The Last Changeling

by Chelsea Pitcher

  “Same as what weighs on everybody,” I finally said, searching for a way to shift the focus away from me. What was she doing here anyway, swinging in the park by herself? “What about you? Did you come here to hide?”

  “I came here to escape,” she said, and her lips twitched. Her skin was so pale, and her lips so red, it reminded me of that story of Snow White. Of blood in the snow.

  “Escape what?”

  “The repetition of history.”

  I chuckled. “So we have that in common.”

  “I suppose we do.” Her tone was casual, but I could see caution in her eyes. It occurred to me that she was using humor to mask vulnerability.

  I should know. That was my favorite trick.

  She held out a hand. “What’s your name?”

  “Taylor,” I said, sliding my fingers over her gloved hand. She was warm, easy to sink into like water.

  “Call me Laura,” she said. At the last second, she added, “With an O.”

  “Lora,” I repeated. “What brings you to Unity High? Did you just transfer?”

  “Transfer?”

  “You know, change schools?”

  She licked her lips. “I guess you could say I’m checking things out.”

  My face flushed. For a second, I could’ve sworn she was using innuendo. But girls were different from guys. They didn’t go around making hints about sex in casual conversation.

  Did they?

  “So what do you think?” I asked, both fearing and needing her answer.

  “I haven’t decided yet.” Her upper arm grazed the swing’s chain and she sucked in a breath, like she was in pain.

  “You okay?” I wanted to touch her arm, to soothe the place where the chain had shocked her. I couldn’t understand the intensity of my feelings. Sure, she was beautiful, but it wasn’t just that. There was something about her fear, and her refusal to give in to it, that made me feel perfectly at home.

  For once.

  She leaned in. “I might consider … transferring,” she said slowly, like she’d just learned the word. “I think it would be useful to meet more people. But I don’t know what to do, exactly. I’ve never gone to a traditional school before.”

  Ah, that was it. She was home-schooled. Well, it wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about. “You can still register,” I told her. “You just won’t have transcripts from old schools. Can’t your parents—” I stopped as the moon rose above the trees, illuminating her face. The look in her eyes killed me.

  “I don’t live with my parents,” she said.

  “Me neither,” I quipped, before the reality of her words sank in. I waited a beat before asking, “Did you run away?”

  “You might say I flew.”

  I smiled involuntarily. It was like my body was rebelling against the seriousness of the situation. “Do you have a safe place to stay for the night?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Do you need a place? I live above my parents’ garage—”

  “What would you ask in return?”

  “Nothing,” I said, and my body felt hot. She looked so distrustful then, I wanted to hurt whoever had taught her that kindness always came with a price. “I just want you to be safe.”

  “Why?”

  Because I’m a good person.

  Nope! Try again.

  Because if I help her, I’ll become a good person.

  Not quite, but we’re getting close.

  Because I’m a terrible person, and I need to atone.

  There you go.

  “Because the park is dangerous at night. Someone could harass you, or worse … ” I tried to subtly look her over. She was almost as tall as me, and by no means scrawny. I was pretty sure she could hold her own in a fight. But if someone caught her unaware, or had a weapon, would any of that matter?

  “Just try it for one night.” I stood up, holding out a hand. “Please?”

  “I guess I could take a look,” she said finally, taking my hand.

  I could feel her pulse through her glove. I focused on the feeling of it. “Really?”

  “Yes. If you promise to help me transfer.”

  “I do. I will.” I helped her to her feet. Up close she smelled like the forest, like earth and rain and berries. I resisted the urge to taste her cheek. “Come on.”

  –––––

  I turned off the lights as I pulled into the driveway. To the right of the yard, the house was dark. This time of night, it would take a full-scale alien invasion to get my parents out of bed. I had no reason to feel worried as we hurried into the garage.

  But I did. My nerves were in a tangle. My heart acted like it had something to prove, always racing, sometimes jumping over hurdles.

  Lora had that effect on me.

  Now that we were nearing my bedroom, those nerves were making me jumpy. The garage felt like a minefield of boxes. Sleeves spilled over the tops of the cartons like abandoned limbs, but they gave me an idea. I reached into a box, searching with my hands as much as my eyes. My fingers trailed down the fabric of a nightgown. A minute later I was climbing the stairs to my room, balancing the box in front of me. It took me a minute to locate my keys. And once I had them in my hands, I still managed to miss the lock twice. Finally the key slid into the lock.

  I flipped on a light.

  Oh no.

  What had happened to my room? Hours earlier, it had seemed like a perfectly acceptable place to sleep. Now it looked like a pigsty; the last place you’d ever want to bring a girl. I tried to very casually pluck clothes from the floor and toss them into my overstuffed closet. I had to leverage my body against the doors just to get them to shut.

  Way to look like a badass.

  At least the bathroom was dark.

  “Are those school books?” Lora asked as I gathered stacks from the floor.

  “Some,” I said. “Do you like to read?” The question was stupid, something I might have asked in kindergarten, but I wanted her answers to everything.

  I needed them.

