by Raven Snow
It most certainly was, I thought, looking for Wyatt and Cooper. But I couldn’t focus on that just now. There was a changeling on the loose, and I wouldn’t feel right until I saw with my own eyes that my family was safe.
I ran over to them as soon as I caught a glimpse, putting my arms around them both. Wyatt sagged against me for a moment, relieved beyond words that we were all okay.
His finger fluttered on my skirt. “Nice dress.”
“It’s kind of for a special occasion.”
I looked into his eyes, and a tight little knot inside of me loosened. So what if the church was ruined and the priest and photographer missing. So what if Vic looked like a stubby, oversized banana. As long as Wyatt was here, it was going to be okay.
“And to think,” Aunt Jean said, “I was almost in the basement when it happened. If Charles hadn’t shooed me away when I tried to get more tape from the storage closet, I’d be dead now!”
I disappeared from Wyatt’s side and reappeared by Aunt Jean. “What did you say?”
She looked a little taken aback by my tone. “That I’d be—”
“No, the other part.”
“Well,” she said. “Charles went to get the tape for me. Luckily he’s so fast, or he wouldn’t be here either. Where is my nephew, anyway?”
Why wouldn’t Charles want Aunt Jean going in the basement? I turned back to the burning church, feeling a little numb. Only someone with something to hide would want to get rid of Aunt Jean for a few minutes.
After a scant second of thought, it all clicked in my head. Leaping into action, I ripped a chunk out of Vic’s dress, pressing it to my mouth and rushing towards the flames.
Wyatt caught me before I could go in, yelling my name over the roar of the fire.
“There are people in there!”
He let me go, ripping the ugly, yellow cloth in half and following me in. The smoke inside was thick and black, obscuring everything in front of me and clogging my throat.
I coughed through it, grabbing Wyatt’s hand and running in the direction of the basement—based on memory. A big chunk of wood from the bannister fell right in front of us and I gasped, breathing in toxic air. If we’d been two feet further….
But there were no times for possibilities. I hadn’t heard sirens, so I had to assume the fire department was too far away to help us. And this place was going down in a matter of minutes.
We stumbled down the stairs, running into each other as much as we ran into walls and debris. My tight hold on Wyatt’s hand was the only thing that kept us from getting separated, and the only thing that kept me sane and focused.
As we reached the bottom of the stairs, we heard screams on the other side of the door—faint but still present. I threw the door open, ignoring how the metal knob burned my hand.
Inside the room were four people: the priest, our photographer, and both of Wyatt’s brothers. I didn’t have time to linger on the latter, because they were all tied up, and the ceiling was going to give at any moment.
Pulling a couple pairs of scissors from the closet, we quickly got them out of their bindings, slashing with such speed and terror that it was a wonder we didn’t cut anyone.
Charles could stand on his own, helping out the small photographer who looked like he’d taken a beating. Grabbing Tom under the arm, Wyatt pulled him out of the room, looking back at me frantically to make sure I was still right behind him.
And I was, just moving a little bit slower from hauling my weight and the priest’s at the same time. He was coughing madly, his legs not quite working right. Neither were mine at that moment.
As we cleared the basement stairs, I heard the foundation crashing to the ground behind us. The wood groaned like it was in pain, and I could hear the screaming of heated metal.
As soon as we stumbled out the door, people were wrapping blankets around us and ushering us away from the burning building. Someone pressed a mask against my face, and it was pure ambrosia. I breathed in the oxygen with greedy pulls, wanting never to stop.
A couple EMTs were coming around to look at our burns. While one was busy with the priest, I looked at my hands and realized my ring was missing. I stood up from my seat and almost fell over from the head rush. I swayed slightly and sat back down, holding my head and trying to think of the last place I'd had it.
I remembered seeing it on my finger this morning when I was brushing my teeth. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to picture what I did next. I walked down the stairs and was intercepted by Tom. He shook my hand.
