Trickskin

by Amelia R. Moore

  When they were alone, Danika turned to him. “Sorry for talking over you. I'm just worried. You don't exactly have the best track record for self-care right now.”

  Loken conceded she was right with a grunt.

  Danika let the matter rest. “So, this top...with this skirt. Wait, do you prefer skirts or pants? Oh, how about dresses? Keep in mind, it's gonna be cold till March. Well, April even.”

  Loken believed in being prepared, so he ordered an array of outfits for every occasion without being excessive. He also kept the total in mind, trying to tally what he owed Nolan. Too much was the answer, but he would find a way to repay him. Sooner rather than later. Letting a debt build out of control was unwise.

  When they were done, he finally found the will to try texting. Danika helped him when he stumbled across the emojis, and with a little patience he was able to send a message to Nora, letting her know he was awake and well. Afterwards, they settled on the couch, curled up together, and watched more of Avatar: The Last Airbender.

  Harvey arrived punctually at two in the afternoon, cutting short their marathon. Danika hugged Loken and left them alone on the main floor.

  Loken wished the man hadn’t come and had no qualms about making his displeasure known. Perhaps, he mused, if he could prove to be recalcitrant, the man might abandon this hopeless endeavor.

  Harvey only smiled. “Your friends care about you very much.” He gestured to his phone. “I received quite a collection of texts since our last visit.”

  Anxiety coursed through him, wondering what they’d said. Had they told Harvey everything he’d shared with them? “Oh?” Loken asked, trying to appear neutral.

  “Yes. They were quite concerned your change in appearance would startle me.”

  Loken hadn’t expected that. He’d nearly forgotten that he was in an entirely different form than when they met, as if he’d blocked it from his mind. “I’m a changeling,” he explained.

  “I’m unfamiliar with that term. Would you like to explain what it means?”

  It was a safe topic, one he didn’t mind diving into, so he gave Harvey an introduction into changelings. He explained the ability to change not only into other creatures but into other races, and how the change seemed to be at the cellular level. He gained their physiological attributes (which was why he’d never suspected he hadn’t been born Evoir).

  “Forgive me for my interest, but is there a form you feel most comfortable in?” the mindhealer asked once Loken finished.

  That was easy. “I feel most comfortable in the form I was raised in.” And yet…ever since he’d found out the truth of his heritage, he felt disconnected from it.

  “Is there a gender you feel more comfortable with?” Harvey asked after a moment.

  A scoff and an admission slipped free. “I’m a changeling. Gender has as much meaning to me as Shakespeare does to a toucan.”

  Harvey smiled at that. “You enjoy Shakespeare?”

  Loken shrugged, thoughts too self-abasing to discuss literature. No identity. He’d basically just proclaimed he had no identity. The things that were important to others—gender, appearance, race—he could change them quicker than others could change clothes. It hadn’t bothered him when he was too young to know it conflicted with Rellaerian social norms.

  (Trickskin. Deceiver.)

  “Is there something on your mind?” Harvey prompted.

  Loken didn't like the man’s perceptiveness. “Is there a point to all this? Is griping about all of the slights against me supposed to be helpful? Should I cry about how the man I called Uncle was naught but the kidnapper who stole me from my homeland? Or shall I whine about the deception? How it was kept from me until they decided I’d be better served as a political pawn?”

  (Discarded, abandoned.)

  “Or shall I quiver and recount how a madman cut me open more times than I can recall? How he rummaged through my body, drilled into my skull, leeched my magic from my core—” He cut himself off, hating how difficult his tongue was to control.

  Harvey didn’t blink in the face of his temper or the shocking revelations. “Therapy provides a supportive environment in which you can talk openly with someone who’s objective and nonjudgmental. If you want or need to talk about those things, we’ll discuss them when you want to. Whether that be now, in a few weeks, or a few months.”

  “And if I want to sit in silence?” Loken asked hotly.

  “Then, we sit in silence. Our time together is yours.”

  Loken didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t interested in sitting quietly for fifty minutes. Finally, an idea came to mind. “Do you play chess?”

