Wickedly Ever After: A Baba Yaga Novella (7 page)

Little Babs, who had been silently observing everything from behind Barbara’s legs, took three firm steps forward. As usual, she had been so quiet that most of those present had completely forgotten she was there. Barbara herself never made that mistake, having found from experience that the girl might not speak much but she soaked up everything around her like a sponge. A tiny, choppy-haired, snub-nosed, determined sponge.

The Queen’s brow wrinkled. “What is this, Baba Yaga?”

“You remember my protégé Babs, Your Majesty,” Barbara said.

A silvery-white eyebrow rose delicately. “Of course I do. I may be thousands of years old, Baba Yaga, but I am hardly senile. I was merely questioning what her presence here has to do with the matter at hand.”

Barbara bowed to take the sting out of what came next. “As you know, Your Majesty, Babs was kidnapped as an infant and stolen from the Human world to be raised in secret in this one, hidden away from all contact with others. As a result, she tends to be curious, literal, and completely honest. In fact, when I thought about it, I could not think of a single lie she had ever told. Neither could Chudo-Yudo, and, as you know, he can always discern lies from truth.”

The Queen blinked. Then she gestured with her fan, indicating that Babs should approach the royals on their makeshift thrones. The girl moved until she was standing right in front of the Queen, gazing up with her usual neutral expression, round brown eyes open wide.

“Do you know who I am, child?” the Queen asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Babs said, curtsying the way Barbara had taught her. “You are the Queen of the Otherworld, sovereign of all the paranormal people.”

The Queen nodded, slightly mollified by Babs’s proper manners. “I am going to ask you some questions to test your honesty,” she said. “You will answer to the best of your ability, and We shall see if your Barbara is speaking the truth. Do you understand?”

Babs nodded solemnly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Very well. Tell me, little one, what do you think of the mate your Baba Yaga mentor has chosen?”

Babs turned around and gazed at Liam for a moment, then turned back to the Queen. “I think that he is very nice, Your Majesty, and very kind to me. I like him. He is my very favorite Human.”

Liam reached over and squeezed Barbara’s hand, his eyes suspiciously bright.

“How charming,” the Queen said in a dry tone. “And what do you think of the Baba Yaga? Is she nice as well?”

Babs thought for a moment, looking back at Barbara. Then she shrugged. “Sometimes she is nice and sometimes she is not nice. She is not fond of fools or idiots and often threatens to kick their asses.” She turned around. “Is that the right word, Barbara? Or is it just the singular, ass?”

Barbara tried not to laugh. “Either one is fine,” she said in a choked voice. “Although under most circumstances, Liam would rather you didn’t say that word, remember?”

“Oh. Right. I am sorry, Liam, I forgot.” Babs did her best to follow Liam’s rules, even though they often made no sense to her.

“That’s okay, honey,” he said. “You’re doing fine.” Out of the corner of her eye, Barbara could see his shoulders shaking.

“So she is not always nice,” Babs went on, doggedly following her instructions. “But she is always kind to me. I like her too. She is my other favorite Human, although she says she is only barely Human on her good days. Which she hardly ever has.”

The court tittered again, only to be hushed when the Queen held up one hand.

“And what do you think of me, little one?” the Queen asked in a deceptively mild tone. “Am I nice?”

Barbara and Liam held their breath. The court was so quiet that when a stray leaf fell to the ground, everyone turned and glared at it until it hopped back onto the tree it had fallen from, turning crimson with embarrassment.

Babs cocked her head to the side, pondering the question. Then slowly, she shook her head. “You are very beautiful. And I have not spent very much time with you, Your Majesty, and Liam and Barbara have told me that it is best not to pass judgment until you know someone well. But I think perhaps you could practice being nicer. Then everyone would not be so afraid of you.” A small flicker of a smile floated over her rosebud lips. “Maybe then you would not be so cranky and everyone would be happier.”

Oh hell
. Barbara grabbed Liam’s arm and squeezed it so hard he grunted, but he didn’t protest. All around them, gaily dressed courtiers stood like statues, frozen in place while they waited to see how the Queen would react. A bird overhead was trying so hard to go unnoticed it forgot to fly and fell out of the sky with a soft, reverberating thud onto the soft carpet of earth below.

The Queen looked at Babs and slowly she began to laugh. A ringing sound like chimes spread over the assembled company, joined a second later by a basso counterpoint from the King. Eventually the rest of the court began to laugh too, half from amusement and half from relief. Finally the Queen rose from her seat and put one hand on the child’s narrow shoulder.

