by Juman Malouf
Staghart poured an amber-colored liquid over Sonja’s wound and spread a thick white paste around her ankle. Sonja twitched and blinked and swallowed. “She’ll kill me,” Sonja muttered. “She’ll kill me.” After a moment, bright yellow liquid dribbled out of the jagged tooth-holes.
“It’s working,” said Alexandria. She looked a little relieved.
Charlotte let out a nervous laugh and covered her face to hide her tears. If Sonja survived, Charlotte swore she would forget about making friends for at least a month.
“Is her breathing back to normal, Wolf Boy?” Staghart asked the black-haired boy.
He bent over Sonja and listened. “Seems like it.”
Sonja’s eyes flashed open. “What are you doing?”
The boy raised an eyebrow. “Seeing if you’re alive.”
“Obviously, I am!” Sonja sat up with a jolt, bumping her head into his.
“Ow!” he shouted, rubbing his temple.
Charlotte smiled. It was just like her sister to be rude to someone who had helped save her life. She kissed Sonja’s cheek and whispered just like Tatty would have, “Glad you’re back, dearie.”
Staghart stood up and offered his arm to Alexandria. “Boys, escort our young guests to the meeting room. We’ll be waiting for you.” Staghart and Alexandria walked together up a staircase that spiraled around a tree. The Changelings followed, chattering and laughing.
The black-haired boy stood awkwardly beside Moritz. Charlotte grabbed his hand and shook it. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Charlotte. That’s Sonja.” She gestured to her sister still sitting on the ground.
“We’ve already met,” Sonja replied abruptly. She looked around with a disgusted expression on her face. “What’s that awful smell?”
“I think it might be us,” Moritz said, laughing. “We’re Changelings, you know. Can’t clean the animal out of us.”
“You’re—real Changelings?” Sonja asked, her voice faltering.
Moritz nodded, grinning. “I’m Moritz.” He lifted Sonja to her feet and pointed. “That’s Wolf Boy.”
“We thought you were imaginary,” admitted Charlotte. “Until yesterday.” Wolf Boy frowned. “Our mother, Tatty, used to tell us stories about you,” she continued hesitantly. “She said Changelings were stronger, faster, and more alert than both humans and animals put together. She also said Changelings have two lives.” Charlotte wrinkled her nose. “Do you really have two lives?”
“Yes,” replied Moritz, “but Wolf Boy and I, we’ve only got one left. We died in Rain City two years ago. Fell off a pedal-car track. It’s kind of a badge of honor, you know. The first time you die.”
“What’s it like?” Charlotte asked quietly.
“I guess it’s sort of like stumbling through a dimly lit labyrinth, trying to find your way out.” Moritz paused. “Right, Wolf Boy?”
“Not a bad way to put it,” Wolf Boy said with a grin. He then dove on top of Moritz, and they wrestled on the ground, laughing.
Sonja rolled her eyes. “Very mature,” she muttered under her breath.
Alexandria yelled down from a bridge in the treetops: “Stop fooling around! Hurry up!”
Wolf Boy, Moritz, and the twins followed the last of the Changelings up the massive tree. Charlotte trailed her fingers along the damp, rough bark. Lichen and moss and fungus grew in between its woody ridges. All around her, a sea of shimmering leaves billowed in the breeze. Everything on the island was vibrant and budding and pungent. It was nothing like where she came from—a world of garbage and ugliness. Charlotte wanted to fit in, but the Changelings did not seem to like them.
They reached the top of the stairs, crossed a bridge, and entered a narrow timber house with a thatched roof. The room was packed with Changelings passing around bowls of mead. Burning incense mixed with their powerful smell. Branches crisscrossed overhead with flickering globes hanging from them.
Charlotte noticed a purple stone circled by smaller stones sticking up out of the floor among the littered leaves. They had seen the same stone at Arthur’s.
“I didn’t know you had a thing for humans,” the girl in the fox coat said snidely as Wolf Boy and Moritz and the twins walked by. A gang of girls sitting around her snickered.
