Changeling

by Steve Feasey

  Trey puffed out his cheeks and waited.

  ‘And where is it that you want to go today?’

  Trey sighed. ‘Look, can we cut the pretence and stop all this I-have-no-idea-what-you-are-doing-here nonsense?’

  The demon stared at him for what seemed like an age until Trey began to squirm in his seat. Eventually the thing next to him blinked and shook its head, causing what little hair it had to brush against the plastic covering that lined the car’s roof. ‘Trey, I really do have no idea what you are doing here. Mr Charron contacted me from his office in London and asked if I would be kind enough to transport you wherever you wanted to go during your visit here in Canada, and to be on hand should you need me for anything. He has not provided me with any information pertaining to your trip or the reason for your visit.’

  A car horn sounded behind them. The creature shot its eyes towards the rear mirror to see the driver of the car gesticulating madly at him through the windscreen of a bright red sports car. The horn sounded again, and Trey could hear the man shouting. The giant turned its body around in the seat and glared at the other driver. The horn fell silent.

  ‘So, where do you want to go?’the demon asked, turning back to the teenager.

  Trey pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to his chaperone. ‘In a short while I’d like you to take me here. But first I’d like to go to a gift shop to buy a present.’The demon looked at the scrap of paper, nodded its head and put the car into gear.

  The house was set way back from the nearest road in a location that Trey guessed would politely be described as isolated – although bleak, desolate and godforsaken were words that also sprang to mind as they approached. The only way to get to the house was down a rutted path that led through high woods on both sides, and had it not been for the satellite navigation system in the car, they would never have found it. The track that they bounced along now was little more than two channelled grooves worn into the ground over the years by vehicles that had gone back and forth along it. But the height of the grass growing on the raised central area, and the way that it brushed noisily against the underside of the four-by-four vehicle, suggested that the track was used infrequently. Trey glanced at the map on the satnav system, looking for any signs that there might be another road or track that led through the woods, but there didn’t appear to be one. He looked out of the window for signs of habitation in this remote backwoods location, and wondered why his uncle had picked a place like this to live in. And yet there was something about the wooded landscape that stirred the teenager, something that appealed to raw emotions and feelings buried deep down inside of him. He shuddered, dragging his attention away from the forest and focusing on the radio, switching the stations back and forth to try and locate one that was playing rock music.

  The bouncing and jostling of the car’s uneven progress along the track was beginning to make Trey feel queasy, and after a while he was forced to look up again. The woods were more dense now. Even at this time of day, with the sun high up in the morning sky, the trees’ thick overhead blanket denied light to the leafy carpet that had been laid down over the years, making the woods appear dark and uninviting. They seemed endless; the trees that filled the land on both sides of the track stretched on forever until they merged into a great murky darkness away in the distance.

  It wouldn’t do to get lost in there, Trey thought, imagining wandering around among the tall, dark trees, with no point of reference to find his way out.

  ‘There is something up ahead,’ Galroth said, pointing with its chin at something it had seen through the windscreen. Trey looked up just as the cabin came into view. Even from this distance, it was clear that the place was a ramshackle affair; the land surrounding the squat building was littered with abandoned cars and rusting machinery that the elements had attacked over the years, turning them into ghastly orange-brown effigies. The whole place had a neglected and slightly sinister appearance.

  ‘Looks lovely,’ Trey said as they pulled up in front of the building. He turned to look at the demon. ‘Thank you … for the lift.’

  ‘I will wait until I know that you are safe,’ the creature said.

  ‘There’s no need. I’ll just—’

  ‘I will wait until I know that you are safe.’

