Touch of Shadow

by April Aasheim

  He kept stride with the cat as he raced out of the forest and back to the maple tree, leaving Alex exhausted and out of breath. It took a moment to realize the cat had cornered another hobgoblin. It trembled just inside an open trap, its head darting both ways as its small hand gripped a charm bracelet. Mr. B leapt forward, scaring it into the back of the cage. Just in time, Alex quickly snapped the cage door shut.

  “Good boy,” Alex dropped to one knee and petted the cat.

  In the dim light, he saw the creature totter backwards in the cage. It danced around, as if on hot coals. Its mouth opened and it cried, but only gasps came out. Within moments, it fell backwards and quivered.

  Alex felt the ground tremble, and he quickly grabbed the cage before another chasm opened up. He hurriedly carried it back to the porch with Mr. B close behind, his head held high.

  “Alex!” It was Baylee, calling from the woods. Her voice was frantic.

  “Watch him,” Alex directed Mr. B, then sped off to find his sister.

  He found her at the edge of the garden, her face flushed with panic.

  “Baylee, what’s wrong?”

  “I think Gus just tried to kill me.”

  Twenty-Three

  (Baylee)

  “Are you sure it was Gus?” Alex asked.

  “No, I’m not sure!” I countered. “All I saw was a pitchfork barreling down on me.”

  “Lots of people have pitchforks.”

  “Who, Alex? Who in this day and age carries around a pitchfork? You heard what Jax said about him.”

  “I need to show you something.” Alex grabbed me by the wrist. He pulled me to the front porch as I accused him of being insensitive to my trauma. But when I saw the creature writhing in the cage, I forgot my words.

  “Right?” Alex asked.

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to these things,” I finally managed, edging closer. “In the book, they are almost cute.”

  “Mr. B trapped it. Though I’m not sure how this cage got outside in the first place.”

  At this, Alex and I swapped stories. I told him of the trinkets and traps, and he told me of his adventure in the woods. “There’s something else,” he said. “I saw Rachel and Garett together in the forest.”

  “What were they doing?” I asked, suddenly feeling protective of Dave… who was back in Rachel’s room, with Rachel’s baby, waiting for Rachel.

  “They said they were tracking those things. But they were digging stuff up, too. Crackers? And they were trying to find some seed before a ritual tonight. I don’t know. It was weird.”

  I didn’t have time to question him further. The creature was now frothing at the mouth, its hands clutching its neck as it cooed helplessly.

  “I almost feel bad,” Alex said.

  “You shouldn’t. They’re vicious. I have no idea why the book said hobgoblins are harmless. Let’s take it inside to be studied. This should be a lesson for its friends, too!” I raised my voice, in case the others were listening.

  Alex took on a new look, pressing his face to cage. I worried that compassion would shade his judgement. If I didn’t watch him carefully, he’d take it into the woods and set it free. Or worse, give it a name.

  “Come with me to get my things,” I said. “Mr. B can watch it a moment.”

  Returning to the maple tree, I saw that the book was still open to the bay leaf bookmark. As I reached for it, a stiff breeze rustled through, flipping several pages forward.

  The title of this new page read: Changelings. I looked at the accompanying illustration. These hobgoblin cousins had larger heads, sharp teeth, and red eyes. Plus, tails and hooves!

  “Alex!” I exclaimed. “It’s not hobgoblins we’ve been chasing! It’s changelings!”

  I read the page quickly, then bullet pointed the highlights for him

  “According to this, changelings originated in a realm adjacent to the goblin plane, and are often confused for them. But….” I said, reading directly from the book, “‘They beist in fact Fae Folk.”

  “Fae? As in Faery?”

  “So it seems.”

  “Fairies are nice, though, right?”

  “You haven’t read the old fairy tales, have you?”

  I continued reading. The wording was cumbersome, translated from an old dialect, written in an old scrawl: “Changelings be aged Fae even by such standards. Falling short of immortality, they may seek a human infant to dwell within, until such time as they may enter their proper realm.”