  “I love to read.” She grinned, sitting on the edge of my bed. I have to admit, it felt good to make her smile like that. “But I haven’t had the chance to read … modern things. The books back home are much older.”

  I nodded, picturing bookshelves stacked with multi-colored Bibles. I set some of my favorite books beside her. Then I just stood there, feeling out of place in my own bedroom. “You can change if you want.” I tapped the box of clothes with my foot. “And feel free to sleep in the bed.”

  “All right,” she said, almost dismissively. Her hair spilled over the books as she flipped through them. It was so bright, and her lips were so red.

  Yeah. I was staring. “I’ll just, uh … ” I took a step back. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Turning away, I felt the blood seep back into my brain. Then it was three short steps to the bathroom. It hadn’t really occurred to me that the bedroom was barely big enough for me to live in.

  Now it was too late.

  I rushed through my nightly ritual, brushing my teeth like my life depended on it. I practically fell over trying to get into my pajama pants. I went through T-shirt after T-shirt, searching for one that didn’t smell like sweat, but they all smelled like sweat. Then I started to panic. I felt increasingly cornered, like I’d been given far too little time to transform into the man I wanted to be.

  Man?

  The thought made me laugh. Most days I still felt like a clumsy kid. Other days, I was an old soul drowning in disillusionment. But that elusive essence—the essence of being a man—was something I’d yet to drink. Except when she looked at me.

  God, when she looked at me …

  I had to get back to the bedroom. What if she’d already left? I checked my face in the mirror (twice) and hurried out the door.
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  Lora looked up when I entered. She was dressed in a full-length flannel nightgown my mom had worn when I was a kid, and her cheeks were pink, like she was up to something. She might’ve passed for a cherub if not for that hair.

  She hadn’t taken off her gloves.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in the bed?” she asked.

  I didn’t know if she meant with her or alone. I shook my head, lying either way, as she thumbed through Othello.

  “I’ve heard of this man,” she said. “He wrote about faeries.”

  I sat down on the edge of her bed. My bed. “You like fairy tales?”

  Her hand stopped in mid-flip. “Some.”

  “Yeah,” I said, thinking of the cheesy movies I’d loved as a kid. I wanted to tell her about them, maybe share a laugh, but the look on her face stopped me from joking around. I realized we were skirting the conversation we needed to have. “Hey, Lora?”

  She lifted her head. She must’ve noticed the change in my voice. “Yes?”

  Don’t ask now. There’s no reason to ask now.

  “Are you in any danger?” For a fleeting instant, I saw myself as the hero who would save her from the villains of her past. Then I realized that inventing some danger, just so I could save her from it, wasn’t heroic at all.

  She sighed. When she said “Yes,” my eyes closed. “There are those who would do terrible things if they knew I was here. They would force me to return with them. They would hurt me.” She watched me as she spoke. “They might hurt you as well. I should have told you before I let you bring me here.”

  I fought to keep my emotions off my face. “Do you think they’ll find you here?”

  She started to shake her head, but stopped. “They dwell outside of society, surrounded by acres of wildlands. They would not expect me to come here.” She braved a smile. “To the city.”

  She took my hands. Smooth currents shot up my arms, jump-starting my heart. I realized I’d been holding my breath.

  “If you wish for me to leave, I will do it,” she said. “Right now. I won’t hold it against you.” She scooted toward me. The nightgown bunched up beneath her, revealing long, curvaceous legs.

  I willed myself to watch her face. A nice pair of legs would do me no good if some asshole mobster came and broke mine, not to mention my face. “I’m not going to throw you out in the cold.”

  “I appreciate that,” she said, staring into my eyes. Studying me. “And do not worry that I will stay too long. Inevitably, I must return … ”

  “Wait. What?” Now I was totally lost.

  “Not to rejoin them,” she said, and I thought she was choosing her words carefully. “But there are those I left behind … ”

  “I see,” I said, though I didn’t really. But I wouldn’t push her on it, not tonight. “Why don’t we get some sleep? I’ll be able to think more clearly in the morning.”

  She lowered her eyes. It was like she knew the effect they had on me. “That sounds fine.”

  I turned off the light on the way to my futon. It felt good to stretch my limbs, in spite of the narrow space. It wasn’t like I was going to miss out on my normal good night’s sleep. Usually I was lucky if I fell asleep before three a.m. With Lora lying so close, I doubted I’d sleep at all.

  Then, just as I’d accepted that I’d probably be up all night, her voice pierced the silence.

  “I need to … purchase some things.”

  I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. “You need to go shopping?”

  “Yes.”

  I grinned into the darkness. I’d never been so happy to hear something so mundane. “What do you need?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. But it looks as though I’ve come into some money—”

  I wasn’t going to ask. No matter how much I wanted to, I just wasn’t going to ask.

  “—and I was hoping to find something I could use to contact a friend back home. Something that would be confusing to one who lives outside of society. Something h—” She stopped herself, breathing heavily.

  “High tech?” I offered, my eyes adjusting quickly. Moonlight filtered in through the window above my bed. I could just make out the outline of her face as she said, “Yes. High tech.”

