Alaskan Shadow: Shadows of Alaska Book 3

by CC Dragon

“More or less. But the Fae could’ve changed their approach. It could’ve been a rogue demon making it look like something the Fae were doing. We just don’t know,” Mason admitted.

  “We should research this further,” I replied.

  “I agree, but the dead kids we’re finding might be the ones who didn’t make it through what the Fae did to them. It might still be related to the case.” Mason shut the door.

  “Men,” I grumbled and ate while wearing a towel.

  I’d magically press and freshen up our clothing and do my makeup in a bit. First, I had to mull over this changeling nonsense no one told me about. Those poor families and kids. No matter how much power being part Shadowmen gave me or whatever was happening with Mason—I had to keep my eye on the original goal and case.

  We arrived at the serene house in the outskirts of Bethel. The family was thrilled to talk to the FBI about the case. I hated lying. The FBI had all but cut me off, but we were trying to help.

  Mrs. Royce opened the door.

  “Welcome. I’m so glad someone uncovered the cases,” she said.

  “I’m Agent Foster, and this Agent Hunt,” I fibbed. “We’ve been working on a different case, but we’re looking for any connections. Unusual cases involving children are a major concern.”

  She showed us into the living room. “Please, sit. Something to drink?” she offered.

  “No, thank you. Was your son ever missing?” Mason asked.

  “No, he’s always been different. A lot of people thought we adopted him. If it was only his looks, I’d never think anything of it. I have red hair, and none of my siblings do. I took after a grandmother with the strong ginger characteristics. I married a ginger, too, and his parents have brown hair and blue eyes. It’s a genetic roll of the dice what’s in your family tree. But he doesn’t act like us. He’s not interested in anything that we are, and he’s just so cold at times. Not how he was raised. But we’ve never even let him sleep over at anyone else’s house for fear he’d react badly. No one could’ve switched him,” she said.

  “Your husband feels the same?” I asked.

  She nodded. “He’s my ex now, but yes. He was convinced like Charlie was going to kill him. Odd fear for a grown man. He had a priest out, and Charlie was baptized. Not that that’s relevant to your work, but if he was possessed, we couldn’t cure it.”

  “I don’t think it’s a demon per se. But we maybe want to get a DNA sample from you and your son to check that there was no mistake at the hospital. Sometimes the biggest problems really have a simple answer,” I explained.

  “I don’t want him to know,” she whispered.

  Mason nodded. “We can use hair from his hairbrush, or we can give you a DNA sampling kit and you tell him it’s for safety. If something happened to him, better than fingerprints.”

  Mrs. Royce nodded. “That could work. I told him you were coming by with some questions about my work. He’s getting ready for school, so it’ll be quick.”

  She dashed down the hallway and came back with Charlie.

  “Charlie, these are the FBI agents. Say hi,” Mrs. Royce said.

  “Hello,” he said with a deadpan look.

  He was about seven with raven black hair but the same pale white skin his mom had.

  His eyes were the unsettling part. He stared like he could see through you and watches everything. There was a stillness beyond his years.

  “Hi, Charlie. What’s your favorite subject in school?” Mason asked.

  “Math, it’s straightforward,” he said.

  “Good answer. What do you want to be when you grow up?” I asked him.

  Charlie shrugged. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Smart, too early to pick yet.” Mason smiled.

  Charlie didn’t smile.

  A car horn honked outside.

  “That’s my carpool. Bye.” Charlie headed outside.

  Once Charlie was gone, I looked at Mason.

  “He’s an old soul, but it’s eerie,” she said.

  “Looks aren’t always the best thing to go on. A test can’t hurt,” I said.

  “Most of my family has blue eyes,” she admitted.

  “We’ll get you some DNA testing kits, and you can do it when you feel it’s a good time to approach Charlie. You can mail them in, and they’ll be processed. But it might take a little time. He’s never tried to hurt you or anyone?”” Mason asked.