“Well, there’s not much choice around here, is there, Cornelia?” Wolf Boy said, shrugging. Moritz laughed. The girl grimaced. She brushed her hair off her shoulder and looked away haughtily.
Alexandria wiped a froth of mead off her mouth. She gestured to an empty spot on the floor beside her. The twins sat down. Young Changelings entered the hall carrying wooden platters.
“Serve the guests first,” ordered Staghart.
Plates were set in front of Alexandria and the girls. They were covered in slugs, snails, worms, and grasshoppers—all wriggling and crawling.
Alexandria chose the smallest caterpillar she could find and popped it into her mouth. She chewed its gooey body as fast as she could. “Delicious,” she said politely.
“Go on,” Staghart encouraged the twins.
They stared at the platter of insects, disgusted.
“Everyone’s waiting,” urged Alexandria, nudging them.
Charlotte reluctantly picked up a cricket. If she wanted to make friends, she would have to eat the poor little insect. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth. The cricket chirped. She jumped, startled. The cricket flew out of her hand and landed in her hair.
The Changelings pointed at her and whispered, laughing. Cornelia murmured “Human” under her breath.
Charlotte looked down at her lap, embarrassed.
Sonja bristled. “I won’t be intimidated by a bunch of Changelings.” The next thing Charlotte knew, her sister had pinched a worm between her fingers, looked Cornelia straight in the eye, and slithered it into her mouth. She chewed slowly.
The other Changelings turned to Staghart. He shrugged. “Let’s eat.” Hands flew into the platters. Changelings crunched shells, slurped slime, and spat out tentacles.
“I’d settle for a pancake right now,” whispered Charlotte.
“Me, too,” agreed Sonja, “but worm’s not as bad as you’d expect.”
Charlotte remembered when they were little, Tatty used to make heart-shaped pancakes. She told them they turned out that way because she cooked them with love. Charlotte caught Cornelia staring at her. She quickly wiped her eyes and looked away.
Staghart picked up a snail, held its head in his teeth, and pulled the slimy body out of its shell. “We received a message a few hours ago,” he informed the room, chewing. “It concerns us all.” The Changelings grew quiet. He took off his amber pendant, rubbed it against his fur cloak, and pressed it to the purple stone sticking out of the floor. As soon as they touched, a current sparked between them. It carried a voice. “Hear me, Staghart, Protector of the Forlorn Forest!”
“It’s Uncle Tell!” Charlotte said, surprised. Sonja grabbed her hand.
“The Key was taken last night by humans,” crackled Mr. Fortune Teller’s voice. “They’re after the source of the magic. We have a scout following them. All Protectors must meet in the Land Where the Plants Reign within three days. It’s most urgent that you bring your Amulet.”
His voice trailed off. The connection died. Staghart put the pendant back around his neck.
Anxious murmuring spread through the room. A Changeling shouted from the back, “Will the Swifters come?”
“It’s a serious enough matter,” replied Staghart. “Our differences won’t stop them.”
“And the Albans?” asked another. “Since Tobias was killed, our messages have been ignored.”
“Once we reach the Land Where the Plants Reign,” said Alexandria, “we can send a scout to bring them news in person.”
“I foresee a battle.” Staghart traced the scar across his forehead. “I’v
e already died once. This fight will take my life.” He gestured the mark of an X across his chest.
The crowd grew restless. A few of the younger Changelings started to whimper. Alexandria shook her head. “It won’t come to that. There doesn’t have to be a battle.”
Staghart wiped his mouth and stood up. “We’ll wait until night to travel. It’s safer.” He put his hand on Alexandria’s shoulder. “Once you’ve rested, we’ll inform the animals about what’s happened.”
Wolf Boy and Moritz scooped a handful of insects each and followed Staghart out of the hall. The rest of the Changelings trailed soberly after them, leaving Alexandria and the twins alone.
Alexandria took off her coat and dress. She sat back down in her long underwear, knee-length socks, and tall boots. Charlotte could not help but stare. Alexandria’s bones stuck out all over the place. Her hands were large and heavily jointed, and her veins made blue patterns across her pale skin. She combed out her hair. It made two piles on the ground. Next Alexandria braided her hair into sections and pinned them neatly into place.
