Loose Changeling: A Changeling Wars Novel

by A. G. Stewart

  I meandered into the kitchen and flipped on the lights.

  Someone was there, sitting at my table. In an instant, I’d seized Kailen’s sword from the island, flipped it out, and had it pointed at the stranger.

  Dorian.

  He lifted both hands, slowly. “It seems your instincts have really kicked in. Surprising, after thirty-two years of working a desk job.” He’d switched out the bathrobe for a fluorescent orange hunting vest, layered over a long-sleeved black mesh shirt, which was layered over a white T-shirt. The man really needed someone to tell him how to dress.

  I lowered the sword but didn’t snap it back into place. “Nine years. You don’t know much about humans, do you? We don’t start working from infancy.”

  He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Right.”

  I checked my doors and windows. All were shut. Of course. He wouldn’t just saunter in a door or window, would he? Had to be the mysterious, random appearance route. If I had to pick one thing I didn’t like about the Sidhe, this might be it. “What are you doing here? You ignored me in the Arena. I thought you were done with me.”

  “I may not know much about humans, but clearly, you don’t know much about Fae politics.”

  I snapped the sword back into place and slid into the seat opposite the Fae prince. “Fair enough. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

  “If I’d shown any interest in you at all, or gave any indication we’d met before, Grian would find an excuse to toss me into that lovely little dungeon of hers.” He shuddered. “Not a pretty place, I hear. And my family doesn’t have the power to stop her.”

  “Either you’re here to help me, or you’re not.”

  Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Those are the only two choices?”

  “I’m asking for you to tell me one way or another.” I tightened my hand around the hilt of Kailen’s sword to make my point.

  “Touchy, aren’t you? Grian says that’s why Changelings are so dangerous—they grow up with the power of the Fae and the moody upbringing of a mortal.” He must have seen my knuckles whitening, because he continued on, faster. “But I’m here to help, at least in the ways I can.”

  “Why?”

  “I take it you saw the news item on your dear father? With the doorways opening, and Fae wandering into the mortal world, the Fae will have seen it. How do you think that will make the Sidhe feel, seeing one of their own locked in a cell?”

  Kailen had been incensed when I’d implied that perhaps Faolan’s imprisonment had been his own fault. “Faolan is well-respected among the Sidhe.”

  “Yes,” Dorian said, drawing out the word and leaning back.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. He wasn’t telling me anything directly, only leading me down a path. Why? Why not just tell me what bothered him? Perhaps he couldn’t. The Fae seemed to operate under strange rules. “When word spreads that Faolan has been arrested and imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, it will make the Fae very angry.”

  “Yes?” He ended it like a question, as if waiting for more.

  “Angry enough to attack the mortal world?”

  Dorian’s lips pressed together, his face grim, and I knew I’d happened on the right answer. The Fae at war with humans. It would be a disaster of epic proportions. I dropped Kailen’s sword on the table and worried my hands as I thought. No one was convinced that Faolan had murdered those five people, yet the police had enough evidence to arrest him and had stated they’d caught him with an intended victim.

  The only other explanation was an elaborate setup. But why? “Who would want the mortal world and Fae world to be at war with one another?”

  Dorian only crossed his arms and shook his head. Either he couldn’t answer any more questions, or I was on the wrong track completely.

  “Maera would know what happened to Faolan,” I said.

  Dorian shook his head. “Maera’s disappeared. No one knows where she is.”

  “The rest of the Aranhods?”

  “Are extremely unhappy.”

  I guessed that was the understatement of the year. “If I closed the doorways, would that stop the war from happening?”

  Dorian shook his head again, his blond hair brushing against his cheeks.

  It should have made me angry, but I couldn’t muster up the effort. “Well, what are you here for, then? I can’t do anything.”

  He gave his head one shake before he grimaced and doubled over. Magic. Someone hadn’t wanted Dorian to talk, and clearly, he’d pushed himself as far as he could. Slowly, he straightened, pain etching lines in his face. “It’s been nice to see you, Nicole. I hope we run into each other again.” He rose, his posture stiff, and made for my back door.

