Changeling Justice

by Frank Hurt

  “I trust Wallace. And others. I have friends who are helping.” She thought of the man waiting patiently in his pickup for her.

  “Perhaps. But likely not.” Barnaby turned away from her and waved a hand dismissively as he walked another lap around his grave. “Trusting others can be dangerous—just look at how that worked for me. It is a lonely existence, to be an Inquisitor.”

  “It could just be how things were for you, Barnaby. Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but you’re not exactly a people person.”

  His sandpaper laugh etched its texture into her brain. “Little girl, your naivety is worse than I would have guessed. You, like me, are obsessive in the quest for justice to the point of alienating everyone around you. Inquisitors live solo lives—it should be a rule, it is so self-evident. It is one of those laws of nature, like gravity or death.”

  Barnaby pointed a bony, periwinkle finger in her direction. “You are an Inquisitor; therefore, you can expect a lonely existence. Best wrap your pretty head around that fact and move forward.”

  Ember thought of the Schmitt family, of how welcoming they were toward her. “Maybe that’s how it once was, but I have friends, people who care about me, and I care about them.”

  He released another gritty laugh. “Behold, a little girl and her hubris! My mistake, but of course you are so special that you would be the one exception among millennia of Inquisitors. If you deny it long enough, you might someday convince yourself.” Barnaby leaned forward and growled. “But we both know the truth, do we not?”

  “I think I’m done talking to you. I’m tired, and I don’t need to hear condescending crap from a dead man.”

  “Is that supposed to bother me? I could hardly care less about your fragile ego, little girl. You will bear the truth of my warning irrespective of what you wish.”

  “Go, rest now, Barnaby Harrison. I’ve had enough of you.”

  She turned her back to him and walked away, not caring to watch the apparition fade.

  19

  With People Like You

  She updated Wallace by phone the next morning. Ember told him everything that had happened since they last spoke, along with her conversation with the ghost of Barnaby Harrison. He was incredulous at first—not because he didn’t believe her, but because what she was suggesting was just so much to process.

  “If I wouldn’t be seeing this with my own eyes, I’d have a grim time believing it was real, too.” Ember closed her eyes, remembering the sensation. “I felt the entity—whatever it is—within that changeling. It’s something bloody otherworldly. Alien, if you will.”

  The chair in Wallace’s office creaked as he rocked back and forth. He itemized aloud, attempting to organize his thoughts. “The victims from the Mandaree Incident and surrounding cover-up by Director Higginbotham. The alleged existence of Inquisitors and subsequent eradication. The probable conspiracy then to rewrite our history and somehow convince entire generations of Malverns and changelings that a whole subset of the Investigation Track never even existed. In your estimation, are these things all related?”

  “I don’t know.” Ember had been chewing on her lower lip while Wallace was speaking. Hearing the scale of events stated back to her was overwhelming. “I’m convinced that the Deference Spell and Higginbotham’s involvement with the afflicted Mandaree Incident changelings are intertwined. Whether that’s got anything to do with this bigger, historical conspiracy though…” She let her voice trail off.

  Her mentor exhaled into the phone. “One of these injustices is huge. The other is utterly epic. Altogether, it would invite an Investigator to lose his bloody mind.”

  “I’m right there with you, Wallace. So where do I begin? Shall I focus on trying to help the disabled changelings, somehow? Should I gather evidence to unmask Director Higginbotham? What would you suggest as my next course of action?”

  Wallace was silent long enough for Ember to glance at her burner phone, to be sure the call had not been disconnected. Finally, he answered. “No, I do not want you confronting this alone.”

  “Which part?”

  “All of it. Any of it.”

  “But Wallace, I can’t just stand by—”

  “You will do exactly that. Just for now. Let me think on this for a few days, to consult a couple individuals whom I trust.”

  “Alright. In the interim, I’ll interview the remaining changelings and—”

  “Negative. Ember, I’m ordering you to stand down until you receive further instructions from me. Is that understood?”