  Alex scratched his head. “So… what do they do with the baby?”

  I read further, swallowing. “They are tithed to Hel, as tribute.

  ‘Always tricksters, they fool the underworld, offering up human souls in place of their own.’”

  “This is bad! Real bad!” Alex pushed the hair out of his eyes. “So that’s why Rachel was out there in the woods! She’s hunting these changelings before they take her baby. But that doesn’t explain why Garett was out there with her.”

  “Audrey is pregnant.” I waited for it to register.

  “I see,” Alex said. “Any chance it’s Elmer’s?” His eyes told me he already knew the answer to that.

  “Garett’s trying to protect his baby from the same fate.” Logically, it made sense, but I couldn’t help think we were still missing something. What was this mysterious seed? And what had Garett said about not wanting to suffer the same fate as Rachel’s husband? Did he mean Dave? Or was there another husband? Perhaps Little P’s father.

  When we returned to the porch, the creature in the cage now looked like a shriveled potato, rather than a fearsome changeling. As we watched, it coughed twice before collapsing in on itself, leaving nothing behind.

  “It’s gone! I don’t understand!” Alex lamented, like a doctor who’d unexpectedly lost a patient.

  “I do,” I said, reading on. “It says here that changelings are allergic to iron. That must be why Little P had those keys! It seemed a strange choice for a child. This confirms that Rachel knows.”

  Alex opened the cage door, as if to set its essence free.

  “Stay focused,” I said, scanning the adjacent page. “Apparently, changelings steal trinkets, too. Hobgoblins do it for the love of treasure, while changelings do it to stay alive.

  “I’m paraphrasing, but the book says they bury their treasures, marking the spots so they can dig them up later. Think of the trinkets as batteries. While they’re searching for their infant host, the changelings suck out the object’s life essence, to keep them going.

  “My stars! Here’s something else… it says they’ll even take the last few breaths of a dying person… and have been known to startle the weak just to capture their remaining life force!”

  “The antique store is a feeding frenzy of objects that have collected a lot of human energy over time,” Alex agreed. “And the Senior Center is a veritable buffet of the weak-hearted.”

  “We have to do something. If Audrey’s pregnant, they’ll be after her child.”

  “Why should I care? The baby isn’t Elmer’s.”

  “The same reason we also need to help Rachel. We have to.”

  Twenty-Four

  Whenst the changelings bury their treasures, they be sure to mark them with dust of the Fae. This be so they can reclaim it. Their markings may only be seen under direct moonlight, and be quite arduous for humans to find. The chances of witnessing a Faery mark without knowing its place is like seeking a specific star without knowing its constellation.

  I hadn’t yet told Alex about Nick’s strange preoccupation with burying things. I still didn’t know what to make of it, or even if Nick was involved in any of this.

  I remembered Nick’s words: Family is everything. Was he helping Garett somehow? Or hindering him?

  My brother and I marched to the Senior Center in silence, until he eventually pulled me from my thoughts. “Some birthday, huh?” he asked. “What’s left of it, anyway.” He stabbed at the darkness with his flashlight, as if ready
ing his sword for battle.

  “It’s certainly been the most adventurous birthday I’ve ever had,” I admitted. “Let’s just hope it ends well.” As we continued walking, I tried to shape my thoughts into words, without sounding too sappy. “Alex, I know we have our differences, but I wouldn’t want to spend this milestone birthday with anyone else.”

  “Thanks. Let’s just hope we’re living apart by your next milestone.”

  Aside from our flashlights, there was little visibility around the Senior Center when we arrived. The parking lot lights were doused, along with the lanterns leading up to the entry. It felt like a betrayal to be here without Nick, as if this was somehow our spot after just one day. It was funny the stories the heart told, when the mind was the voice of reason.

  We circled the building and found nothing amiss. If the changelings had been here recently, there was no sign of them now. The only sound was the gurgling of the stone cherub in the fountain in the garden. In the moonlight, the angel’s face was stark and cold, its smile foreboding.

