Changeling Justice

by Frank Hurt

  “Hello,” Ember waved cheerfully. “I’m looking for Katrina Berg. Would you two happen to be her parents?”

  “Eh?” Herman asked.

  “She’s asking if we know Katrina Berg.” The old woman approached with effort. She shouted at her husband, “This young lady thinks we’re her parents!”

  “I’m sorry,” Ember pulled the satchel from her shoulder and extricated her notepad. “I might have the wrong address.”

  “You’ve got the right address,” the woman said as she limped to Herman’s side. She reached a hand over to his shoulder for support. “At least, you would have if you were visiting five years ago.”

  The old man moved the shears to his other hand, away from his wife. “Eh?”

  The woman breathed in, then shouted, “I’m telling her that the Bergs don’t live here anymore!”

  “Do you have any idea where they moved to?”

  The woman shook her head. “I don’t, sorry. I think Fargo? Or was it Grand Forks. I don’t know. They’d already moved before we bought this place. I do remember that they had a daughter though. She stopped by once, right after we closed on the house. Said she was in town visiting classmates and had to see the family house, for sentimental reasons. She was so young, maybe your age. She was very pretty, too, like you.”

  “Thank you,” Ember smiled, though she was crestfallen. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  “Eh?”

  The woman just shook her head at her husband. She smiled back at Ember. “Would you like some iced tea? It’s so hot today, isn’t it? We really shouldn’t be in the garden when it’s so hot, but it’s good exercise, weeding.”

  “I have a long way to drive, so I can’t stay. That’s very sweet of you, though. Thank you for offering.” Ember looked over the backyard and gestured. She spoke loudly, so Herman would hear. “You keep an amazing yard. Absolutely gorgeous.”

  The man’s confused expression morphed into a smile. The wrinkles around his eyes merged as his lips turned up and he nodded.

  “I’ll be on my way. Thank you again for your help.” Ember waved at the kind couple. A butterfly fluttered past her face, and she blinked for just a moment. That was all she needed to see the mean-looking man, standing impossibly atop a birdhouse high above the vegetable garden. When her eyes opened, she saw plainly what she failed to detect before: the changeling crow.

  Blood drained from her face, and she stuttered in her gait. Ember quickly looked away, pretended not to notice the spy. How did he find me? Was he watching, listening the whole time?

  She walked hurriedly to the white Taurus and opened the passenger door before she realized she was getting into the wrong side. She cursed, got back out and went around to the driver’s door. Once inside, she hastily drove off.

  When she turned in to the gas station on the edge of town, Ember flipped the phone open and dialed Alarik. She locked the car’s doors and looked around, trying to find the spy. Semi-trucks and passenger vehicles with license plates from Manitoba, North Dakota, and Minnesota parked in front of the last convenience store on this side of the border. Twin flag poles held colors proudly: the Canadian maple leaf on one, the American stars-and-stripes on the other.

  “That was fast. Did you find her?”

  “No. She doesn’t live there anymore.” Ember spoke quickly. “I don’t know how, but one of the spies found me. The crow. He followed me, Rik.”

  “Shit. How could he have? We were so careful.”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now. He heard me say Katrina’s name. They know I’m not under the Deference Spell now.”

  “The deference…what? What are you talking about?”

  Ember shook her head, the phone slipping in her sweaty palm. “Forget I said that. It’s all moot now. I’ve got to fuel up. I’ll figure out what to do next. I’ll stop at that rest area on the way back, and call you when I get there.”

  “Maybe you should stay put,” Alarik suggested. “Anna and I can come get you. It might not be safe for you to be alone.”

  “I’m in a public place, with lots of people around. You’re safer staying away from me.” Ember bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. “I should have listened to Wallace and kept my head down. Why do I keep doing this?”

  “There’ll be time to kick yourself later. Let’s just focus on getting you back, safely.”

  “Right. Okay, petrol then I’ll be on my way. I’ll call you again in two hours.”

  She filled the tank of the car and paid with cash. She didn’t see the changeling spy but knew he couldn’t be far.