  “Wallace, each day we wait, people are suffering.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” He snapped. He breathed into the phone again, returning to a calmer tone. “Ember, it doesn’t do us any good to go into this half-cocked. You’ve only been in North Dakota for a bit over a week and you’ve already uncovered two possible conspiracies along with potentially deep corruption within the colonial government. Don’t you think it would be wise not to potter about until I’ve had a chance to gather information on my end?”

  She knew he was right to exercise caution, to be patient—neither which were her strong suits. “Fine. I’ll do as you instruct, Wallace. I’ll take no action until I hear otherwise from you.”

  For the rest of the week, Ember spent only part of her time in the closet-turned-office on the Third Floor of the Parker Building, going through the motions for the census audit while Dennis sat in the corner, working through his crossword puzzles and being a general hindrance to her sanity.

  Most of her time was spent working in the spa. If she had to kill time, she could at least help others with her massage therapy skills. Ember also benefitted from working with the healing Leystones on clients who needed it; the weekend’s excitement had exhausted her own energy so the secondary recharge brought relief.

  The co-workers at the Magic City Spa were much more fun to be around than the Deference Spelled Investigators upstairs. The spa’s manager, Josette, was delighted that Ember was working more hours for her. Ember knew this, because Josette said as much to her, at least twice per day.

  “We’ve just been so busy, and it’s hard to find good help.” Josette leaned in and lowered her voice since they were talking in a public area between the gym and chiropractor’s office. “Especially good Druwish help. Not enough qualified therapists with the security clearance to handle Leystones.”

  Ember smiled. “You’re quite welcome. You’ve created such a friendly environment here, and you’ve been so accommodating with my hours. In truth, I should be thanking you.”

  “Girlfriend, are you kidding me? You are doing me a favor by filling in. Though it would be nice if your babysitter didn’t have to tag along. He’s been sitting in the same corner of the lobby every day, like a big, dumb plant. If this keeps up, I think Ami is going to be tempted to start watering him along with the rest of the ferns in the reception area.”

  Ember chuckled. “Oh goodness, don’t do that! We don’t want him growing larger. I do hope Smiley isn’t bothering Ami too much. She’s a sweetheart, always so friendly. Though I think her memory isn’t great. I greet her in the morning when I arrive, but when I leave in the evening she seems to forget that we even said ‘hello’ to one another earlier.”

  Josette was only half-listening, as her attention was focused on an employee in the gym. “I’m sorry, will you excuse me, Ember? I’ve got a new personal trainer who seems more interested in flirting with the girls than doing his job. I need to go give him an earful.”

  “He doesn’t know what he’s in for!”

  “No, he doesn’t.” Josette marched into the gym and gestured at a young man in a tight t-shirt. He was in the middle of flexing his biceps in front of the wall mirror, in the line of sight of two attractive women on stair climbers.

  Ember just shook her head and chuckled to herself before going back to work.

  It was early on Thursday when Josette informed her that a client made an appointment with her for later
that morning. “She requested you by name, Ember. Only a few days working here, and you’re already gaining regulars. Good for you, lady.”

  Anna Schmitt appeared at the spa a few minutes before 11:00. “I decided I’d better take you up on your offer.”

  “I’m glad you did. Your neck and shoulders are still bothering you?”

  “And my lower back. I guess I’m a wreck.”

  Ember performed a deep-tissue massage, kneading Anna’s back muscles using her elbows. The changeling woman uttered satisfied moans.

  “You are a magic-worker,” Anna groaned into the horseshoe-shaped face cushion. “I mean literally. I think I might get addicted to this.”

  Ember applied more jojoba oil. She held the fluid in her palm for a few seconds to let it warm before dribbling the clear oil between her fingers over her client’s upper spine. “It’s not magic, just technique and a little empathy.” She transitioned her attention to Anna’s shoulders, working a series of widening circles with her thumbs, sliding easily over the warm oil. “Next time I visit your woodshop, I’ll observe your posture while you work at the bench and give you advice on how you can improve your ergonomics.”