  “Not me. He did get into a few fights in school, but the threat of home schooling fixed that,” she said. “I do worry when he goes to his dad’s.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “My ex remarried and has two step kids who are a bit younger. They say Charlie plays too rough. I don’t want him to lose his temper and hurt one of them. With the holidays coming up, he’ll spend more time over there,” she explained.

  “I’m sure your ex will let you know if there’s an issue. If he’s safer with you, he might need to forego some visitation until it’s sorted out,” I suggested.

  “Thank you. Are there any tests we could do?” she asked.

  Mason frowned. “That might be something to contact a child therapist about. It couldn’t hurt to have someone independent and trained to talk to Charlie and see.”

  She nodded. “My ex always refused, because he thought it’d make Charlie defensive. If anyone found out, they’d think he was crazy.”

  “If you can find someone Charlie trusts and it helps him, you just need to be discreet.” I smiled. “We need to get on to the next interview.”

  “Thanks so much.” She showed us out.

  We headed for the car. “What next interview?” Mason asked.

  “The Fae. That kid isn’t right,” I said.

  Chapter Six

  “This makes no sense. The Fae were stealing children? Dumping their own to cover? Why would that have anything to do with the missing kids where no swap was made?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure it does, but this proves the Fae are still doing the changeling trick.” Mason gripped the steering wheel tight.

  I squirmed in my seat but not from the annoyance he felt. My magic was raging. Why now? Since I’d met and dealt with the Shadowmen, it hadn’t been as bad. I thought that I had been the trick to helping things—knowing I had Shadow magic meant I could handle it, right?

  “Your magic?” Mason asked.

  I nodded. “I thought now that we have that answer, I’d be able to handle it better.”

  “You can. You just need to learn to channel it.” Mason held my hand.

  I shared some of the energy with him.

  “Easy,” Mason said.

  “I’m channeling,” I joked.

  He shook his head. “You can handle it.”

  “Maybe it’ll help for you to get a small dose of what I deal with? I want to blow up the Fae circle and kill all the people who’ve hurt the kids,” I explained.

  “And you can, but you won’t because you know it might not be that Fae circle doing these things,” Mason said.

  “Or is it that I’m part Fae?” I asked.

  He smiled at me. “You hate them. I understand that and it’s okay. But you’ll still have to deal with them in the magical world.”

  “I do. They rejected me. They could’ve taken me into one of their huge villages and raised me safely down there. I didn’t have my major magic, but I had some. I could’ve grown up feeling part of some community, and I’d be loyal to them. Now, I have no loyalty to half of my own people. I’m certainly not loyal to the Shadowmen who didn’t even acknowledge me or their existence. I don’t trust anyone. I don’t feel safe.”

  “I thought you felt safe in the village,” Mason countered.

  “Not with a Fae village sharing the land.” I shook my head.

  “They can’t hurt you,” Mason said.

  “I know but they could take your kids. Hurt your people. Trusting them, after this changeling information—I don’t get that,” I said.

  I sighed as he parked the car. We
got out, and I didn’t hesitate. I stepped in the circle and went down the rabbit hole into a bigger world.

  Mason was right behind me.

  “Why don’t the Natives live down here? At least in the nasty winters?” I asked.

  “It’s not our way,” Mason replied.

  Gileal appeared as we walked toward the center of town.

  “What brings you back so quickly?” she seemed pleased.

  “Why are you still using changelings?” Mason demanded.

  Gileal held up a hand. “We do not do that. This hill hasn’t done that for centuries, so it’s not ours.”

  “We just definitely came from a situation where the kid isn’t right. The mother isn’t para of any kind, and they live right in Bethel,” I said.

  “I demand to see this child,” she replied.

  “If you didn’t do it, what do you care?” I pressed.

  Mason folded his arms. “Why should we believe you, Gil?”

