Changeling Justice

by Frank Hurt

  Cooper wore a dark green apron and stood over a propane grill with tongs in one hand and a half-consumed bottle of Coors Light in the other. He was talking to a broad-shouldered man with a dark, wavy mullet, but he stopped mid-story to greet the new arrival. “Ember! I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it.”

  “Right. Sorry about that. Some things came up at work.”

  “Where do you work?” The man next to Cooper asked.

  “I’m a massage therapist. At the Magic City Spa, downtown.” She casually raised the bottle to her lips and took a sip of the bitter liquid.

  “Ray-J, this is the woman I was telling you about.” Cooper gestured at Ember.

  “Oh, the one from the plane! I should’ve guessed from your accent.” The man’s hand shot out. “Ray Johnson. This shithead insists on calling me Ray-J.”

  “Doesn’t he look like a Ray-J? I mean, look at that fucking haircut! He’s growing it out for his album cover photo.” Cooper mockingly snapped his tongs over Ray’s shoulder.

  Ember shook the man’s hand. “So, you’re a musician, Ray?”

  “I only sing in Coop’s fantasies. Nah, I’m a fireman here in Minot. This asshat’s just jealous of my magnificent ‘do.”

  Jolene pointed at Ember’s purse. “I think you’re ringing.”

  Ember hadn’t heard her cell phone’s chime. “So, I am. Please excuse me one moment.” She dug out the embassy-provided phone as she walked away from the crowd to a quieter corner of Cooper’s backyard. Beneath a golden willow, she flipped the phone open. “Ember speaking.”

  “Emberly darling, I haven’t heard from you all week. I thought perhaps your mobile had gone missing, or you’d forgotten our number.”

  Ember sighed, “Hello, Mum. I’m sorry I haven’t called. It’s been a busy week.”

  “I’m sure you’re much too busy to call home. Your father was busy, too, but he found time to post his daughter a case of Marmite as you’d asked. How are things with my little girl?”

  “Mum, I’m at a friend’s house now, meeting people. Maybe I could call you back tomorrow?”

  “Emberly, since when have you friends? When did this happen?”

  “I’m going to hang up now. I’ll call you back later, I promise.”

  “Your father and I shall wait with bated breath until then.”

  “Kisses to you and Daddy.”

  As she tucked her phone back into her purse, she noticed a black bird perched on a branch above. A blink confirmed her suspicion: it was the changeling spy. She resisted the impulse to throw her beer at the crow. This is getting bloody ridiculous, spying on me even in social settings. I can’t wait to see your face when I take you down someday.

  The evening was spent laughing and exchanging stories. Mostly, Ember just smiled and listened. She marveled at how unpretentious Cooper’s friends were. They could veer onto the vulgar side at times, but even that had a certain charm, she found. Many of his friends were civil servants like him: police, firemen, paramedics. There was a camaraderie and familiarity among them which Ember admired.

  As twilight set in, Cooper lit a fire pit in the backyard, and the crowd assembled plastic lawn chairs in a circle around the dancing flames.

  “Did you see my bike yet?” Cooper asked her when the crowd had begun to thin, sometime after 10:00. “It’s in the garage.”

  She followed him in there, leaving the rest of the guests in the backyard as they shared work stories.

  “Isn’t she a beaut?” Cooper pulled a stitched canvas cover off the black-and-silver motorcycle. “Do you ride?”

  Ember recognized the Harley-Davidson logo on the fuel tank and was reminded of a similar conversation she had recently with Josette. “Oh goodness, no. I’d bloody well destroy the motorbike and probably myself. I have a terrible sense of balance. Honestly, it’s amazing that I can even walk upright. I might be the missing link with primates, you know.”

  Cooper grinned. His eyes were glassy, and his spirit was high. The man played host to his friends that night, plying them with beverages and food prepared from his grill. He obviously loved every moment of it. “Say, how’s your project coming along?”

  “My project?”

  “Yeah, your family tree project. The genealogy research.”

