The Last Changeling

by Chelsea Pitcher

  But I didn’t.

  Instead, I walked toward the sound, and in that moment the universe made its little alterations. What might have been different if I’d chosen the parking lot over the darkness?

  What might have been different if I’d never gone to the swing-set that first night?

  Our choices change us, every one of them.

  I went looking for the kid, and the course of my life was forever changed.

  I caught a glimpse of him as I reached the back end of the cemetery. At least, I thought it was the back end, but through the trees I saw no sign of the fence. What I did see was a boy’s head—a young boy, with hair a shade darker than Aaron’s had been. It was the exact same shade as mine. This similarity struck me as significant, but I couldn’t figure out why.

  I was too eager to catch him.

  I’m not sure when things shifted from “find” to “catch,” but it was clear he was hiding from me. And it wasn’t like I was going to hurt him, or even detain him unless he was in some kind of danger. I just wanted to look at him, face to face, and maybe bring him home to his family.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I called, stepping into the space between the trees. No matter where I went, I couldn’t get away from trees. It seemed like the trees here outnumbered the graves, and that couldn’t be right.

  None of this is right.

  The thought sent chills up my spine. I told myself to stay calm. I hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time exploring the outer edges of the cemetery, and I certainly didn’t know every inch of the place.

  As I ducked under a branch, I misjudged its height, and spindly branches trailed across my neck. I had the strangest impression that the tree was tasting my blood, and then I knew my imagination was getting away from me. But my neck burned, and I held my hand over it to calm the sting. When I took my hand away, it was covered in blood.

  Covered.

  I started to panic then, pushing through the branches even though it only led to more cuts. I’d never been overly sensitive to blood, but seeing myself lose so much—at a cemetery—had a bad effect on me. My stomach churned.

  Only the whimpering of the boy kept me from giving up entirely.

  “I’m coming; just stay where you are. It’s going to be okay.”

  But was it? My heart was beating really fast, and that couldn’t be good for slowing the flow of my blood. I put my hand back on my neck and it felt wet, sticky. I could have sworn that blood was dripping down my back, but that wasn’t possible. It had just been a little scratch.

  I wasn’t going to die or anything.

  I whipped around when I heard the boy behind me. Laughing, like we were playing a game. But it wasn’t a game I wanted to play, because I’d suddenly realized why the cemetery smelled like autumn. That smell wasn’t crumbling leaves—it was freshly turned dirt. I’d smelled it on days when someone needed to be buried. But no one needed to be buried in the middle of the night, and even if they did, it wouldn’t explain the strength of the smell. It smelled like the entire place had been overturned. Like every grave in the cemetery had been freshly dug up.

  I stepped out of the trees, out of the darkness, and found that my eyes had adjusted to the night. Now I wished they hadn’t, because the things I saw shouldn’t have been seen by any human.

  I saw the boy skittering up the back of a gargoyle, his nails so long they could slit your throat and bleed you dry.

  I saw so many crows flying overhead, their bodies blotted out the moon and the sky.

  And when I looked down at the freshly turned dirt of the cemetery, I saw dead things crawling out of the earth.

  25

  ElorA

  At the sound of the voice, I whirled around. The darkness shifted and two creatures stepped into the moonlight, wearing the shadows the way a lady wears a dress. Dark things. Unholy things.

  Unseelie.

  “Lhiannon and Lamia,” I snarled, unable to hide my displeasure. “I might have guessed. What brings you to these forbidden lands? Hungry for a snack?”

  Lhiannon lingered in the shadows, too proud to answer, but Lamia stepped closer. Her angular horse’s body shifted with each step. Her coat was black as coal, and her eyes resembled the heavens at the darkest part of night. But if it suited her, she could transform to reflect a man’s deepest desire, and in that form she could make him crumble.

  Or kill.

  “And now we’re talking to horses,” Alexia said beside me, but her voice was pinched and shaky. Clearly she was aware that these creatures were more than they appeared. Those sharp edges, jagged as bones; those eyes that had witnessed the beginning of the earth—even the dullest of humans would have been afraid of them.

  “Answer me,” I commanded the faeries, ignoring the mortal girl who was anything but dull. At least Brad was keeping himself busy. He sat in the dirt building a mud castle. “Or was I not painfully clear that I wasn’t to be followed?”

  Lhiannon snorted, and the movement revealed what I had not been able to see: the little creature perched on her back, webbed fingers splayed out in welcome. So familiar, my heart went a-flutter in my chest.

  My old friend.

  My dearest companion.

  “Illya!” I rushed to her side. It struck me as odd that she hadn’t flown to me already, but up close, I saw the reason.

  “Oh, Illya.”

  “It’s nothing to worry about,” the marsh sprite replied, ducking away from my gaze. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

  I leaned in, surveying her wings—what remained of them. “Naeve,” I whispered, my fingers hovering over the damage.

  “He burned them. Curled them up like paper.”

  “Brave Illya.” I held out my hand, and she wrapped herself up in it. “I’m so glad you are alive.”

  “As am I. Most of the time.”