“What is that saying they have in your world, Baba Yaga? ‘Out of the mouth of babes’? It would appear that I have gotten the honesty I requested. I do not suppose I can then protest if I do not wholeheartedly embrace the truths therein.” She gave Babs a tiny nudge back in the direction of Barbara and Liam.

When they all stood together again, the Queen straightened her back, all merriment gone. The King rose to stand at her side and together they made a picture of regal splendor.

“I gave you three impossible tasks, Baba Yaga, and you have accomplished them all. I may not always be kind but I am a Queen, and a Queen is always true to Her word.” She snapped her fingers imperiously at a handmaiden and sent her running off in the direction of the castle. Then the Queen stepped forward until she was directly in front of Barbara and Liam.

“Put out your right hand,” she said to Barbara. “And you, your left, so that it is resting upon hers,” she said to Liam.

Then she unwound the belt from around her slim waist, a long strand of pearls intertwined with emeralds that gleamed in the sunlight like the first green shoots of grass in the spring.

Holding the belt loosely between her delicate fingers, she gazed into their eyes. “You are very certain this is what you wish?” she asked, looking particularly at Liam. “A hand-fasting here is not like the marriages of your world. This commitment is binding today and forever; there is no going back.”

“I would never choose a life without Barbara in it,” he said softly. “In this world or any other. She is my treasure and I am honored every day that she has chosen to be with me.”

Barbara blinked away tears she didn’t know she could cry and nodded her agreement.

“Very well,” said the Queen. She wrapped the pearl and emerald strands around their wrists, saying as she did so, “As the High Queen of the Otherworld, and as a representative of the all-powerful goddess who shines down upon us all, I bind you, Barbara and Liam, heart to heart, mind to mind, spirit to spirit, that you might live all your days in love and your nights in joy. In the name of the goddess, so mote it be.”

For an instant, Barbara could feel a shiver of power tremble through the beaded cord and the ground under her feet seemed to shudder under the weight of destiny. Liam’s hand tightened around hers and his smile lit up like the sun that never actually shone on this land.

Then someone coughed and the moment was broken. When she looked away from her truly-husband’s face, the Queen held out a goblet made of gold and studded with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. From within its depths, a glistening liquid gave off the aroma of a perfect summer’s afternoon, with just a hint of the graveyard lying underneath.

“Drink together from this cup, but do not drink deep, for the Water of Life and Death is potent stuff.” Again, the Queen spoke mainly to Liam, who nodded, then took up the cup in his free hand and swallowed the tiniest sip. A beatific expression crossed his face and Barbara and the Queen exchanged a rare smile of accord. That first taste was one you never forgot.

Then it was Barbara’s turn and it was official. Their marriage had been acknowledged and she was free to give Liam occasional small amounts of the nectar, which would extend his life. As a plain old Human, it wouldn’t boost his magical powers as it did Barbara’s, since he had no power to boost in the first place. But she didn’t care about that. She cared only
that he would be able to grow old by her side slowly, until the end of their days.

***

“That went surprisingly well,” Liam said as they walked back toward the doorway between the worlds. Ahead of them, Chudo-Yudo pretended to chase little Babs, who in turn pretended to threaten him with her miniature sword.

Barbara heard Liam’s barely suppressed sigh and linked her arm through his. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Chudo-Yudo may look like a dog, but he’s really a dragon under all that fur. She can’t hurt him. Besides, she’s very careful.”

Liam gave her a sideways grin, flashing those dimples she loved so much. “To be honest,” he said ruefully, “since honesty seems to be the theme of the day; I kind of wish I had a sword too.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “What? Since when?”

“Remember that movie I made you watch?
The Princess Bride
?”

She chuckled. “I remember I didn’t want to watch it because I’d never seen a movie before and I didn’t want to start with one that had some silly princess in it. Then it turned out that there were fire swamps and Rodents of Unusual Size, and pirates, and sword fighting. I love that movie.”

“Me too,” Liam said. “I’ve secretly wanted to learn how to use a sword since the first time I saw it.”

“Well why didn’t you say so?” she said, only a little exasperated. “I’d be happy to teach you. You and Babs can take lessons together.”

He looked at the ground, a sheepish expression on his face. “I didn’t want to just learn the basics. And I figured you’d think it was silly if I told you I wanted to be able to fight like the Man in Black. I know that’s impossible.”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek, loving him so much it made her feel like she’d swallowed the full moon in all its radiant glory.

