by Frank Hurt
She swallowed her pride. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Roseanne,” Ember said it as timidly as she could. She kept her feet in place, lest the sound of the tacky floor mat would sabotage her theatrical performance.
They didn’t say anything more to one another as Roseanne guided the Subaru into Minot. Ember blinked away a burning tear and chastised herself for being so weak, so susceptible. She could blame it on exhaustion, but there would be no excuse if she stumbled on this mission. There was no backup, either. She couldn’t trust anyone here—Wallace made that very clear to her. After being his protégé and partner for ten years, Ember was now truly alone.
Just take me to my hotel. Let me fall into bed. Let me sleep.
She had to shift her attention, to focus on something else lest the tears start flowing. She stared out the window and looked upon Minot, North Dakota. The Magic City. Population of 40,000, and home to the secret Druw Viceroyalty of North America. All the 2,000 or so Malverns and changelings which called North America home were centered around this innocent-looking town on the northern prairie in the center of the continent.
The street they drove on appeared to be “Broadway Street” and it was bustling with traffic and summer evening activity. They drove past several hotels. Each time they did, Ember felt her hopes get deflated a little more, as she fixated on turning in for the night.
Broadway passed over a dark, curving waterway—though the sign said “Mouse River,” it was labeled as the Souris River on maps Ember earlier studied in her packet. Another little mystery to unravel. Soon after, Roseanne turned left onto Central Avenue and into downtown Minot. They stopped in front of an old eight-story brick building which bore a vertical sign proclaiming it as “The Parker Suites.”
Ember silently groaned; she was expecting a hotel room, not the embassy building. “I don’t mean to whinge, but I was rather hoping to bathe and get some shut-eye before coming in to work.”
Roseanne grunted and parked the car. “I don’t know what a ‘winch’ means to you, but I was given orders to show you where you’ll be working. That is why you are here, isn’t it? This isn’t just a vacation for you I hope.”
Ember clenched her jaw and held her tongue.
Through glass doors they walked, entering a contemporary lobby with verdant foliage. Ember’s shoes carried residue of floormat soda, causing her soles to tear at the floor as she walked. The reception area was empty but for a young woman with bright hazel eyes, dark skin, and even darker hair sitting behind the front desk. “Welcome to the Magic City Spa—oooh, you must be Emberly! I’m Ami. Welcome to Minot.”
Ember smiled at the girl. “Just Ember is fine. It’s so nice to see a friendly face, thank you. You keep quite a lovely reception area, Ami.”
Ami beamed back at Ember. Her aura, Ember could see, was bright but thin; Ami was only half Druw. She would have been vetted to work in the public front of the spa but likely not allowed clearance to visit the embassy offices in the upper floors. Ember wondered what this bubbly young woman’s parents were like, whether it was her mother or her father who dared to challenge the age-old taboo of procreating with a NonDruw human.
“Moving right along with the tour,” Roseanne grumbled. She stood in one place and pointed over her shoulder. “Through that door is the chiropractor and massage therapy offices where you’ll be working as part of your public-facing job. The exercise equipment is in the 24-hour fitness center over there, and over this other way are the elevators which will take us to the upper floors of the building where the offices are. You’ll be assigned a key card to gain access to the elevators and the stairwell from the main floor. Everything from floors 2 through 8 along with the basement and sub-basement is off limits to NonDruw and any Druw lacking clearance.”
Roseanne proceeded to call the elevator with her key card. Just then, a neatly-dressed woman with dark, curly hair and espresso brown eyes came walking down the hall. She was holding a blue and white motorcycle helmet beneath her arm.
“I was just closing out the books for the day before heading home. Did I hear correctly that you’re my new massage therapist?” The woman smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Josette Hanson. I’m the office manager for the spa.”
“I’m Ember Wright, just landed and taking the tour through your lovely facilities now.” Ember shook Josette’s hand. The woman had an admirable iron grip. Hers was an authentic, confident handshake. This woman is no weakling, despite her lithe figure.