  Trey shrugged his shoulders. ‘Whatever.’ He climbed out of the car and grabbed his bag from the back seat. It was colder here. Despite the sun that drilled in low over the building’s roof and made Trey screw up his eyes, the temperature was markedly lower this far into the forest. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air infused with the rich, sweet smell of the pine trees off to his left. He could feel Galroth’s eyes on his back, so he stepped up on to the wooden porch, the grey wooden stairs giving a short, sharp groan as they took his weight. There was no sign of a doorbell or knocker, and Trey wondered if in fact anyone lived in the place. He balled his hand into a fist and banged on the wooden door, the sound echoing out around the clearing and causing a murder of crows to take to the air from a nearby tree, their angry cries signalling the group’s displeasure at being disturbed.

  The knock was answered by the barking of a small dog on the other side, and Trey could hear its paws scratching at the door.

  He turned round and nodded at the demon still sitting in the car to his rear. Galroth stared back at him, statue-like. It appeared that the dog was home alone. Trey’s heart sank, and he was about to return to the car when he heard the sound of a man’s voice.

  ‘Billy, shut your yammering or so help me, I’ll kick you so hard in the rear you’ll be wearing your butt as a new collar.’

  Trey stepped back a little from the door. Nervous again, his heart beat out an unrelenting staccato rhythm in his chest, and he breathed deeply, telling himself to calm down. The sound of numerous locks being turned and released was punctuated by streams of abuse hurled at the dog that, like Trey, seemed to be having a difficult time in controlling its excitement. When the door finally opened, an old man in a shabby dressing gown was revealed. The small terrier was running in tight, excited little circles in and around the old man’s slippered feet while looking up at Trey with a stupid grin on its face, its tongue hanging out on one side. Trey smiled up at the old man who seemed to be staring at a spot somewhere over the teenager’s left shoulder, his eyes tracking slightly from left and right. The old man appeared to be completely blind.

  ‘Well? Who’s there?’ the man asked eventually. ‘Is that you, Jurgen? Because if it is, I am not in the mood for any of your stupid—’

  ‘My name is Trey. I’m looking for a Mr Frank Laporte.’

  ‘What do you want with Frank?’ the old man barked. ‘And who the hell told you that he lived here with me?’

  ‘I got his address from a friend of mine,’ Trey said, leaning to one side and trying to get a better look inside the house over the man’s shoulder.

  ‘You only answered one of my questions, kid. And stop snooping inside at my house.’

  Trey stepped back and looked into the old man’s face again. The eyes were constantly moving; they skimmed back and forth across some invisible horizon, never stopping in their search for whatever it was they sought out in the darkness. The little dog had calmed down now and gingerly stepped out on to the porch to take a sniff at Trey’s trainers.

  ‘I’m from England, my name is—’

  ‘I didn’t ask you where the hell you came from and I don’t remember asking you for your life story. Now, if you don’t mind, I was in the middle of my afternoon nap. So if you’d be so kind as to leave my property, I’ll be sure to let Frank know that someone was looking for him when he gets back.’ The old man began to shut the door.

  ‘When are you expecting him back?’

  ‘What are you, the goddamn police? Go on, get lost.’ The old man waved one hand in Trey’s direction, continuing to close the door with the other.

  ‘I’m his nephew,’ Trey said quickly before the opening could be shut completely
.

  The old man stopped. Tight lines formed on his forehead as he took in this last piece of information. His lips moved, mouthing words that Trey could not catch, and when he turned in Trey’s direction again, his features were tight and drawn. He shook his head a little, as if unsure that he had heard correctly.

  ‘You’re Daniel and Elisabeth’s son?’

  The old man seemed to stare straight at him, his eyes stopping their erratic movements for a moment. After what seemed an age, he inclined his head to one side and closed his eyes. ‘What did you say your name was again?’

  ‘Trey … Trey Laporte.’

  The old man nodded at this. He stepped back a little, pushing the door fully open with one hand before holding the other out towards the teenager.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Trey Laporte. I’m your uncle Frank. I guess you’d better get your stuff out of that car and come in.’

