The Changeling (36 page)

“I will think about what you’ve said and make a decision…tomorrow…tomorrow morning.”

She studied me, and I could almost feel her probing my mind, so I let her read images of Drevek in the hospital. She maintained a passive, caring expression, and softly said, “If you think you can decide so quickly.”

“I have to get Mitch back. I will get him back, right? You promise?” I studied her face, letting my desperation bubble to the surface.

“I do.”

The tone in her voice was genuine and the look on her face was the most caring I’d witnessed. I knew she was lying to me.

I let tears form in my eyes, “I’ll let you know tomorrow morning, but how will I let the rogues know since Cassandra is gone?”

Her expression didn’t change. “I will contact Zarkus, should you decide, and ask him to contact the rogues. I am confident we can get word to them. We will not proceed until I know Mitch is safe.”

“Okay…can I please be alone for a while?”

She smiled. “Certainly. Tomorrow then?”

“Yes. And thank you, Ozara. You have no idea what a difference your words have made.” For the first time, I meant everything I said.

TWENTY-FIVE

RESOLUTE

Subconsciously staring at the rough grain running through the beams in my ceiling, I worked out what I had to do. The first step was huge. The timeframe was my own doing, and I prayed that Gavin was right about finding Mitch. If he was wrong, I was in trouble. Gavin had to be right, I told myself, but finding Mitch and getting him back were two very different things. Unsure of what I would find, or who I’d have to face, I debated whether I should ask Billy and Sara for help. They would certainly be willing, but if I was right and Ozara wanted me off the Weald, aiding me would put both of them in terrible danger. I had to get Mitch back safely without bringing harm to anyone else. Then I could stand my ground and fight for my place here.

My mind wandered off on Ozara and her motivations yet again. She was paranoid, and the danger stabbed me in the gut like a dull blade. Was she really so dead set on easing tensions with the Unseelie that she’d put everyone at risk? Her offer to bring me back in the event of problems made me angry. She wanted to treat me like a mindless weapon, an unloaded gun that stayed hidden in the back of a closet until the threat arose—hidden until the intruder came. I was afraid for her, for everyone actually, that the intruder would be in the house before she had a chance to get to me.

“I’ll think about all of that later,” I whispered to my darkened room.

At ten o’clock, Ozara was still out of my range. She’d been gone an hour. Smokey and Gusty were in their usual places, and so were the rest of the Seelie guards.
Game on.
A few moments later I was floating above my body.

Concentrating on Mitch, I allowed nothing else into my mind but his face, his crazy mop of tawny hair, and his dimples. “I will find Mitch. I will find Mitch.” Almost immediately, an invisible tether gripped me, pulling me away from my room. The sensation of being hurled through the darkness was overwhelming and everything was a blur. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time, like falling from a great height in pure darkness, but I continued to focus on Mitch.

The movement stopped and a familiar cloak of mist surrounded me. In the darkness, I was hovering in an unfamiliar grove of oak and hickory trees on the side of a hill. Mitch was not there, but I sensed five people down the hill and behind me. Along with them were three Fae. One seemed oddly familiar, but it wasn’t Cassandra.
It was probably one of the Unseelie from the hotel.
Mitch had to be close.

Gliding forward in the dark woods and through thick, snarled underbrush, I saw a fluorescent yard light glowing faintly from atop a telephone pole. It illuminated an old barn with peeling red paint and a rusty metal roof. Beyond the barn, a filthy tractor and several large pieces of worn farm equipment were scattered next to a barbed wire fence in waist-high weeds. The people and the Fae were in the other direction, still hidden by the mist.

I floated past the last trees and into the clearing. The hulking form of an old white farmhouse began to take shape as I drew closer. It wasn’t a pretty house, with stained and peeling paint, narrow windows with rusty screens and an uneven porch strewn with boxes and furniture. Two humans were downstairs with the Fae, and three were above them.

