by J. R. Rain
She gives the two lunks a look and walks over to the counter to play with my stolen bodily fluid. The goons unlock me from the chair and re-secure my hands behind my back. I cast a longing glare at the box of clothes on the table as they drag me out into the hall, still in the hospital gown. Cold air up the back ices my ass and makes me gasp. The floor is pretty damn frigid too.
“Hey, come on guys… can I at least have my stuff back?”
Chaser 1 glances at Mr. Tackle. “What do you think? Room 3’s got some big cages.”
Cages? I blink, and for the first time since being caught, find myself struggling to get away―not that these two notice. Damn they’re strong. “Are you serious?”
“Nah.” Mr. Tackle shakes his head. “That don’t feel right. She’s too much like a person to stick in a kennel.”
“All right, guess you got a point there.” Chaser 1 tugs harder on my arm and walks faster.
A spike of panic crashes headlong into pure rage. I can’t decide between a freak-out, bursting into tears, or going off on the bastards. I’m still mentally numb when we reach the end of another hallway and they drag me into a small holding cell with only a steel bench at the back. A long-chain set of handcuffs is locked around another eyebolt, and Mr. Tackle closes the free end around the chain between my wrists, tethering me to the bench. Without another word, they leave and shut the door.
The room’s got no toilet. They can’t intend to leave me here for too long. My emotional roulette ball comes to a stop on rage, and I wind up pacing around as much as the eighteen-inch chain lets me. A couple years ago, transit cops detained a woman. They’d left her much like this, chained to a bench in a holding cell. When they came back X number of hours later, she’d somehow managed to kill herself while trying to get free. Her family sued the city if I remember right, and probably someone got fired. Yet here I am. Guess the Feds don’t pay attention to the local news.
In school, I’d occasionally had a nightmare or two about being arrested for trying to get a story, or refusing to divulge my sources. That fear had ebbed since I started working for a tabloid no one took seriously.
Every time the chain yanks my pacing short, I growl, then remind myself that the only reason I’m still locked up is I haven’t tried to leave yet. After a while, I sit, and promptly shriek at the icy metal finding the gap in my hospital gown.
Screaming at the door probably won’t help, so I save my energy and inwardly seethe in angry silence.
I wonder what that purple energy bolt would do to a human being. Speaking of which, I should probably name it. Dad always came up with names for magical effects to make talking about them easier when I was a kid and learning. Mom calls them ‘spells,’ though it’s not really that rigid. It’s closer to a singer hitting different notes, only in my case, there’s no singing and each ‘note’ is a different magical effect. Still the same voice though.
Yeah. I think I might wind up testing out Lance on one of these men in black. And I’m definitely giving this hotel from hell one star as soon as I can log on to Yelp.
eatureless, windowless cells don’t offer much in any sense of time passing.
And so, I spend it running over question after question. How long are these people going to keep me prisoner? Is this like some kinda weird immigration thing? Do they think I’m in the country illegally? Heh, more like in this world illegally. What’s the Visa process for a nonhuman like anyway? I’m surprised they didn’t fingerprint me. Maybe I don’t have any, or more likely, the doctor thinks of me like a ‘creature’ and not a person.
Could be worse, I could be locked in a cage with a litterbox and a water bottle. At least the MIBs had a little humanity. Hell, that ‘doctor’ only gave me a gown after deciding my nether bits were human enough. Am I destined to spend the rest of my life as a lab rat? How much would companies pay to study me to devise a permanent hair removal product? Never having to shave down there again… they could charge through the nose for something like that and people will buy it.
Lab rats don’t get a share of the profits for things tested on them though.
No… I can’t stay here. I gotta do something. Yeah. Okay, I admit it. I’m scared. This is a bizarre turn of the weirdest day of my life, and I don’t like at all where it’s going. Lance had never happened until I needed to get that thing off Melodie, and it sure seemed to have a lot more power in the moment of need. Fear’s a strong emotion too. That’ll help me.
