"That's not your mom," she whispered and tugged him until they reached the bottom of the stairwell. Marie cursed under her breath, then looked up toward the apartment. "We didn't lock the door." Once outside, she yanked against the handle of the apartment house door until it wedged itself in the doorjamb with a groan. "I guess that's the best we can do."
"Are you sure," he interrupted, his anger turning into confusion, "that's not my mom?"
"Wolfgang," Marie panted as she looked him in the eye, "I shoved him when closing the door. He didn't expect it. He lost his focus, went blank. He took his true form. That form is you."
"I don't follow." He got what she meant about "going blank." She'd used that term with him before. Lesser changelings used the phrase to refer to their "null" form, the shape their body uses when at rest, sleeping, or unconscious. The first form they take after birth is the one they use all their lives as their null form. But why would his mom's true form be him? Wouldn't her form be...her?
"He must not be that skilled yet in taking shapes. Listen," she said, then chose the carefullest of words after taking Wolfgang again by the hand and leading him quickly from the front step and onto the sidewalk where Pilgrim stood. Her blond hair danced on the wind between them, and she combed the locks behind an ear with her fingers. "That is a changeling, but it is not your mom. That changeling is you." She paused only briefly to let that sink in. "I know why he's here. If you think about it, I'm sure you know why, too. I think, if I were in his place, I'd do exactly what...anyway, he obviously knows that you are still alive..." She didn't explain anymore, but she didn't have to.
Kill. He had to kill Wolfgang, because there has never been a changeling who replaced someone permanently without murder. Born mostly featureless, a changeling can only do one shapeshift, at first: The form of a human baby, the first baby it touches. The null form. That leaves the changeling parent with a grisly task, one which, normally, they all too eagerly perform. Wolfgang knew that, everyone knew that. It was even a legend in the human world, or so his father had told him.
"Wait, am I hearing right?" Pilgrim asked with a snort. "Wolfgang's changeling? You mean, Lorelei's baby? He's here?"
Lorelei's baby, Wolfgang thought. Even Pilgrim knew him. "I never really thought about it before," he told Marie. "No one ever brought it up before."
"Well, he's bringing it up now," Marie said, pointing toward the apartment door.
Enraged, Wolfgang's doppelganger exploded through the door that was only wedged shut and almost ripped it from its hinges. "Go," she shouted, pointing to Pilgrim.
"No. I'm not leaving you." Sure, this changeling could crush his skull like an egg, but this was his problem, not Marie's. He leapt up Pilgrim and slid on while reaching for Marie to pull her up. "We'll fight him on Pilgrim, if he's stupid enough," he told her, gesturing with Vogelfang. "We can take on one changeling."
Then the doors on the block that had turned red burst open as if they had been holding back a flood, a rush of monsters pouring into the streets as quickly as the doorways would permit, trampling each other in the fever of war. Wolfgang's father pulled up in the same moment, the roar of the motorcycle drowned out by the screeching of the bloodthirsty crowd. "Wolfgang! Your mother?" his father shouted, though Wolfgang only knew because he had seen his approach and read his lips. Where was his mother? He had no idea. Though now he had to go back in and find her before MOON overwhelmed them. Was there enough time?
"Wolfgang?! Where are you going?" Marie screamed while Pilgrim whinnied after him. But the sounds all came to him faintly as he found himself running up the sidewalk back to the apartment building. He searched for a sign of his twin but saw none; he had disappeared from sight in the distraction and was lost.
Leaping up the stairs two and three at a time, Wolfgang ignored the straining of his heart and the tiredness of his legs, adrenaline forcing his body to work, to come together and outperform itself as he all too often demanded of it. The apartment door thrown wide, Wolfgang entered and called for his mother, searched every room starting with the kitchen, but saw no one. The snare gun that his doppelganger had tried to use laid on the ground and he knelt to pick it up and examine it as Marie came up the stairs.
It had been used before; that explained the whine it had made and the burning smell. "If he did use it on her, she could be anywhere," he said, looking up at Marie. Her aqua blue eyes, normally his source of inspiration, were uncharacteristically bowed with sorrow.