“Oh, I just love your accent! We get visitors from Malvern Hills from time to time, but not too often.” Josette’s aura matched her enthusiasm—and Ember could see that this one, too, was another half-Druw. “How do you like your new apartment? I set it up for you myself.”
“My apartment?”
Roseanne seemed irritated. She grumbled and said, “we haven’t been by the apartment yet. Tour first.”
Josette still clasped Ember’s hand. “But dear, you must be pooped! No offense, but you look like you haven’t slept in a day.”
Ember nearly whimpered when she admitted that she hadn’t. She shrugged and said, “Roseanne was given orders to give me the tour first.”
“Given orders? Really, Roseanne, would you stop hazing Ember, please, and get the poor girl to her apartment so she can get settled in? Can’t you see she’s exhausted? There will be plenty of time to show her around tomorrow.”
Then to Ember she said, “when you come in tomorrow, you be sure to stop by and see me. I’ll make sure you get situated with anything you need. I tried to make your new place cozy, but anything you need while you’re visiting us, just you let me know, ok?”
Ember felt like crying right then, hearing the sincerity in Josette’s voice. The office manager’s aura wasn’t as strong as a pure-blooded Druw’s, but her energy surged with empathy. Ember nodded and patted Josette’s hand. “Thank you so very much, Josette. I’ll be so delighted to work with you.”
The drive to the apartment building was just a few city blocks. Ember was too blustery-eyed to make more than a cursory note of the route she would be taking to work. She was likewise unobservant of the building she would be calling home for the next few months, but for the fact that it was three stories and her apartment was unfortunately on the top floor.
When Roseanne led her to an elevator, Ember said a silent prayer of thanks to whichever deity was listening. Though I’m so tired right now, I probably wouldn’t even have enough energy to spare for my stair-phobia.
Roseanne’s tour guide skills were on display once again as she stood on the threshold of apartment Number 302’s doorway and pointed. Some corner of Ember’s weary mind superimposed a flight attendant gesturing during their pre-flight checklist. “Kitchen. Living Room. Bedroom. Bathroom.”
The uninspired tour guide dropped a set of keys into Ember’s hand. “You’ve got a Honda Pilot in the parking lot. The license plate number is on the key ring. You have been provided a cell phone, which is on the kitchen table, along with your key card for the elevators at The Parker.” Roseanne stepped out of the apartment. “The Department of Investigation offices are on the third floor. You will be expected at eight o’clock, sharp. Unless you think that punctuality doesn’t apply to you.”
Roseanne didn’t wait for a response. The apartment door closed behind her and Ember was alone.
Ember blinked and rubbed her eyes. There was something troubling about Roseanne, and it wasn’t just her unfriendly demeanor. It was the woman’s aura. Ember had seen it at the airport and dismissed what she saw as merely a jet lag induced hallucination. She saw it again though, more clearly in the apartment just now when Roseanne was talking.
Typically, a person’s aura has a light shimmer to it, infused with colors that change depending on emotions and attitudes. Roseanne’s aura looked different; her aura looked like a shadow or a dark smudge was surrounding her entire body.
Ember clicked the deadbolt to the door. Only then did she notice her hand was trembling. That smudged
aura was no hallucination. What in the bloody hell did I just get myself into?
8
Conformity is Overrated
Ember’s nose awoke before the rest of her did. She was having an odd dream (as dreams so often are) that she was being chased down a flight of stairs. She tripped and tumbled, falling into a human-sized pie pan. Flour, sugar, and water were each poured over her and the Ember-pie was placed into an industrial oven.
She thought she was still dreaming when she caught the scent of baking bread. When her sight and the rest of her senses joined the realm of consciousness, though, she realized she was in her new apartment. The aroma of baking bread persisted.
Ember glanced at the clock—it was just past 4:30 am, which meant that she slept solidly for all of four hours. Recalling the unsettling sight of Roseanne’s blemished aura gave Ember an involuntary shudder. She held out hope that she was just hallucinating, just imagining that sight. She wasn’t convincing herself.