  7

  Trey watched the old man shuffle away down the hallway. He turned and walked back to the car and Galroth, fishing his mobile phone from his pocket on the way. He frowned at the complete lack of bars on the signal strength indicator. He shouldn’t have been surprised; he was in the wilderness and he had the feeling that the nearest mobile phone mast could be a very long way away. In addition, his cursory glance at the inside of his uncle’s house suggested that he’d be lucky to find running water in the place, let alone a telephone. He put the phone back in his pocket and walked over to the car.

  ‘So that is your uncle,’ Galroth said with a nod towards the house.

  Trey nodded. ‘You can go now. Thank you for bringing me.’ He glanced back at the house, unable to believe that a blind man could live in such a place. ‘I think I’ll be staying here for a few days. My phone doesn’t work out here, so I need you to tell Lucien that I arrived safely and found my uncle.’

  The demon stared back at him. ‘You are certain that you do not want me to stay? My instructions were to—’

  ‘I’m giving you new instructions,’ Trey said with a firmness that he had not intended. He sighed and smiled back at the demon. ‘Thank you, Galroth. Really. I know you have my best interests at heart and that you are only obeying Lucien’s orders, but I’m fine.

  ‘Lucien and Tom will both be scratchy about you leaving me here, and Tom’ll no doubt bawl you out and tell you to come straight back. But I don’t want you to do that. I want you to tell Lucien that I am fine and remind him that he said that he would not interfere with my visit here. I’ll try and call him soon, but right now I want to spend some time with my family.’

  Trey looked back at the house. ‘I don’t know when I might be able to get to a phone, but I’m guessing that it’ll be in the next day or so.’

  The demon sighed. It fished inside its jacket pocket, took out a small box and opened the lid to reveal a number of small stones of a type that Trey had never seen before – each about the size of a man’s thumb. They were bright red and slightly translucent, and as Trey peered down at them he could see that the insides swirled and eddied, as if a living, gelatinous substance formed the inside of the crystals. Galroth took one of the stones between its thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the light and examining it for a second. Happy with whatever it saw, the nether-creature deftly took one end of the stone and wedged it firmly into the entrance to its ear. The creature gave a little push with the tip of its finger, paused and then began to jam the rest of it deep into the auditory cavity.

  Trey watched in horror. ‘I don’t think that’s a particularly wise thing to—’

  He stopped when he saw that the stone was now fully inside the creature’s ear. He was about to make some wisecrack remark when the demon took a deep, sharp breath in through its nostrils, holding it in its lungs. The creature then pushed hard at the stone, forcing the finger impossibly deep into the ear and ramming the stone deeper and deeper inside its skull. Trey gawped when he noticed that the demon’s long, bony digit was jammed in all the way up to the hilt, and guessed that the stone must be wedged smack bang in the centre of the creature’s head.

  Galroth finally released the breath it had been holding, and removed its finger. The demon waggled its jaw from side to side, opening and closing its mouth a couple of times as it did so. Then it turned to look at Trey, and handed him the other stone.

  ‘This one is for you,’ it said.

  Trey stared down at the stone before looking back at Galroth in horror. ‘If you think that I’m shoving this thing into my—’

  ‘No. You need not insert the stone.’ The demon’s eyes took in the teenager before it. ‘Besides, I doubt your human body would be capable of such a thing. But if you need me to come to you,’ the creature went on in a solemn voice, ‘you must hold this stone to your forehead and intone my name. I will hear you and be here as soon as I can. Try not to use this unless it is absolutely necessary. The energy that I would need to use to get here would be huge and I doubt that I could do it more than once. I would tell Lucien what is happening and that I have left you with this insurance should you need to use it.’

  Trey looked from the stone to the demon again, before curling his fingers around the gem and putting it in his jeans pocket. ‘Thank you, Galroth,’ he said. ‘Please tell Lucien that I’m …’ he paused, before adding, ‘tell him that I am thinking of him – him and the others. Please give them my love.’

  The demon blinked at him. Trey was about to say something else, but the nether-creature simply turned its head to look out of the front windscreen, closing the window on him. The car’s engine started and Galroth drove off.