  The long drive back to Devils Lake gave her ample time to think. She considered calling Wallace, but there wasn’t anything he would be able to do for her. Ember knew that she was poison now, and the best thing she could do was distance herself from everyone else, lest they become tainted by association. She would need to find a place to hide until she could get a flight out of the Magic City, away from the clutches of Director Higginbotham and his cohorts.

  Is anywhere safe though? Barnaby had posited that a cover-up this significant had to rise to the highest levels of Druw society. He pointed to the High Council as being suspect. Wallace shared those suspicions. She would be driving through Surrey on the way back to Minot. Maybe it would be helpful to stop by the cemetery to consult with the deceased Inquisitor.

  She was startled out of her thoughts by a ringing in her purse. Ember shuffled blindly until she found the embassy-provided phone. The caller ID showed a familiar number. “Hello, Mum.”

  “Ember? Are you in a dance club? I can scarcely hear you over that racket.”

  “Oh, hang on.” Ember turned the radio off. Anna’s Shania Twain CD had been playing on loop for the entirety of the drive from Minot. By the third time she heard the song, “I Feel Like a Woman,” she found herself singing along. What she lacked in pitch, Ember made up for with volume.

  “Has your mobile been broken?” Benedette Wright asked.

  “No, it’s been working fine.”

  “Oh. Because you said you were going to call when you were with your supposed friends. That was two Fridays ago, darling.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry, Mummy. It’s been frantic here.”

  “I’m sure you’re busy. Your father tells me that the package arrived, according to the tracking number.”

  “It did, yesterday, yeah. Thank you, I meant to call to say that.” Ember signaled and turned right onto Highway 2. “I’m driving, so I can chat now.”

  Mother and daughter visited for the duration of the journey. The distraction helped whittle the miles away and kept Ember’s mind off her troubling situation.

  The sun was blindingly low on the horizon as she approached the end of the first leg of her return trip. The four-hour drive from Pembina to Minot was bisected almost perfectly by the Minnie H rest area east of the city of Devils Lake. A single steel pole pointed to the sky at the split entrance to the rest area. The American flag shared the metal staff with a blue North Dakota flag below it. Both standards whipped in the stiff prairie wind.

  The red-trimmed flat roof of the facility hung over the entrance to the building. Painted white and lined with large windows, the structure was placed in a widened section of median between the divided highway, allowing traffic to enter it from either direction of Highway 2.

  She took the car out of gear and parked in front of the building. Ember groaned with relief as her cramped legs stretched out of the open door. Her locks tugged at her scalp as they caught the fierce breeze. Her mother was still talking, telling her about Cynthia and her happy little family. She knew the inevitability of the next topic before it was even mentioned.

  “Do you remember Farqhar Cowie?” Benedette said. “He’s an Associate Analytic and such a handsome young man. He has a promising career in the bureaucracy.”

  Here it comes. Ember rolled her eyes as she walked the length of the sidewalk past a whitewashed picnic table. The only other vehicle in the parking l
ot was a station wagon, which was now leaving, turning onto the westbound lanes of the highway.

  “Emberly, you will be amazed to know that Farqhar is still single.”

  “That’s fascinating, Mum.” Ember couldn’t help but chuckle at her mother’s predictability.

  “Isn’t it though? You know, you should call him. I’m certain you two share common interests.”

  A wry riposte was just forming on her lips when a black bird fluttered into view. The crow landed on the concrete walkway directly in front of her. Ember blinked and saw a dark-haired man with his arms sleeved in tattoos.

  She turned on her heel just in time to see a second crow land on the picnic table she had just walked past. Goosebumps formed on her skin and she muttered, “Two crows.”

  “What was that, Emberly?”

  “I…I have to go now, Mum.” She kept her gaze locked on the picnic table. Her phone was already away from her face and folded shut when she said, “I love you.”

  Ember’s heartbeat pulsed deafeningly within her ears. Her mouth went dry, and her palms grew damp. She was acutely aware that she was alone against these foes. Desperately alone.