I wriggle around, testing the chains. Diego always appreciated my being flexible. When I woke up this morning, my boobs were half what they’d been. I’m overall a bit thinner, and I’m sure my butt’s gotten narrower. I must really look like one of those starving French runway models now, too thin to be human.
Well. Okay. I guess I’m not technically human. What I am, exactly, remains to be seen.
It’s remarkably easy to get my cuffed hands around my ass. I fall to sit on the frigid bench and squirm until I get my hands up past my feet. Step one complete: hands in front. A little concentration on Open, and I’m out. Steel restraints fall on the bench with a loud clatter, but it’s no worse than all the noise I made before. I’m sure they expect their kidnapees to put up a struggle.
Okay. Second problem: getting out of here. Right. I can do this. They have guns and earpieces, but I have magic! It takes me a moment to collect my fear into something useful, and I channel it as hard as I can into an Inconspicuous glamour. The magic does something it’s never done before… makes a fizzling, snappy noise like the queen mother of static cling has come to visit me.
When I look down, I clamp my hands over my mouth to stifle a surprised yelp. I’m gone. All that’s left of me is a floating hospital gown. Holy shit, I turned myself invisible!
New spell, Dad. Umm… Vanish. Assuming, of course, I can ever do it again.
I could forget journalism entirely and become the world’s richest thief… but I’d have to work naked and anything I stole would go floating out the door. Well, or I could stuff it somewhere. Brrr! Scratch that. My luck it would still be visible through me. Still, for emergencies, I’ll take it. Hmm. Does going out in public naked still count as going out in public naked if no one can see me? Like body paint taken to the Nth degree. The idea of being a ‘wood elf’ from one of Eva’s games and prancing around the woods in my birthday suit is almost funny if it didn’t come scarily close to the truth.
Elf. Huh. I suppose that might explain why most people think tee shirt and sweat pants equals comfortable and I take it a step further. But only at home… or Diego’s. It’s not like I want to show off or be seen. It’s about comfort. Maybe I am an elf. Still, even invisible, the idea of streaking New York City is frightening. What if the magic wears off at an inconvenient moment? I have no idea how long this glamour will last. If I bump into someone, will it break? Shit.
The cell door has no visible lock on this side. I can try Open, but it might not do anything. If it fails, I’ll ditch the hospital gown and flatten myself against the wall on the left. Hopefully, the MIBs will assume I escaped and leave the cell open. I look up. Shit. What if there’s a camera in here?
Murmurs and footsteps in the hallway almost stop my heart. Before panic gets its claws in too deep, I pick Jade’s voice out. Oh, please… The first thing Mom and Dad made sure I knew was how to cancel magic, especially magic affecting me. I drop the Vanish and hurry back to the bench. Getting out of the cuffs was simple enough, so I re-handcuff myself not two seconds before the door pops open. No sense them learning I can get out at will.
I stand, tugging at the chain. “Jade!”
She walks into my cell, giving me a suspicious up-and-down. “Who are you and how do you know Solstice?”
“No!” I stare at her. “It’s me, Jade. Something happened to me last night. Look at my face. You dragged me out of Diego’s place a couple days ago to check that hotel room where Doctor Kumar vanished. Claw marks in the rug? You despise American beers, but you love Kirin or Sapporo, and Ha
rp’s not bad.”
Jade reaches out and lifts some of my hair, examining the silver-white strands. “This is really weird. This girl does kinda look like my friend.”
“It’s me! I’m Solstice Winters. Come on, Jade, you know it’s me.”
She holds up my press ID. I must look like a younger sister to the woman in the photo: rich blonde hair, green eyes, on the young-and-pretty side of thirty. Before, I looked old enough that whenever the clerk at a liquor store carded me, he’s obviously doing it as a compliment or as a pick-up. Something tells me right now, they’d really think I was too young.
“I don’t understand what happened. You know that storm? I woke up like this. My cat’s name is Mr. Moody. Paula makes this weird little snort whenever she laughs that you think is cute. Her parents were more upset she’s not dating a white girl than she’s gay. Cheesecake gives you the runs but you don’t care and eat it anyway. If you don’t believe me now, I’ll talk about what happened in Bayonne three years ago.”