  “We don’t hurt innocents. That’s part of the deal we made when we took up residence here. I want to see the child to determine if it is Fae dealings. It could be another group trying to gain enough energy to build their hill. All of this lovely underworld village life comes at a cost. They would need a lot of power to create a new one. Especially if it’s nearby and we haven’t detected it yet.” Gileal’s face hinted at betrayal.

  “How do you power this hill?” I asked.

  She smiled. “None of your business. It’s our agreement.”

  I got in her face. “You gave me a residence here, correct?”

  She nodded. “Yes, but you don’t want it.”

  “I live above with the Natives, not here. But I have every right to understand your agreement since I’m living in the village on the surface,” I shot back.

  Gileal looked down her nose at me. “We invite you in, and you reject us.”

  “You’ve rejected me my entire life. Once my Shadow magic developed, then you were nice to me. When I’m stronger than you and could blow your little Fae mound to tiny bits. That’s not an invite. It’s fear.” I stared her straight in the eye.

  She smiled. “You think so.”

  I let the rush of magic take me, and I snapped my fingers.

  We weren’t in Fae land anymore. We were in that creepy rocky world full of wendigos. The wind howled and the chill cut through whatever we were wearing.

  “Dot,” Mason said.

  “You’re safe,” I promised. “Gileal, I’m not so sure.”

  I magically yanked her by her heel and dangled her over the wendigos, just out of reach. The dark creatures cried and reached for her flesh. Gil struggled, she magically tried to counter me, but she was no match.

  “Stop it. Let me go!” she screamed.

  The wendigo reached harder for her when she made noise. I lowered her a bit, and she felt their creepy touch.

  “This can’t be real,” she cried.

  I walked through the wendigo to her. They bowed to me and recoiled if I touched them, just like they’d done with the other Shadowmen.

  “These creatures serve me. My kind. You’re just a Fae they can snack on. Suck your soul and devour your flesh. If I let them.” I touched her forehead. “Tell me again it’s not real.”

  “Don’t hurt me,” she said.

  “What happens if they just bite you?” I wondered.

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to find out.” She tried to get away but I magically blocked her in.

  I pulled her hand out and offered it to a small wendigo.

  “Just a bite,” I warned.

  The wendigos’ big black eyes grew as it sunk its nasty long teeth into the Fae flesh that shined and glowed. Gileal screamed as her blood shimmered.

  “Enough.” I nudged the wendigo away.

  It growled a bit but ran away into the crowd.

  “Dot, enough!” Mason sounded annoyed and uneasy.

  The protective wendigo group hissed at him.

  “Fine.” I snapped my fingers. We were all back in the hill underground.

  Gileal’s hand bled, but the rest of us were untouched.

  “If you’re stronger than I am, why didn’t you escape? Why didn’t you fight the wendigo?” I asked.

  “Your adopted parents raised you amongst humans and others. You are more like a generic witch, associating with anyone. Vampires, shifters, and anyone.” She shook her head.

  “The snobby Fae crap comes out again—you think you’re better than the other paras. I don’t know why, but I don’t care. You are only willing to have contact with me because I’m half Shadowmen. I’m stronger than you are. Otherwise, if I were half Native, half human, half shifter, or anything else—you’d still bar me from coming here,” I said.

  She didn’t dispute it.

  I looked at Mason. “You can’t trust them. Their deal means nothing, because they look down on you.”

  Gil tried to heal her hand, but it didn’t work. “We keep our ways. I don’t need to explain why or how to you. We will investigate the child. Mason can provide the information.”

  “We’re being dismissed?” I asked.

  Gil turned to Mason. “You need to dispel this troublemaker by any means necessary. She’s a threat to the balance of our way of life.”

  I smirked and looked at Mason. “Better be careful of your any means… You know I don’t freeze or panic when backed into a corner. I attack, and I don’t have a problem killing people or paras that need it.”

  On the edge of feeling like a super villain, I reminded myself that I only killed when I had to. Self-defense or protecting innocents was very different from cold-blooded murder. But destroying an evil para lair or group might be necessary, and I didn’t hate the idea.