  “Oh, right. It’s been going brilliantly, thanks.” Ember nodded. Her cheeks were sore from smiling so much throughout the evening. A thought sprang into her consciousness then. “Actually, I did run into a snag. I have a distant relative whose name I came across in my research, but I can’t find any more information on him. He lived in Minot, around the turn of the century.”

  “Maybe I can help.” Cooper seemed eager. “I am a detective, after all.”

  She thought of the database queries she performed on her computer in the office earlier in the week. With her access restricted, she came up empty.

  “I haven’t been able to find his death certificate, nor anything about his life for that matter.” She shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. “But I wouldn’t want to be a bother. It’s not that important.”

  “It wouldn’t be a bother at all. I can pull death certificates for anyone in the state of North Dakota. If that doesn’t work, I can broaden the search nationwide. Just give me a name, and I’ll get you whatever info I can find on him.”

  “Really, you could do that? His name was Billy Colton. That’s all I know about him.”

  Cooper pulled a notepad and ink pen from his left chest pocket. He clicked the pen and scribbled. “Billy Colton. Got it. I’ll call you with anything I find.”

  “You’re such a dear. Thank you for helping me. And thank you for having me over tonight. Your friends are all so nice.” Her gratitude was sincere.

  A ringtone emitted from her purse again. Ember shook her head and smirked. “Wow, you’re good. I didn’t even see you dial me.”

  Cooper chuckled and squeezed her upper arm. “I’ll let you take that call. I’ll be back at the fire pit. Don’t you dare take off without saying goodbye.”

  She flipped open the embassy phone, but the ringing didn’t stop. It rang again before she realized that it was coming from the other phone in her purse.

  Looking around to verify she was alone in the garage, she finally answered.

  “Ember, we need to talk. Right now.” The anxiety in Wallace’s voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

  “What’s wrong?” She hissed into the burner phone. “Wallace, are you okay? It must be four or five in the morning there.”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about. I’ve been making some inquiries, planning our next move. This thing…it’s big, Ember. You’re in danger. I’m getting you out of there.”

  21

  Do Right to All Manner of People

  From the first time she met Wallace, he always reminded her of a character straight out of a Louis L’Amour western. He was consistently calm to the point of being stoic, a man of few words while commanding respect by his mere presence.

  A few years later, the movie that would become her all-time favorite was released. The actor Sam Elliott was one of the stars of Tombstone, and the way he played the part of the lawman Virgil Earp practically mirrored the persona of Wallace Livingstone. As many times as she watched that film, Ember couldn’t see it without imagining her mentor as that famous brother to Wyatt Earp.

  So, it was all the more unnerving to hear the anxiety now percolating in her former partner’s voice. “Are you somewhere safe right now?”

  Ember was standing in Cooper’s garage, alone. In the backyard, she could hear the host and his guests talking and laughing. She answered with a hushed volume. “I think so, yeah. You’re starting to freak me out. Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

  “Where to begin?” He murmured. “Since we last talked, I’ve done a lot of thinking, some inquiring, and discovered a few things that lead me to believe that your ghost is telling the truth. That there was—and persists—a ma
ssive conspiracy ongoing. One which must reach the highest levels, including the Druw High Council.”

  Ember sucked in air. “How can you be sure?”

  “In short, I cannot. At least not yet. Hear me out.” Wallace’s breath was rapid, shallow. “You have a set of skills which we know to be unique among Investigators: you can see the auras of Druw and NonDruw, and gauge the relative temperament of such. You see spells cast by others, not just your own like the rest of us do. You can see a changeling’s animal subform—while even Senior Investigators can barely sense the difference between Druw and NonDruw, Malvern and changeling. You can call on the deceased and have conversations with them—nobody else can even see the spirits, much less converse with them.”

  He continued, “You and I have accepted that you are unique, but what if you aren’t—or rather, wouldn’t be if the natural order was left unmanipulated? You weren’t the first highly-rated Investigator candidate I tested over the decades. You were simply the first that I could keep hidden. All the others—even ones I tried to hide after discovering you—all of those children died or disappeared completely.”

