The Changeling Soldier

by Shona Husk

  Melody picked up a sketch, her hand bumping Ella’s. The pin jabbed into the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry. Let me…” Melody’s gaze dropped to the blood welling on the back of Ella’s hand.

  A second too late, Ella cast a glamour over the blood so it appeared to be mortal red.

  Melody blinked as though confused.

  “It’s nothing, just a scratch.” Ella licked her thumb and swiped the blood away. “Occupational hazard, really I’m all right.” Yet she was sure that Melody had stabbed her deliberately.

  “Of course. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.” No. It took several breaths before she was sure her hands weren’t shaking.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t have taken this job. Or perhaps she was just being paranoid. Was that another symptom of winter in Annwyn?

  From the corner of her eye she could see Isaac. His face was carefully neutral and yet he was watching everything. There was definitely something going on, but she wasn’t sure what or if he was part of it or not. Perhaps brother and sister were well versed in fairy lore…but what did they want? Usually people who knew about fairies treated them very well and with respect. However, that wasn’t the case here. Perhaps it was Isaac who wanted to know more about what he was—now that was something she’d gladly assist with. But Melody, there was something not right about the girl.

  She was too…too conniving Ella realized. She acted like a fairy setting up an elaborate scheme to trick and trap an opponent. Had she really spent so long away from Court that a mortal could almost best her?

  The smart thing to do was quickly give Melody exactly what she wanted—a dress that would be talked about and remembered—sometimes playing along and letting her opponent think she was ahead was the best way to act. “You need to wear green.”

  “Green?” The girl looked aghast. While she wasn’t really a girl, in Ella’s mind she was and despite her hunger she had no patience or will.

  “Not dark emerald or anything so bold.” Those colors would wash her out.

  “But I want to stand out. Why not red or bright pink like that TV lawyer wore?” Melody almost sounded like she was pleading.

  The pink had been beautiful, but her dresses were one of a kind. She liked that the other women who’d worn her dresses had gone on to good things. A little bit of magic in her sewing went a long way. Some of them had become repeat customers. If they were kind, she gave them another touch of magic. Gracing their lives, even though they didn’t realize where their luck came from. She hoped the good she did would offset the times when she’d taken souls and made deals that had ended badly for the mortal.

  Making a deal with a fairy was a double-edged sword; one that a mortal couldn’t hope to hold without getting cut. They got what they asked for, but not in the way they wanted. Their enjoyment would be fleeting and followed by death, depression or bankruptcy. Fairy magic didn’t last in the mortal world, and like any fairy gem, it would turn to coal after a time.

  In the mortal world, she’d gambled in the finest royal courts, made and broken fortunes of courtiers and had taken more lovers than a mortal could imagine. Sometime over the last century she’d realized mortals were not elaborate dolls for fairies to trifle with. She’d grown a conscience and wasn’t entirely comfortable with its prickly presence.

  “There are other ways to stand out.” And not all of them good. “Pick a color that makes you shine, a cut that draws the eye so it lingers.” Ella moved a few of the sketches and fabrics around until she found something that pleased her. Then she held the swatch up to Melody’s face. She was wearing too much makeup, hiding the natural color of her skin. “I think this one. Some scattered beading across the front?”

  Ella could visualize it easily. While mortals marveled at her designs and the delicate work, in Annwyn she’d be nothing special. Not anymore. No one would want a favor from her. Her whole life in Annwyn had been built around who her father was, not who she was. In the mortal world, her life had been of her own making. She was going to miss it in Annwyn. The same way she missed Annwyn while here. Being immortal among mortals was lonely.

  Melody fingered the fabric. “Really? I’ll look enchanting in this?”

  “You will attract everything you want.” Ella smiled. Sometimes playing fairy godmother to the unsuspecting mortal was fun. This time she wasn’t so sure the mortal was unsuspecting.

  Melody didn’t appear to be convinced. “I’m not sure pastels are in.”

  “They will be after you wear them. Besides, fashion is about making you look fantastic, not about slavishly following.”

  “And I’ll look like a seductive nymph?”

  Again with the fairy reference, though she obviously didn’t know the difference between wild fae, the kind who still lived in the wilds of the mortal world, and the fairies who lived in Annwyn and ruled the gap between life and death. A nymph was a wild fae, and they rarely took human form.

  “With the right makeup, I think so.” Ella bit her tongue to keep from laughing. She doubted Melody would go all out and paint her skin green and mottled brown to look like a true nymph. “So, I’ll measure you up, take a deposit and come back next week for a fitting?”

  “That would be wonderful.” Melody beamed as though all of her wishes had been granted. The smile made the hair on Ella’s arm’s stand on end. She needed to watch Melody as closely as she would any fairy. Being in the mortal world had made her lax.

  Isaac saw Ella out the door, but he avoided touching her this time, even though he wanted to run his fingers along her arm, grab her hand and demand some answers. It was easier to pretend he knew nothing of fairies. Given that it had been more than thirty minutes and he was still in L.A with his soul intact, or at least he thought it was, he figured he was pretty safe for the moment. After all, if he’d been dreaming of a snowy battle for twenty-eight years and it hadn’t happened, what were the odds Ella would take his soul in the next few days? More importantly, why would he give it up so willingly? That question still bothered him.