  We crossed the same field that Nick and I had passed through. Along the way, we noted six newly planted signs, urging people to Vote for Gus. I shuddered at the memory of the raised pitchfork. How did he fit into all of this?

  We continued on, into the woods. Alex stopped to withdraw a small iron spade from his pack, wielding it with one hand while working the flashlight with the other.

  The moon was full and luminescent, though half obscured by gathering clouds. The thick, pungent scents of rain and electricity mixed in the air, both charging and worrisome. I felt the call of the moon tickle my spine as we waded further into the trees. Hidden creatures hooted and chirped, while others scurried between their burrows. There was a sensation of being watched – not just by the animals, but by the ancient trees themselves.

  Alex directed me around fallen branches and thick roots, while I searched for Fae marks and burial mounds.

  “Here!” I called, as my light skimmed a small disruption of dark brown earth at the base of a tree.

  “Is there a Fae mark?” Alex asked.

  “Not that I can see.” I pulled out my new magnifying glass and inspected the ground closely. Aha! I spotted a dusting of silver on the very bottom of the tree trunk. Looking even closer, I could see that it was indeed a deliberate mark. “Look here.”

  Alex dropped to his knees beside me.

  “Three spirals, extending outward from a center point.” I handed my brother the magnifier as I tried to recall where I’d seen this symbol before. “I believe it’s Celtic in origin – the symbol of the soul’s journey through birth, life, and death.”

  “I think there’s another mound right here,” Alex said, scooting over to the next tree. He started digging and quickly unearthed an old pocket watch with a train etched into the back. It was gold, with the inscription: Joe Wilson. For forty years of service.

  “I think I’ve seen his name at the Senior Center,” Alex said, frowning.

  “Me too.” In fact, his name was on Nick’s list of registered voters. “Let’s take it with us. Joe will want this back.”

  “Uh- oh, battery’s dying,” Alex said, tapping his flashlight against his hand.

  “Mine, too. That’s odd. We just put in new ones.”

  I fumbled through my sack, finding my EMF meter. I turned it on and canvased the area, looking for hot spots. The device beeped red, then green, as I played a ghostly game of hot and cold. I followed it to an enormous tree, the trunk nearly twice as thick as the others around it. The meter beeped wildly, and I shut it off for fear being heard.

  This time I found the Faery mark easily, now that I knew what to look for. But there was no accompanying mound.

  I dug around the base of the tree anyway. The meter had reacted with such urgency that there must be something here. Alex eventually pitched in to help. But after carving out a moat around the tree and finding nothing, we decided to give up. As I rose to my feet, my moonstone ring flashed brightly, momentarily illuminating the night.

  “Up top!” Alex called out, jumping back.

  The ring flashed again, squeezing my finger tight. The overhead branches came alive with movement, raining leaves on me.

  “Ooh goo li ha!” The changeling dropped from the tree, landing at my feet. It was a short one, only as tall as my shin, but its fangs were sharp and menacing.

  Alex swiped at the changeling with his spade, forcing it back. It scampered away, my brother close on its tail.

  Why hadn’t we brought a cage? I wondered. Or a cat?

  Another changeling appeared, slithering down the same tree. This one was thinner, its eyes more intelligent. “Boog la tii!” The Faery raised its hands threateningly as it screeched. It lunged forward, clawing at my leg, and I felt the immediate trickle of warm blood.

  “That’s it, I’ve had it!” With all my strength, I hurled my flashlight.

  The creature easily dodged the awkward missile, the flashlight bouncing off the ground. The changeling covered its mouth, snickering like a naughty child. It readied itself to attack again, hissing as it crouched on its haunches.

  I had no choice but to run.

  I took off in the direction Alex had gone, my EMF beeping whenever the creature drew close.

  It wasn’t long before I realized I was completely lost. My heart thumped in my ears, threatening to burst from both adrenaline and lack of oxygen.

