“I know because they left a changeling creature in his place.” Tam swiped his hair out of his eyes. “My brother is being held hostage in the Realm of Faerie by the Dark Queen, in payback for Jennet and me meddling between the realms.”
“Yeah well, your meddling is kind of crucial.” Marny folded her arms. “It’s keeping the fey from stealing human energy and opening a gateway to the mortal world. Stopping blood sacrifice. Little things like that.”
“We never thought they could do something like this, though,” Jennet said. “Tam’s brother is in serious danger.”
She would know, too, having encountered the queen a few times too many. The back of Marny’s neck prickled. Personally, she was glad to have never encountered that particular being. One of the advantages of staying out of sim games. Especially Feyland, which had managed to use the game interface to open a gateway from the Realm of Faerie to the mortal world, with serious consequences.
“Also, my mom’s gone again,” Tam said, his gaze dropping to the dingy floor, as if it were his fault the woman had problems.
Double serving of trouble for Tam, then. Marny shook her head.
“How do we get your little brother out of Feyland?” she asked.
“We’re working on that from the inside,” Jennet said, laying one pale, slim hand on Tam’s shoulder. “We’ll get him back.”
“Meanwhile there’s a creature living in my house.” Tam shoved his tray away, food uneaten. “I can’t leave it there alone all the time.”
Marny took a deep breath, instantly regretting it as the smell of overcooked spaghetti filled her nose.
“So, just to be clear—the Bug’s been stolen away by the faeries, and they left a substitute in his place?” she asked. “One that’s now living with you?”
Tam nodded miserably.
“I want to meet him. It. Whatever,” Marny said, before she even knew the words were going to come out of her mouth. Yet, it made perfect sense for her to get involved.
“What?” Tam jerked his head up, denial flashing through his green eyes.
“Look.” She spread her hands wide. “You two have to deal with things in-game. The last thing you need to worry about is some freaky faerie dude pretending to be the Bug. Even though I don’t sim, I can help with this.”
Jennet nodded and looked at Tam. “She’s right. We can’t take care of the changeling, and beta testing Feyland, and everything else that’s going on—not by ourselves.”
“At least your mom’s not around,” Marny said. “It’s crappy that she’s gone, but the timing is decent. Considering. This way, if she comes home and you guys are, um, unavailable, I can run interference.”
Tam and Jennet needed to get back in-game to try and rescue the Bug. And Marny had encountered the magic and creatures of Feyland before. She was up for this.
Looking after the changeling thing couldn’t be much worse than the few times she’d babysat Tam’s actual little brother, right? That kid was a ball of crazy energy.
The hubbub in the cafeteria was dying down, the tables emptying out.
“Okay.” Tam swiped a hand through his hair. He looked like he’d barely gotten any sleep. “Marny, if you’re free you can come over after school today and meet the changeling. Provided it’s still there.”
“It will be,” Jennet said. “I think changelings have to stay close to home. Their pretend home, I mean. I’ll read up in my folklore book and let you know what else I find out.”
“Good.” Marny nodded, her black hair tickling her cheek. “This should be interesting.”
Tam and Jennet could have their adventures inside Feyland.
Gaming was fine, and she was good at it, as long as she wasn’t simming. But Marny had always felt that real life contained more than enough weirdness for a person to deal with. And she never had figured herself for hero material, anyway. Sure, she was competent and smart and strong, but there were better-qualified people when it came to saving the world.
***
It wasn’t Marny’s idea of a fun time, going on foot through the Exe—basically the ghetto of Crestview—but there was no other way to get to Tam’s house. They’d met up after school and she followed him down stinking alleys, stepping over puddles slimed with oil and decay. Past graffiti-layered buildings with broken windows staring like blind eyes, and through gang territory where a misstep could bring trouble raining down on their heads.
She was large, both taller and wider than Tam, and could handle herself in a fight—though probably not against an entire Exe gang. Still, she had a knife strapped to her calf, and the can of pepper spray her uncle insisted she carry everywhere. She and Tam would be all right.