  Mason took my hand. “We should go. Heal her hand first.”

  “No, I want to see what happens to her.” I shrugged.

  “Dot,” Mason warned.

  “You know, the underworld of Alaska is basically permafrost. It feels all warm and sunny down here. Like Smurf village, if only the cottages were made of mushrooms,” I joked.

  “Smurfs?” Gil shook her head. “She’s crazy.”

  Mason actually smiled. “It’s a human cartoon.”

  “It’d be cuter.” I shrugged and waved my hand. The houses turned to big colorful mushrooms.

  “How did you?” Mason asked.

  “It’s all just energy changing our perception. Your village is real, but this is all fake. It’s using the energy to make it look and feel livable.” I snapped my fingers.

  The cold and dirty caverns that were really around us let no light in. There was no sun or warmth. “We’re so far deep in the earth to avoid the water table that it’s almost dangerous,” I said.

  “We won’t live like this,” she insisted.

  “It’s your energy, but you’re not fooling me. You’re sucking so much energy from the Earth to make this paradise for Fae alone. Conversely, you say you want to save the Earth. You’re a bunch of liars.” I shrugged and let it go back.

  “Let’s go, Dot,” Mason said.

  Gil looked a bit annoyed that Mason hadn’t threatened me or made any attempts to dispel me.

  I snapped my fingers, and we were back on the surface.

  “We should really evict them,” I said.

  Mason shook his head. “You’re letting the power go to your head.”

  “No, I’m not. They treated me like crap. They look down on your village, use you for their own protection but can blame bad weather or bad hunting on what humans are doing to the Earth. I don’t trust them and neither should you,” I replied.

  “We all need each other.” Mason headed back to the Native village.

  I followed him. “I know that, but we don’t need to look down on others. I tried to make nice.”

  Mason paused before we hit the main area of the town. “For a second, but when you didn’t get what you wanted…you lost your temper. Then you showed off your powers. Did you blow off enough magi
c?”

  I felt his anger building. “I’m finally not the weak hybrid misfit. Sorry if it feels good. Are you mad at me? Are you going to dispel me?” I teased.

  He turned and faced me, getting very close. “They know you’re stronger.”

  “But they think you can control me?” I asked.

  “They think I have influence over you. You came to me, pulled me into your work.” Mason closed in a few more inches.

  “I’m using my powers for good. The Fae can’t say the same,” I pointed out.

  He smiled. “You’re not perfect. The Wendigo thing was a bit much.”

  I put my arms around his neck. “But you’re still on my side?”

  “Maybe I should give you a lecture about village rules and our Fae residents. If you’re going to stay.” Mason kissed me.

  “A lecture? Or are you trying to burn off more of my energy?” I asked.

  “Whatever you need. The village police won’t let you release wendigo wild here,” he said.

  “I’d never do that to you or the village.” I pressed closer. “But if the Fae get out of line, that mound of theirs will get blown up, and they will all be evicted one way or another.”

  It wasn’t a threat—it was protecting my home.

  Chapter Seven

  I really needed to get more of a wardrobe in Bethel. I’d added a few items mostly Native made or from the shop in Bethel that had some touristy shirts advertising the town. But laundry needed to be done. In nothing but Mason’s shirt, I got Zel on the phone.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “We need a little help organizing,” I said.

  “Hey, Dot. What’s going on?” Zel asked.

  “Fae drama. Shadowmen drama. And kids that are in families they don’t belong to. The Fae apparently did it a lot, called changelings or something. Can you create a search that filters for news reports or cases that tracks this outside of normal adoptions?” I asked.

  “I can try. Start with Alaska and go from there if it tracks beyond. But if it’s supernatural, how are we going to put that into a search?” she asked.

  “If this ties back to a Fae group trying to make their own new hill, it should show a very specific pattern. Kids coming here and reports being overlooked, buried by police. The parents reported it but maybe seem to have forgotten it all,” Mason added.