  Ember sat down on a stool in the garage. She felt the blood drain from her face as she realized what Wallace was piecing together.

  Wallace breathed into the phone. “If Inquisitors once existed, as Barnaby suggested, then they have been eliminated entirely. They represented a powerful balancing force to the Druw Council and somebody wanted to remove that balance. To do so, they would have needed to move against Inquisitors the world over, in tandem. They have further managed to rewrite history, to somehow suppress the memories from everyone. It’s not over, as they continue to eliminate potential Inquisitors before they have a chance to develop their skills.”

  “If this is all true,” Wallace continued, “Then the full force of this global conspiracy would do anything to remove any threats to their order that they discover. That means you, Ember. That means me as well. That means anyone who knows about your powers. Anyone who is helping you. We can guess that these people would also do anything they can to hurt you, including targeting your family and anyone who you care about.”

  Ember held her head in her hands now. She whispered into the cell phone. “Then this goes way, way beyond the Director of Wellness and some changeling henchmen. So, you’re saying even some High Council members may be party to this?”

  “I’m saying all of the Council members might be, Ember.” He breathed a weary sigh. “We can’t be sure who to trust. It might be only you and me, for that matter.”

  “There are some who I met here—the families of the disabled changelings—who have been helping me. I haven’t told them any more than I’ve needed to, but they’ve got skin in the game, too. They’re hurting under this regime, and I need to help them.”

  “Do you care about these people, Ember?”

  “I do.”

  “Then think about how involving them puts them at risk. They can be used to get to you.”

  Ember thought of the Schmitts. She thought of Maxim and Marta, the ten-year-old twin offspring of Arnie and Stephanie. She closed her eyes and recalled the mirth in their laughter as they chased the family dog through the trees. Ember whispered, “I can’t abandon them, Wallace. I won’t.”

  Wallace breathed into the phone for some seconds before he quietly responded. “I can’t be there to help you, Ember. I’m more useful trying to pry from my end, within the Council. I have a few Investigator candidates who I trust, but none of them are ready yet. It will be months before I can send help to you.”

  “Until then, I will do what I can, alone.”

  “It might be wiser to keep a low profile,” the man suggested. “To just focus on the census audit and keep away from the Mandaree Incident until we can know how deep this thing goes, until we have more suspects and we can find more people we can trust.”

  “These changelings don’t have that much time, Wallace. I’ve seen the shape they are in. The ones who aren’t suicidal are hanging on by a thread. Substance abuse, terrible health problems. After nine years of fighting their afflictions, they’re starting to slip away.”

  “We have to think beyond them, Ember. This is much bigger than the lives of ten changelings.”

  Ember leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “I know you’re right. I know there’s a big picture here to consider. But if we are willing to abandon justice for these people—for their families—then what is the point of all this? What’s the point of pledging to the Investigator’s Creed, if the line ‘I will do right to all manner of people’ is just a comforting piece of poetry?”

  Wallace breathed into the phone. “I was afraid you would say that. You’ve always had an intensity for justice that borders on the obsessive. Maybe that, too, is a quality among Inquisitors.”

  “Maybe. What should I do next, boss?”

  “I’ve thought of that, too. I think the best suspect we have right now is Elton Higginbotham. We need to find out what he is hiding, and why. We can’t interrogate him directly, though, as he is likely just a lieutenant to those who have infiltrated the highest levels of the Council. We need to come at him sideways. See if this…Deference Spell…can be countered, in case he tries to hit you with it again.”

  “I’ll talk to Barnaby.”

  “That was going to be my suggestion, yes.” Wallace was breathing more evenly now. “Please be careful. We can’t know who will turn on you if they find out what you really are.”

  Ember felt goosebumps at that pronouncement. Then the words flowed from her even as the thought formed. “Wallace, you knew I would refuse to back down.”