  “That would be nice, having you visit us again. You know, you’re not half bad—I mean, for a snobby Malvern.”

  “Thanks. You and your family aren’t too bad either—for a bunch of hillbilly changelings.”

  Ember finished working out the knotted muscles of her client’s neck and shoulders. She blotted off any excess oils before providing Anna with a small glass of cucumber water and instructions to stretch and hydrate, lest the released lactic acid cause her muscles to cramp up again.

  “Seriously, Ember, you know what you’re doing. You made an impression on me. On my family. Most of all, on Rik.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say. I’m just doing my job though.”

  “No, not just. What you’re doing for us isn’t just out of a sense of duty. I don’t buy that. You know that Arnie’s subform is a coyote?”

  “I do know that, yeah. And so is Rik’s.”

  “I made something for you.” Anna pulled something out of her purse and placed it in Ember’s hand.

  It was a detailed wood carving of a coyote’s face. A leather string was weaved through it with a pewter clasp fixing the ends of the leather into a loop.

  “It’s a necklace,” Anna said. “But you don’t have to wear it. I just wanted to show you my appreciation for all that you are doing for Arnie. For all of us.”

  “You made this for me? That’s so sweet of you. It’s beautiful, Anna. Thank you. Not only will I wear this, but I’ll do so every day.” Ember slipped the necklace over her head, pulling her blonde hair through the loop so the leather could rest against her skin. The pewter clasp was slightly cold against the back of her neck, but the leather was smooth, its edges carefully beveled so it wouldn’t scratch the wearer’s skin.

  “It’s made of natural materials,” Anna explained. “As you probably know, when a changeling shifts from human to animal form, what they are wearing reappears when they return to human form—so long as those clothes and accessories are not made of synthetic materials like plastic. I know that doesn’t apply to you, but I wanted to make this necklace and pendant in the same fashion as I would for any of my people.”

  Ember held the pendant in her hand and looked down at the detail in the coyote’s face. Its ears were pointed forward, its expression one of amused curiosity. She recognized that face; Alarik’s subform looked the same whenever the man laughed. “You have amazing talent, Anna. I’m telling you, you need to go into business for yourself. You’d make gazillions of dollars.”

  Anna chuckled and shook her head. “If only the world was filled with people like you.”

  20

  Friday Night Piss-Up

  “Ten letters, third letter is R. It means, ‘happening by chance’.”

  “Listen, Smiley.” Ember squinted at the changeling sitting against the wall of her office. “I told you, if you insist on being in here while I’m working, you can at least have the courtesy to do your puzzles in silence.”

  Dennis grumbled. “Yeah, but I’m stuck on this one, and you always seem to know the answers.”

  “How about ‘annoyance’.”

  He counted on his fingers. “That’s only nine letters. And there’s no R in it.”

  The ringing of a phone saved her; it was the embassy-provided cell.

  She cleared her throat before answering. “Ember speaking.”

  “Hey-a Ember! Coop here.”

  “Coop? How did you get this number?”

  “Uh…you called me last Thursday, remember?” He chuckled. “I promise I’m not stalking you, I just simply added you to my phone’s contacts.”

  “Oh. Right. Of course.” Ember thought back to her conversation with him, how she had dialed his number after hanging up with her mother. I must’ve just used the same mobile. l really need to be more careful about which one I use.

  “I know this is last minute, but if you don’t have any plans tonight, would you like to come to a party at my place? It’ll just be some friends of mine.”

  “That sounds lovely. What’s the occasion?”

  “Most of my friends have to work over the holiday, so we’re celebrating the Fourth of July early.” Even over the phone, his grin was palpable. “It seems fitting to have at least one Redcoat present for Independence Day.”

  “I’m not sure I have any red coats, but I can belt out a brilliant rendition of ‘God Save the King’ if it helps the Yankee festivities.”