  The teenager walked through the hallway, noting the faded prints on the walls, and how old the furniture looked. Trey guessed that the place hadn’t been decorated in some time, and the house had a musty, mildewed smell.

  The open door at the end of the passage led into the living room and he stepped inside. There were empty bottles everywhere. They were arranged in little clusters here and there, the majority of them surrounding the battered old armchair on the other side of the room from the doorway. A solitary bottle stood in the centre of a small table next to the chair, half-full of a golden liquid, no doubt waiting to join its comrades on the floor as soon as it had been emptied.

  He heard his uncle moving in another room somewhere behind him, and he stepped further into the room to wait for him. Everything appeared to have been left where it had been dropped and it was clear that his uncle received little, if any, domestic help despite his disability. There were signs that somebody had tried to tidy up recently – some dusting and vacuuming had been done and the bin next to his uncle’s chair had been emptied and a fresh liner inserted, but it appeared that Frank preferred to use the floor as the receptacle for his rubbish.

  It was the smell that bothered Trey. That mildewed smell of neglect was everywhere and it was laced with a healthy tinge of dog and stale booze. There was another smell woven in amongst these that Trey couldn’t quite put his finger on – an earthy smell that caused a strange string of unidentifiable emotions to stir inside Trey as he breathed it in.

  He moved towards the sofa, shoving a pile of dirty clothing out of the way to create a space to sit down. On the wall opposite was an old stain which suggested that food or drink might have been thrown against it at some point. Either that or Uncle Frank’s interior designer had a taste for the avant-garde.

  Trey idly wondered how anyone without the benefit of sight could live in a place like this. It was a death trap. He’d always understood that blind people needed to live in a structured and ordered environment to enable them to navigate their way around and locate the things that they needed. But this place was about as far away from that as could be imagined. He was deep in thought when the little terrier, Billy, hopped up on to his lap, giving him a start. The dog nuzzled its head beneath Trey’s hand, giving the teenager little option but to stroke it. When he looked down at the scruffy little creature he was rewarded with a frank and open stare, and that same doggy grin that
he’d been greeted with at the door.

  ‘You want something to drink?’ his uncle shouted from a room somewhere deep inside the house.

  Trey looked at the state of the abandoned cutlery and crockery that had been left at various points about the room and decided he wouldn’t risk it. ‘No thanks, I’m fine,’ he shouted back. He scratched the dog behind the ears and smiled as the little creature wagged a sorry stump of a tail.

  Frank shuffled into the room, his slippered feet hardly lifting from the floor as he ploughed them through the detritus in his way. He carried a cup of something hot in one hand, the other stretched out ahead of him. He stopped and turned at the beaten-up old chair and sank down into it. No sooner was the old man seated than Billy leaped down from Trey’s lap and secured a spot on Frank’s.

  ‘So,’ the old man said, letting the word hang in the air between them. He reached forward with his hand, seeking out the bottle on the table. He unscrewed the lid and poured a large measure of the clear, golden liquid into his cup. Trey watched, waiting for his uncle to continue, but once it became clear that that single utterance was as much as he was going to get right now, he tried to break the ice himself.

  ‘I bought you a present, but …’

  ‘Whatisit?’

  ‘I didn’t realize that you were—’

  ‘Whatisit?’

  Trey dug into the bag by his side and brought out the silver photo frame. He’d had the picture of his parents with his uncle enlarged and put into a frame. He looked at it now, unable to believe that the haggard thing opposite him was the same person who grinned back at him from the photograph.

  ‘It’s a picture. In a frame,’ he said in a small voice.

  ‘Great. Just what I need,’ the old man said. He motioned with a hand towards the fireplace. ‘Put it over there somewhere.’

  There was another uncomfortable silence in which Trey tried desperately to think of something to say.

  ‘It’s a nice place,’ he said, and regretted it the moment he did.