Wickedly Dangerous (Baba Yaga, #1)(100)
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.