Shapechanger's Birth

by Laer Carroll

  Mary and her little party said goodnight to Mr. Quillan who, with his employees, was cleaning up. They walked out back where the Major's horse was nibbling hay in the small stable attached to the tavern. The pony was soon hitched up to a light buggy and Barbara, Elizabeth, and the Major were clip clopping off.

  Travel at night in a big city was dangerous, but she had no fear for their safety. When she had first met the Major she had known the old man was dangerous even before she shook hands with him and probed him with her extrahuman senses. Tonight, from the gunpowder and gun-oil smell, she knew he carried a freshly loaded revolver in a holster under his coat, the butt pointing forward for quick access. No one would hurt his girls without getting badly hurt in the process.

  When the buggy turned a corner Mary walked slowly away. She had much to think about .

  The former arboretum was a favorite of hers. It was now a city park but the easier-managed exotic plants still survived under the care of the park's caretakers.

  For much of the last four months ago she had avoided it. A pimp had followed her here one night and tried to forcibly recruit Mary, being nasty enough about it that he triggered her temper. She had slashed off his head before she thought about the consequences. She had slaughtered pigs in her previous life and killed men in this one, so she should have anticipated the gush of blood. That thought did not make her feel better while she cleaned the blood off the dress she had been wearing.

  So this time she was determined to be less drastic in her discouragement. Though as the big man neared her she began to wonder if she would need discouragement at all.

  "Caroline? Caroline? It's me. Why did you take off again? You're sick."

  Mary had been viewing the night with her normal eyesight. She found the darkness restful and the patterns that the dim gaslights made on the water beautiful. But now she needed her extranatural eyesight and turned it on.

  The world around her quickly brightened as her pupils expanded to take up most of her exposed eyes. The night-sensing cells in the retina at the back of her eyes were already as sensitive as they could be but the color-sensing cells could work much more efficiently. Her esoteric body control made the changes needed to do that.

  It was as if time turned backward, to that time when day-vision and night-vision ruled equally and made the twilight eerily eye twisting. The world became a place in the land of faery, beautiful but unsettling to inhabit.

  The man was close now and was quite ordinary if taller than usual. He was dressed well but his body retained the muscularity of time spent laboring manually.

  "I'm not Caroline."

  He jerked to a halt and peered at her. He came closer and stopped, discouragement showing in his stance as he saw the truth of what she said.

  "Have you seen a woman about here tonight? She's very sick, but she wanders sometimes. "

  "I'm sorry, no."

  He paused, looked at her more closely, frowned. "Forgive me for saying so, but you shouldn't be here this late. Bad people sometimes come here."

  "Yes, you're right. I know it was thoughtless, but I had much to think about and habit brought me here. I'll go."

  "No, wait," he said as she turned to leave. He looked around the park, as if hope could let his eyesight pierce the darkness.

  He sighed. "I'll escort you home. Anywhere out at night is unsafe for a woman."

  Mary protested but he would have none of it. They walked for a time in silence, he obviously still worried about "Caroline."

  As they left the park Mary said, "Who's Caroline?"

  "What? Oh, a cousin."

  "Yes?"

  "I'm the only relative she has in the city. I look in on her occasionally. Damn it! I can't take care of her! I have my business to take care of!"

  As they walked through the now-deserted entertainment district she coaxed some details about himself from him. Connor Ambrose had been a stonemason's assistant, then a carpenter, now was a builder with his own company.

  They were most of the way through the entertainment district when Mary heard a sound from a side street. She stopped. Yes, there it was again.

  "Just a minute, Mr. Ambrose. Pardon me." She entered the side street and saw a figure curled against a wall, a young woman. She broke into a run, knelt beside her.

  She was pretty and painted like a streetwalker. Opening up her sense of smell, Mary scented the body odors of a man and semen and blood. She damped her sense of smell down to a normal level as she reached to examine the woman.

  "Caroline!" It was Connor Ambrose. He knelt down, made to grab the woman. Mary batted his hand aside.

  "Don't touch her until I've had a chance to find out what's wrong. You might hurt her worse."

  He jerked back, crossed his arms, and tucked his hands under his arms as if to capture them and prevent them from flying away .

  Mary laid her cool hand on the woman's brow and put her to sleep. Under her invisible esoteric hands it became clear that the woman had been raped, beaten, and stabbed. The knifeman had missed the heart. The wound was also not as deep as it might be. Had he been interrupted, scared off?

  One rib had been broken where it attached to the spine. Mary felt it with her magical fingers/tentacles/whatever they were. With her flesh hands she straightened the woman's body on the ground so that the end of the rib eased back into place.

  Then she let the tip of one esoteric hand form into a pad between the broken parts and "wash" the jagged ends, partially dissolving them. When she withdrew her invisible hand the bone returned to its solid form, like mud hardening as it dried out, and made a solid bond.

  Good. The seal was a little lumpy, but it was solid and the join was rounded with no edges that would damage the woman's insides as they moved against the bone.

  Mary turned to Ambrose. "I don't think there're any broken bones, but she has been beaten and her face cut up, maybe by a ring. She has also been stabbed, but the wound doesn't seem very deep."

