“I mean it, actually,” Jonas went on. “Everyone we talk to refuses to explain anything properly. If we own Idris, we can make him tell us.”
“No, no,” Twist said, smiling at the absurdity of it all. “I’m laughing because I’m with you, and I can hardly believe I am. Let’s do it. What do we need?”
Myra looked to Twist in alarm, while Jonas appeared surprised, but pleasantly so. Before they could move any further on this plan, however, a sudden disturbance startled them all. There was a sharp gust of wind and a very strange—almost popping—sound only a few feet behind Jonas that seemed to startle everyone in the vicinity.
Twist, Jonas, and Myra all turned to see that a new, small figure had inexplicably appeared at the source of the disturbance. As Twist stared at the crouching, hunched-up figure in bewilderment, it suddenly lifted its snowy-white head from beneath its slender arms.
“Storm?” Myra gasped.
Twist instantly recognized the face of the young boy as well. The rich, bright pink color of the boy’s eyes alone were more than enough to identify him. He looked much the same as he had the last time Twist had seen him—outside of a dream—all of the way back in Australia. His white hair was getting a bit more shaggy, and he seemed to have grown a little taller, but his amber-colored skin and the round features were unchanged. He wore the same simple, western-style clothing that he always had before, and the strange contraption he’d made—which seemed to allow him to see and hear Twist—was sitting over his right eye and ear just as it usually did.
Storm looked around himself in amazement for a moment, while Twist noticed that his face and eyes appeared to be dampened by tears. Storm’s vision found Twist, and he let out a gasp.
“Twist!” he exclaimed. “Oh, thank goodness! Where the hell are we?”
“Storm, what are you doing here?” Jonas asked, before Twist could master his confusion enough to answer the boy.
Storm failed to answer Jonas as he scrambled quickly to his feet and then stepped gingerly toward Twist, as if he were walking across very thin ice. More of the gypsies were gathering around them by now, watching Storm with just as much confusion.
“Whoa, this is weird…” Storm muttered, his arms out for balance as he very carefully walked forward across the perfectly ordinary-looking ground. “Twist? What’s happened? Is Jonas all right?”
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Twist asked back. “And what are you doing here?”
“I had to come,” Storm said, stopping very close beside Myra to look at Twist, where he sat beside her on one of the felled logs around the central fire. “Twist, please,” the boy began, looking frightened, “where is this place? What’s going on?”
“Storm?” Arabel asked, coming closer now with Howell and a few gypsies. “Where did you come from?”
Storm didn’t respond to her but continued to wait for Twist to answer him. When Twist once again struggled with his own confusion, Storm stepped forward again and tripped on the edge of the log, falling awkwardly over Myra, who let out a startled sound and tried to catch him. Storm seemed just as startled as well and began to flail against her.
“Storm, what the hell!?” Jonas bellowed as Twist jumped to his feet, desperate to stay out of the boy’s reach.
Storm slipped again and fell, collapsing on the ground at her feet. Myra rose and moved swiftly for Twist, who took her immediately into his arms to try to calm her. The instant he touched her, however, his Sight showed him a number of newly displaced cogs and springs inside her clockwork puppet, which Storm had clearly damaged when he’d fallen on her.
“What was that?” Storm gasped, looking to where Myra had been a moment before.
“Storm, what the hell!” Twist bellowed, unconsciously echoing Jonas.
“What?” Storm yelled back at him, clearly bewildered. “What’s going on, Twist? Where are we? You were supposed to be in France! Not…” He gestured around himself. “Not this, weird, white nothingness!”
Jonas rubbed at his face with his hands. “Holy hell, this kid. Make sense, you weird little freak!”
Twist stared back at the boy as he failed, yet again, to respond to Jonas in any way whatsoever. Storm had claimed to not be able to see or hear Twist at all, when they had first met. He’d also said that he could see Twist, however, when Twist put his pocket watch down. He’d made the strange contraption that he now wore and used magic and a drop of Twist’s blood to let it show Twist to him regardless of where his watch was. And now, in a gypsy camp that was warded with the same charm as the one on his watch, Storm claimed he could see nothing at all, except for Twist, through the contraption on his face.