  The bird on the table grew, its feathers shrinking into pale skin partially concealed by a cotton tank shirt and torn blue jeans. Its beak became a nose, the beady eyes no less so but now migrating from the side of its face to the front, the dull yellow replaced with tar-colored human eyes. The glint they held was malice laid bare, with a toothy scowl to match.

  She didn’t notice the six-foot wingspan circling overhead, descending in a spiral until the vulture emitted its distinctive hiss.

  30

  What Would Wallace Do

  The changeling standing on the picnic bench shifted his weight. He’s going to launch himself at me.

  Ember quelled her panic. She dismissed the impulse to chastise herself for not being more careful, for not being more aware of her surroundings before she left the car. There would be time for that later. Hopefully. Think. What would Wallace do?

  His voice accompanied the answer that sprang into her mind. It couldn’t be clearer if her mentor was standing there right now. She even saw his grey, handlebar mustache twitch as the thoughts formed. Turn this threat into an opportunity.

  The plan formed in her head, in the course of two seconds: she would capture these belligerents, interrogate them, and then give them a Memory Wash that’ll keep them off balance for a week. More importantly, they won’t remember a thing.

  Ember’s inspired plan was the easy part; executing it would be difficult. She was still drained of mana from her encounter with Duncan. She had to use more traditional means to pull this trick off.

  She turned so that the other crow wouldn’t be behind her. He, too, had already shifted into his human form. They both had an abundance of tattoos covering their arms and neck. They weren’t gang symbols—at least not for any gang she was aware of. Both men were lean, sinewy. They had hungry, mean eyes fixed in glares. The men had the deep tans of someone who spent a lot of time outside, though with the pimpled complexions that comes from exposure to grease or other pore-clogging activities. They looked like brothers, or maybe cousins.

  She noticed something else: they were both nervous. I can use this.

  “Hang on,” she called out. The wind stole her words away, so she spoke louder, with confidence. “Hang on just a second. Tell me what this is about. I’m an Investigator here by authority of the Druw High Council. Cooperate and I will not harm you.” She shifted her weight onto one foot and put her left hand out. Her right hand formed a fist, ready to call on her mana just in case.

  For a moment, her ruse seemed to work. The greasy-haired man on the picnic table flashed an uncertain expression at his partner. Then he laughed nervously. The man on the sidewalk mistook the laugh and joined in, jeering at Ember.

  When the turkey buzzard landed on the hood of Anna’s Taurus, his talons made a terrible scratch. The noise surprised Ember, and she turned just enough to see its source. The bird’s six-foot wingspan was shrinking into the arms of a man, and long, dark hair remained on his angular head as feathers pulled into flesh.

  The changeling on the picnic table made his move. He bent his knees and placed a foot forward, on the edge of the wood table. The table betrayed his movement, as the old, whitewashed wood creaked in protest.

  It was just enough warning for the short, blonde Malvern to call on her mana. Even as she pulled upon her energy, felt it emerge from deep within her torso, she knew she only had enough for one shot. The power flowed up her shoulder, through her arm, and to her fist, which unfolded as she cast the containment net at her attacker.

  The glow of bright orange light erupted from Ember’s palm, racing to its target atop the table. The net expanded its gold weave, colliding with the man with enough force to take him off his feet. He was airborne for a moment, falling backward while the net closed in around him. His body made a heavy thud as it landed on dry dirt, padded only sparingly with clumps of dried brome.

  Suddenly, a horse kicked her. Twice: once in the back of her skull, and a second time in her face. At least, that’s what it felt like when one of the other changelings landed a fist to the back of her head, and when her face planted into the concrete walkway.

  The man rained kicks onto her torso, her arms as she brought them up to defend herself. Ember’s legs were watery when she tried to get up. She looked at the white sedan and thought only of escaping to it, locking herself in and driving off.

  She was disabused of that plan when her attacker gripped her blouse, ripping buttons from the red, collared shirt. I just bought that, you bloody arsehole.