  My heart broke at the words. But wouldn’t I have felt the same way? I had hardly been able to bear the past few weeks, bound to the land like a human. How would I feel if I actually lost the ability to fly? Forever.

  “Maybe there is a way to heal them,” I said as Illya stepped out of my embrace. But even as I spoke, my throat constricted.

  “Perhaps in the old days,” she said softly. Who hadn’t heard stories of such things? Of magic healing all wounds, and gardens springing up at the hands of the faeries. “But power is weak now among the fey. Unless something changes … ” She glanced at the humans, unable to mask her disgust.

  I reached for her, but for the first time in our long friendship, she pulled away.

  “There will be time later for conciliation,” she said. “We must return to Court before Naeve discovers where we have gone.”

  “What do you mean? Where is Naeve?”

  “Too close for us to linger. He nearly caught up to you at the ball. He has probably captured the boy by now.”

  “Captured the boy? What boy?”

  “Just one of the humans.”

  “One of the—” I couldn’t breathe. I felt as if my chest were caving in. “Tell me what you saw. Did you see Naeve capture a human?”

  Say no, say no, please say no.

  “No.”

  My breath rushed out in a whoosh. Still, my heart screamed.

  “His beasts infiltrated the dance,” she said. “I would not have thought it possible for a dark faerie to dance so closely with humans, but then, you have been doing it all along, haven’t you?” She paused, a shudder ripping through her small frame. “They followed you out of the ballroom, but they lost track of you at the bedchamber. When the boy came out alone, they went in after you. You know what they found there.”

  Nothing.

  “What did they do next? Please, Illya, this is important.”

  “They followed the mortal. Well, three mortals, actually—”

  “Three? Th
ree mortals?” I glanced over at Alexia, who was trying to light a cigarette. Tears had blossomed beneath her long, dark lashes, and her teeth drew fresh blood from her lips.

  She couldn’t get the cigarette to light. “She took my best fucking lighter,” she said, flicking the wheel over and over. “I have to get it back.”

  “I could get it for you,” I said, hoping to reason with her mad ramblings. She glared at me like I had offered to twist a knife in her back.

  Maybe I had.

  “Tell me what happened next,” I said to Illya.

  “The boy climbed into an iron chariot,” she said, watching Alexia’s breakdown with detached interest. “And two others followed him, in their own.”

  “A boy and girl? Brother and sister?”

  “I don’t know! They were humans.”

  “And you followed them?”

  “Yes, for a time.”

  “Did you see where they went?”

  “No. But we saw signs, along the path, for a cemetery of all places. That’s when I offered to look for you in the opposite direction, in case you tried to slip away while Naeve tracked the humans.”

  “And he allowed you to break away?”

  “He knows of my bond with you. He thought that if I happened upon you, my story would convince you to rescue the humans. What a fool he is, thinking you could care for them.”

  “Illya … ”

  “We must return to Court while his back is turned.”

  “I am not going back to Court.”

  “You must.”

  “I can’t. Not yet.” I struggled to find a way to explain things to her. “I must stop them from interfering with the mortal world. The courts may be at odds, but we agree on one thing: humans are off limits.”

  “Except to you?” Illya glared pointedly at Brad. His hands were covered in dirt, his eyes still glazed.

  “That remains our secret,” I said. “But if the dark faeries slaughter three humans, everyone will know of it. It will give the Bright Court power over us. We will have to allow them three humans, and what do you think that will do to my pact with the Bright Queen?”

  Illya turned away. Alexia had taken a seat beside Brad on the ground, still flicking the lighter. Her thumb had started to bleed.

  “Let me put it this way,” I explained. “If the Bright Queen gains three humans for nothing, why would she want one for something?”

  Illya looked up at me. “You will be putting us in danger,” she said.

  It pained me to see how much she’d changed in my absence. How much she had hardened.

  Or maybe she just didn’t recognize me anymore.

  “I’m not asking any of you to help me save the humans.” I knelt before Lamia, holding her gaze. “But I am asking for your aid.” I glanced toward Alexia, who was trying to open her lighter with the heel of her shoe; toward Brad, whose cruel existence meant so much to my revolution. “I know it’s a lot to ask”—I returned my gaze to Lamia’s dark, fathomless eyes—“but would you take this boy somewhere for me?”

  Lamia did not merely shudder. Her skin rippled, like water breached by a stone. She brayed and stepped away from me, but not far enough to indicate refusal. Even though I had promised her freedom at the end of things, she was still in my service.

  I was still her princess.

  “You need only to take him to the borderlands,” I said. “Members of her court can meet you there.” I did not say the Seelie Queen. I dared not even speak her title to Lamia. It would have been enough to change her mind.

  Her great head dipped, and I rose to my feet. “Thank you, friend,” I said, praying she would not attempt to suck out Brad’s soul on the way. But when I turned back to him, more pressing concerns were brought to my attention. In the moment I’d turned away, Alexia had slid her arm around Brad’s neck. Now the sharp edge of her heel was pressed into his skin.

  “I’ll slit his throat if you don’t take me with you.” She caught my eye, and she did not look scared. She looked angry and perfectly in control. “You know I will.”