A round-faced, middle-aged woman with stringy blonde hair, small eyes and splotchy skin cowered in the corner of the dark, dank living room, clutching the front of her housecoat with chubby hands. She watched a short, stocky, middle-aged man with thinning brown hair and tattoos as he spoke with one of the Unseelie, the only one I could see from my vantage.

Typical of a Fae, she was tall, blonde and striking, but dressed oddly. The black pants and jacket looked completely out of place and did nothing to soften her angular features. She stared at the man as I caught the last part of his question. His drawl was excruciating to listen to—it was country, grating, and nothing like Aunt May’s. He didn’t sound like he was from Arkansas.

“…but ya told us we’d be movin’ six months ago, an’ that ain’t happened yet.”

The blonde Unseelie glared at him, and the round woman flinched.
Enough of this. I have to find Mitch.
Then a voice filtered through my senses—a familiar voice that shook me so hard I felt the connection to my body come alive.

“Are you displeased with our arrangement?” Chalen barked.

It can’t be. Maggie, you’ve got to calm down
. I willed myself further down the hall until Chalen came into view. It was really him, in his younger, vicious form, leering at the humans who stood behind a tattered and lumpy plaid sofa in a futile attempt to shield themselves. Without thinking, I screamed “Bastard.” The invisible tether to my body yanked hard as rage consumed me. Seeing him standing there in physical form reawakened the homicidal feelings I’d felt on the island.

The Unseelie and the humans flinched and looked around the room.
Crap. Just relax
,
you can’t do anything about Chalen right now.

“There! Did ya hear that, that moanin’?” The man cowered. “We ain’t complainin’, it’s just we wanna get tha hell outta this place.”

“You chose it,” the blonde Fae said, clearly annoyed.

The man looked down at the floor and exhaled, his round stomach pooching out over his belt.

“What’s wrong with it, other than the filth?” she snapped.

“There’s somethin’ here. I know ya heard it, too,” the frightened man protested, his wide-eyed expression pathetic and annoying.

“You are as bad as he is.” She shot a quick glare at Chalen. “There is nothing here.”

Chalen shook his head and glared back at the blonde. She was clearly in charge. The man raised his dirty white undershirt to reveal long scratches on his stomach and back. Some appeared fresh. The blonde Fae looked repulsed as she scanned his flabby, hairy belly.

“This got’dang place is haunted. Ain’t no other way ta say it.”

The blonde Fae rolled her eyes, her patience obviously growing thin. The woman, the man’s wife I assumed, backed up a step and whimpered.

“There’s somethin’ here, and it come after me ever’time I get close ta that boy,” he continued his protest.

Mitch!

“ENOUGH!” She snapped. “Other than the two of you, there are three people in this house.”

I knew in my gut that Mitch was one of them.

“I’m tellin’ ya, there’s somethin’ else,” the man whispered. “It showed up a month ago, started movin’ things, hollerin’ at me, and a few days ago it started scratchin’ me.”

“
That is when you showed up. Echo! How long have you been in physical form
?” the blonde silently asked Chalen. He returned her gaze, but she didn’t let him answer. “
It does not matter. You should not be here. Leave. Now.”

To my surprise, Chalen obeyed. He walked out the filthy front door and I felt him transform into his natural form and move away. Wasting no more time, I willed myself to the second floor. I had to find Mitch, and I needed to know who else stood in my way.

In a small bedroom at the front of the house, a tiny blonde-haired girl lay awake with her covers pulled up around her face. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven, and she looked terrified. Listening to the conversation between the Unseelie and humans in the room below, her eyes darted back and forth each time a voice pierced the darkened room. The poor thing had heard every word and I felt sorry for her. Were the Unseelie keeping other children in the farmhouse?

At the back of the second floor, I found an older boy, maybe Mitch’s age, who was sound asleep in a room strewn with clothes and toys. They’d been keeping a third child? It didn’t make sense.

The children looked like the woman downstairs. The sad reality hit me. The kids were caught up in a mess that would probably end in tragedy because their naïve parents were dealing with the Unseelie.