“It’s only a little impossible, and I’m a Baba Yaga; you know that’s my specialty. Besides, you’ll have plenty of time to practice now. Lots and lots of time.”

And they walked down the hill to join Babs and their faithful dragon-dog and get on with the rest of their lives. Happily ever after—or at least, together, which was almost the same thing.

***

“You are looking very pleased with yourself, my dear,” the King said to the Queen after their visitors had taken their leave.

“Am I?” she asked, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip from a golden goblet. “Perhaps I am planning something particularly entertaining for when we retire to our private chambers this evening.”

The King raised his glass to her. “I look forward to discovering exactly what that is. But I suspect that smile you are trying to hide arises from some other source entirely. Not that I mind.”

He gazed at her fondly. “You know, you may fool the Baba Yaga and her new husband, and you may fool the members of our court, but you cannot fool me, who loves you well and knows you best. You intended for her to succeed all along, is that not so?”

Long eyelashes fluttered down to hide amethyst eyes, but a tiny smile lingered on the Queen’s perfect lips. “I shall never admit to such a thing,” she said, placing one hand over his. “But even I know that true love is an extraordinary and wondrous miracle, hard to find and difficult to hold on to. Once you have achieved that impossible task, surely all the rest are merely very difficult.”

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WICKEDLY POWERFUL

Available February 2016

The early morning fog blanketed the area surrounding the fire tower, stippling the windows with condensation and cloaking the ground below in mystery. Even the twittering of the birds was muffled, as if the world itself had fallen away behind the mist.

To Sam Corbett, perched on a stool in the tower with his coffee mug gripped between tense fingers, the fog looked like smoke and brought back nightmares.

Eventually, he set down the cooling coffee and turned his back to the windows, doing push-ups and crunches and working with the free weights until he had an excuse for the sweat on his brow and the tremors in his hands, and the sun had burned away the fog and welcomed in a bright new day.

The radio crackled around the time he was going into service, and Tiny’s voice from down below gave him a head’s up to expect a scout troop within the hour. Sam scowled, feeling the scar tissue pulling at the skin on the left side of his face. He hated having people invade the tower; it was
his
space,
his
sanctuary. But of course, it wasn’t, not really. It was a job. And visitors were part of the job. Few of them stayed long anyway, after they’d met him.

At about nine-thirty, Sam heard the clatter of feet outside, along with the usual pre-adolescent griping about the absurd number of stairs that had to be climbed to reach the top of the tower. He grabbed his Yankees cap, a souvenir of a long-ago trip to the Big Apple—a place far, far away from these woods in the Black Mountains of Wyoming, both geographically and spiritually—and tugged it down low over his forehead. The shadow it cast didn’t so much hide as soften the effect of his disfigurement. For Sam, this fire tower was as close as he could get to hiding, and as evidenced by the gangly figures currently wandering around the catwalk outside, it wasn’t close enough.

Sam went out the door and greeted Dennis, the scout leader, and the two women with him, probably mothers to one or another of the shouting, laughing boys they were attempting to herd. He had met Dennis before, but the moms were new, and didn’t do a very good job of covering up their shock at the sight of his face.

“Hey, Sam,” Dennis said cheerfully. The scoutmaster was a thin, energetic man who ran the general store in the nearest town. He happily made up boxes of groceries and necessities for Sam and had them delivered to the tower so Sam didn’t have to come into town as often; the two men got along well. “This is Claire and Felicia. They’re helping me out today. Ladies, this is Sam Corbett. He’s manning the fire tower this season; it’s his second year here, so he’s practically an old pro.”

“Hello,” Sam said. He didn’t say much these days, not liking the permanent raspiness of his voice, damaged by the smoke he’d inhaled at the same time his face had been burned. He’d give the boys the tour, but Dennis would do most of the talking. The gregarious store owner didn’t mind, and it made things easier for everyone.

“Hi,” Felicia said, looking at the view instead of at him. She was a little plump, and still trying to catch her breath from the climb. “Thanks for having the boys here. I can’t believe anyone lives up in this tower for four months. Don’t you get
lonely? I’d never be able to stand it.”

Sam shrugged. “I get more visitors than you’d think,” he said. There was no point in adding that he preferred the solitude; loneliness was a constant companion, no matter where he lived. “And someone needs to watch for fires. I’m happy to do it.”

Claire, the other mother, had been studying him unobtrusively, eyes hidden behind big designer sunglasses. She was blonde and pretty, and stood a little too close for comfort. Sam had met her type before, and he had a bad feeling about what was coming.