  “Stop now! I’ll get you!”

  I knew immediately the crusty voice belonged to Gus! His heavy boots were even louder than my heartbeat.

  Thump. Skitter. Skitter. Thump. Thump.

  A shadowy figure jumped out at me from behind a tree. I balled my hands into fists, getting ready for a fight, but immediately saw that it was Alex.

  “C’mon!” he whispered, pulling me into a dense thicket. “Stay quiet.”

  My moonstone ring flashed like lightning, and I quickly covered it with my hand. Luckily, the battery in the EMF reader had apparently been drained.

  I could hear Gus coughing, as he found his way through the trees. The sounds gradually faded, until he was somewhere in the far distance.

  “He’s gone,” Alex said. “For now. And the changelings, too. Follow me, I think I know how to get us out of here.”

  Moving as quietly as we could, we eventually cleared the woods, and soon arrived at a stagnant pond. The smell of moss and stone was heavy. I wrinkled my nose, trying to discern where we were.

  “Alex, no…” I said, stopping.

  “We’re already here anyway,” he said. “C’mon.”

  He shone his waning cellphone light before us, revealing a swinging iron gate that creaked open and shut, groaning its spectral invitation. Alex continued forward while I stayed in place, looking behind me and weighing my options. With a sigh, I reluctantly followed. I shuddered as I saw the loose arrangement of headstones through the black iron bars, like hopeless prisoners who had given up on escape.

  “Besides,” Alex said. “The changelings can’t get in there. They hate iron, remember. We’ll figure out what to do.”

  “We don’t even have working flashlights anymore,” I complained.

  “Don’t need them. Just hold on to my spade.”

  The rich earthen scent was overpowering inside the old cemetery. I saw that there were fresh open holes, and I wondered if they had been dug by or for the dead. I intentionally didn’t fasten the heavy gate latch behind us as we entered, just in case.

  While Alex scouted around, seemingly unaffected by the death surrounding us, I paused to read the tombstones. All these people, who had once lived important lives of their own, were now only remembered as footnotes. Their entire existences were summed up in five words or less.

  Sam Perkins

  1924-1974

  Father and Faithful Husband

  Liza Montgomery

  1876-1957

  You’re with angels now

  I didn’t know Sam nor Liza, but I was overcome with melancholy.
This was their legacy. It made life seem so pointless.

  “I think we should turn around now,” I said, finally grasping where Alex was taking me.

  “In the entire year since you’ve been back home, you’ve never been to visit it.”

  “I will!” I promised. “Someday. Just not tonight, Alex. Not with the fog and the moon and… everything.”

  But we were already here.

  My mother’s grave.

  I glowered at my brother but he simply stopped beside me, his face unflinching. How dare he bring me out here! What a dirty trick!

  Vivi Bonds

  Eternally young.

  Wife and Mother

  There were no dates. It was just like my mother to try and keep her age under wraps, even after her death.

  I knelt before the cheap neglected headstone, pressing my hand onto the ground. Her physical body was buried down there. I sniffled and wiped my nose.

  It was easy to pretend that Mom wasn’t dead, but she was. Seeing her grave marker in the moonlight sent a shock through me. I felt a deep and unexpected void. I lost my mother.

  “Let’s get out of here, please,” I begged Alex, standing.

  “What the… Alex, watch out!”

  I pulled my brother by the arm as an ashen changeling popped out from behind Mom’s headstone. It screeched, spreading its arms wide like wings. It hissed at us before scurrying away.

  We regained ourselves and raced after it, zig-zagging through the headstones. Suddenly the creature stopped, perched atop a crumbling marker in the shape of a cross. It bowed its tiny body forward, sealing its mouth over the stone and drawing in a long breath. Once full, it hurtled forward again, bolting through the slowly swinging gate.

  “You were supposed to lock that!” Alex slammed his hands against the rails as the creature disappeared into the night. “I hate to say this, but I think we’re screwed. Whatever’s going on, we can’t seem to stop it.”