  “Did you get anything off her?” Melody crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

  “Only that she was cold.” That was the truth. The other vision, he wasn’t sure how real that was. Nor was he willing to share it with Melody. No one knew about his dream.

  “Damn it.” She pouted like a kid denied a candy.

  “I can’t turn it on and off.” She knew that and yet she still insisted on asking after he’d shaken hands with anyone important. Touch didn’t seem to have anything to do with it. After all he’d never touched any of the people shooting at him and yet he’d known. He hadn’t been touching Ella when he’d seen her taking his soul, either.

  “And me?” She thrust out her hands hopefully.

  He took his sister’s hands, her nails long and perfect as always. There was no trace of the little girl who was always in hand-me downs that didn’t fit right. All he got was hunger. He didn’t know what it meant. Not everything was clear. Those that threatened his life were, but most others were vague impressions. “I think the dress will look amazing.”

  “She flinched when I said fairy.”

  He sighed. She was off on her next quest for stardom. “That doesn’t mean she is a fairy. They don’t exist.”

  “That’s not what you used to say. I remember chasing things that only you could see…what did you call them? Imps?”

  Yeah, he remembered. He still saw the occasional thing that no one else did, but he’d learned to keep his mouth shut, revealing that he had a screw loose wasn’t a smart move. “I was a kid. I was allowed to make things up to send you chasing all over the garden. It was just a game, Mel.”

  She shook her head. “I found your journal after you left. I read all about the notes you’d made on fairies. You weren’t a kid when you wrote that.”

  He pressed his lips together. He knew he should’ve burned it. “I was bored at school. I liked making stuff up.”

  The beating his mother’s boyfriend
had given him after finding it had made him stop writing in the journal. He’d been fourteen, the premonitions had started and the dream was more frequent. He hadn’t seen the belt coming though. Fairies are for fucking sissies, boy.

  He’d gone to school, with bruises and all, just to get out of the tiny house. He’d hidden the journal better after that but couldn’t bring himself to destroy it. A mistake, seeing as Melody had found it.

  “No, you were right. Everything in there is true. I’ve been reading up on fairies. They have magic and grant peoples wishes.” She paused and took a breath, but he already knew what she was going to say. “All the women who’ve worn Ella’s dresses get what they want.”

  “You’ve spoken to them? Questioned them about their secret desires?”

  “No, but one married a billionaire. Another got a lead role in a film I auditioned for. Ella Aaron is the lucky charm.”

  “She didn’t look like a leprechaun to me.” Or, a box of cereal. Ella had looked beautiful, even when he’d seen her with those eerie yellow eyes in the snow. If she was a wolf, he was already waiting and longing for her bite.

  “She said I should wear green.” Melody was only half teasing. She was actually buying into this. This time she was on track and could get hurt.

  “Mel, you need to stop with the spells and tarot cards and talk of fairies. They won’t help you get there. Besides, you’re making a living at acting. Isn’t that what you always wanted? You have your dream.” And his was all about snow and battle, and now losing his soul. He was seriously damaged. Yet if someone walked up and said they could take it away and give him a different future, he would’ve said no. It was his…his fate, he supposed, and he was going to face it head on. The same way he always did.

  “A living? If you weren’t helping pay the rent on this place, I wouldn’t be making ends meet. I want more than a living. I want people to know me in the street. I want millions in the bank. I don’t want to have to save up for six months to get an Ella Aaron dress!”

  “We can move somewhere cheaper.” He wasn’t making that much money working as a guard on the armored trucks, but then, aside from rent and food he didn’t have big expenses, like hairdressers, nails, makeup and an endless supply of new dresses.

  “No. Success will come if I act like I already have it. I read that somewhere, but positive affirmations will only do so much. I need magic.”

  Isaac refrained from rolling his eyes or hitting his head on the wall repeatedly. Just because she’d read it in some book didn’t make it true. Sometimes Melody could be extremely gullible. “If you really think Ella is a fairy, why didn’t you just ask her for a wish?” He’d love to see the look on Ella’s face when Mel asked that. It would be priceless. He just prayed Ella would laugh and say no, and that would be the end of it. A shiver ran straight down his spine and he knew it wouldn’t be. Something was going to happen; he could almost taste it. “Mel—”

  “Maybe I’ll do just that when she comes back next week.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Fairies don’t like iron. Maybe I should test her first so I don’t sound silly.”

  His fingers curled at the mention of iron. Iron; as in wrought iron or cast iron. Steel didn’t give him any problems, but iron burned. He remembered running his fingers along a wrought iron fence on the way to school, the old red paint flaking off and his fingertips burning as though he’d touched a hot saucepan.

  As a teen he’d discovered that iron filings in science class had the same effect. His skin would redden and sting as though burned. He didn’t like where his thoughts were heading. Who was his father? Or more correctly, what was his father?

  That his father wasn’t human was something he didn’t like to think about as what did that make him?

  “Are you okay? Did you see something?” Mel put her hand on his arm, but there was no concern for him on her face, only expectation.

