by M Sawyer
Gravity seemed to look the other way as she crawled up the wall, hand and feet somehow adhering to the surface when she pulled herself up. It was easy, even fun, like scaling a tree trunk. She hung on the wall outside the nursery window and peered in. The crib rested against the wall under the window. A soft glow from a light in the hall poured into the room. The room was empty except for the infant goblin that lay still in the crib. She pressed a hand to the warm glass and felt the same electricity tingle in her hand as she slid the window open and slipped into the room, climbing over the crib and dropping silently to the floor. She listened to the even breathing of the parents and other children sleeping in their rooms. They hadn’t discovered the goblin yet.
She held the human child against her chest, enjoying his warmth. The walls bore textured wallpaper of tiny teddy bears riding rocking horses. A padded rocking chair stood still in the corner. Next to it stood a small bookshelf filled with colorful, slim volumes. A bundle of stuffed bears and circus animals sat atop the bookshelf, smiling with stitched mouths. Everything about the room was soft and safe. Innocent, unlike the dark, tangled forest. The contrast of the cozy nursery to the cruel woods was staggering. She wished she could stay there forever, hide in the closet like a secret, forbidden pet.
Somewhere down the hall, a mattress creaked. The Shadow’s heart leapt, and she instinctively tightened her hold on the child before remembering that he was no longer in danger, but she was.
She planted a soft kiss on the infant’s forehead and gently placed him in the crib on his back. For a moment, he lay alongside the still goblin baby. Though they were nearly the same size, the human child’s healthy glow overpowered the sickly green of the goblin. A guilty ache clenched her stomach. She thought of all the changeling parents who’d awaken to find an ill, ugly creature in the place of their healthy baby.
Footsteps in the hall. She scooped up the goblin child, climbed out the window, and slid down the wall.
When all traces of civilization had disappeared behind her, she paused to catch her breath. The goblin infant was cold in her arms; dead. The wretched thing had been too frail to survive the night. She’d have to get rid of the body. She could just leave it on the ground or under a bush and be rid of its revolting touch on her skin, but even this loathsome creature deserved better than that. It had no part in the evil of its kind. At least not yet. Gently placing the goblin on the ground, she dropped to her knees and sunk her hands into the soft earth, scooping soil into a pile until she’d dug a large-enough hole. After laying the goblin in the hole, she pushed the soil back, smoothed out the mound, then swept sticks and dead leaves over the spot to camouflage it. When she was finished, not even she could tell it was a grave.
At dawn, the goblins would wake to find her and the human missing. They’d know what she had done. The vengeful hunt would begin. Though she knew these woods as well as they did, she was outnumbered and no match for their brutality. No matter where she hid or how far she ran, they’d find her.
She did have one other option. She steeled herself, cradling her anger and hatred in her heart, and set off for the Claw Tree.
Her skin tingled. She neared the edge of the clearing where the goblins slept.
She bent down and closed her hand around a sharp, heavy rock.
She had no choice. They’d find her and kill her when they woke, and when they had the chance, they’d steal again. And again. The trail of broken families would continue. The woods would be filled with the echoing cries of stolen children. The cycle would never end.
She stepped into the clearing and struck each creature on the head, one by one.
The dull crack of rock on bone raised the hair on her arms. Some of them died in their sleep. Some didn’t. A few stirred, the thuds of the rock rousing them from sleep. The Shadow saw their glinting eyes flashing with anger or fear before the light in them went out with a swing of her arm.
Then the last, the goblin mother who only hours earlier had traded her ill baby for the human boy. When the Shadow reached her, the jagged stone in her hand dripping with blood, the goblin shrieked, wrapped her thin hands around the Shadow’s wrists. Pregnancy and delivery had left her weak. The Shadow was stronger. The goblin’s wide, dark eyes bored into the Shadow’s as they struggled.
No more children, the Shadow snarled. Ropey muscles in their arms popped and strained. I am the last.