As Charlotte watched, something dawned on her. “Are you a Pearl Catcher?”
“What did you think I was? Human?”
“Is that why you didn’t need a slug to breathe underwater?”
“Uh-huh.” Alexandria leaned toward Charlotte. “Do me a favor, Sonja. Check and see if Staghart’s gone.”
Charlotte groaned. “I’m Charlotte.” She stood up and stuck her head out the door. “All clear.”
Alexandria pulled out a cigarette from her boot. It crackled and burned as she sucked on its end. “So how do I get this right? Which one’s which?”
Charlotte pointed to the mole on her cheek. “Sonja doesn’t have one.”
“In fact, if you pay close attention, everything that seems the same is, actually, different,” Sonja said with a hint of sarcasm.
Alexandria blew out a ring of smoke. It hovered over the twins’ heads. “You seem exactly identical to me. Especially when you’re whining.”
Charlotte sat back down with a plop. “What happened to you? Why are you so rude?”
“I tell the truth. People learn from their mistakes, but only if you point them out.”
“Maybe right now’s not a good time to start teaching us anything,” suggested Sonja. “Tatty’s missing, and our lives are ruined, and we’re traveling in a land we thought was make-believe until a few hours ago. Be kind, if you can.”
Alexandria grunted. “This is kind.”
“The Changelings don’t seem to like us, either,” Charlotte said unhappily.
“Humans are hard to like.”
“Why’d you marry Arthur, then?” Charlotte snapped back. “Or isn’t he human, either?”
“He’s human—and the rest is none of your business.”
Charlotte glared at her. Alexandria was cold. She was coarse. She smelled like cigarettes. And they were stuck with her. “He seemed heartbroken when we saw him,” Charlotte said with a hint of mischief. “I’ve never seen a man cry before.”
Alexandria took another puff.
Charlotte gave Sonja a look. She nodded. “Uncle Tell said you left him because he’s obsessed with his work and lives in a pigsty,” Sonja remarked, playing along with her sister. “Is that true?”
“You two ask a lot of questions.”
Charlotte shrugged. “Children ask questions. It’s normal.”
“That’s probably why I stay away from them.” Alexandria stubbed out her cigarette and stuffed the butt under a matt. She pulled off one of her boots and shook it until a handkerchief tumbled out. She carefully unwrapped the lace-edged cotton to reveal a large, misshapen pearl strung on a chain.
“What’s that?” said Sonja.
“The Hanging Pearl. My Amulet.” Alexandria clasped the chain around her neck. The pearl fell against her chest.
“You’re a Protector, too?” Charlotte said in disbelief.
“Of the Shifting Lakes.” Alexandria frowned. “Why do you look so surprised?”
“You don’t seem the type,” observed Sonja. “I mean, you’ve got a lot of bad habits and personal problems, don’t you?”
Alexandria’s cheeks flushed. “You two are incredible. How would you know what makes a good Protector? Only the Amulets can decide. They choose us.”
“Who are the other Protectors?” asked Charlotte. She hoped they were a little more impressive than Alexandria.
“Are you really going to make me go through the whole list?”
“Yes!” the twins yelled in unison.
Alexandria groaned. “Okay. Okay.” She scratched her nose. “Let’s see. We’ll go oldest to youngest. There’s a hierarchy, you know. Luckily, I don’t see them much, so it’s no skin off my back.” Her expression grew sulky. She slumped a little. “First, there’s the Great Tiffin, Protector of the Land Where the Plants Reign. He’s the oldest, nearly five hundred years, and the most powerful. Then come the Three Swifters, Protectors of the Lost Desert. They’re pretty ancient, too, and the meanest of the bunch. After them is the Great Changeling, Staghart, whom you know, Protector of the Forlorn Forest. Next the Single Alban, Tobias. They spoke about him at the meeting. Protector of the Golden Underground, deceased.”
“How’d he die?” interrupted Sonja. “Who’s taking his place?”
“A boar killed him. That’s to be decided.”
