst out of his chest. All the horror of that first night came rushing back: the frantic call from the dispatcher, the twirling red lights on the ambulance parked sideways across the end of his driveway; inside the house, a distraught and incoherent Melissa, begging him to make the undeniable dreadful truth somehow magically be untrue.
He couldn’t do it for her then. He didn’t know how to do it for her now.
A hard, stony burn of anguish began to bubble up into his throat, and it erupted as a single, pleading word. “Barbara?” he whispered.
This time she did hug him; a quick peck on the cheek accompanying the unexpected gesture. She gave him one of her most wicked smiles and a wink, and said, “I’ve got this, Liam.” Then took a step forward to bow low to the throne.
“Your Majesties,” she said loudly, to be heard over the desolate keening, “I have had an idea.”