  “It’s been a while, but I wouldn’t mind a refresher.”

  Loken didn’t have a chess set, so he retrieved his tablet from the end table and opened the chess app. Danika had installed it for him, knowing how much he enjoyed the game, and as Harvey promised, they played until the session ended.

  Danika had gasped and clutched his shoulder in a death grip, interrupting episode ten of Avatar: the Last Airbender. “It’s snowing! Look!”

  That’s how it had all started.

  In nothing more than a borrowed jacket, Loken stood with his arms wrapped around himself. Not because of the snow blowing all around them and the lashing of the bitter wind; the winter air didn’t bother him. Unlike himself, Danika was bundled up with many layers, thick gloves, a hat, and a scarf. Even so, she seemed cold.

  No, it was the openness that was causing him discomfort. This was the first time he’d been outside since Lestat, and it was daunting.

  He hated that it was daunting, such a mundane thing he’d always taken for granted.

  Danika made it bearable, keeping his thoughts occupied. She’d started with explaining the intricacies of building a snowman, and she’d collapsed ten minutes in. “Oh, god. This is so much harder than I remember....” she said, sprawled out on her back and staring at the sky. “Bury me.”

  Loken unceremoniously kicked snow at her.

  “Hey!” she laughed. She rolled to her feet, swiped snow from the ground, and hurled a snowball at him.

  Mystified by the frozen assault, he gave her a bemused, albeit amused, look.

  “Snowball fight!” Danika proclaimed, scooping up another to throw at his chest.

  He laughed lightly at how undeterred she was by his lack of participation. “A fight hardly seems fair when I’m stationary.”

  “Eh,” she replied, making another snowball. “Not concerned. You’ll get me back when your mojo is at full power.”

  She threw it, and though standing was an effort, he reflexively twisted to dodge it. Not out of necessity but because her playfulness was infectious. The slick ground and his sluggish muscles ensured he ungracefully ended up on his rear. Danika laughed at his expense, so he scooped up some snow and lobbed it at her.

  Squealing, she tried to sidestep and, to his satisfaction, she slipped and joined him on the ground.

  Giggling uncontrollably, she crawled over, and Loken, unable to resist, lightly pushed her over. She fell onto her back beside him, laughing even as she protested the mistreatment. Grinning at him, her cheeks and nose red from the cold, she said, “Let’s make snow angels.”

  At his blank look, she elaborated. “It's when you lie in the snow and flail your arms and legs side to side. It makes an angel-like impression in the snow. Mostly kids do it, but you're getting the full winter treatment: snowballs, snow angels, and snow forts!”

  “You’re a strange woman,” he told her fondly.

  Danika gave him a grin full confidence. “You know you like it.”

  He scoffed but didn’t deny the accusation.

  “Next year, I know what we should do,” she said abruptly. “When we were really little, Dad would take me and my sister on sleigh rides every year.” Her eyes clouded with memory. “I asked him why they only had horses pulling sleighs because I really wanted a reindeer. So we could fly to the North Pole.”

  Loken imagined
a small Danika dreaming of riding a magical reindeer. Why did the picture fill him with warmth? “And did you get your reindeer?” he asked, amused.

  “Nah. Dad died before the next Christmas.”

  The nonchalance in her voice left no opening for discussion. Before he could maneuver his condolences into the conversation, she started waving her arms and legs around while flat on her back.

  After a full fifteen seconds, she stumbled to her feet and admired her work. “Oh, yeah. That's one sexy snow angel.” She grinned, as if the previous topic had never been. “Okay. Your turn!”

  Rather than do something so utterly ridiculous, he swept her feet out from under her and caught her when she fell on top of him. It took all of his strength— and it hurt his arms—but the pain was minimal. With their legs tangled together, she reflexively propped herself up with her palms against his chest...and blushed when she realized where her hands had fallen.

  “Whoops!”

  It was difficult to discern what he thought he heard over the sound of her nervous laughter. Loken tilted his head, trying to listen. Paranoia swept through him, and his arms wrapped around Danika’s lower back, holding her close as he scanned their surroundings.