But it wouldn’t come to that. So far, they hadn’t met any trouble. Even though she was big, she knew how to move silently as they picked their way deeper into the Exe.
Without speaking, Tam led her down the last block before his house. They carefully skirted the broken building where the yellow-eyed smoke drifters squatted. Marny wrinkled her nose against the sickly sweet smell, glad to see Tam’s place up ahead.
The house was a rickety, two-room building perched on the flat roof of an old auto-repair shop, long closed. A blue tarp gone tattered and gray flapped across part of the shelter’s roof, and the walls were patched with scabby pieces of corrugated metal.
Marny followed Tam up the rickety staircase on the side of the building. The railing wobbled under her hand.
“Watch the seventh tread,” Tam said. “It’s pretty rotted.”
Yeah, last thing he needed was for a big Samoan girl to crash through and ruin his stairs. She skipped the seventh one, then waited at the top of the landing behind Tam as he used his ring of jingling keys to open the multiple deadbolts. Old tech, but reliable. It was too easy to hack a keypad system, and the authorities didn’t care if your stuff got stolen, not here in the Exe. She doubted the cops even came out this far.
Tam slipped his keys into his back pocket. A shadow moved behind the wire-webbed window next to the door. Tam held up his hand, signaling her to wait, then pushed the door open and slipped inside.
Everything was quiet for a heartbeat. Two. Marny peered through the half-open door.
“Hiiiyyaaa!” a voice screeched.
The sound was wrong, something made from an inhuman throat. The hairs on Marny’s arms rose. She banged open the door, to see a small creature clinging to Tam’s shoulders. Its clawed hands were tangled in his hair, and bright eyes gleamed maliciously from a pale, wizened face.
“Hey!” Tam yelled. “Get off.”
He tried to shake the thing loose, but it held on tight, like some gruesome parody of a kid taking a pony ride on its dad’s shoulders.
“Gotcha!” The creature laughed, showing sharp teeth.
Marny was through the door in two steps. She swept up her right arm and put some power behind it. Not quite a punch, but enough to send the oddly-jointed creature tumbling down. It flew off Tam’s shoulders, its screeching laughter ending in a squawk as it landed on the carpet.
“Nice,” she said, staring at the creature’s bulbous, eerie-looking eyes. Its skin had a greenish tinge.
“What is this?” it hissed, glaring up at them. “Another human to see me? Sheer folly.”
Tam pivoted and shut the door, snicking the locks home. “What was that about, jumping on me?”
She could see Tam’s urge to kick the changeling in his face—but he’d warned her and Jennet that however the changeling was treated, the same thing would happen to the Bug. Which meant no beating up the evil faerie creature, no matter how totally deserved.
“Tee-hee. ’Twas all a bit of fun. Surprised you, did I?” The changeling grinned up at Tam and leaped to its feet. “Now feed me.”
“Quite a houseguest you have there,” Marny said. Maybe she shouldn’t have volunteered for changeling-sitting duty after all. “As annoying as your little brother is, I prefer the Bug to this.”
“What you think matters littl
e to me,” the changeling said.
Marny rolled her eyes at Tam and followed him into the kitchen. He flipped the electric kettle on to boil, then rummaged around in the cupboards. There didn’t seem to be much to eat. Dried noodle packets, a couple lonely cans of synth-meat. Tam grabbed a few protein bars and banged the cupboard doors shut.
“Here,” he said, flipping a bar through the air to the changeling.
The creature caught it and held it up to the light. “What is this item?”
“Food,” Tam said, then gave Marny an exasperated look as the changeling bit into the protein bar right through the plastic packaging.
“Feh.” The creature spit on the floor. “Mortal sustenance used to taste much better.”
“You don’t eat the wrapper,” Marny said. “Peel it, like this.”
She took a bar from Tam and tore off the shiny plastic. The changeling watched her, then stripped off the wrapper and popped the whole bar into his mouth.
“Still tasteless,” he said, squinching his already-wrinkled face into a sour expression.
“At least we agree on that,” Marny said, handing her bar to Tam.
