by Al K. Line
There were no exterior lights either, so next to nothing to see. Was this the right house? Yes, it was, I could feel it, sense the fear, the confusion, the inexplicable strangeness in the air.
Right up at the window, I cupped my hands and tried to get a glimpse inside but got nothing, just blackness. No crack, no hint of light or activity. How was I supposed to know who was where if I couldn't see anything?
With nothing else to do, I wandered around to the rear, checking for windows and a break in the blackout, but it was the same.
I found Vicky and Steve at the end of the garden, crouched against a new fence, staring up at the house.
"You get anything?" I asked.
"Nothing," said Steve. "It's locked down tight. What now?"
"What now?" I mused, then inspiration hit. I pulled out Wand and grinned at them both.
"I thought you said no going in blasting?" asked Vicky, her eyes sparkling at the thought.
"I did, oh tiny little troublemaker, but Wand isn't just good for blasting, are you?"
"No, although it is my favorite bit," he replied.
"Mine too."
"Is he doing it now?" asked Steve to Vicky. "Is he talking to Wand?"
"Of course. Who else would he be talking to while staring at a stick?" asked Vicky.
"Just asking."
I raised my hand, felt the transference of power from me to him, then relaxed my grip. For a moment, Wand rested there, then he lifted and darted forward out of sight as he shot up then disappeared down a stove pipe.
"Damn, we should have thought of that," said Steve.
"Going down a pipe?" I asked.
"Yeah, why not?"
"Because they aren't big enough for grown men. Now, maybe a woman in miniature could manage it," I mused, staring at Vicky and smiling.
She punched me in the side of my head.
"Ow!" I rubbed at my temple then said, "Wait, incoming transmission." I lay down on the dirt and closed my eyes, let Wand's sight become my sight, his experience become mine.
Trust me, it sucks being a stick.
Familiar Sight
My sight turned inward and the strangest feeling crept over me, like I was being watched. But I was the watcher, a voyeur, linked to my familiar, to Wand, until the boundaries became so blurred that holding on to a sense of self became a battle only a mighty wizard like me could maintain for any length of time.
With a sudden stabbing pain, my eyes rolled up in my head and I felt stiff, wooden, very stick-like. But free. Ah, such freedom. Whizzing through the air, feeling the wind against my skin, or my wood, anyway, it tingled in the most enjoyable of ways. I could smell the smoke of fire, and I panicked. I would burn, but I had to remember I was not made of wood and there was no smoke coming from the pipe, so this was just from a fire built many days earlier, the cloying smell lingering. And anyway, I had no nose, so how was I smelling anything at all? Wand sure was a funny creature, and no mistake.
All was blackness, with a hint of light at the end of what felt like a very long tunnel. I whizzed down, or we did, or he did, I was already lost to this strange conjoining, my familiar becoming as much me as I he.
I saw through eyes that were not eyes, but rather a magical sense of everything all around me, seeing in all directions yet in no direction at all. It was dizzying, it made me feel sick, and it confused the hell out of me as who can see everywhere at once? How does that even work? The human mind is not meant to experience such things, however, and if I tried to figure it out I would get nothing but a headache, so I relaxed best I could, went with it, and let the sense of seeing all wash over me until it became a knowing, a feeling, an experience as much as anything visible.
What I saw was rather unexpected.
Confusion
Wand hovered in the shadows of the wood burner, having squeezed through a vent, scoping out the room without having to move. The vantage point was low, and I saw the entire room as though through a fisheye lens.
It was well-furnished in a generic style, all plastic lamps and plastic looking furniture. Boring pictures hung perfectly straight on perfectly flat, magnolia walls, the show home doing a great job of featuring how boring it would be to live in a house devoid of any character, zero redeeming features. But hey, it was brand spanking new, would give its owners a sense of safety, keeping the nasty people out, and that's how citizens slept at night—by refusing to believe in all the bad stuff that lurked, like Wand, in the shadows.