The goblin’s dark, fearful eyes left the Shadow’s and drifted to the Claw Tree. Was she looking for the human baby? She opened her mouth to say something or call out, then her strength failed.
The sound of the rock echoed in the silent woods.
The Shadow stood and dropped the rock. Every limb shook. Her muscles ached. Her skin was slick with blood.
In only minutes, she’d done what the goblins had tried to prevent since they’d stolen across the ocean in the bellies of ships. The goblins were extinct. Only the last of the changeling children remained in the human world. Eventually, they’d be gone too.
The Shadow remained alone in the woods, beneath the ancient tree that had crossed the sea as a seed in the pocket of a goblin centuries before. Now she had only her vengeance, desire, and unfathomable loneliness.
Nestled in her bed of dead leaves, the Shadow wept. Her humanity could never be reclaimed, but she could still have what she had been denied. And she’d stop at nothing to get it.
Chapter 30
MELISSA HADN’T LEFT her room at all the previous day, at least not that Nolin had seen. Nolin had fallen asleep on the couch around five a.m. and woke just as the sun was coming up. She sat at the kitchen bar sipping hot, black coffee, willing the caffeine and bitterness to shock her awake. Normally, she didn’t like coffee, but she’d found some old instant granules in the cupboard and she was desperate. The coffee tasted stale and burnt, like a tea made with the char at the bottom of a burned frying pan. Subtle buzzing filled her head, but her eyes still slipped in and out of focus like an old movie projector. Sighing with frustration, she slid off the barstool, stumbled to the sink, and dumped the rest of the coffee down the drain.
She stared blearily out the window down the street, watching the way the opening leaves on the trees twitched in the morning breeze. A tall, slim figure in a tee shirt and shorts rounded the corner and jogged toward the house.
Drew.
She’d forgotten all about their plans to run that morning. Springing from the couch with energy she didn’t realize she had, she tore off her tee shirt and jeans and yanked on her running clothes. She jammed socks on her feet and stepped into her sneakers, then skittered down the hall to the front door, winding an elastic around her tangled hair.
A gasp burst from her as she stepped into the cold morning air. The thinnest dusting of frost glittered in the grass. Her breath puffed like steam. Normally, she liked the cold, but today it slipped between her clothes and skin like ice cubes sliding down her body. She drew her arms around herself and shivered, wondering whether she should have put on something warmer.
She glanced back up the street at the figure running toward her. He raised a gloved hand to wave. Her dry lips cracked into a small smile. She waved back, suddenly feeling a little less cold.
Drew was smiling as he slowed in front of the house. “Hey,” he said, “it’s freaking freezing out here. Do you need a jacket or something?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll warm right up,” Nolin said. She gave a violent shiver. “Let’s get going, though. I need to move.”
Drew’s eyebrows knit together in concern. He pulled the blue knit hat off his head, releasing a wild mop of dark hair that stood up in all directions. “Here, at least wear this until you do.”
Nolin took the hat and pulled it onto her own head. It was a little big, but that gave her plenty of room to stuff her hair into the end. She patted the odd lump, knowing she probably looked ridiculous, like an alien with a bulbous head. “Thanks.” She really did feel warmer.
“It looks good on you,” he said with a te
asing smile.
Nolin rolled her eyes, grinning back.
Drew shrugged and broke into a jog. Nolin fell into step beside him. Exhausted as she was, running in the fresh air felt good. More than anything, she was glad for the company.
“I found a trail we can try today,” he started. “I thought we could run to the top of one of those hills at the edge of town. There’s a nice lookout up there.”
Nolin nodded. She’d never been up there, but she’d run just about anywhere right then. The farther and faster, the better.
“I forgot to mention something yesterday,” Drew said. “I ran into that Max kid from school the other day, the one whose nose you broke? I haven’t talked to him since then, and I haven’t even seen him in years. You really did a number on him. His nose never did heal right; he looks like one of those squashy-faced cats now...” he laughed a little. Nolin even chuckled, then stopped when guilt twanged in her chest.
“I feel really bad about that,” she said.