The subdued light was already starting to provide a hint of dawn’s pending arrival through her third-floor windows. Streetlights were still on and the rest of Minot seemed to be asleep.
She hadn’t unpacked before collapsing into her bed, so Ember dug through her luggage to find and slip into her black yoga pants, well-worn sweatshirt, and trusty running shoes. The familiar aroma of home wafted out from the Rimowa, as invisible stowaways only her nose could detect. She zipped the luggage shut, lest those molecules escape.
Stepping into the hallway, Ember glanced back at the number on her apartment door—302—and pulled the door shut behind her, careful not to disturb her neighbors who had the good sense to be sleeping at this hour.
The source of the baking scent was quickly discovered. The ground floor of her red brick apartment building featured two commercial properties: one was a dance studio, the other a bakery. “Sweet & Flour” the illuminated sign announced. Though the smaller signage in the window had not yet been swapped from “CLOSED,” workers were already inside getting donuts and muffins prepared.
Wallace warned that her mission could be potentially dangerous. Somehow, she didn’t think he was referring to the Sirens’ call of having such easy access to fresh baked goods.
Exploring downtown Minot on foot in the crisp, early morning air gave Ember an appreciation for the quiet, small town known as the Magic City. Most of the buildings were aged but cared for. Nothing was nearly so old as the typical buildings of her home country, but there was a similar sort of charm to them. There was history in this community. Upscale restaurants were interspersed with dive bars, professional offices, and light industrial businesses. A railroad ran along the river and beneath a bridge. The traffic lights flashed a cautionary yellow—she noted the signals differed from home in that respect, where the red and yellow lights were displayed simultaneously.
As she jogged, she found The Parker Building easily—it was one of the tallest buildings downtown, even though it was a mere eight stories in height. Her workplace was conveniently just a few short blocks from her apartment.
Further away from the downtown district, larger retail businesses, shopping malls, and suburbia-style houses appeared. Minot was a sprawling little urban forest, surrounded by farmland as far as she could see.
Traffic was beginning to increase by the time she neared the end of her route and found her way back. She noticed that far more drivers were in large pickup trucks and sport utility vehicles than what she observed in Great Britain. She began to understand why the streets were so wide, the garages so big.
In some ways, the Magic City resembled home—with constant reminders that it was anything but.
“You’re new.” The abrupt man who joined her in the elevator of the Parker Building had a nasal voice and pale skin. His chin was host to a pointy goatee, which only served to amplify his triangular face. “You’re the new investigator from England, sent to audit our census?”
Ember forced a smile. “Correct. I’m Ember Wright.”
The man glanced at Ember’s chest, flashed an insincere smile, and then looked away.
Ember felt her skin grow flush. Did this bloke just look at my boobs? She did what was socially expected: she pretended not to notice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Neal Page.” The man looked straight ahead at her reflection in the stainless-steel elevator doors. He didn’t even bother to make eye contact with her. The elevator hummed quietly and nothing more was said.
When the LED display illuminated “3” followed by an audible ping, Neal took a step forward. The doors hadn’t even fully opened before he exited and walked away.
Ember stood back a moment, attempting to make sense of the rude exchange. Neal couldn’t distance himself from her quickly enough, it seemed. She touched her nose to her shoulder and sniffed. I did shower this morning after my run, didn’t I?
“Good morning, how may I help you?”
Before Ember registered that it was her that the question was being directed to, the cheerful voice spoke again. “Oh, you must be Ember, right? Hey, I just realized that sounds like your full name, ‘Ember Wright.’ You’ve been expected. I’m Joy. Welcome to Minot, and welcome to the Department of Investigation.”
The energetic words streamed rapidly from a young changeling woman. Her perky, brown ponytail swished like a pendulum as she skittered around the receptionist desk. A steel filing cabinet was opened, papers were rustled, and a manila folder was produced.