A sudden gasp drew everyone’s attention to Mama, who had only just arrived. She stood staring at Storm in horror. Storm, however, didn’t seem to have heard her at all. She turned to the gypsies around her, her breath short.
“Get that changeling outside the circle this instant!” she ordered, her voice shaking.
One of the larger gypsies picked Storm up and slung him over one shoulder, but Storm didn’t seem to even see the man approach and didn’t react until the man laid hands on him. Storm shrieked in surprise and struggled as if blindly to free himself, all the while shouting to Twist alone for assistance. Twist could only stare after the ridiculous display with silent dismay.
“How can he see you?” Mama asked Twist urgently, coming to stand before him.
“That thing on his face,” Twist said, gesturing. “He made it so that he could see me.”
“What?” Mama asked quickly, frowning. “How did he make it?”
“He used a drop of my blood to—” Twist began before Mama’s face paled with horror and she reached out as if to grab him by the arms.
Twist backed away from her out of pure reflex and stared at her in alarm, but she didn’t make a second attempt. Mama seemed to struggle to catch her gasping breath and then calm herself before she spoke again.
“You let him see you?” she asked, her voice quaking with pent-up terror.
“Why did you call him a changeling?” Twist asked back.
“How long have you known him?” Mama asked instead of answering. “Where did you meet him? My God, does he know who you are?”
Another sudden gust of wind and odd popping sound startled everyone. The entirety of the camp turned to see Kima now inexplicably standing in exactly the same spot on which her son had appeared a moment before. She wore the sturdy, tan-colored attire of the Australian Rooks, with a bag slung over one shoulder across her chest, and a rifle in her hands. Her long black hair was braided tightly down her back, her black eyes aflame with intent in the soft amber color of her face. She stared about herself in shock, looking slightly out of breath.
“Kima!” Jonas gasped, moving closer to her in astonishment.
Kima jerked in surprise at the sound of his voice and looked to Jonas in alarm before she seemed to recognize him and relax. “Jonas…” she breathed. “Have you seen my son?”
“Oh!” Myra gasped suddenly. “They must have come through the Rook’s transporter!” she announced. “That’s the only explanation, isn’t it?” she asked Twist eagerly, while Kima glanced to her in mild confusion.
“Storm just popped in too,” Jonas said to Kima, speaking gently to her. “Kima, what’s going on?”
“Pahmut just woke from a dream with a terrible scream,” Kima replied, sounding desperately distraught. “He jumped out of bed and ran to the basement, locking himself in. When we finally got through the door, we found he’d set the machine and already traveled through it. So I followed him,” she added with a gesture to the ground beneath her before she quickly seemed to remember something and jumped away to one side.
Not a moment later, a man appeared exactly where she had first been, with another gust of wind and strange popping sound. He was dressed exactly the same way as she was and also wore a shoulder bag and held a rifle. Twist instantly recognized the man as Monti, one of the Rook agents he had met in Australia. The man�
��s slender and small stature matched Twist’s exactly, but now his long, tightly curling hair was bound up in a short lump at the base of his neck.
“Have you found him?” he asked Kima.
“Who the hell are you people?” Mama demanded, advancing on them both. “Where are you coming from?”
“They’re friends,” Jonas answered, placing himself between Mama and Kima. “They were just following Storm, using a weird bit of technology that can transport people—”
“Yes, yes, all right,” Mama said. “As long as it’s technology and not magic, I don’t care. And you say they are your friends?”
“This is Kima, the mother of that little boy with white hair,” Jonas answered with a gesture to her, over his shoulder.
He glanced at Monti, and his jaw tightened as Twist felt a lick of fear burn to life in the buzz at his neck. Monti was a Rook, after all, standing now uninvited amid a troupe of gypsies. Kima’s introduction, however, seemed to give Mama pause.
She stepped around Jonas and looked almost apologetically at the younger woman, her voice turning softer. “I’m very sorry, child,” she said to Kima. “But you must already know. That creature is not your baby. It’s not even human.”