Jade blinks and her cheeks darken with blush. “Sol?”
“Yep.” I twist so I can wave at her. “I can’t say I’m as into the handcuff thing as Paula is.”
“Well?” asks Chaser 2.
“It’s her. I can’t explain what happened, but I want you to cut her loose. She’s not undocumented.” Jade puts a hand on the cell phone hanging from her belt. “Or I can call my boss and have him make the request.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Chaser 2 hands her a key. “Be right back.” He walks off.
Jade gets a playful grin. “Oh, the things I could do with you like that.”
“If it’ll get me out of here, go for it.” I wink. “But what will you tell Paula?”
She unlocks me, and we hug―professionally.
“Thanks!” I say, and mean it. Rubbing my hands up and down my arms in an effort to warm up, I explain my morning and how I wound up down here in a half-whisper. I leave out that I got pictures of a faun, only telling her I came here in search of one.
She stares at me, wordless.
I motion to the cell, and toward the door. “Jade, what the hell is going on here?”
“I’m still not entirely sure myself.” She folds her arms. “This isn’t being handled by the FBI. But I can tell you that there’s a whole bunch of weird shit happening all over the country.”
I follow her out into the corridor, my teeth chattering. Agent Prince, her partner, as well as Mr. Tackle are loitering there. The mood is odd. I don’t feel ‘free-to-go,’ nor do I feel quite captive.
Chaser 2 returns with a cardboard box. My clothes. A bit of my elf side comes out, and, eager for warmth, I change right there in front of everyone. Not that traipsing around in an ass-hanging-out hospital gown was terribly modest to begin with. After I’m dressed and squeezing my toes into the warm lining of my Uggs, the MIBs lead me to a conference room with a steel table, but at least there’s no bolts for handcuffs.
The same doctor is there, along with my camera bag. I’m sure they’ve confiscated the photos. Probably the whole memory card, but it doesn’t matter. They can’t get the images off Fenton’s server without a warrant, and hopefully by now, he’s already seen them and fainted.
“Please forgive my earlier brusqueness,” says the woman. “I’m Dr. Olivia Lawrence. Our understanding of… current events is somewhat limited.”
I’m glad she doesn’t offer a handshake. That spares me the awkwardness of ignoring her. “Great, ‘cause I’m clueless too.”
“Coffee, tea, water?” asks Dr. Lawrence.
I sit. “An hour or four ago, I almost wound up in a kennel with a litterbox. Now I’m being offered coffee.”
Jade glares at the doctor. “Please tell me she’s exaggerating.”
The woman sighs. “Most of the beings that have come through are considerably less person-like than your friend. I am beginning to wonder if a creature of energy has possessed her.”
“What do you mean ‘came through’?” I tilt my head. “And, sure, why not. Coffee please.”
Chaser 1 heads over to a table at the back end of the room where two plain steel samovars sit by a stack of styrofoam cups.
“Entities that are not from our reality have begun appearing here and there. They must have come from somewhere. Initially, we believed you an extraterrestrial.” Dr. Lawrence glances over her table. “Based on our test results, you are similar to a human being in some physical respects, general anatomical layout for example. However, on a chromosome level, your genome is vastly different.”
“So, you’re saying I’m not an evolved monkey.” I accept the cup of black coffee from Chaser 1 and sip it. Bleh. It could strip paint but it’s still coffee.
Jade sits beside me and holds my hand. I feel like I’m being told I have cancer and six months to live.
“Your telomeres are similar to those of a human in their late teens or early twenties, yet we were able to verify your claim of having existed for thirty-four years. Whatever your species, it seems to have a lifespan in excess of humans’.”
I flash a mocking grin. “I’m an elf, duh. I still think I’m dreaming, by the way. No body hair, long lifespan, I don’t think alcohol affects me much… It’s right out of my kid sister’s games.”
“Folklore has to come from somewhere,” says Mr. Tackle. “There have been stories of elves, faeries, all sorts of creatures for as long as humans have existed. Maybe it wasn’t all made up? Interesting photographs you captured, by the way. Creatures like that have been spoken of for centuries, though no one believed them real.”