Sure enough, she pulled off the glasses and stared at him more openly. “Sam Corbett. Weren’t you one of the Hotshots crew they called in a few years ago to deal with that terrible forest fire up on the ridge? I remember reading about what happened.”

He kept his expression neutral through long practice. “Yes I was, ma’am. Shall we gather up the boys now?”

Felicia clapped her hands to her mouth. “Oh. Oh, that explains the . . . I mean, oh, dear, I’m sorry. For, you know, the fire and everything.” Tears sprang into her eyes and Sam’s stomach knotted. He didn’t know which reaction he hated worse—the voracious interest or the pity.

“Hazards of the job,” he said, as he always did. “I got off easier than some.”

Dennis rescued him, blowing a whistle to bring the scouts over for their informative tour of the tower.

“Boys,” the scoutmaster said, “this is Mr. Corbett. He’s going to tell you all about his job as a fire spotter, and show you how he watches out for fires so he can keep the forest—and us—safe.”

“Do you have to run down all those stairs to put out the fires?” one skinny boy asked with a hint of awe. He was staying well back from the railing, unlike some of the others. Not everyone liked the heights up there, but they’d never bothered Sam. Heights didn’t scare him. Nothing scared him anymore. He’d already been through the worst and survived. More or less.

“He doesn’t put the fires out himself, stupid,” one of the other boys said with a sneer. “Real firemen do that. He just sits up here with a pair of binoculars and watches.”

“Now Tommy,” Dennis said, with the air of someone who has repeated himself so often, the response was automatic. “We don’t call anyone stupid, do we? And Mr. Corbett’s job is just as important as that of the people who actually put out the fires. In a way, he is a firefighter too.”

Sam tried not to grimace, hearing the echo of his own voice inside his head. That was the same thing he told himself every day. That the job he was doing was vital to the effort; that he was still doing his part, in the only way he still could. It was the only thing that kept him going.

The problem was, he didn’t really believe it, any more than that young scout did.

***

Sam showed the boys around the inside of the tower, and let them each take a turn looking out through the big binoculars in different directions. Most took their turns eagerly, almost hoping to be the one to spot a fire. He told himself not to be angry with the youngsters; to them the prospect of seeing actual flames was an abstract idea, an adventure, not a grim reality. But he could still feel his teeth clench and his shoulders tighten.

Peter, the smallest of the scouts, squinted seriously as he looked through the lens, then pointed out into the forest with one slightly grubby finger. “Mr. Corbett? Who lives down there in that little house?”

Dennis and Sam exchanged glances. There weren’t any residences in that quadrant, and the ranger station was too far away to be seen from the tower.

Sam held out his hand for the glasses. “Let me take a look so I can see what you’re talking about,” he said, expecting something like a large, vaguely house-shaped boulder. Instead, once he’d adjusted the binoculars, he spotted the structure Peter was referring to—except that it wasn’t a house, exactly, more like a modern gypsy caravan on wheels, parked in a clearing in the forest.

“Huh,” he said. “Just somebody camping, I guess.”
Or someone who had wandered into the woods and gotten lost. That happened occasionally too.
Out of habit, he swung the glasses around to check out the surrounding area, and felt his hands grow clammy at the sight of a column of gray and white smoke, shooting up less than a mile from where the caravan stood.

Dragging a harsh breath in through scarred lungs, he turned to Dennis and said quietly, “You need to take the boys down now. Right now.”

Dennis’s eyes widened but he didn’t ask any questions, just called the scouts and the two moms together, had them say a quick thank-you to Sam, and hustled them out the door and down the stairs. As soon as the last pair of sneakers was on the top step, Sam ran over to the two-way radio.

“Dispatch, come in,” he said. “It’s Sam. I’ve got a smoke.” He quickly relayed the coordinates, as well as the information that there might be a civilian in harm’s way.

The dispatcher called it in, sending the first response team on their way, then switched back to Sam and asked a few more questions about what he’d seen.

“So, this caravan you spotted,” the dispatcher said. “Did you see anyone near it?”

“Nope,” Sam said. “Whoever it was could have been inside, or out hiking.”
Or just maybe, setting a fire.

They’d had too many fires already this season . . . some caused by a series of fluke lightning storms, but there had a been a couple that no one had been able to explain
.
No sign of campers being careless with their campfires, or any indication that some moron with a cigarette had decided to go for a walk in the woods. Just fires, when there shouldn’t have been any. They’d been lucky so far and Sam had spotted them all while they were still easily controlled. But sooner or later, they were going to run out of luck.

In Sam’s experience, you always did.