Kima let out a choked sound, her hand now over her mouth as swiftly building tears tumbled over her cheeks. Her rifle fell to the dirt, useless and forgotten. Jonas moved instantly, placing his hands on her shaking shoulders, his face a mask of concern and the buzz at Twist’s neck tightening in a flash. Kima shook her head, holding him away to stand on her own, and gulped down a few quick breaths that seemed to hold back some of her tears. She wiped at her eyes and looked to Mama with more bravery than Twist had ever seen.
“I saw, when he was sleeping,” Kima said, her voice shaking. “There are two little…horns, on his head. He hides them in his hair. They weren’t there before, but now…”
“He’s a satyr,” Mama said to her. “A changeling. His glamor is fading with age.”
All at once, Twist’s understanding snapped into place. He’d known the myth of the changelings from his childhood, when some of the other orphan boys had claimed to have been their victims. The magical creatures stole babies from their cribs and took their place, pretending to be the stolen child. Twist had always guessed that some of his fellow orphans had thought it was better to imagine oneself stolen away from one’s family rather than abandoned by them. But to think the tale was real?
Twist’s attention unexpectedly shifted to the sudden chill at the buzz in his neck. Jonas looked on Kima with naked horror as her face paled under her running tears, while Mama’s words soaked into her mind like a poison. Certainly, it was distressing to see Kima so upset but, looking to his friend, Twist was startled by the level of panic he felt welling up in Jonas at the sight of Kima’s building trauma. Jonas reached out to her once again, taking Kima into his arms and speaking to her gently. This time Kima didn’t protest, sobbing quietly into his shoulder, as the last of her will seemed to dissolve.
“But…” Myra muttered, her voice thin and dismal. “How could this happen? How can Storm be a satyr?”
“He looked like a satyr in my dream!” Twist gasped, suddenly recalling his nightmare.
Mama snapped her eyes shut in obvious frustration and pain. “He found your dreams? No, no, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” She turned back to Kima with strained patience but a solid force of will.
“Many things can come into our world as changelings,” Mama explained. “Satyrs are the most common. They’re like henchmen to the creatures that want you two killed,” she said with a glance to Twist and Jonas, “and they always come with orders from their masters. They tend to guard precious things, search for them, and run menial errands. Their best trick, however, is traversing in human dreams to glean secrets,” she added with a meaningful glance to Twist.
“He said that was a Sight!” Kima gasped, looking at Mama with reddened eyes.
Mama’s stoic face turned sad. “I’m sorry, child. He’s lied to you all along.”
Kima seemed already too distraught to react much to this news and only closed her eyes, leaning against Jonas now as if she truly needed the support to remain on her feet. Twist felt the buzz in his neck go ice cold as Jonas held her. Jonas looked back at Twist with golden eyes.
“Twist, this shit is starting to add up.”
Twist nodded silently. The overwhelming knowledge that a half-goat monster had managed to fool Twist so completely into believing it was an innocent, albeit bizarre, little boy that he had often felt pity and compassion for it, felt undeniably like betrayal. He couldn’t imagine what tortured thoughts were now wreaking havoc on Kima. Myra moved closer to Twist, taking his hand, with equally dismal emotions.
“I need to know exactly who that satyr is,” Mama said, heading for the edge of the camp, where Storm had been taken. “And who he’s working for.”
Twist and Myra followed after her without a moment’s hesitation, while much of the camp came along as well. Kima let Jonas take her along with him, one arm around her shoulders, to help her. Monti remained beside her as well, speaking into a pocket watch in hushed tones.
Mama stopped just inside the deep line that was drawn in the dirt and encircled the whole camp. Everyone else stood with her, fanning out to the sides for better views, but at her instruction no one stepped across the line. Storm knelt silently in the mossy earth a few feet outside the circle, his hands bound behind his back with rope, his face wet with tears and his vibrant pink eyes gazing at nothing at all. The large gypsy man who had carried him out of the camp still stood beside him, holding in one hand the contraption Storm had been wearing on his face.