  “Yeah, we will,” I called after him, “if you sneak into my house and wait for me.”

  He was gone.

  I called the prison next, to ask about visiting hours and procedures. “Can I come by tomorrow morning? I know that man, the one they arrested for killing those people.”

  “Ma’am, a lot of people have called claiming that,” the receptionist said in a bored tone.

  “It’s Nicole. Nicole…Philbin. He’ll want to see me.”

  He was my biological father—the least I could do was go see him and hear his side of the story.

  “Well, what do you know? You’re on the list.” She actually sounded awake now. “You get one visit per week.” She pointed me in the direction of the visitor application forms and told me if I got them in within an hour of our talk, I’d be approved by Monday. I scheduled my visit and then left a message with Landon, letting him know I had a doctor’s appointment on Monday and would stay late to make up for it.

  On Monday morning, I went to the prison. I’d always imagined prisons with razor wire and chain-link fences. This one was all cold concrete and the occasional pane of glass.

  I stepped inside and almost ran face-first into Officers Brown and Gomez. Gomez pretended she didn’t know me—her eyes met mine and then slid away.

  “Hey, Ms. Philbin,” Officer Brown said. He stopped, and Officer Gomez did as well. “What are you doing here? Getting into trouble with the law again?”

  Ha, ha, ha. “I’m here to see one of the prisoners.”

  Gomez’s eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah? Who?”

  And because I couldn’t think of a lie fast enough, I told the truth. “The guy on television, the one who supposedly murdered those three people.”

  Gomez raised an eyebrow. “Supposedly?”

  I met her gaze. “Yes, supposedly. Allegedly, if that suits you better. Just as I allegedly kidnapped Jane Barston.” To be fair, what I’d actually done to Jane was far worse, but I wasn’t about to confess my many sins to this uppity police officer.

  “Hmph,” Gomez said.

  Officer Brown tapped her arm. “Let’s just go.” He looked at me as they left. “Stay out of trouble, Ms. Philbin.”

  That seemed as though it was becoming more and more unlikely.

  When I finally made it to the visiting area, my hands were leaking sweat. I rubbed them on my pants and they left damp spots on my slacks. Gross. I had to get a hold of myself. Why was I so nervous anyways? Was it because this was the father I’d never met, was it the open doorways, or was it the potential for war between the Fae and mortals? Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this was a stupid idea. I should get to work. Someone else could solve those problems.

  And then, before I could change my mind, Faolan walked into view and sat across from me. He had the same skin as me, the same deep-set eyes. He looked exhausted.

  I picked up my phone and he picked up his.

  “Nicole,” he breathed. “I thought I would be meeting you under far more auspicious circumstances.”

  Who talked like that? How could the officers actually believe this man had committed murder? There was a quiet, dignified air about him. It clung to him despite the handcuffs, the stubble, the navy blue T-shirt and the jeans.

  I wasn’t sure what to say next, so I said the fi
rst thing that came to mind. “Did you kill those people?”

  “No. Of course not. Your mother and I…we are what the other Sidhe refer to as mortal-soft. We sympathize with the mortals, have never seen them as our playthings, as others have.”

  “If you didn’t kill them, who did?”

  “Daughter, I wish I could tell you more. But I know little more than you do. I was asleep with your mother. The next thing I knew, I was in an abandoned building, a woman tied and gagged in a chair in front of me. When I went to undo her bonds, the police broke down the door.”

  “What about Grian?” She could have framed Faolan. She’d hunted me down—me, the only one who could close the doorways. But she was already in a position of power. What more did she want?

  Faolan tilted his head to the side. “Grian doesn’t care for mortals. Morgan Le Fay was her grandmother, and she carries some of those sentiments. She has the power, certainly, but I’m not sure I can see her killing humans without a purpose.”