Sitting on a plush sofa were a man and woman, seemingly watching something entertaining on a laptop perched on several books on a long coffee table. They chuckled every so often, nudged each other, and appeared relaxed, lost to their show. On the table were several guns, two walkie-talkies, and a veritable mountain of snacks, many demolished. They clearly weren't too concerned about anyone coming, assumed the scouts were doing their job, and by the looks of it there was no arrangement for those outside to report in regularly, at least that was my hope.
Where was the girl, and the other kidnapper? Why were they so chilled? Weren't they meant to be on edge, alert for Steve trying to get his daughter back? No, they believed he was with me and Vicky, far away, grubbing about for cash to pay them off. Ha, we'd show them.
Wand edged out from his hiding place, slid along the chemical-laden carpet, and made it to the door. He checked the hallway, or we did, as I felt like I was there, like the rough carpet was rubbing against my belly, and I gave in and scratched at my stomach even as I took in the rest of the house. The hall matched the living room, decorated simply, but well presented to show the kind of life you too could have for an astronomical amount of money.
Wand checked the dining room, the kitchen, and a downstairs cloakroom. All were empty, just a few telltale signs of temporary habitation, nothing more.
He went upstairs.
The landing was much like the hall, the bathroom the same.
The first bedroom was empty apart from a single bed and a chest of drawers and more pictures. Bedroom two was next. Wand paused outside the door and we listened with non ears to the sounds emanating from within. An argument? A man, and was that a girl? It was hard to tell as the voices were muffled and low, as if angry but whispered at the same time. Was there someone else here? Was this Sunshine and the other kidnapper? Was he doing something despicable to her? Wand pushed gently against the door but it wouldn't budge.
If he opened it, he'd give the game away, so he retreated silently, hovering at waist height as he headed to bedroom number three. Inside was a large bed with crumpled sheets, clothes strewn over another chest of drawers, a wardrobe with floor-to-ceiling mirrors partially open revealing nothing but dead space and coat hangers like insects waiting to crawl out and make a mockery of the suburban dream.
I felt Wand's intent, had the same urge myself. To barge into the room, blast the bad guy, and free the girl. But we didn't know exactly what was happening in there, or what would be done to her if he made such a move, so I sent my will through the ether. Wand acknowledged my message with a dip of his tip and zoomed down the stairs, shot across the living room carpet, and up the stove pipe so fast I almost blacked out.
I felt the familiar warm wood slam into my hand, let my eyes roll down, and stared at my friend with a grin.
Turning to Steve and Vicky, I said, "Let's go get the girl."
We Make Our Move
I must have zoned out, and I really couldn't be fucked with this any longer. Some little brat got herself kidnapped because she wouldn't behave, why should that concern me?
Of all the things I could be doing, like admiring my kitchen or cuddling up next to my new wife, here I was at the arse end of the world, risking everything, my future, my eternity, for a child that didn't deserve it.
I chuckled as I snapped out of it, and slapped Vicky and Steve on the back to return them to reality.
"Whoa, that was nasty. I was all ready to jack this in and go to the pub or summit," said Steve, shaking his head and grinni
ng nervously.
"I was thinking really bad things, Steve, about Sunshine." A tear fell from Vicky's puffy eyes.
"It's okay, hun, just her messing with us all."
"How's she doing this?" I asked, wondering how she could possibly change people's emotions like this, and astounded that her kidnappers still had hold of her when she could clearly bend them to her will by affecting how they felt about the whole sorry charade.
"Told you, she's special." Steve rubbed at his perfect beard, looking uncomfortable, like there was something he wasn't telling us.
"Dude, if you have anything to say, then now is certainly the time to say it. We're going into that house to get her, but it could get ugly, you know that, so anything you can say to make this go more smoothly, to minimize the risk to Sunshine, then I think we have the right to know." My eyes narrowed as I studied this handsome man, so close in age to me I wondered how he looked so young and full of vitality, and then I understood something for the first time. Shifters really were very different to us. They manipulated their entire body chemistry, their actual DNA, so what's eradicating a few wrinkles when you can do that?