“Ah. Yes. Good morning?” Ember hadn’t intended to frame her response as a question, but she was struck by the whirlwind of energy that this cheerful woman exuded, especially following the awkward interaction with Neal.
“Oh, what a cool accent! I wish I had one. You can tell most people who’re from ‘round here by how they talk, don’tcha know? Oh, you have some crumbs on your blouse. What a lovely top! I love bright colors, but I can’t wear synthetic fabrics.”
Ember stared at Joy for a moment as she processed the succession of syllables. She glanced down at herself and embarrassedly swept the remnants of lemon poppy seed muffin from her clothes. She had resisted only so long before she succumbed to the Sweet & Flour prior to leaving for work. She justified the freshly-baked treat as a reward for the miles she trod as most of Minot slept.
“It was worth it,” Ember muttered.
As the young changeling woman rifled through a cabinet, Ember closed her eyes and focused. Immediately, Joy’s aura shined brightly against the inside of Ember’s eyelids. It was a skill that Ember taught herself—one which allowed her to see beyond surface aura to reveal the animal form contained within a changeling.
Joy’s animal form was unusual: a small, furtive rodent. Ember didn’t know what species it was, and the Investigator in her couldn’t allow a mystery to exist. Yet, she could never reveal to anyone that she was able to see a Druw’s aura—much less the animal form hidden within changelings. To the extent of the combined knowledge of herself and Wallace, no living mage had this ability—except Ember.
“Pardon me for inquiring,” Ember said as she opened her eyes, “but are you a changeling?”
Joy grinned broadly. “Yep! How’d you guess? Oh, I suppose you had a fifty-fifty chance. It was either changeling or Malvern. Or I guess 33% since I could’ve been half Druw—but half-Druws aren’t allowed to work upstairs since they aren’t able to get the security clearance. So fifty-fifty chance. But yes, I’m a changeling—my animal form is a sugar glider.”
Ember got as far as opening her mouth before Joy continued, breathlessly. “I know what you’re gonna say, ‘oh my god, what’s a sugar glider?’ am I right? Well, I’ll tell ya. Sugar gliders are energetic little critters that act and look kind of like flying squirrels but they aren’t related to squirrels. They’re marsupials. Aussies, which is funny because I’ve never been down under. ‘Oz,’ I’ve heard it called, I guess because it’s so far away? I dunno. My parents weren’t at all surprised when I reached my Manifestation Day and ‘boop!�
�� I ended up changing into a tiny rodent. I guess you could say all the signs were there that I’d be a little different. But I don’t mind being different. In fact, I prefer it.”
Ember canted her head and chuckled. “Conformity is overrated.”
Joy’s eyes lit up. “I like that! Conformity is overrated. I’m gonna steal that line. I’m not asking to borrow it, I’m just sayin’ right up front, I’m stealing it. Done. Stolen.” She jangled a set of keys she retrieved from the cabinet, as though they were ceremonial bells. “There. Trademarked by Joy.”
Ember was still processing the flurry of statements as the changeling started walking. Joy was already five paces down the hall when she waved her hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew.”
Ember hastened to keep up with the bouncing ponytail, which led to the room where Neal had disappeared. It was a common area—a break room—within which four mages were gathered. Each had coffee cups in hand, in various stages of consumption.
“Hi, everyone. The new Associate Investigator has arrived. This is Ember Wright. She has the coolest accent.”
Ember once more forced a smile. She felt her neck flush as the attention of gathered strangers focused on her. Two of them were people she’d met. The other two were new to her. Not one face smiled back at her. “Good morning, everybody. It’ll be a pleasure to work with you, I’m sure.”
“So, I guess you met Neal in the elevator. And Roseanne picked you up from the airport.” Joy pointed with the manila folder in her hand. “So, there’s Jackie Roberts, the other Associate Investigator. And Duncan Heywood, the Senior Investigator—our supervisor in this department.”