"Wolfgang, I'm sorry to say this, but we could look forever and not find her. He might have even left with her. She could even be held captive at MOON HQ." She bent down to rest a hand on his shoulder. He could feel her soft touch through her black glove and his hooded sweatshirt like a dove resting on his arm. "We've got to go."
"No..." Wolfgang did not want to hear this. He wasn't going to abandon her. She had not abandoned him. What kind of a son was he, if he just gave up on her? Especially when she needed him? "No, I can't. I can't go now."
"Yes," Marie said. "You have to. If you die here, your mom would never forgive me." With her other hand, she brushed her fingers against his cheek. He wasn't used to seeing Marie so expressive. Her sorrow had given way to fear. It reminded him of the feeling he got when he saw his mother cry for the first time. "I could never forgive myself. I'll take you to the Hindernis and get you through that door. Then come back, and help your father find your mom, okay?"
No, Wolfgang thought. It's not okay. Standing up, he took her hand and squeezed it gently. The air had cleared, and he could only smell her, so sweet and warm, like summer rain. "I can't do it, Marie. It's just wrong."
"She might already be dead, Wolfgang," Marie said quietly, reluctantly. "I'm sure she would want you to be safe."
He adjusted his glasses. "How can you be so sure I'll be safe in the human world?" he asked.
"I can't. But I'm sure your twin will keep looking for you here. He has no reason to think you could be in the human world. How would you get there?"
My twin...I wonder how much he knows about me and my...our...family, he thought, digesting that for a moment. "True," he said. "No one is stupid enough to go to the Hindernis. Everyone else just turns." Then they can go wherever they want, he thought. He took in a deep breath. "I'm not a coward, Marie," he added.
"I know you're not. No one thinks that, you know."
"I don't believe that for a minute." He took the discharged gun still in his hand and put it in his jeans to take with him. It was useless until charged again, but he didn't want anyone else getting their hands on it.
"I don't think that," she said. He knew she wanted him to believe that she cared. And maybe she did, for now. But he knew her well enough to know that he wasn't the only one she cared for. Still, it was no reason for him to be cruel.
"I know," he said. He allowed himself a weak smile for her benefit but he found that he couldn't keep it up. It flew from his face almost as fast as birds flew from the sky. "Okay. Let's go." She gave him as warm a hug as she'd ever given him, unexpectedly soft arms and breasts pressing against him.
Pilgrim's scream snapped them out of their private moment.
Wolfgang would know that scream anywhere, something between a screech and a roar, the horse's battle cry.
Grabbing his leather jacket that hung upon the coat rack, he slipped it on for protection against the crowd in the street and whatever they might find in the Hindernis. Then he took Marie's hand and headed for the balcony. After flinging open the balcony doors and stepping outside, he whistled for Pilgrim.
The huge horse surged through the hedges below, throwing off any and all challengers for the moment, but Wolfgang knew he couldn't hold the throng back for long. "Where's my dad?" Wolfgang shouted.
"Not sure," Pilgrim shouted back. "I've been kinda busy." Dad probably took off the moment he ordered Wolfgang to look for his mom. At least Wolfgang hoped so. After Pilgrim stomped the ground hard and invoked the glyph painted onto his thighs, a shock wave pushed
back all comers from sky, land, and below in a short radius. It wouldn't hold them, but it gave them something to think about for a moment or two. "Now or never," Pilgrim said. Marie leapt easily over the side and onto the horse's broad back. Wolfgang followed.
From his vantage point on top of Pilgrim's back as they rode down a main avenue, Wolfgang could see his father waiting far up ahead, straddling his motorcycle. They locked eyes and Dr. Schäfer's concern was palpable--there was no sign of Mrs. Schäfer, and the door, the one that had started this whole thing, had been surrounded by enemies, inaccessible, uninspected. "I've got to make sure he gets out okay," Wolfgang told his friends.
"Who?" Marie asked.
"My dad. You guys go. We'll meet up at Treptower park. I'll be there as soon as I can." Wolfgang sprung from Pilgrim to the street beside his father and, after climbing into the sidecar, ordered him to drive. With Vogelfang outstretched, he could clear a path before them, swiping away any foolish enough to challenge the oncoming bike, of which there were not many.