Oh, Harper, you got played with the oldest trick in the book.
That thought made me mad. And then, when I thought about it, I was livid. Two changelings had made away with my ring after destroying my wedding and trying to murder four people. I wasn't the kind of girl who could let that slide.
I got up and started limping to my car, but I quickly found my path blocked by my two real brother-in-laws. Charles' face was closed off, making it impossible to know what he was thinking. Tom, on the other hand, had tears streaking down his face.
He scooped me up into a big bear hug that made my ribs ache. Smelling strongly of smoke, he lifted me off my feet briefly, and the effect did not help with the dizziness.
"We owe you our lives," Charles said quietly. "Those...things got the jump on me in Paris; they learned about Tom soon after that."
Wyatt had come to stand by us about halfway through Charles' brief explanation. I raised my eyebrows at him despite the fact that I wasn't in a joking mood.
"Guess it wasn't just the stress talking, huh?"
"Why do I get the feeling you're gonna rub that in for a while?"
"Because you're a smart man, most of the time."
"So I suppose this victory is good enough for you?" A cold voice said behind me.
I spun, hand going up to my throat in surprise. Standing there like she'd never left, Gran glared at me. She was wearing her usual red robe, her face menacing and closed off from the world.
"These fae torment you for days, and you're going to let them get away?" Her eyes flickered to my empty finger. "They take from you too."
"No," Wyatt said grimly. "They aren't just going to get away."
In a surprising change of events, Wyatt was the one pulling me behind him as we got into a police cruiser. I sat there in awe as he angrily turned the key and roared off down the street. I'd never seen him so riled.
"Is it the engagement ring?"
He blinked at my words. "I can replace things, Harper. I can't replace my family. You especially." His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. "We're going to make sure these creatures never threaten our family again."
"Hell, yeah, we are!"
My baby knew how to give a speech. I was instantly inspired, my pain fading into the background as the thrill of the chase set in. Grinning over at Wyatt, I knew he felt it too. That was one of the reasons we worked so well together. We both suffered from the same crazy.
Of course, Wyatt was usually a little more practical in his crazy than I was. Both of us were still wheezing and burned, weak from our brush with fire. I was thinking that maybe we weren't up to fighting two supernatural beings.
Just as I was about to say something, Wyatt reached for the radio and called in backup. Much to my dismay, Kosher was the one that answered the call. Patiently waiting for the two of us to run out of insults to hurl at the other, Wyatt was silent until we both had to take a collective breath.
He filled Kosher in on the details, telling him to wait a couple minutes and then follow with Vic. He told him to stay back unless Wyatt called him in; he wanted to take them by himself if possible. Funny, I felt a little invisible in that moment. And was I the only one who thought pairing Vic and Kosher up was a bad idea? I didn't want my backup to be too busy making out to back me up.
Since Wyatt did the backup call, I reached out to Oliver to ask if he knew what car they left in. After a moment of digging around in the memories of my guests, he told m
e Aunt Jean saw them leave in the police van Wyatt had borrowed for the wedding. My fiancé’s lips went real thin at that, and I didn't envy the changelings their position.
We caught up with them just as they were crossing the city limits. After laughing at us, almost giving Wyatt an aneurism, they pulled over, throwing on the brakes and getting out of the car. Though they were still wearing their Tom and Charles suits, their expressions were so totally wrong. For one, the Charles one was smiling, grinning from ear-to-ear. An airplane passed over us, and Tom didn't even look up. It was a world gone mad.
"Look, Tom," Charles said, mocking. "It's Julia Hanes' granddaughter. In the flesh."
The way he said flesh had shivers rolling down my spine, and I wanted to take a step back, self-preservation kicking in. But if Wyatt was holding his ground, then I could too. Squaring my shoulders, I stared them down and hoped for Kosher to get there quickly.
The voices were strange too. I'd grown used to the way they perfectly imitated my brother-in-laws. Now, their voices were high and scratchy, like the sound an old computer makes when it crashes. It grated on the nerves, and mine were already frayed as it was.