“What?” he said. “You don’t like synthesized nut-flavored protein bars?”
“I prefer my uncle Zeg’s cookies.”
And it was obvious Tam didn’t have a lot of food in his cupboards. She wasn’t hungry, and even if she were, she wouldn’t eat up his few supplies.
“Me too,” he said, “but I don’t have any of those lying around. Tea?”
“Yeah—mint if you’ve got it.” Tea was cheap, and it would be rude to completely refuse his hospitality.
Tam pulled out two mugs and a packet of tea bags. Marny noticed he scarfed down two of the protein bars. Right—he hadn’t had any lunch. Not that school lunch was any better than the dry, non-flavored bars.
“So.” She turned to the changeling, squatting on the floor like a toad. “What’s your name?”
“Are you trying to trick me, mortal?” His gleaming eyes narrowed.
She raised an eyebrow. “As in…?”
“Names have power in the Realm,” Tam said. “Generally, they aren’t freely given out.”
Marny pursed her lips. Made sense. She took the cup of tea Tam handed her.
“Right,” she said. “Then what shall we call him?”
Tam frowned and shot a look at the creature. “I’ve been thinking of him as not-Bug.”
“Catchy—but we can do better.” She looked down at the fey creature again. “Changeling, what name do you use when you’re in the mortal world? Doing, you know, baby impersonations.”
The changeling folded its spindly arms and glared up at her. “I am called by the child’s name.”
“Yeah.” Tam set his mug of tea on the counter. “Except we know you’re not my little brother. Either you choose something, or we will.”
“Yoda,” Marny said, laughing internally at the idea of naming the creature after an ancient film character.
“Too obvious.” Tam looked the changeling over. “How about… Bilbo.”
“Nah.” Marny was too fond of the Hobbit characters to give this ugly creature one of their names. “If anything, it’s a Gollum.”
She was glad Tam still remembered the moldering old paper book they had both read the summer they were ten. Had the author based his stories on glimpses of the Realm?
“Stop.” The changeling bared his pointed teeth. “If you insist, you may call me Korrigan.”
He made a mighty leap up onto the counter and took a guzzling sip of Tam’s tea.
“Hey, that’s mine!” Tam reached for his mug, then paused, probably thinking he didn’t want to put his lips where the changeling’s had just been. “Fine. Drink up.”
With an evil, triumphant grin, Korrigan slurped the tea down. The thing had no manners at all. When he was done, the counter was splattered with liquid. He let out a belch that sounded like a bellowing frog, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Although he seemed satisfied, Marny kept a tight hold on her own mug, just in case.
“Well, mortals,” he said. “I cannot set foot over the threshold of this dwelling unless Tamlin is with me.”
“And thank goodness for that,” Marny muttered under her breath. Crestview sure didn’t need a rude changeling creature running loose through the Exe.
Korrigan shot her a narrow-eyed look, then continued. “Since I am trapped in this wretched space, what is there to do here that will amuse me?”
“What do you normally do?” she asked.
“I squall and mewl like an infant. I flail my arms and legs, and lie in the cradle.”
“Doesn’t sound all that fun.” In fact, it sounded stupefyingly boring.
She’d bet good credits the changeling was happy to be recognized as a faerie instead of having to pretend otherwise. Although maybe happy wasn’t an apt word. Korrigan seemed a grumpy thing at best.
“So, you usually pretend to be much younger children,” Tam said. “Why did they send you this time?”
The changeling frowned, and Marny changed her opinion from grumpy to hideously grumpy.
“It is how the thing is done,” Korrigan said. “There cannot be a taking without a replacement. Most stolen children are but infants. Your brother is a special case.”
That was true enough, though Marny refrained from pointing it out. Just because the Bug was all kinds of random and had tried to burn down the house a couple times didn’t mean he deserved to be spirited away into the Realm of Faerie.
“Yeah,” Tam said, crossing his arms. “He’s a hostage.”
He sounded tired and depressed, like he was about ready to give up on everything. Marny could see that losing his brother felt like the last straw.