“I know you do,” Drew said, “but it was a long time ago and there’s not much you can do about it now. We might as well laugh about it.”
“I’m sure he’s not laughing,” Nolin said bitterly.
“Ah, he’s fine. I’m sure it taught him not to bully people. Anyway, he turned out to be an okay guy. He works down at the grocery store in produce, helped me pick out the best bunch of asparagus in the place; he even brought out some fresher stuff from the back. I guess they taste better when they’re small...”
Nolin smiled and listened. She’d never met anyone who talked so much. It refreshed her as much as the cool spring air. People in her life were somber, intense, weighed down by lifetimes of trouble and pain. Drew was an untarnished penny, light where she felt dark.
“...and I never ate rutabaga again. I learned my lesson.” He laughed again. “That was the worst; I thought my face was going to turn inside out.” She’d also never met anyone who laughed so much, or so easily. His laugh felt like bubbles in her stomach, like tingling in her cheeks.
“Drew, what’s your favorite book?” she asked suddenly. She wasn’t aware of thinking the question. It popped out of her like soda from a bottle that had been shaken. Afraid she’d been rude by changing the subject, she nervously glanced at him. The corners of his eyes were still crinkled in a smile.
“Good question,” he said, and he pressed his lips together in thought. “I’ve never been a big reader, to tell you the truth. I mostly just read when I had to, for class and stuff. I really liked To Kill a Mockingbird when I read it for school. I don’t really remember what happened, just that I liked it.”
“I love that one too,” Nolin said. “Do you read Shakespeare?” Suddenly, she wanted to know everything about him—this person who laughed and smiled and talked like he had an unlimited supply of joy to give away.
Again, he laughed. Nolin felt herself smile widely, the edges of her eyes crinkling. What an odd sensation. “Hell no,” he said. “We had to read a few plays for school. I’m pretty sure I just watched the movies and called it good. I still have no idea what anyone was saying. Just a bunch of guys in pumpkin pants and tights, speaking gibberish… not my thing at all. I’ll stick to textbooks and my old Hardy Boys, thanks.”
“Shakespeare is wonderful once you figure out how to read it,” Nolin blurted. “Once you start to understand it, you can’t get enough. It speaks to a deeper part of you that normal language just can’t reach. It’s like you understand it deep down. You could never quite explain in regular words...”
Drew was looking at her, she realized. Her cheeks grew hot. She couldn’t quite explain how she felt at that moment—like she’d been cracked wide open. She just wanted to talk, to hear him talk, especially about things that didn’t matter. No talk about her mother, her nightmares, or the growing dread that lurked in her stomach. She wanted to talk about books, his schooling, his first pet, her favorite tea, how the sky looked that day, and adventures they each wanted to take. It felt frantic, this strange desire to talk and listen, to understand and be understood.
“You’ll have to teach me sometime,” he said. “Show me how to like Shakespeare. I kind of get what you mean though; it’s like music. How music reaches you in a way that words don’t. You know?”
Nolin nearly tripped over a weed growing through a crack in the sidewalk. She didn’t know. “I don’t actually listen to music,” she said sheepishly.
Drew’s eyes grew wide. “You don’t...what? Who doesn’t listen to music?”
“A person who is very used to silence.”
Hills rose ahead of them. Drew veered to where the trees opened to a tiny dirt trail she’d never noticed before, then held out his hand, indicating for her to go first. Nolin hesitated, then plunged forward into the trees.
Sunlight glowed through the sparse canopy in patches. The woods smelled like earth and damp frozen over; a sharp, yet fresh smell. She ran faster.
“Well, you can show me some Shakespeare, and I can show you music,” Drew said behind her. Nolin kept running, faster. His words started to falter as he breathed harder, struggling to keep up.
Nolin’s limbs tingled with heat, either from running so fast as the trail sloped upward, or from the idea of sharing Shakespeare and music with Drew. Her legs propelled her forward and upward. The wild feeling she often felt when she ran through the woods near the graveyard crept through her veins like electricity. A wild grin spread across her face. Faster, she flew up the hill.