I risked a sideways glance at Wyatt, wondering if he had a plan. Running after them without one was probably a stupid idea, but if we'd just let them go, they never would've been caught. How do you tell the police you're looking for someone who can take the shape of anyone? You can't without ending up in a plushy cell.
"You know my grandmother?"
My voice trembled a little bit at the end, but it was from anger rather than fear. Of course they knew my grandmother. Didn't everybody in the supernatural world? And if they really knew her, I was no longer confused as to why they tried to destroy my wedding. Sometimes, it really sucked being related to the wicked witch.
"Oh, yeah," the one like Tom said, smiling and showing way too much teeth. "You could say we're old friends."
"But we wouldn't," the other said, and they both broke out laughing.
Great. Of all the fae in the world, we had to get the two who thought they were hilarious. Or maybe all fae thought that. If that was true, I hoped this was our last adventure with them.
But not our last adventure ever.
In the distance, we heard sirens, and I felt a little better— emboldened even. Which was quite a reversal from how I usually felt when I heard sirens coming. The change was probably due to the fact that they weren't here to haul me away.
"We have backup on the way," Wyatt said coolly. "You two are never going to hurt anyone else again."
They cocked their heads at him, looking perplexed. The expressions on their faces weren't quite human, lacking emotion. Combining that lack of feeling with a human face was eerie. Like watching a dog walk on its hind legs or a door open all by itself.
"Of course we will," one of them said.
The other nodded enthusiastically. "It's in our nature."
I was growing oddly paranoid at their calmness. Surely they didn't want to end up in prison. I shifted from side to side, watching their movements closely and wondering why they weren't trying to escape. Wyatt wasn't armed except for his hand to hand fighting skills, and I doubted my magic would work against magical beings. It wasn't strong enough.
"Why did you take the form of Charles and Tom?" I asked. "Why them when it could've been anyone?"
"Why not them when it could have been anyone?" A giggle that had no real amusement rang out.
The other shrugged, grinning at his counterpart. "The two human brothers reminded me of ourselves. And then when we found their relation to Julia...." He shuddered in ecstasy. "Well, that was too good to pass up."
"Too good to pass up," Tom said again. "Just like this is."
All around me, I could feel a kind of magic. It was organic and otherworldly at the same time, like nothing I’d ever heard of and instantly familiar. It had to be the fae’s doing.
Wyatt turned on the two fae. "What did you do?"
"It's one of those old, tricky fae magics."
His brother waved his hand, and I started feeling sleepy. It was such an absurd feeling that I tried to shake it away, a little miffed at myself. I was under the thumb of two would-be killers; now wasn't the time for a nap.
I drifted over to Wyatt who seemed to be fighting to keep his eyes open as well. He squeezed my hand, saying something to me that I couldn't understand, the words coming slow and morphed like he was talking under water.
"We have to...stay...awake" was all that got through to me.
His words seemed right, but I couldn't think why just then. Every part of me wanted to sleep. I was very sure I wasn't supposed to though. Why couldn't I sleep?
Maybe it'd be okay to rest for a moment, I thought. My body swayed in the wind, my eyes closing for longer and opening less. The sun felt so good and warm on my skin. I figured I could stay in that spot forever. Just close my eyes and never open them.
I hit the ground a couple seconds later with Wyatt right behind me. The last thing I remembered was the heavy footsteps of Charles's boots as he walked over to us. I heard the soft click of a car door opening and then nothing.
Chapter Eleven
When I woke up, I was staring into my own eyes, looking at my own stubborn jaw line. For a moment I frowned, thinking it was a mirror. My hair looked just horrible. Admittedly, that was the least of my problems, but it gave me a moment of pause in my befuddled state.
The room was dark and unfinished. Cement was the only thing I could really make out in the dim light. There was a small, high up window, and I thought I could see something green through it. Likely a tree.