“Tam,” she said, “did you get any sleep last night?”
He shook his head in a quick, sharp negation. The shadows under his eyes were proof enough that he was exhausted.
“Go lie down,” she said. “I’ll show Korrigan a few basic screenie games, okay? That should keep him busy and out of trouble.”
Plugging kids into screen entertainment was a time-honored tactic for keeping them occupied, and she had a feeling it would work with Korrigan. She’d guess that part of his nastiness was from sheer boredom at being marooned in the human world. Not all of his foul temper, of course. He was a fey creature from the Dark Court after all.
Yet maybe if she treated him decently, someone would do the same for the Bug.
Worry zinged through her at the thought of Tam’s little brother. But they couldn’t help him right now. They were doing everything they could—and for her, that meant making sure Tam got some sleep and keeping his unwelcome guest distracted and out of trouble.
“Just don’t let him onto the ’net,” Tam said.
“Bug’s account is locked out, right?” She glanced to the corner of the living room, at Tam’s netscreen setup.
She could imagine the trouble Korrigan could get into with unfettered worldwide ’net access. Not a pleasant prospect.
“Yeah,” Tam said. “Log him into that, it should be fine.”
He yawned, and Marny gave him a push toward the single bedroom. It was where his mom usually slept, but since she was gone…
“Get some rest,” she said. “I’ll introduce the changeling to the joys of Kart racing.”
“Show no mercy,” Tam said, heading for the bedroom.
“I won’t.” She grinned.
It would be fun taking the creature down a notch. And really, even if Korrigan got super cranky, she could always just sit on him.
As soon as the bedroom door closed, Korrigan began leaping about. He bounded onto the back of the shabby couch that doubled as Tam’s bed, and looked like he was going to make a leap for the light fixture.
“Chill,” Marny said. “Or I won’t give you any more protein bars.”
“They are like eating dirt,” the changeling said, but he subsided, sprawling his knobby legs out.
> “You still gobbled it up quick enough.” She wondered what he’d think of chocolate. Or that crazy-sweet sugar cereal the Bug liked.
On second thought, maybe hopping Korrigan up on sugar and caffeine wasn’t a brilliant idea.
He made a face at her. “You see too much, mortal girl. It is not usual for a human to perceive my real form. Why, I wonder, were you able to?”
Marny went to the screen setup and flicked the power on. She could think of at least one good reason.
“I’ve had faerie ointment smeared around my eye,” she said.
It was weeks ago, but maybe the effects were long term. Unsettling, the thought that she’d be able to see any fey folk hanging out in the human world. Not a power she was comfortable with—but it seemed like she’d have to accept it.
Korrigan shuddered. “Nasty human potion. Unfair, to see through our glamours so easily.”
“Yeah, well making that potion nearly trapped my friends in the Realm forever. So I’d say it was pretty hard won.”
She picked up the two gaming controllers and gave Korrigan a hard look. It was probably a good bet he’d never driven a car in his immortal life.
“Have you ever ridden on a wild beast?” she asked.
He grimaced. “Aye, the Hunt took me up and brought me to the queen, where my servitude as a changeling began. Not a ride I would wish to repeat.”
Marny nodded. She’d heard the Wild Hunt once, strange and eerie over the streets of Crestview. The clear cry of a horn had floated over the barking of eldritch hounds and the thud of hoof beats racing through the sky. She was just as glad never to have seen the elfin knights on their red-eyed mounts—and especially not the horned Master of the Hunt. It was enough hearing Tam and Jennet talk about the fearsome riders.
“Okay.” She studied the changeling’s wrinkled face. “You’ve never hopped on a fox’s back and steered it with its ears or anything?”
“Not if I wanted to keep my legs,” Korrigan said. “The vulpine creatures of the Realm are not to be trifled with.”
“Then we’ll have to take this slow.” Marny handed him the controller, which he immediately brought to his mouth. “Stop! It’s not something you eat.”
Faery Tales: Six Novellas of Magic and Adventure (Faery Worlds Book 3) Page 15