“How’s it decided, then?” Charlotte asked.
Alexandria rolled her eyes. “Really?”
“Just tell us!” Sonja said, irritated.
“There are two ways. The first is to throw the Amulet with the missing Protector into the Leading River, which borders the Land Where the Plants Reign. After a month or two, it finds its rightful owner, somehow. The second is to bring the Amulets together and do a sort of séance. The Amulets speak through the Protectors and together we find the missing Protector.”
“Sounds creepy,” said Charlotte.
“If you want me to continue,” threatened Alexandria, “no more interruptions.” The twins nodded. “We’re up to the Mother of All Geese and Fowl, old Hester.” Alexandria chuckled. “She looks like an antique, but she’s a spring chicken compared with the rest. She’s Protector of the Crooked Peaks. After her is the Foreteller, Hieronymus, of course. Uncle Tell to you. Protector of the Vanishing Islands. And finally”—she gestured to herself—“yours truly, the youngest of all. They don’t let me forget it, either.” Alexandria stood up and blew out the flames in the amber globes. She folded up her coat, placed it under her head, and collapsed onto her back. “That’s it. No more talking. I’ve only got a couple of hours before I have to meet Staghart.”
Charlotte and Sonja lay down on the woven mats. They were quiet for a moment until Charlotte said, “Alexandria, do you think they’ll hurt Tatty? I mean Kats von Stralen and his mother.”
“She’ll be safe until they get hold of an Amulet.”
“I hate to think of Tatty on her own.”
“We’re all on our own in one way or another. Now go to sleep.”
“I don’t know if I can,” whispered Sonja. “It’s so quiet here.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Alexandria turned on her side. “That’s the heartless thing about us creatures. Eventually, we adapt to anything.”
The twins held each other’s hands like they did every night. Charlotte stared up at the thatched ceiling. She would never adapt to their new lives, whatever Alexandria said. She would never adapt, even if it killed her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Middle of the Night
SONJA WAS DREAMING OF TATTY AND LABYRINTHS AND Kats von Stralen when a voice yelled, “Rise and shine!”
She wiped her eyes. Wolf Boy stood over them with a lantern in his hand. Moritz hung back in the shadows. She turned to the empty spot where Alexandria had slept.
“Where is she?”
“Waiting for us,” said Wolf Boy. “You better hurry.”
Moritz kept his eyes on the floor as the twins stumbled to their feet, half asleep.
Outside, it was cold and dark. Night vines exhaled a ripe scent. Charlotte and Sonja followed the Changelings across the bridge and down the tree. Candles flickered in windows. Stars peered down among branches. A Changeling mother sang to her baby.
They walked into the woods. Wolf Boy held up his lantern. The trees’ shadows darkened the already dark underbrush. Little animals rustled among the leaves. An owl hooted in the distance.
Sonja kept close to the Changelings. She was not used to such dark darkness. In the Outskirts, the street lamps were always lit. “Where are we going?” she asked anxiously.
“Just a little farther now,” replied Wolf Boy.
He led them under a fallen tree and through a cluster of jagged ferns. The path sloped down. At its end, they came into a primitive, moonlit graveyard. Splayed headstones stuck out of the ground. Ivy shrouds hid names and dates.
As they stepped through the gate, the air chilled. Sonja shivered. “It’s freezing!”
“Shh!” cautioned Wolf Boy. “You’ll wake them up!”
“Wake who?” Charlotte said hesitantly.
Both Changelings whispered, “Shh!”
It was too late.
Dozens of animals began to rise from the ground, bucking and rearing. There were deer and foxes and horses and a bear. Their bodies were entirely transparent and glowed bright yellow. Their glassy eyes bulged out of their sockets. Their quiet growls echoed and reverberated.
“Are . . . Are those ghosts?” stammered Sonja. The circus had set up in many cemeteries over the years, but the girls had never seen an actual ghost. The other circus members always claimed to have spotted one or two wandering around at night.
“Only a few humans become ghosts after they die,” explained Moritz, “but all Changelings do, once they’ve used up both lives.”