  It took me a moment to understand. The cigarette, the fit she’d thrown over the useless lighter—it had all been a distraction.

  “You are quite the little actress,” I said.

  “And you are easily fooled.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “It won’t have to,” Alexia said. “After we rescue Kylie, you will never have to see me again.” She tightened her grip on Brad. My stomach tensed as blood smeared his neck. I knew the blood was hers—crimson remnants from the thumb she’d sliced on her lighter. But the sight invoked all kinds of images; images of blood pouring down his neck. Images of him taking his last breath.

  I had no time to argue, or even to think. Brad was in danger. Taylor was in danger, as were the twins. Nodding to the faeries, I said, “A detour, then.”

  26

  TayloR

  The dead things didn’t come for me right away. They were too busy celebrating their resurrection. They licked the dirt from their fingers and grabbed each other’s hands, dancing in clothing that looked like it came from the circus. Stripes and top hats, fluffy skirts; everything torn and muddy. I thought, for a second, that one of them looked more like a rabbit than a man, but when I looked again, I realized it was a mask. Whatever these creatures were, wherever they had been, they were back for blood.

  I stepped backward, my eyes scanning the grounds for Aaron’s headstone. For the moment, his area of the cemetery seemed relatively empty. I had a pretty good idea that these creatures were looking for something alive to eat, but I couldn’t stand the thought of them digging up my brother’s body.

  I crept along the outskirts of the grounds, feeling with my hands so my eyes could keep watch. The night was dark, which should have been a relief; already I was seeing things that made me want to claw out my eyes. But the lack of light was worse than seeing, because they could come up behind me and slide their fingernails over my neck. They could reach out of the ground and pull me under. Gnaw off my limbs. I knew if I felt those cold, cracked lips on my skin I would go crazy, and then they would be able to do whatever they wanted to me, and to Aaron.

  I had to escape them.

  Already I’d bypassed how can this be happening? and moved right into how can I survive this? I had no time for disbelief. If faeries could exist, so could these dead things. And if I sat around trying to understand the universe, I was going to end up dead.

  Or worse.

  My fingers fumbled over the bark of an oak. I looked up, calculating how easy it would be to climb it. I didn’t fully understand my logic in that moment; I should have bolted to the parking lot and driven until the gas ran out. But the parking lot felt miles away, and I couldn’t leave Aaron until I knew he was safe.

  Even now, my darkest fears were being confirmed. They were creeping toward his grave.

  I pulled myself into the lowest branch, moving as quietly as I possibly could. The second a twig snapped, they’d be alerted to my presence and they’d surround me. That’s how it always happens in the movies. The hero thinks he’s finally outrun the villain, and then one stupid twig snaps. Next thing he knows, the villain’s sucking his soul out through his lips, leaving him a husk of a man.

  I wasn’t going out that way.

  In my movie, I’d set the entire graveyard on fire before I’d let these fuckers mess with the bodies of people’s loved ones. Everyone would rest in peace: the dead, the undead, even me. Maybe that’s why Elora left me right when I’d lost the option of going back home. Maybe my purpose was right here, defending good from evil in a fight to the death.

  At least I could go out with a bang.

  But how?

  I looked down, though it was the last thing I wanted to do. A big fat group of them were gathering around my brother’s grave. I couldn’t read his g
ravestone from here, but I knew it was his. Why wouldn’t it be? They probably heard me pouring my heart out to him.

  They probably fed on my despair.

  I did my best to stay positive.

  It was a challenge. They were digging now, some of them, with those long nails that kept growing after death. They were licking at the ground, too, or eating it. Anything to get at my brother’s body. I had to find a way to distract them, to offer them something else to chase.

  That’s when I heard the scream. I recognized it, though I didn’t want to.

  I turned just in time to see the dead surround Kylie and Keegan. It happened quickly, like ants covering a carcass. They didn’t have time to fight back.

  I’m not sure what was worse: witnessing the capture of the twins or realizing they’d come here looking for me. No, the former was worse. Of course it was worse. But the guilt was sharp and all consuming.

  No matter what I do, I end up putting people in danger.

  I was a mess. Useless. How could I help them? I started to wish for divine intervention then, instead of the wicked universe taunting me with its sense of irony. I wished for angels to swoop down and save all of us. That’s what you needed when you were dealing with demons.

  And that’s what they were. I could see it, now that they’d neared the light of the parking lot. Their wings were black and slick as bats’ wings, and some of them had horns coming out of their heads. I realized, in the darkest moment of my life, that fire wouldn’t hurt these creatures.

  Where they came from, fire was everywhere.

  It was home.

  Please, God, send us angels. I will never disbelieve in you again.

  I felt like a fool. I’d prayed to God so many times since Aaron’s death. Prayed that I was dreaming. Prayed that I wasn’t to blame. Why would a divine being listen to me now, after all this time? It was clear I’d been forsaken, again and again.

  It was clear God was no friend of mine.

  But wait—there in the distance, something was approaching. Something grand and beautiful and winged. Those wings could have been white; they glowed, silver-tinged, in the moonlight. But of course they were black.