Two seconds after entering the boy’s room, I willed myself to the third presence, up in the attic. Terrified of what I might find, I fought with my tether as I moved through the floor. There were no lights on, but I could clearly see cardboard boxes, old suitcases, and trunks scattered under the bare rafters. Several inches of dust caked everything. Toward the back corner, I noticed a doorway and drifted to it.

Gratitude, happiness, and relief—I experienced all of them in waves when I laid eyes on him. Lying motionless on an old mattress, Mitch was there. He was gaunt and rail thin, but he looked much healthier than his changeling did. His eyes were open but dazed. He blinked slowly every few seconds. I couldn’t remember what she’d called it, but Ozara was right, he was still under the influence of the thing they did, the fairy blast.

“You’re all right, you’re really all right.”

I was suddenly overcome with emotion, and I felt the pull once again. It took serious concentration, but I was able to regain control.

I couldn’t touch him, as much as I wanted to, but I could sense each heartbeat. For several minutes I was satisfied to watch his chest swell and drop as he breathed. His clothes were clean and his hair was combed, but it was several inches longer than it had been when I last saw him. Candace had been right about that, and something else. He had actually grown since he was kidnapped, I was sure of it. He was noticeably longer than Drevek. It occurred to me that Drevek had not grown in any way over that time.

A presence neared the room and then dissipated. I couldn’t be sure, but it felt like Aunt May. The man’s stories about moaning and being attacked suddenly made more sense, and so did Aunt May’s long absence. The thought of her looking over Mitch made me happy.

After a few minutes of waiting for her to return, I felt the remaining Fae exit the house, and I tracked them until they stopped in the woods. Two others joined them. I didn’t want to leave Mitch, but I knew I needed to listen in.

Whispering, I said, “Aunt May, if you’re here, look after him. I will be back. Mitch, I promise I’m coming to get you.”

Reluctantly, I left him and willed myself into the middle of the Fae. Chalen, and the blonde woman, who they called Dresha, stood talking with the third Fae from the room, a tall, thin, sinister looking male they called Alain. Alain had exceptionally large cheekbones, black, lifeless eyes and a square, bony jaw under a long mane of brown hair that hung straight down to the middle of his back. Like the woman, he wore black clothing. The fourth Fae, a powerfully built man named Markus, was also with them. He was pockmarked and scarred like Chalen, but he was even harder to look at with his cloudy white eyes and greasy red hair.
Another Pyksie
.

It only took a few moments to determine they were aware that my plans were in flux—that I might step down. Markus informed them of the Council’s message that my resolve was weakening. The Council, he said, expected me to agree to the Rogue’s terms in the morning.

“I knew it would work—she cares for that boy,” Chalen said smugly. The familiar pull began each time he spoke. His presence there, in physical form, meant only one thing: there was a Second Aetherfae, and he or she called the shots. I listened for clues, any piece of evidence I could present to Ozara, but they gave me none.

But I did learn something. They would turn Mitch over after it was clear that I was no longer an immediate threat. Once I was powerless, and my family was away from the Weald, away from the protection of the Council, we were all to be eliminated. They didn’t say why, but they seemed bent on it. Somehow I’d always known that would be the case. How Ozara missed it was beyond me.

My tether grew stronger when I thought about it. I would be killed and I wouldn’t even see it coming.

From everything else I gathered, the family holding Mitch would all die as soon as the exchange was made. It was Chalen’s job, and sickeningly, he relished the opportunity.

Dresha smiled for the first time as Markus explained the sequence. After they received word that I had agreed to the terms, they would provide proof that Mitch was alive and well. Markus had suggested a finger, and I hated him for it, but the Council said a lock of hair would be sufficient. “Ozara will erase the girl’s mind and I will be granted a reprieve to witness the procedure myself. When Chalen eliminates these people, I will let the Council know where to find the boy,” he said. “We will meet here in twenty-four hours.”