  “I’d hoped.”

  She disconnected the call and started walking home in the dark. Ember was halfway to her apartment when she realized she hadn’t said goodbye to Cooper.

  She paced impatiently within the unlit foyer of St. Leo’s Church, watching out the window for her ride. Ember called Alarik to come pick her up for another meeting with her “contact.” He sounded like he had been sleeping. She hoped he didn’t fall back asleep after they talked.

  The return to her apartment building had been quick, as she ran the entire way. More than once, she stumbled on uneven sidewalks, made more harrowing by the uneven distribution of street lights. She assumed the changeling spy would be following her, so she needed to make a show of returning to her apartment building.

  She fetched a flashlight and her heavier jacket from Number 302. She walked past the elevator to the stairwell which led to the basement and its hidden tunnel. Ember was only passing aware of the light peeking from beneath the door of her neighbor’s apartment. Anderle, are you, too, sleepless at two in the morning?

  She shook her head, dismissing the distraction. The sleep patterns of her mystery neighbor had no place in her consciousness, especially not when she was still trying to process what Wallace had told her.

  Finally, the familiar Super Duty rumbled up to the curb. Ember hurried from the church, climbing up into the cab before the door to the church had even swung shut. “What took you so long?”

  “Seriously?” Alarik gaped. “You wake me up at one in the morning, tell me that you need a ride to Surrey ‘with immediate effect,’ and then you have the gall to ask me what took so long?”

  “Can we just drive, please?”

  He frowned at her but pulled the shift lever into Drive.

  She knew she should apologize to him, that he was doing her a favor. Ember thought of Barnaby’s warning, of how the life of an Inquisitor is a solo existence. She began to understand why. Her obsession with the pursuit of justice far superseded any friendships. If this is the price, I will gladly pay it. She tried to convince herself that she really meant it, too.

  “I need to meet this contact of yours,” Alarik said as he turned off Highway 2 into Surrey. It was the first either of them had spoken during the drive.

  “Now isn’t a great time, Rik.” Ember’s blonde hair shook. “I can’t expect you to und
erstand, but I need you to wait in the pickup. Oh, and I may be a little longer this time.”

  Alarik grumbled. “Whatever you say, Miss Daisy.”

  She didn’t understand his reference, nor did she care. Her body cried for sleep, but she was buzzing with adrenaline. The Malvern woman focused on her task, to the exclusion of everything else. Having sent Barnaby to rest, she would need to call upon him again, and that would cost mana. Holding the inevitably irritated apparition at bay would exhaust her further.

  The yellow beam from her flashlight led the way as she walked across the graves in the Brethren Cemetery. She found Barnaby Harrison’s headstone and was reaching for it when she saw movement in her periphery.

  Instinctively, Ember clicked her flashlight off, reversing it in her grip to use as a weapon. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the movement became pronounced. A glimmering, transparent blue shape walked the edge of the cemetery, approaching her.

  “The little girl…returns. Has she finished with her…temper tantrum, at last?”

  “Barnaby?” Ember gasped. “How did you…how are you here? I…I sent you away. I released you. I sent you to rest.”

  His sandpaper laugh echoed in her skull. “So, you did. And I shall, when justice for my murderer has been served. You no longer hold sway over me.”

  “You can…you can choose not to return when I release you?” Ember felt sick to her stomach. “I didn’t know.”

  “Indeed, you did not. Simply shocking, how ignorant you are. You do not even know what you do not know.”

  “I’m holding up my end of the deal. I’ve got a detective looking into Billy Colton.”

  “Very good, little girl.” The spirit paced a circle around Ember. “This is why you are visiting me? A status report?”

  “No. No, not entirely.” She zipped up her jacket and hugged herself. The ghost’s close presence made the night air even colder. “It seems that there is a conspiracy of some sort. Potential Inquisitors are being eliminated before they can become a problem to this upside-down order. There are suspicions that the parties involved include members of the Druw High Council.”