But there was something missing from this puzzle, from this whole toying with everyone's emotions. It boiled down to one thing. You couldn't bloody do it.
Something else was going on, and I got the impression Steve either knew, or was holding back on certain information.
"There's nothing," said Steve, rubbing at his jaw like that was how he got it so square. "Can we please just go get my daughter? I know it's hard, that what she's doing is freaking you out, me too, haha, but once we get her, save her, everything will return to normal."
I shrugged. "If you say so, buddy. If you say so."
And with that, we marched toward certain death. Only time would tell who's death that happened to be.
Time for Wizarding
Being a wizard is awesome. You get to fool around with cool stuff, you get to if not understand then at least experience the most wondrous energy in the entire universe, and you get to blast the bad guys, which always rocks.
Plus, now and then, you get to be a little dramatic.
And so it was, after some nifty lock picking, that I stood in the living room in front of two rather surprised kidnappers and glowered at them. Wand was clutched tight in my right hand, glowing with all the menace he could muster. My other hand shone bright and deadly as I stood with arms spread, my will flooding my system with magic of the most deadly variety.
They lunged for the guns on the table but I cast them aside with a glance, sending them clattering into the fireplace. Was it really going to be this easy?
"You kidnapped a little girl," I growled.
The couple exchanged confused looks, then nodded at each other as if coming to an agreement. "No, you've got it all wrong, it isn't like that," the man said, eyeing up the weapons.
"That's right. You don't understand. Now you're here I guess it doesn't matter. I'm glad, actually. This isn't what I signed up for, not at all."
The woman went to move but I wagged my finger and said, "No you don't. You stay right there. You people make me sick. What, thought it would be easy, did you? Take a little girl from her mother, kill her mother, and then what? Rough her up, terrify her?" I fought for control, but the thought of them scaring Sunshine was too much.
"You don't understand," yelled the man. "You've got it all wrong," he blurted, nervous as he saw how pissed I was.
"I think it's you who doesn't understand, buddy. You know how this goes?" I asked.
"We know," he said with a sigh.
"Good."
And with that I let loose, gave them exactly what they deserved.
Wand spat out lumpy magic so dark and despicable I almost vomited. Great gobbets of fat, misshapen, primal nothingness, each more deadly than the last. It wasn't showy, there were no bright colors, the time for drama was gone.
As the absence of all matter, a true nothingness, hit the still-seated couple, I watched for a moment as the emptiness devoured them. Cavities appeared in their chests, parts of their heads were chewed away, dissolved, taken like they'd never been there, and they screamed the most pitiful screams as I walked past them and out into the hallway, not even giving them the satisfaction of an audience to watch them die.
I spun as the front door slammed open. Steve and Vicky ran in, eyes wide, hyped on adrenaline, and I muttered to myself about their ineptitude before saying, "I thought I told you I'd handle this?"
"We heard screams," said Vicky, like that was a good excuse.
"Yes, you did. Well, come on, let's go get her."
We ran up the stairs as fast as possible. I hoped it wasn't too late.
Um...
With little choice, and knowing time was of the essence and that there was still a good chance Sunshine could be dead, I burst through the bedroom door, steeling myself for what we'd encounter. Steve and Vicky pushed in right behind me, putting me off-balance, and interfering with my moves, which was exactly why I didn't want them here. I got it though, this was his little girl.
We stopped just inside the room and I stared around in confusion. There was a dead man on the bed, a knife in his hand, his throat slit. Blood oozed from the wound, thick and jelly-like; the sheets were soaked through with his life-force.
Sat next to him, hands in lap, covered in the blood that had sprayed from the man's throat, was a blond child, pale of features beneath the gore, utterly serene, and not at all what I'd expected.
"You're a..." I turned to Steve, confused. "It's a..."
Steve frowned, as confused as me, and Vicky shoved her way between us and said, "What, what is it?"
"See for yourself," I said.
"It's a boy," she blurted.
We stood there, staring at a boy of about twelve, flummoxed by the turn of events.