  “Yes!” The man who was moments ago a buzzard hissed. “Oh, those are the fuckin’ titties I’ve been wanting to see. I’ve been watching this pretty little bitch for weeks, but seeing them up close is gonna be so much fuckin’ better than watching her change clothes through the window.”

  Ember felt green. She tasted blood, and her lip was swollen. Her ears rang, making it difficult to concentrate.

  “Shut the fuck up, Josh,” the man who leered above her grumbled. His hook nose vaguely resembled the sharp beak of his crow form. “We’re here to clean up your fucking mess, don’t forget. We wouldn’t have to do any of this if you would’ve done your job like you were supposed to.”

  Josh whined, “you know I had to check on the cook! I wasn’t gone long. How was I to know the stupid bitch would leave a party right after getting there? I thought I had a couple hours at least.”

  “Yeah, well, you can fucking explain that to Mister B when we bring her in.”

  “Think he’ll understand? I had a cook—”

  “You fucking dumbass, if you even mention the cook, Mister B will stick ya in the same grave as her. Now go check on Matty.”

  “You would’ve done the same thing, Doug. If it was your shift and you had—”

  “I said ‘go check on Matt!’ Looks like the bitch knocked him out.”

  Ember brought her trembling hand up to her chest, feeling the exposed skin. She found the carved coyote pendant and wrapped her fingers around it. In her dazed state, the simple reminder helped bring her some degree of calm. Need to focus. I have to get out of this.

  “Oh, what’s this?” Doug crouched over her, giving her a view up the hairy nostrils of his pimpled hook nose. “Are ya trying to be fucking modest, bitch?” A knife unfolded in his hand. “I’ll just cut that bra right off-a ya. It’s a long drive back to Minot, and Mister B can still quiz you so long as we don’t damage your fucking teeth.” He dragged the point of the knife lightly against her cleavage. The knife was sharp, as proven by the thin trail of carmine fluid it left in its wake.

  Ember sucked in air through clenched teeth as the pain burned from the fresh laceration. Her whole body trembled with adrenaline-enhanced anger. Use this.

  Doug’s ugly hook nose was just above her. The man was distracted by the contrast of crimson blood against her milk-white chest
. It didn’t take much effort for her to grab his greasy, jet-black hair.

  Ember pulled the man’s skull down abruptly, just as she lifted her head. She wrapped her teeth around that pimpled hook nose and clamped down harder than she ever had in her life. Cartilage snapped between her incisors, and a stranger’s blood rushed into her mouth.

  The changeling’s scream was an air horn, deafening and high. Doug pulled away, but Ember didn’t let go. He punched her. She clawed at his eyes. Hot blood pumped over her chin, flowing like something out of a horror show.

  One of his punches landed in her torso, knocking the wind out of her and forcing her to let go. She spat foul-tasting blood and wheezed, bent over on her side as she tried to catch her breath without inhaling Doug’s nose-blood.

  “You fucking bitch!” His scream was high and nasal now. His chin was drenched with blood, which continued to flow freely from his nose. His dirty, white tank was becoming saturated.

  Tires squealed near the entrance to the rest area, followed by the roar of an engine. Even with the wind rustling against it, the sound reached the changelings’ sensitive ears, though she couldn’t hear it.

  “What the fuck?” Doug gaped to the source of the noise. He backed away from Ember, staring at the approaching pickup as he shifted into his crow form. It took him only a moment to make the full transformation. His wings flapped furiously as he lifted off the ground.

  Ember sputtered and watched with confusion as the crow transformed once more: this time, into a cloud of black feathers and pink mist, splattered against the grill guard of a roaring pickup. The vehicle ripped parallel trenches through the lawn as it slid to a halt.

  “Doug! No!” Josh shouted. He jumped onto the picnic bench and began flapping his arms as he shifted. Long, dark feathers sprouted from his skin, his neck became thin and elongated, and his dirty jeans faded and shrunk into spindly claws. The turkey vulture ponderously flapped its wings and began to find air beneath them.