  My conversation with Dorian replayed in my mind. Would Grian really go this far—starting a war? I remembered, then, what I’d seen in her mind, what I’d seen behind the door. Grian may have looked pretty, but underneath it all she was a monster. “But she has a purpose,” I said softly. “She wants to start a war.”

  Faolan sat up straight. “How would slaughtering mortals and then framing me for it cause a war?”

  So he really had no idea how popular he was? Modest man. I supposed that only made him more popular. “You’re well-liked. No one among the Sidhe believes that you did it. I think…I think they’re going to attack the prison.”

  He drew in a sharp breath. “They can’t. They mustn’t. Nicole, if you see any of the Fae, if you speak to any of them—tell them this is not what I would want. I would rather die than be the cause of another war between mortals and the Sidhe.”

  “Except I’m not exactly well-liked among them,” I said. “I don’t think they even want me around. Can’t I just close the doorways before they come through?” I didn’t mention that I’d not even succeeded in doing that in the Frank Gibbons, Inc. parking lot.

  “Grian will have moonstone. As soon as you close a doorway, she can open another. You have to find another way. Is there no one who can help you? What about Kailen? Maera and I sent him to protect you.”

  I bit my lip. “Yes, there’s Kailen.” Kailen, who had lied to me more times than I wanted to count, who had risked his life for me, who had given up part of his life to lend me his sword. “I don’t know if I can trust him,” I blurted out.

  He regarded me with a level gaze. “Kailen has been through much. No matter what he’s done, it has never been enough for Grian. He did everything she asked—hurt people, killed them, accepted all blame—and yet she asked for more. She withheld the only thing he wanted—a mother’s love. When I agreed to train him, Kailen was broken. I helped him see that he did have value, and as more than his mother’s son.

  “He is not always honest. He doesn’t feel that others will like him for who he is. But Kailen is a good man, and I trust him. You can trust him too. I swear to you, he will not let you come to harm, if he can help it.”

  A ringing endorsement. I wondered what Faolan would think if he knew Kailen had been kissing his daughter. “Okay, I get it. Kailen is not out to get me.”

  Faolan nodded. “Speak to him. Together you may be able to find a way to stop this war from starting.”

  I found myself sinking toward the table, my free hand tangled in my hair. Stopping a war. How had I gone from salesperson to interdimensional peacekeeper? “Why me? Why can’t I just live a normal, mortal life?”

  “Daughter, you must be strong. I know you have it in you. This is the life of a Changeling, always straddling two worlds. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

  “I have to go,” I whispered. “I’ll do what I can.”

  I hung up the phone and left.

  At Frank Gibbons, Inc., everything was business as usual. My coworkers no longer discussed the murders—without new developments, they seemed bored with the subject. The brownies did not reappear. I spent my time preparing my sales pitch for the trip to Texas.

  Tonight I’d meet with Kailen and do what little I could to help. I sighed and shifted in my chair, the squeaking prompting an answering sigh from Brent. Maybe Faolan was right—that I should trust Kailen and try to do more. But I just didn’t have it in me. Hadn’t I done enough? I’d risked my life to bring Tristan back from the Fae world safely, and now I was being asked to risk it again?

  I grabbed for my mug of coffee. The liquid inside had turned cold. I frowned. I’d turned coffee into iced tea before. What if I tried to turn this cold coffee into hot tea? I closed my eyes and breathed in, preparing to mold the magic, to push it forth.

  I got as far as picturing the hot tea. When it came to realizing it with some emotion, I couldn’t. There was nothing there to grasp, only wisps of feeling. I rubbed my forehead. Had Grian done something to me when she’d invaded my mind? I tried to concentrate on work. Before I knew it, it was time to go home.

  There was a blue car parked on the curb in front of my house when I pulled into the driveway. I didn’t recognize it, though I could see the silhouette of someone sitting inside in my rearview mirror. I got out of the car and tried not to stare. Kailen?

  The door opened and a woman stepped out.

  Mousy Jane.

  I froze. “Hi,” I said, in the most awkward tone imaginable. It sounded like I was choking on a frog.