  "My God. If I find out who did this— We need to get her to a hospital!" He looked wildly around. There was no one about at perhaps 1:30 in the morning, no transportation.

  "Let's get her to my place; it's five blocks over. Do you think you can carry her that far?"

  "Of course I can. But a hospital—"

  "Do you really want her in their care? The garda will have to do something about her if we take her to one." She gestured at the woman's made-up face and skimpy clothing, just barely visible to him in the dim light from the street.

  "Oh, God. They'll put her away."

  "She needs treatment now, and my place is near. How long do you think it would take to get her to a hospital?" The answer was obvious — hours, at this time of night.

  She let Ambrose gingerly gather up Caroline. He was very strong and lifted her without effort.

  By the time they reached the laundry he was showing the effects of the walk, however. At Mary's urging he gently laid Caroline down just inside the door and leaned over to catch his breath .

  "Put your coat over her and wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes. I need to fix up a place where I can take care of her wounds and clean her up."

  Mary went into the back room where, among other things, the people in the laundry ate their evening meal. She lit a couple of gas lamps and the burner in the makeshift stove, put water in the teakettle to boil. She laid out a few things that she would need, then went looking for scrap cloth. There was plenty of such in a laundry and she gathered what she needed.

  Two sheets went onto the table. After they were spread Mary laid a hand on them and extended one of her extranatural hands into them. In air, water, and earth her "hand" could not project more than about a foot from the tips of her fingers. However, extended into something alive or once alive, it had a greater reach, letting her dissolve all the microlife in the sheet.

  "Bring her in here," she said to the recumbent Ambrose. He jerked and sat up. He had been asleep or close to it. Poor man.

  She helped him get his
cousin to the table and they undressed the woman. He tried to avert his eyes but had only limited success. It was easier for him once Caroline was lying on the flat of her back on the table with the top sheet over her.

  Mary turned off the heat under the now-boiling water and used some of it to make tea. She gave him a cup and ordered him to sit in one of the chairs.

  "I'll be back. You just sit there. Caroline will be fine. Don't bother her."

  Mary went up to the third floor where she had made a little room for herself to sleep and study. She quickly exchanged the blue dress for an old one she wore while working and went back downstairs.

  Ambrose had pulled his chair close to the table and finished his tea. He was leaning his head on the table a couple of feet from Caroline's and was almost asleep.

  "I'm going to need all the space near the table," Mary said.

  He jerked his head up, confused, but moved the chair. "Can I help?"

  "I'll tell you if I need it. You just sit there."

  Mary took up a towel-size rag and sterilized it with her hands, then peeled the top sheet down to uncover the hurt woman's torso. She draped the rag over the woman's throat and upper shoulders and breasts. This left the stab wound exposed. Mary cleaned it with hot water and rags, then placed her fleshly hands on Caroline's belly and extended her esoteric hands inside the woman's body.

  She used her esoteric hands to clean and sterilize the wound and commanded the woman's body to encyst and eject foreign matter. This was dirt that had been on the blade or pushed into it when the woman had been stabbed, plus fragments of cloth. Next she cleaned the woman's vagina in a similar way, and commanded the woman's — Caroline's — body to kill any sperm that had migrated into the tubes that led to where eggs were released. There would be no pregnancy from this rape.

  Cleaning the various abrasions went quickly since Connor Ambrose was more than half asleep. She could do everything with her invisible esoteric hands rather than camouflaging her actions with swabs.

  Lastly she placed her hands in the woman's hair and extended her extranatural hands into the hair, cleaning and sterilizing the hair and the woman's scalp. Then she swept her "hands" downward, cleaning and sterilizing Caroline's entire body and the top and bottom sheets.

  She cleaned up the rest of the area and made herself a cup of tea. Sipping it she walked to Ambrose and put a hand on his shoulder, melded her esoteric hand with the cloth and then his skin, and did a quick diagnostic check of him. He was generally healthy, had a small cancer that his body could handle but which she killed anyway, beefed up his immune system, and squeezed his shoulder with her physical hand.

  "Wake up. It's done."

  He came groggily awake, shook his head, yawned. He creakily stood up and walked over to the table. He stood looking at her for a minute of two, looked at Mary.

  "She looks a lot better. I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

  Mary shrugged. "It was the Christian thing to do.

  "Now, I've got a bed upstairs. I'll need your help getting her up there."

  He was able to carry his cousin up the two flights of stairs without any problem, though he had to take it slow, feeling the invisible stair-steps with his feet before each step. They settled Caroline into Mary's bed and straightened up, looking down at her, then at each other.

  "I'll keep Caroline here for two or three days. She'll be fine; once I got the blood and dirt off I could tell that she wasn't hurt as bad as she looked.

  "I'd like you to come by here tomorrow night, say 8:00 o'clock?"

  He nodded.

  "You can see your cousin, she should be awake by then. And we can all talk about what to do next."

  He nodded again, still half-asleep.

  "I think you should sleep the rest of the night here...."

  He interrupted her. "I have to get to work tomorrow...." He grimaced, "I mean today."

  "If I make sure you don't oversleep, could you sleep here? I mean, I don't know where you live. By the time you get there you might not have time to sleep."