As for the state of the room, I'd probably been in worse, but I couldn't recall anything just then. The floors were filthy, smelling of things I'd rather not mention. The house tilted to the left above me, screaming of foundation problems and telling me I was in the basement.
My hand was cuffed to the water heater, which was little more than an ancient piece of scrap metal from what little I could see. The bracelet was a little tight, and the skin underneath it had been rubbed raw. I winced, thinking it looked like someone had been gnawing on it.
Looking back at myself, I realized my reflection was moving while I wasn't. Not to mention the me staring at me wasn't bound and didn't look like she'd met the business end of a fae's fist. That thought made my face ache, and I knew I had a spectacular black eye and fat lip. Curse my brother-in-law for having such big hands.
"Like my new suit?" the fae who had taken my form asked. "It's a little smaller than the last, but I think it'll be ten times as fun."
"They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." I sounded like a chain-smoker who hadn't had water in a week. The second part might have been true, because I didn't know how long I'd been down there.
The fae was wearing my disco clothes, too. The ones he stole. I seethed at seeing the powers of funk used for evil, and I didn't know which theft I was more pissed about—stealing my likeness or my clothes. I was equally fond of both.
"We were just going to leave town," the fae said. "Cut our losses and live to kill your grandmother another day." He shrugged. "But then you came after us, and it was just too good to pass up."
Straightening up, the fae did a little twirl in my body, and I narrowed my eyes. "Now, I get to roll around the town, causing mayhem and flaunting that cute little wig you have. Maybe I'll stop by and say hello to my nephew." Giggling, he put a hand to his mouth. "Oops. I guess that's son now."
My blood went cold. "If you lay one finger on Cooper, I'll kill you."
"Hard to do that when you're stuck in here." The fae deliberately played with my engagement ring, twisting it around on its finger.
"You'd be surprised at what I can do."
The fae stopped playing with the ring, giving me serious consideration for a moment. He smiled after a moment, smug. "I don't think so."
And then he rolled out the door in my skates, pausing to blow me a kiss. I heard him go up the
stairs, and I was surprised I didn't strain something from how intently I was listening. If I could just pick up the tiniest sound that Wyatt was alive....
But there was nothing. The light went out a few seconds after the fae left, the flickering, weak bulb finally giving up. If it hadn't been for Cooper, Wyatt, my grandma, and the rest of Waresville, I might have followed suit. But everyone was out there looking for Tom and Charles. Probably trying to find me, too. There was no telling what someone could do in my body, what doors might be open to them.
And what if my body wasn't the only one they were using? After all, there were two vacancies in Waresville right now, and I shuddered to think what someone could do with Wyatt's trustworthy face and golden boy reputation.
If I didn't take the threat against Cooper seriously (which I couldn't and stay sane), my worry also went out to Gran. Possibly ancient and slightly immortal, she could probably still be killed. Sure, she was a horrible relation, but I couldn't imagine my life without that grumpy old hag.
I breathed through my nose and tried to put all of that from my mind. I couldn't think of her or Wyatt or anybody right now if I was going to get out of here. The stakes were high, but I had to treat this like any other case. And that meant prioritizing.
Priority one: get myself out of this basement.
The handcuffs were just as sturdy as I remembered. An experimental tug did nothing but make a loud, metallic sound and rub my raw skin the wrong way, making me wince.
Reaching around with my other hand, I tried to find something that might help me escape. The things I touched brought tears to my eyes and bile to my mouth, but I gritted my teeth and kept feeling. Something sharp and metal to pick the lock would've been a godsend.
I didn't find anything like that, so I re-inspected the handcuff and the water heater. The latter wasn't going anywhere, stuck to the ground with more force than I could disrupt in my weak physical condition. The former, however, wasn't completely hopeless.
When I felt around the handcuff, I had a spark of inspiration. It wasn't exactly loose, but it wasn't tight around my wrist either.