  “Hi,” Jane said, swiftly approaching. “We haven’t met formally.” She didn’t hold out her hand. Her mouth was pursed, pulling at those frown lines I’d noticed before I’d turned her into a mouse.

  “I remember you. Jane.” I barely refrained from adding “mousy” in front of it. “So, what are you doing here?” I had sudden visions of Jane pulling out a gun and shooting me, or maybe just stabbing me a few times with a knife. I certainly deserved her ire.

  But she looked more twitchy than angry. “The fact is, I’d rather see you than Owen. It’s over, and I don’t want to drag things out. I just wanted my things.”

  Of course. Her purse and her cell phone. Her clothes. “Yeah, sure.” I backed into my doorway, still a little wary of turning my back on her. I fumbled my keys before getting the lock to turn. “Did you want to come in?”

  “I’ll just wait in the entryway,” she said.

  I went to my nook and grabbed the plastic bag of Jane’s belongings, certain my face was about to burn off. The anger I’d felt upon finding her with Owen had long since fled. Now I was just embarrassed. We’d both been in bed with the same guy, with not a lot of days in between. And then there was that whole mix-up where I’d turned her into a mouse.

  When I went back to the entryway, Jane had her arms crossed and was eyeing the divorce papers on the butler table. I handed her the plastic bag. “Sorry about that,” she said, gesturing to the papers.

  “Sorry about turning you into a mouse,” I said.

  Her nose twitched. “Can you just not ever mention that again? I’m doing my best to forget about it. I’d rather pretend it never happened.”

  I knew something about what she felt. “Sure. Never mention it again. Cross my heart.” I did the whole hand motion and everything. It felt like I was seven again.

  “You gonna go through with that?” She nodded in the direction of the papers.

  “Why does it matter to you?”

  “I'm curious. Owen told me about you. I didn’t know if what he told me was the truth. I figured he’d paint you in the worst light he possibly could, because he didn’t want me to feel bad for being with a married man. But then, when I was…” She twitched again. “Well, when I wasn’t myself, I saw how you treated him.”

  I thought it would make me angry, hearing her speak this way about me, but it didn’t. “What did he say?”

  She met my eyes, evenly. “He said you were an amazing woman, incredibly driven, a
nd he’d always admired you. But he also said you didn’t seem to realize that there were things bigger than yourself out there. That if he had to pick something you believed in, it was you, and that was it.”

  “I—”

  “Owen’s a good man,” Jane said, overriding me. “He’s not perfect, but he’s got good intentions. He’s not the one for me, but he deserves to be cherished.”

  With that, she turned and walked out the door, head held high, plastic bag of her belongings clutched to her chest.

  I stood on the threshold, baffled, and watched her drive away. Had Owen actually said that about me? That I believed in only myself? I closed the door and brushed my hand across the divorce papers, my fingers lingering on the “yes” and “no.” She was right—Owen was a good man. He bungled things and he’d cheated, but he tried to be there for me when I needed him, and he had a kind heart.

  But was a “good man” enough for me? Surely this wasn’t the only requirement for a decent partner? Or maybe I was being selfish again, as Owen had said. He’d made his intentions clear, and here I was, letting him hang on, getting to be, once again, the one that made the decisions.

  My mother had a rule—that if one person had a criticism of your behavior, don't adjust it. But if more than one person had the same criticism, it might be time to examine your actions. Much as I resented her airy wisdom and grounded boundaries as a child, I had to admit that my mother might have had a point.

  What did I believe in? I believed in hard work (myself), I believed in the power of an individual to change their situation (myself), I believed in actions over words (myself). I'd always known that if I put my mind to something, if I worked hard enough, I could achieve it. All things related to me. My hard work, my power to change a situation, my actions over my words.

  Everyone else? My mom believed in the Goddess and the Fae. Lainey believed in family and love. Even Faolan, my biological father, believed in Kailen and the intrinsic integrity of a man raised by someone rotten.