  “Disposable cell phones,” I said, unfazed by the feeling that she wouldn’t know what the hell that meant. “I could get you some, and you could mail one to your friend or something.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “No big deal. You can just pay me back whenever.” I didn’t really want to take her money. I wasn’t sure what she’d gone through to get it.

  She nodded slowly, like she was mulling over the offer as she agreed to it. Then she smiled and I was certain—certain—the moonlight spilled directly over her head. When she spoke, she spoke in the voice of a person in a trance: “It feels as though my power wanes with the passing of each breath. But power shifts like changing seasons, and when it waxes once more, I promise you this: in exchange for true kindness, I will do everything in my power to grant your heart’s greatest desire.”

  My body flushed, a multitude of emotions filling me with warmth and shame. First, the thought that my greatest desire was to crawl onto that bed, climb over her like an animal, and draw her lips into mine. Then, the fear of what could be interpreted if I read between her words. What if she was a teenage prostitute run away from some crazy cult? I wasn’t naïve. I knew these things happened. I tried to imagine myself using a baseball bat to ward off a gun-toting preacher pimp.

  I pressed my face into my pillow. If Lora wasn’t a prostitute, she wouldn’t be thrilled that I’d allowed the thought to enter my head. And if she was … well, if she was, I’d do the best I could to help her begin a new life, and if she wanted to thank me carnally, I’d smile, give her a brotherly hug, and politely decline.

  Then I wondered, with a new wave of shame, how I was supposed to use theoretical morality to resist the most beautiful creature I’d ever met. My cheeks were so hot I thought my capillaries were going to burst. I lifted my head, peering at the outlines of my belongings: books stacked on my desk; the accordion-like shape of the lampshade; and my soccer jersey hung over a chair. But these familiar, inanimate objects failed to tantalize my very active imagination, and my eyes found themselves trailing Lora’s barely moving form. I studied her from across the room. When the sound of her breath grew even, I knew she was sleeping. When she started to twitch, I knew she was dreaming.

  Hours later, I slipped into sleep.

  3

  ElorA

  Liquid moved like honey through my dreams. Ravens took wing and blanketed the sky. I could almost taste the air of Faerie, sharp and sweet like the forest after the rain. Then I awoke and these things slipped from my mind.

  I was on my knees in an instant, staring out the window above the bed. The moon drifted behind webs of clouds like a secret the sky was not ready to reveal.

  I know the feeling. I kicked the tangled sheet from my legs. If I could just slip into the sky for a moment, I might be sated for the remainder of my trip.

  See, that is the thing about faeries and lies. We can lie perfectly well in our own minds. It’s the passage of the lie from the lips that is forbidden.

  One short flight, and I’ll be fine.

  I pulled myself onto the windowsill.

  It’s dark, and I’ll be quick. What is the danger?

  Of course, I knew the answer to that. The mortal lay so close I could hear him breathing. He needed only to glance up to see me climbing through the window. He might banish me from his bedchamber, or worse: see a glimmer of my true nature and try to trap me.

  Make me bargain, like a villain, on my knees: I’ll grant ya three wishes, or me pot o’ gold.

  I never could do a believable Irish accent.

  Slinking back into the room, I moved onto t
he bed and then the floor, creeping across the carpet like a sulking pup. The mortal was sleeping, his breath unsteady as chirping sounds escaped his mouth. His tawny hair spread out around his head. In the dim light I saw his resemblance to a young forest elf, before age slants the cheeks and points the ears. His eyes were closed, fluttering little wing beats against his cheeks.

  Taken in by the illusion of innocence, I lifted a hand to his cheek.

  He is a killer.

  I stopped in midair.

  All of them are.

  Taylor laughed in his sleep, as if he had heard my thoughts and found them faulty. He turned on his side, away from me.

  I took it as a sign.

  I was back at the windowsill in an instant, crawling through the frame and out onto the little ledge. My wings, tucked neatly beneath the loose, billowy nightdress, began beating against the cloth before I had even set them free. The night air swirled around me, undoing the buttons on the back of the gown, and within seconds my wings burst from their bindings.

  Then I was off.

  Calling on the night to stain my skin, I soared into the sky, beating back the cold with ecstatic wings. The beauty of that moment knocked the breath out of me. I did not dare try to steady my heart, but let it beat against my chest as a reminder of how much flight meant to me.

  Held in the embrace of the cool night air, I was truly free.

  Higher and higher I flew, chasing the moon, pulling back clouds with my hands. I dove into a burst of rain, came away soaked to the skin, and felt the bumps rise upon my arms in silent tribute. The scent was intoxicating.

  Then, something odd: I seemed to be shedding stars. Drops fell from my skin toward the earth, catching each glimmer of moonlight. I touched my face with cold fingers and brought them away covered in tears. Giddy with the wildness of it all, I licked them from my hands, tasting the salt of the sea. Sea, earth, air, darkness: I was a part of them all, and all of them resided inside of me.

  Slowly I became aware of other things. Glowing bulbs of light suspended in the sky. Tree trunks sprouting wire branches. A honking, unlike any bird, came near and then faded away. My glamour flickered, responding to my unease, and I knew I should return to my little cage.