  Cooper laughed. “That’ll be perfect. There’ll be burgers and beer.”

  Ember smiled at the sound of his laughter. “With the week I’ve been having, I could use a proper Friday night piss-up.”

  Dennis had been frowning at his crossword puzzle, but his head lifted suddenly. He shot Ember a quizzical look.

  A couple seconds of silence followed on the phone, before Cooper said uncertainly, “What did you just say? Ember, I don’t know what kind of parties you’re used to attending, but this is just a barbecue. I don’t know what ‘pissing’ means over in the U.K. but over here it’s associated with urination.”

  Ember stammered, “No I…of course. No, piss-up just means a party where pints are served. Beer. Not…not what you just said.”

  “You might want to keep that phrase tucked away when you stop over tonight, okay?”

  “I’m so embarrassed.” She covered her eyes with her hand. “I’ll keep my lips zipped. Oh, but I don’t know what I should wear? And should I bring something?”

  Cooper chuckled. “It’s casual, don’t worry. Just bring your biting wit and charming personality.”

  “Brilliant. I’ll see if I remembered to pack that in my luggage.”

  He recited his street address and told her to arrive anytime after 6:00.

  By the time Ember flipped the phone shut, her flushed cheeks had just about returned to their normal hue.

  Across the small office, Dennis was mumbling at the crossword puzzle as he gnawed on his pencil.

  “Hey Smiley,” she called out. “The word is ‘fortuitous’.”

  It was just past 7:30 when Ember arrived at the driveway of Cooper Severson’s house. She walked from her apartment, across town to the residential development where he lived. His was a modest split-level home with a double garage, the overhead doors of which were both open as people milled about.

  When she was growing up back in Great Malvern, Ember’s parents hosted parties regularly. Those were dinner parties, garden parties, and cocktail parties where the intellectual and political elite of Druwish society mingled. Attendees were well-groomed and well-heeled. A caterer and wait staff were sometimes hired, and she and her sister Cynthia were expected to act the part of proper children of the upper class. When she was a child, she shared her older sister’s enthusiasm for the classy gatherings. As Ember developed her latent Investigator skills, however, she grew to dread
those charades and the superficiality of the people who attended them.

  Cooper’s get-together couldn’t have been more different from those upscale affairs. In his garage, two insulated plastic coolers sat open: one filled with bottles of beer, the other with cans of soda and bottled water. Crushed ice blanketed the contents of both, and guests served themselves. Laughter and conversation were accompanied by sounds coming from a satellite radio, which was tuned to a 90’s rock station.

  A tough-looking woman with tattoos on her forearms and a pierced nose was the first to greet her. The brunette pointed to the coolers. “You look thirsty. What can I get you: beer, soda?”

  “Oh, a beer would be brilliant, thank you.”

  The woman fished out a long-neck, dark bottle. Before she handed it to Ember, she twisted off the bottle cap. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jolene.”

  “Ember. Coop’s friend. Obviously.” She smiled nervously and scanned the faces in the garage as the frigid bottle dripped melted ice onto her fingers. “Thanks. Sorry, I don’t…really know anybody here. This is Coop’s place, right?”

  Jolene’s smile broadened. She slapped a hand on Ember’s shoulder, turning toward the assembled crowd. “Everyone!” Jolene had a voice that demanded attention, even with Nine Inch Nails blaring in the background. “This is Ember. Ember, this is everyone.”

  The strangers collectively raised their beverages toward Ember and simultaneously yelled, “Skol!” They couldn’t have been more synchronized in their greeting.

  “There you go, now we’re not strangers.” Jolene grinned. “Coop’s out back, grilling. You just got here? Oh, you’d better grab something to eat before it gets put away. Come on, I’ll walk you through the maze.”

  As Ember was led through the crowd, she made a mental note that all the individuals had the thin auras of NonDruws. Men slightly outnumbered women, and everyone was dressed casually. Several people greeted her as she meandered past.