Wow. He’s more than a meathead with a shoulder like granite.
“Perhaps these… ‘elves’ in their true form are beings of energy that slip through from wherever it is they exist in, and merge with humans, changing their bodies.” Dr. Lawrence dissects me with a stare.
Jade shakes her head. “If that’s the case, wouldn’t her genome more closely match that of a human?”
“True. I’ll let you know once we’ve finished sequencing it.” The doctor sighs. “Tell me, Miss Winters, do you hear voices in your head or have you experienced any unusual urges as of late?”
Aside from wanting to jam my ‘veterinarian’ into a kennel, no, all good here. Instead, I say, “No. Not really. Woke up with pointy ears and I’m even more confused about it than you people are.”
Chaser 2 walks over and hands me a plastic card. It looks like a driver’s license, only it’s not a motor vehicle thing. Apparently, I’m a ‘documented resident demihuman’ now. “We verified your school records all the way back to preschool. Even found your birth certificate. Convenient that the doctor who signed it died a few years ago.”
I stare up at him. “What happened to her?”
“Old.” He smiles. “Nothing suspicious, but we can’t verify with her in person. Your DNA doesn’t look human, so either that storm changed you in ways that don’t seem possible, or―”
“My parents aren’t my parents.” I fidget with the ID card, gazing into my lap. Okay, maybe I am adopted, but that doesn’t mean Mom and Dad love me any less. Still, even if I didn’t get transformed in the night by whatever magic stormed over New York City, they should’ve told me. My heart sinks as I remember how tight-lipped they were on the phone. No, they hadn’t been worried about eavesdroppers; after all, the ‘you’re adopted, sweetie’ bomb is the kind of thing you need to drop in person. Shit. Then it’s true. I can’t be human. I never was.
Jade must sense my mood nosediving. She puts an arm around my back. I can’t help it and wind up crying a bit into her shoulder.
The MIBs and Dr. Lawrence remain tactfully quiet for a few minutes until I collect myself.
“Hey, it’s all right. It’ll work out.” Jade squeezes me. “You’re not in any trouble. The government is only trying to understand what’s going on.”
“That ID,” says Chaser 1, “has a citizen endorsement. Since we haven’t been able to prove your birth certificate as forged, you’r
e still considered a citizen of the United States.”
“With any luck, there won’t be enough of your kind to require any significant bureaucracy.” Dr. Lawrence swipes a finger at her tablet, blanking the screen and darkening her face. “We may be in contact with you in the future for additional tests or research.”
I shoot her my ‘not happy’ face. Great, so they’re not going to add ‘elf’ under Asian/Pacific Islander on the Census forms or job applications.
“Your initial detention was for quarantine purposes, as we were unsure what, if any, diseases or unknown microorganisms you may have brought with you. However, since it is evident you have already been here for three decades, that is no longer a concern. Your release at this time is based on Agent Lau’s opinion of you as well as your continued cooperation in matters of national security.”
Yay for no real choice. But I nod. “All right.”
Mr. Tackle pushes my camera bag across the table to me. I give it a quick rummage, and sure enough, the memory card is gone. They’ll think it unusual if I don’t complain, so I whine about it for a few minutes until they assure me I’ll get a replacement or reimbursement.
“I don’t understand how a faun is a matter of national security.” A final, put-upon sigh fails to convince anyone to give me back the pictures.
Hey wait a minute. I don’t need images of a faun to make it big. I am a magical creature. How many elves can there be here? That idea dies fast. They haven’t said anything, but I have a strong suspicion that if I try to turn my pointy ears into money/fame, I’m going to wind up in a cage with a litterbox.
Le sigh.
Chaser 1 and 2 walk the three of us back to the elevator. Agent Prince and Jade get in, while the MIBs remain behind. I keep my mouth shut on the way to the surface. After hours underground, the presence of forest wraps around me like a hug. My mood spikes so high, I can’t even stay angry with Dr. Lawrence.
“Wow, Sol. I’ve never seen you grin like that before.” Jade nudges me.