“Hey, slow down!” Drew called behind her. Nolin glanced over her shoulder and realized he was a lot farther behind her than she’d thought, maybe thirty feet. His cheeks were red and his chest expanded and fell as he struggled to keep up. “Damn, you’re fast,” he wheezed.
Nolin stopped to allow him to catch up. “Sorry,” she said, “I just felt like running fast for a minute there. It felt good.”
“Are you sure you’re not running away from me?” he said, bent over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “I need to do more trail running, my lungs are killing me...”
“Let’s walk then,” Nolin said. Drew nodded. Nolin let him go first. The trail grew steeper. Soon they were carefully picking their way up the hillside, stepping over rocks that jutted, maneuvering around fallen logs and overgrowth.
“Somebody needs to come through here with a bulldozer,” Drew muttered. He swung his arms and leaned forward. His legs pushed him up the hill, the runner’s muscles in his calves tightening.
Before long, the slope evened out and the trees thinned, opening up into a meadow dotted with wildflowers: red prairie-fire, sunny yellow dandelions, and tiny bluebells.
“Here we are,” Drew said, turning in the direction from which they’d come. “I haven’t been up here in years.” He sat in the grass and patted the ground next to him. Nolin sank into crossed legs beside him, propping her chin on her elbows.
“I didn’t even know this was here,” she said. “I would have loved this when I was a kid.”
Drew smiled. “I sure did. I used to come up here sometimes when my family was driving me nuts. I’d ride my bike over and hike up to just sit and watch the town. It was the only place I could get some peace and quiet. Not that I wanted peace and quiet often, but sometimes.”
Nolin smiled grimly. “I had all the quiet I could stand. Not peace, though, just quiet.”
“Only child, right?”
“Yes. I was even an accident.”
Drew smiled sympathetically, though it was clear to Nolin that his experience was entirely different. “How many siblings do you have?” she asked.
“Five sisters, one brother. Also twelve nieces and nephews, ten aunts and uncles, twenty-one cousins, and pretty much all of them will be at my parents’ house at least once within any given week. It was a lot of fun growing up, but sometimes it was just a madhouse. And then Christmas and Thanksgiving, when they were all there at the same time… I’m still recovering from some of those.”
Noli
n’s eyes widened. “Wow,” she said. She tried to imagine the stony silence of her house pierced by a gaggle of laughing family members. She couldn’t do it. “I’d like to meet them sometime.”
Drew smirked. “Really? A whole herd of Carringtons? I mean, they’re awesome, but they’re pretty overwhelming.”
“Really,” she said. “I want to see what a big family’s like.”
Drew turned to look at her, eyes narrowed slightly, maybe trying to tell if she was kidding. Then, his face softened. “Okay.”
For a few moments, they sat in comfortable silence. Drew shifted his weight and his elbow brushed her arm. Nolin flinched as if he’d shocked her. Drew hadn’t noticed.
Nolin brushed the spot on her arm where he’d bumped her, half expecting it to feel different. She wanted to reach out and touch his arm again, or his knee. Why did this fascinate her? It dawned on her that she’d hardly ever touched another person on purpose unless she was punching them in the face. Her parents always kept their distance. Her teenage years spent in group therapy homes were strictly no contact with others. Other than her evenings with Rebecca sitting feet to feet on the couch while they read, she couldn’t recall touching or being touched.
Growing bold, she reached out and brushed Drew’s arm.
He turned to look at her curiously. She felt her face redden again.
A sly smile slowly spread across his face. “Was there a bug on me?”
“I...um, yes. A big one,” she said lamely. A bug? A BUG?
“Thanks,” said Drew. “I’d hate to get bitten or something.”
Nolin wanted to disappear. Drew didn’t seem bothered at all.
“Well,” Drew said, slapping his knees, “My butt’s totally numb, and I’ve got to get to work. Shall we?” He scrambled to his feet and held his hand out to help her up. She took it, the same strange electricity tingling in her hand.