  “Loken?” Danika frowned down at him.

  He ignored her as he searched. An intruder should have been easy to spot, as they were close to the front door and the area around the compound was open terrain. However, with the snow storm raging around them—white blanketing the landscape—visibility was limited.

  “What’s up?”

  He wanted to tell her to be quiet, that he thought he’d heard something, but armed men rushed in from around both sides of the compound—using the structure to conceal their approach until the last moment. Loken and Danika were surrounded in seconds. Had he been in better physical condition, he would have no doubt picked up their appearance sooner, but his wounded pride was the last of his concerns. He was not capable of fighting these agents in his state, but he didn't let them know it. Half of every battle was intimidation...but he hardly looked threatening in such a feminine form, lying on his back with Danika atop him.

  How was he supposed to protect Danika when he couldn’t protect himself?

  “On your stomachs!”

  Danika gave the soldiers a withering look. “Um, no. Just who the hell do you think you are? This isn’t your property.”

  Did she have no sense of self-preservation? She had guns fastened upon her! Fear for her put him on edge, and he mentally scrambled to form a plan. One that would ensure her safety as quickly as possible.

  “Now!” one man shouted at Danika.

  Another approached, gun raised. “Do as he says. We’re not here for you.”

  The man stepped forward, hands reaching out to grab Danika who jerked away.

  It was a recipe for disaster. No, he couldn’t let Danika get hurt for him. Not like Nora.

  “Yes, you are!” Loken hissed at the man, recognizing their ALPHA uniforms. “You’re here for Lyall Locke, correct?”

  “Yes,” the man replied, misunderstanding. “If you cooperate, you ladies can get back to enjoying your day.”

  As Loken suspected, they didn’t recognize him, though he knew from experience that agents were given a file and photo to study of their targets. Their human minds simply couldn’t reconcile the woman before their eyes as Lyall Locke—though he looked quite similar.

  “I am—”

  “Don’t!” Danika cried. “They could hurt you!”

  Loken looked at her calmly, more confident than he felt in his weakened state. “They didn’t bring enough men.”

  The man giving orders didn’t take well to that insult. “I’m not going to ask you again!”

  Glaring at the soldiers, Danika rolled off of him slowly and put her hands on her head. He did the same. All the while, he thought about how he was going to kill them for pointing their weapons at Danika.

  Slowly.

  “Hey, now. Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s impolite to point guns at people?”

  Relief flooded Loken when he processed Nolan’s voice. His gaze flickered to the inventor but not for long, not wanting to take his eyes off of their enemies.

  Nolan strolled towards them with his hands in his pockets. Despite his nonchalance, Nolan’s lack of appropriate attire told Loken he’d hurried out here. “Look, guys. It’s damn cold out here, but I’m feeling generous. So I’ll give your men ten seconds to get off my property.”

  “Mr. Nolan, My name is Brock Pahl—”

  “Nine.”

  “We’re here to take into custody—”

  “Eight.”

  “Mr. Nolan—”

  “Seven.”

  Brock Pahl seemed flustered, caught between anger and embarrassment. He made a motion, and the soldiers began to retreat.

  Nolan smiled a little unpleasantly. “Thanks, G.I. Joe.”

  “Mr. Nolan, this matter could be resolved quickly if he target in question would return with us peace—”

  “Hard pass, but nice try at diplomacy. A for effort. Bye now.”

  “Willingly or by force, he will—"

  The ground in front of the man erupted, and he jerked backwards, arms sheltering his head.

  It took Loken a moment to place the culprit: a miniature flying robot had shot the ground in front of the agent with non-bullet ammunition. How Nolan was commanding it remained a mystery, but it hovered just above his left shoulder like an obedient pet, its propellers buzzing.

  “Let's get this straight,” Nolan said. “The next time you come onto my property with forceful intent, you'll be leaving by ambulance.”

  The man didn't reply. He simply retreated, following after his men.

  “You both okay?” Nolan asked, not taking his gaze off of the retreating agent.