  He’d been living with her for six months and every day he realized he knew her less and less. That backpacking holiday was sounding better by the hour. He forced a smile, “Just that you are an adorable idiot. I’m sure if Ella touches iron, nothing will happen. Fairies aren’t real.” He heard the lie in his words this time.

  He’d known before he’d gone to sleep that he would dream of Annwyn. It was only logical after seeing a fairy and having her offer to keep his soul safe. Not that her offer made any sense at all.

  The battle was over. The snow had stopped falling. The sword in his hand was heavy and familiar. He sheathed it and turned. There were bodies all around him. Did the battle happen before or after he lost his soul?

  After. If he was in Annwyn, Ella had already taken it.

  He drew in a breath that cut at his lungs. His heart still beat in his chest and the wound on his arm dripped red into the snow. That was new. He watched the drips land. Crimson stars on white. The brilliant red was at odds with the blue of the other blood on the snow.

  His clothes were wet and cold, the chill soaking into his bones as though it would never leave, and his shoulders ached. He was tired. If he was dead would he still hurt? He had to be alive to be feeling this, just soulless. He frowned.

  A woman ran toward him. This time he knew it was Ella from the curve of her lips. The hood of her cloak fell back as she threw her arms around him. He held her close and lowered his lips to hers.

  Before their lips could touch, his body jolted and he woke up.

  For a moment it was like he was still there. The adrenaline from fighting for his life was pumping in his blood and the ache was in his muscles. Yet heat from Ella’s touch had roused his dick. His body didn’t know what it was doing, but he should definitely not be aroused by a fairy who wanted his soul. That was fucked up.

  He got up, turned off the damn air conditioning and washed his face. Part of him wished this was some kind of weird PTSD. He rested his hands on the vanity. He was losing it. Reality was sliding through his fingers. He blinked and saw the battle as crisp and clear as his memories of Afghanistan. Both felt real to him. Only one haunted his sleep, three nights in a row now. That had never happened before.

  Isaac opened his eyes and stared at himself. He didn’t look like the dead fairies. Even the men had been beautiful, model beautiful, yet obviously male. He was comfortable enough with his sexuality to admit that. It was their pale, unseeing eyes he wouldn’t forget easily. Eyes in colors no human could have, as well as green and blue.

  Pale blue eyes exactly like his.

  No one else in his family had eyes like his. They all had brown. Had he got them from his father? He shook his head. Plenty of people had pale eyes.

  His father didn’t even have a real name. His mother had apparently hooked up with a travelling musician for a while, but he’d lied about his name. Or his mother had, as Robin Goodfellow didn’t exist—he’d searched for him. He had his mother’s surname, the only one of her five children to have a different name. Yet another reason his mother’s boyfriend hated him. His mother had never stood up to the man either.

  Perhaps Robin Goodfellow didn’t exist here, but he existed in Annwyn.

  He couldn’t be seriously thinking what he was thinking. It made no sense. Or did it?

  If his father was fairy it explained a lot, like how he could see fairies when none of his siblings could and why his eyes were so freakishly pale. It also raised more questions.

  He looked at his hands. He’d never swung a sword in his life and yet in that dream he was alive and exhausted from fighting. From the cupboard under the sink he pulled out a razor. Fairies bled blue. He’d always bled red. He looked at the razor for a moment then ran it across the tip of his finger—he needed to check. Red immediately welled in the cut. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  He was human, no doubt about it.

  Was he really, when iron burned him like it burned a fairy and he saw the future?

  When he could see through a fairy illusion and recognize Ella for what she was?

  Ella was the woman in his dre
am; the one to take his soul and the one to throw her arms around him after the battle. He washed the blood away from the cut and pressed toilet paper to the wound to stop the bleeding. Whatever the dream meant, it was drawing closer and Ella was part of it. And his body’s reaction to her was anything but fear.

  He closed his eyes as the memory of her lips almost touching his surged through him, washing away the lingering cold with heat. He wanted to know what she tasted like. Typical, he dreamed of the battle and then woke up before the good part started.

  He checked the cut and pressed the paper back down. He’d cut too deep, but he didn’t care. He was looking forward to seeing Ella again. Hopefully Mel would forget about fairies over the next week. But he doubted it. There was a tension in the air like a thunderstorm was building. As his blood seeped through the paper he hoped he was ready for what was coming.

  Chapter Four

  Nothing was quite as much fun as creating something beautiful out of a pile of cloth and beads and thread. Adjusting the mannequin with Melody’s measurements and tweaking the pattern were all part of the process. Whereas modern dressmakers used sewing machines, she hand-stitched everything, and to do the beading she shrunk herself down to ten-inch Brownie size. While she couldn’t imagine ever living as a Brownie and keeping house for someone else—she liked her independence too much—being small gave her work a delicate touch that no one else in the mortal world could match.

  As the dress came together, she was aware she was running out of time in the mortal world. News trickled across the veil and other fairies, those unfortunate enough to be in exile and unable to return home, were talking. Prince Felan had been given two weeks to find a human queen and take the throne. But Sulia was also making a play to rule Annwyn. Fairies were picking sides and getting ready to go to war. The thought filled her with dread.