Kima looked at her “son” miserably. Storm was looking in her direction but didn’t seem to see her at all. Kima didn’t venture any closer than the others. Jonas remained at her side, the pair of them standing close to Mama with Twist and Myra. Mama took Kima’s hand and patted it soothingly, offering a gentle smile.
“Please, let me handle this,” she said to Kima. “But we must be very careful. I know these creatures.”
Kima took a deep, resigned breath and nodded to her. Mama smiled a little more warmly and then looked to Arabel.
“Bell, you’ve met this boy already, haven’t you?”
“Yes, a few times,” Arabel said. “He knows me from Jonas’s dreams.”
Mama grimaced but nodded. “Go and talk to him for me. I shouldn’t let him see my face. And you should remain unseen as well,” she added to Twist, Jonas, and Kima. “Bell, just relay to him what I say.”
Twist glanced to the boy kneeling only a few feet away and could scarcely believe that he truly couldn’t hear Mama speaking already. Nevertheless, Storm didn’t seem to respond to her voice at all. The instant Arabel stepped across the line, Storm’s eyes locked onto her, and he stared at her in desperate fear.
“Ara!” he gasped. “Please, what’s going on? I’m so scared…”
His words fell away as his voice choked on fresh tears. Arabel looked back to Mama, standing only a step behind her, with concern thick on her face. Kima’s jaw was tight, her eyes dampening again, but she remained still and silent.
“Tell him that you know he’s a satyr,” Mama said coldly.
Arabel complied, speaking stiffly. Storm’s face washed over with horror but then quickly chilled into an alarmingly unnatural calm. His tears ceased abruptly, and he looked away from her, his mind clearly working fiercely.
“Gypsies,” he said, his voice suddenly smooth and thoughtful as he glanced at the man beside him. “Of course. I must have dropped into Mama’s warded circle.”
Twist shivered to hear the boy speak the woman’s name. But, of course, she might have appeared in Jonas’s dreams.
“Ask him who he’s working for,” Mama said to Arabel.
Arabel complied.
Storm gave a laugh and looked up to her with a wicked grin. “Let me guess,” he said. “Mama’s telling you what to say. I’l
l bet she’s right behind you, standing in that perfectly ordinary and empty bit of forest that appeared to me the moment this oaf took me out of the circle. Tell me, Ara,” he said, his tone turning warmer, “are Twist and Jonas with her? Is Jonas all right? I can’t find his dreams anymore.”
Twist and Jonas both looked to the tattoo on Jonas’s arm instantly and then met each other’s uneasy gaze.
“Ask him again,” Mama said, before Arabel could answer Storm.
“Storm, tell me who you’re working for, please,” Arabel tried again, as firmly as she could.
“Three guesses, Mama!” Storm called out past Arabel in a mirthful taunt. “I’ll give you a hint. He’s not far away. At least, one of them isn’t.”
Mama looked sharply to Twist and Jonas, her eyes wide. “Good heavens, I think he works for you.”
“What?” Jonas balked.
“The creature that gives you your Sights,” Mama clarified. “I think this satyr works for that creature. I’d be willing to bet he wants his master back.”
“Meaning?” Jonas asked darkly.
Mama gave a sigh. “Meaning, he’d want to ensure that the two of you die together. At exactly the same moment. Only that will free his master from you without harming him.”
Kima looked to Mama in horror, clearly just as startled to hear that her son had any murderous intentions as Twist was. Twist wanted to clarify exactly how many fairies were being discussed here, but Idris, standing nearby, cursed softly. Twist turned to find that the djinn had appeared at the side of the group quietly, with Jeffery at his side. His white, tattooed face showed nothing but misery.
“Idris?” Jonas snapped at him. “What do you know? What aren’t you telling us?”
“Nothing,” Idris grumbled, glaring at Jonas.
“Out with it, man!” Jonas growled, moving as if to advance on him.
Idris’s golden eyes remained trained resentfully on Jonas, but he made no motion to back off or engage in a fight. Twist put out a hand to stop Jonas.
“Stop it,” Twist said firmly. “One bloody thing at a time.”
Family Page 17