"Hello, Daddy," said the child.
"Sunshine?" asked Steve as he stepped forward and went to the boy still sitting calmly.
"I prefer Sonny now, if that's okay with you?" The boy smiled, and what a smile it was. It lit up the room, made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like everything would be all right in the world.
"You're a boy?" asked Steve, his brow furrowed as he tried to get his head around things.
"For a little bit. And you ruined everything."
With that, Sonny leapt to his feet, screamed like a banshee, and sped from the room with his arms flailing about. Within moments, an almighty clattering could be heard from downstairs as it sounded like he was ripping the kitchen apart with his bare hands.
"What's going on?" asked Vicky, staring from Steve to me like I had any idea.
"I think he shifted into being a boy. Um, she shifted, now she's a boy. I've got a son." Steve smiled, then walked out to go find out what was happening.
"Arthur?"
"Yes, my tiny sidekick?"
"Does this seem right to you? What's happening here?"
"I have no bloody idea, but it's not good, I can tell that much."
"Sunshine is a boy now. He made that man kill himself. What did he mean we'd spoiled it?"
"I don't know. Why don't we go ask?"
Vicky got close then looked up at me and whispered, "He scares me. A young child scares me. All the things he can do, it isn't right."
"I know, I feel the same. No way is this a simple kidnapping. I think maybe he did it to himself." I tried to figure it all out, but knew I couldn't. Sunshine, or Sonny, had done something, and I got the impression it was something truly awful that would scar the child for ever. I hoped it wouldn't do the same to Steve.
"Come on, let's go see what all the noise is about." I took Vicky's hand, she was shaking, and led her out of the room.
The corpse stank. There is never dignity in death, just bodily fluids and an urge to look away.
Calm Down
"Everything's ruined. All of it," shouted Sonny as he rampaged around the kitchen, yanking open cupboard doors before slamming them sh
ut again. He moved on to drawers, pulled out the few bits and pieces in them and threw them around the room mindless of who they hit.
"Calm down. What happened?" asked a flustered Steve. He chased after Sonny, tried to ease the boy's edginess, but the child was wild, had a faraway look in his eyes like he wasn't really here with us.
Emotions built, or rather they ceased to exist, and as he got more angry so I became increasingly dismissive of the whole thing. I wanted to blurt out exactly what I thought of him, tell the truth. That he was being a brat and didn't he know we'd risked everything to rescue him? I slapped my hand over my mouth before I said a word though, as the last thing I wanted was a battle with a kid. You don't hurt children, no matter what, but I was not myself, he was affecting us all, and I didn't trust myself to remain in control.
"You spoiled it all, that's what happened," screamed Sonny as he turned on Steve and got right up in his face. Spittle flew as he snarled, "I had a plan, it was working. Then you spoiled it. Why are you here?"
Steve looked at his son, daughter, whatever, in confusion. "You were kidnapped. I got a call for a ransom so we came to rescue you. What do you think has been happening? You're upset, confused, come and sit down." Steve put an arm gently on the boy's shoulder, and at the touch he seemed to relax.
"It all went wrong. Why did they do this? We had an agreement. I didn't know they'd asked you for money. I'm sorry." Sonny broke down, huge fat tears fell from oversized eyes as his shoulders sagged and he stood in the middle of the kitchen looking small and afraid and very confused.
"Come on," said Vicky as she moved closer to them, "tell us all about it. I'm your Aunty Vicky by the way."
"Hi," sniffled Sonny.
"And I'm Arthur," I shouted from across the room, keeping well clear in case the child did anything daft.
As if he could read my thoughts, he suddenly became animated and began to shake his limbs like he had to expend the energy. His body cracked and his muscles spasmed as he changed form rapidly, morphing from one creature to another, back and forth between a human child and a dog, a cat, a badger like his father, and on and on it went, faster than I could keep up with. The child screamed, a piercing wail that tore at my heart until it felt like it would remain broken, never repair. A deep, terrible anguish, telling of the pain endured, the sorrow of it all.