  “Yeah.” Danika huffed as she stood. “What a bunch of assholes.”

  “And you, Princess?”

  ALPHA had pointed their guns at Danika, as if she were a common criminal. He was far from okay; he was murderous. Regardless, he grunted.

  Nolan accepted that response. “I’m going to call Tandie to make sure they’re escorted off the property. I’ll meet you guys inside.” Nolan looked to the little robot. “Neo, survey the estate.”

  “Surveying,” the drone replied before flying off.

  As Nolan pulled out his phone and marched off, Danika helped Loken to his feet, and they went inside.

  Danika peeled off her winter clothes in a hurry. “Assholes,” she grumbled as she hung up her coat to dry, trying to hide the tremble of her hands. “Can you believe them? Trying to ruin Christmas.” Suddenly, she was fighting tears. “It’s totally inconsiderate. Who does that?”

  Loken didn’t reply. Danika was a hard woman to upset, and ALPHA would pay dearly for causing her distress. “What’s next?” he asked, trying to distract her. He knew how important introducing him to holiday activities was.

  She looked puzzled.

  “Christmas traditions,” he clarified. “What’s next?”

  Though she still looked a little frazzled, she smiled and dove on the chance to forget what had just happened. “Hot cocoa. It’s the best remedy for a cold winter day!”

  Ten minutes later, Nolan found them stirring cocoa, sugar, and milk over the stovetop.

  “Don’t worry.” Danika smiled brightly. “We made enough for three.” After adding a few drops of vanilla to the mixture, she began dividing the concoction into mugs. “And then we add just a touch of half-and-half to cool it down a little...”

  Loken handed her the cream, and she did just that, topping it off with a few fluffy, white marshmallows.

  “Voilà!” Danika proclaimed. “Enjoy.”

  Loken sipped his, aware that two sets of eyes were upon him, scrutinizing his reaction. It was incredibly sweet, but it was well blended and quite satisfying. Definitely not an everyday drink.

  “I think the verdict is in, and Lail approves,” Nolan said and took a swig of
his hot cocoa. “So, I made some calls. Jim is pretending not to be in. Power games. Don’t worry. I’ll refuse to work with ALPHA one month per minute until he calls me back.”

  Danika coughed, choking on her cocoa. “Ha! Serves ‘em right.”

  Amusing though the idea was, Loken said, “You don't have to defend me.”

  Nolan gave him a serious look. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

  “It may be safest if I surrender to their interrogation.” Though Loken wasn't certain he could submit himself to that. “ALPHA isn't likely to let me be. Would you leave a dangerous weapon on the street if you knew its capabilities? Or would you attempt to secure it? Lock it away?”

  Nolan didn't look pleased by the comparison. “You’re not a weapon to us, Lail.”

  Ridiculous though it was, that statement resonated with him, but if he wasn’t a weapon, what was he?

  A music ringtone interrupted the thought. Nolan excused himself but didn’t walk far before answering his phone. “Jimmy! Aren’t you supposed to wait a night after the first date to call back? You don’t wanna appear desperate.”

  “Nolan. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

  “Says the man who ordered my estate invaded.”

  “You’re making a lot of assumptions.”

  “And you’re not denying them, Jimbo.”

  Jim was quiet for a moment. “He’s dangerous, Nolan. This isn’t a game. You’re playing house with an extraterrestrial sorcerer. I don’t know what you all think you’re doing but—”

  “For the record, no one else is involved in this, Jim. Just me.”

  Covering for everyone struck Loken as an unfaltering declaration of loyalty.

  “Now that that’s out of the way, let me make something clear. Lyall Locke will talk to you when and if he’s ready, and as long as he’s on my property, you should focus on more important things. Like where the fuck Draven Lestat is. You find him and lock him up, then we can talk.”

  Nolan hung up, and Loken met his eyes just as panic took his breath away.

  Lestat was alive? Why hadn’t he known that? Had he known that? He couldn’t remember being told they’d neutralized Lestat, so why had he assumed?