Seeing MOON occupy his neighborhood in the rear-view mirror made him feel helpless. Anger surged through him. Forget what his dad said. He loved his dad, but he wasn't always right. "I'm coming back, mom, I promise," he swore.
Meanwhile, in the apartment long behind them, the word HELP lay unnoticed on the entryway table, written backward as if in a mirror in a thin layer of dust.
☽☉✩
FROM THE SIDECAR OF THE black Touren-AWO, Wolfgang studied his father as he drove them from their dying neighborhood to SUN HQ. He wondered how long it would be until he saw him again, and tried to commit him to memory; the swarthy bluish skin, yellowing eyes, and grizzled jawline, this gnarled tree of a man. Wolfgang drew his hood tighter against the wind as brown, gray, and white streets laced with summer green rushed past, carried away by the same breeze. The day waning, it seemed unlikely that he would reach the Hindernis by nightfall, but he would not leave his father’s life to chance: He would see him safely to SUN HQ, and then meet up with Marie and Pilgrim. He owed him that much.
White knuckles peaked over the Touren’s grips, the rest of his father's hands lay hidden until he stretched them. The fingers undulated weakly, flexing in waves of nervousness or excitement. Wolfgang focused on the one hand he could see clearly, the right, and noticed that his father was sans wedding ring. That brought into stark relief another discrepancy too great to ignore: He was missing a finger.
Wolfgang instinctively sat back and pulled Vogelfang close. He stood up on the seat and flipped off backward, somersaulting to the pavement and raising Vogelfang at the ready to launch like a spear into this misshapen surrogate. The truth would not get away; whatever that was on the bike had some explaining to do. But the Touren, having lost its passenger, spun about and stopped.
“What have you done to my father?” shouted Wolfgang.
“You throw that, and I guess you’ll never know, huh?” The father surrogate slipped to the empty street from the bike which ticked slowly, contrasting with Wolfgang’s speeding heartbeat, which only grew faster. “I haven’t done anything. Yet.”
“And my mother?” Wolfgang said, rage building. “I bet you know where she is. Right?”
“Hey, she’s my mother. Don’t you think I care?”
It was out. It was his doppelganger, who was wasting no time in tearing his family apart to get to him.
“If you’ve hurt them, I’ll make you wish you were dead.”
His twin still in his father’s form stepped forward, too cocksure to even consider running. “I think you better worry about yourself.” The Spree flowed behind them, a bridge over it not far away. In Doors, bridges did not evoke the same fear as they did in other worlds for fae. In other worlds, fae magic could be weakened over water, but the water in Doors was magical itself, thus posing no problem for them. Where could Wolfgang make his escape, then? The motorcycle would have to be his way out. If he could injure his doppelganger just enough to make him think twice, that could afford him enough time to get away.
Dark spots of birds overhead swarmed lazily in the heat, perhaps enjoying the struggle they saw below. His doppelganger was far quicker and stronger than he, but Wolfgang managed to strike out once or twice to keep some distance, though none of the strikes landed. The changeling must have realized Wolfgang's plan for he kept backing him up toward the bridge, further and further away from the bike. Vogelfang was sharp and dangerous enough to keep most monsters at bay, and the doppelganger obviously wanted to get him within reach of his knife.
"We don't have to do this," Wolfgang shouted. "We can work together. Become allies."
"I hope I am never so pathetic that I would need you for an ally."
The doppelganger became more aggressive, slapping Vogelfang aside with his knife and a shout until he finally got the better of Wolfgang and grabbed Vogelfang with both hands, trusting his strength to win out. Wolfgang did not want to relinquish the weapon but feared he wasn't strong enough to keep it. Shoving Wolfgang hard against one of the bridge's lampposts with a resounding clang, the doppelganger claimed the artifact as his own and drew it back to strike. A concrete slab crumbled from stress beside them as a troll bigger than them both together launched itself up from under the bridge and clutched at the first person it saw: The changeling. Forgotten in surprise, Vogelfang fell away to the edge of the sidewalk and dangled precariously over the water.