  It took little persuasion to make him accept a pallet on the first floor at the front of the building where the sunlight through the windows would wake him. She supplied him with a slop jar and a glass of water. He would wake and let himself out through the back door.

  She made similar arrangements by the bed occupied by Caroline and, undressing, laid herself down to sleep.

  She heard Connor Ambrose get up, use the slop jar, dress, and sneak out. By the time she heard the distant jolt of the back door closing she was up, refreshed, and had checked Caroline.

  She told Bridget first thing about Caroline being upstairs, but did not go into details, beyond saying that Caroline had been a bit sick and that Mary was taking care of her. Bridget had wanted to go up and see the woman, but Mary persuaded her not to, for fear (Mary said) of waking the sick woman.

  Bridget did not need much persuasion, given all the work that needed doing to get the laundry opened and working. She did go up at noontime to check on Caroline, but came back with the news that the sick woman was still sleeping.

  Mid-afternoon Mary made some soup and took it upstairs. She brought washing water and rags with her and cleaned the place where the stab wound had been and Caroline's crotch. The woman's body, as Mary had commanded the night before, had encysted and expelled any foreign matter. Most of it had dried and smeared the woman's body with an ugly yellow crust.

  Mary also scrubbed the sheets where any of the stuff had dripped. It was not much. Most of it had been stuck to Caroline's skin.

  When she was done Mary used one of her extrahuman hands to dry the sheets, then woke Caroline. The woman came to groggily and looked up at Mary.

  "Caroline? I'm Mary. I'm a friend of Connor's. You were hurt and we took care of you."

  The woman gasped and sat up, clutching the bedclothes to her naked body. She looked wildly around, calmed down as she saw the ordinary surroundings. She looked back at Mary.

  "What was your name again?"

  "Mary. Connor and I took care of you. You're going to stay here until you're well."

  Caroline lifted the sheet away from her body and looked down at the front of her body, where she had been stabbed. Mary had commanded her body to heal itself and only a scar showed. Caroline's echo of Mary's commands had been very strong, meaning that Caroline's body wisdom was also very strong and competent.

  "I was ..."

  "Yes. You were stabbed. But I have a doctor friend who's very good."

  Caroline's laugh was half sob. "He must be, to fix this." She dropped the sheet entirely and looked at the black curly hair at her groin. Tentatively she felt between her legs. Then she wrapped the sheet around herself again.

  "I don't hurt down there. I don't hurt anywhere."

  "Yes. And you won't have his baby, either. My doctor friend fixed that too."

  Caroline stared at Mary, but seemed to believe her.

  "In fact, Caroline, you will never get sick again."

  "Never?"

  "Not ever. My friend said your body was very strong, and she made it stronger."

  "Even cholera?" Cholera epidemics had more than once in living memory in Ireland decimated the country, and the threat of it inspired great fear.

  "Even cholera. Look, I know it's hard to believe. So don't think about it. Meanwhile, I want you to eat this soup. Do it as slowly as you have to, but eat all of it. Then I want you to sleep."

  "I have to go to the bathroom."

  Mary helped her stand and use the slop jar. Placing the top back on it, she set it within easy reach of the bed and left Caroline sitting in bed spooning up the soup.

  At 5:00 Bridget left for home, not wanting to be out after dark. Mary supervised the laundry till it closed at 7:00 and everyone went home. Then she remained downstairs doing some important cleaning jobs till Connor Ambrose came knocking on the door.

  The cousins had a tearful reunion and Mary left them to it.

  It was maybe a h
alf hour when Connor came back downstairs. He seemed troubled.

  "I don't know what to do with her. I've told her time and again she can come live with me. She won't hear of it. She has her pride. But she has no skills! I've told her I'll send her to some kind of school. She won't hear of that either."

  Mary said something noncommittal and stupid, but she didn't know the solution to his problem either — or Caroline's problem.

  "She can stay here for a few days. So don't worry about it now. Go home, get some rest. I can see you need it." And this was true, she could see, even without using her invisible esoteric hands to probe his body.

  He thanked her again and left. Mary went upstairs. Caroline seemed strong enough to climb the stairs, so Mary had her come down to the first floor. Then, since she had not eaten dinner as usual, she fixed her usual huge meal and something for Caroline.

  "So, how did you get in this fix, Caroline?"

  Mary had to coax the story from the woman but it wasn't too difficult, for Mary gave the woman's body an instruction to relax and not feel anxious.

  The woman's family had died in a boating accident several years ago. She had lived with distant relatives till about a year ago, passed from family to family, unwanted, especially after one of the men raped her.

  She had saved up a bit of money and come to Cork. Connor had put her up for a time but the situation chafed her. She had set out on her own, taking up the only profession open to her — prostitution.

  After working independently for a short time a pimp had recruited her, sweet-talking her until she gave in. It had not been too bad a life until he started sending her to customers who wanted her to do things that were painful.

  "They'd tie me up, and I never knew if I'd live through whatever they did to me. I complained. Lots. That was my big mistake." He had beaten her, more than once.

  Sometimes she had pretended to be sick, but that only worked for short times before her pimp forced her to return to the street.