The troll shrieked unintelligibly in rage; the changeling, still in the form of Wolfgang's father, struggled as it lifted him high over its head like a rag doll. With his back throbbing and still unable to move, Wolfgang could weakly make out through the haze of pain the form of swords or knives sticking from the troll's massive back, swords perhaps from those who had tried but failed to resist becoming a meal. The doppelganger reached for one of those.
"Don't! It's a trap," Wolfgang shouted, his senses returning enough to remember what he knew of Doors and its denizens. "Those swords are cursed." He was proven right as, moments later, the doppelganger drew forth one and returned it to the monster's chest, but the troll didn't react in pain; the doppelganger did. The swords would injure those who used them, not their intended victim. As the troll ambled away to carry the doppelganger back under the bridge, Wolfgang saw his chance to escape but his body, for long moments, would not respond. Finally finding his strength, he scrambled awkwardly to the motorcycle after pausing to scoop up Vogelfang.
But he wouldn't leave his doppelganger to his horrible fate. Mounting and revving the motorcycle, Wolfgang held Vogelfang in one hand and steered with the other. He jousted with the artifact against the fleeing troll, severing an arm at the elbow. The half-an-arm and the fae prize fell together into the river Spree, both sinking quickly out of sight.
"You're welcome," he muttered and sped off to rejoin his friends.
Chapter 4
JOHNNY MERRIWEATHER DID NOT BELIEVE in humans. That is, he did not have enough faith in them to trust them. He used to. But he had seen enough jealousy, greed, and betrayal to change his mind. True, he was a creature who did not know hunger or thirst--the restrictions of all animals--nor the need for companionship and how those needs could warp a person. But he did have feelings, no matter how much he kept them to himself, and he knew which side he was on. That MOON grew in record numbers of late only proved his point. Humans were the larvae of monsters, nothing more.
So what he saw in the street that afternoon from his vantage point high above as he left the Schäfers’ neighborhood did not entirely surprise him. Disgusted with Wolfgang, Johnny had joined the summer sky with every intention to report back to SUN HQ to get new orders. Disgusted with himself, he sought a distraction in the streets below to keep from reflecting on the regretful things he had said and done. He still believed that he was right, but he didn’t know how to fix the problem, how to take the neighborhood, a neighborhood that had belonged to SUN ever since there had been a SUN to claim it, back. The streets of Doors were a web, each highway, road, and al
ley circling out from the center, buildings filling the spaces in between. Movements of creatures and vehicles drew his eye, and one vehicle in particular, one which he had often admired, Dr. Schäfer’s black Touren-AWO, raced as if to a fire (when Johnny knew he was racing from one) back to HQ. But the driver was not Dr. Schäfer, so Johnny moved in closer for a better look: His halberd held straight up like a flagpole on his back, it was clearly Wolfgang.
Figures, Johnny thought. Would it kill him to die just once for what he believed in? He wondered where Wolfgang’s shadows were, Dapplegrim and Marie, when his thoughts were interrupted. Johnny’s sight from afar rivaled binoculars, and when he saw something floating in the river, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing was real. Doors had warped the minds of humans before, but not in the case of Wolfgang. Wolfgang was one of the most stable humans he had ever met, not that that was saying much. And here he was, stealing his father's motorbike and leaving his father to drown.
Johnny felt rage rush into the empty hole in his stomach. Dr. Schäfer was a good man and a SUN besides. As much as Johnny wanted to make Wolfgang pay, he could not let the doctor die alone in the river. Johnny was a force for retribution, not mercy, but that wouldn’t keep him from rescuing a desperate comrade. He summoned the gentlest of winds through his fingertips to collect the body from the river before the sirens could get to it and lifted it up in a stretcher made purely of air. The weather above him changed. A moment ago it was darkening as he called in his heart for Wolfgang’s blood, but now clouds hung in a gray haze, blocking out the sun, swaddling them and whatever watched nearby in a gray cloak of fog. Saved from the river, Dr. Schäfer laid coughing and sputtering on the cut stone sidewalk as Johnny knelt beside him.
“You okay, Doc?”
“I don’t know what happened,” Dr. Schäfer said, his voice struggling. “He’s…changed.”
Ghost of Doors (City of Doors) Page 4