The Changeling's Source (Evedon Legacy Book 1)

by Sarah Lynn Gardner

  I breathed in quickly. “Thank you.” I gave Daniel a hug, then stood. William must have found out by now where Asher and Emma had gone during that hour. “I have to go.” I hurried to leave. I stopped next to Holden, briefly to give him a hug. “Asher’s changed. I think you’ll like him.” Before he responded, I slipped back into the hall.

  Camden was down the hall in the opposite direction.

  “Hey!” I called to get his attention.

  Cam looked around.

  “Take care of my brother.”

  “That’s my job.”

  I waved. “Thank you.”

  As I exited the elevator on the first floor, I almost bumped into Holden’s father. Iago Bastian’s eyes widened, then narrowed in anger.

  “You’re Hiskia and Chiara’s daughter.” He grabbed my arm. The greed in his eyes sent chills straight through me.

  “Let me go.” I jerked my arm away and took several steps from him.

  “Tara!” William ran through the hospital entrance.

  Without a glance back, I hurried to him. An uneasy feeling filled me. Iago was the man Mom had married to escape her parents. I knew he’d been abusive. That she’d originally had a restraining order on him, and Holden had constantly looked for positive male role models.

  I caught up with William, and we headed outside.

  “Who was that man?” he asked, directing me toward his car.

  “My brother’s birth father. That’s the first time I’ve met him. My brother was visiting my stepfather.”

  “I was wondering if I should arrest him.”

  “Probably.” It was only half a joke. “Did you find out something?”

  William nodded. “Yes. Emma stopped in a residential neighborhood. Asher must have slept through it.” As we reached his car, he pulled out his smartphone and displayed a map of the location. “There are about four homes she could have been visiting.”

  “Is it possible to go out and visit them? Knock and see who lives there?”

  “My sister was expecting me later tonight. She lives nearby, but I wouldn’t want to take your evening.” William frowned.

  “School’s probably almost out. Maybe Jack could drive out also? This is about his cousin. I’m sure he’d want to know the truth and would be more than willing to come along.”

  His eyes lit up. “That sounds like a good plan.”

  I nodded. “Do you have his number? I kind of don’t have a phone.”

  “No, but my other sister, Becca will. Let’s head toward the high school, and I’ll call her.”

  We got into the car.

  “You really should get a phone,” William said, sliding in and turning the key in the ignition.

  32. “I’ve been here before”

  Jack waited for us at the playground down the street from the high school.

  As I slipped into the front passenger seat, Jack said, “Tomorrow is Halloween. Maybe that’s why you keep having freaky stuff happen to you.”

  “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

  William knocked on the driver-side window, and Jack lowered it. “Your mom okay with this?”

  “What’s there for her not to be okay with?” Jack said. “But yes. Where am I headed?”

  Pulling out his smartphone, William displayed the screen for Jack, and he typed in the address into his own phone. “Great. We’ll meet you there.” After rolling up the window, Jack said, “I hope this clears things in a positive way for Asher, but I kind of hate finding out my cousin has been lying this whole time.”

  “Does she remember?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. She claims she doesn’t.” Jack backed up the Mustang.

  I wasn’t in a chatty mood. My thoughts were distracted by my desperation that this would lead to Asher’s guilt being cleared.

  For his sake.

  But I knew I was also being selfish. If Asher left, would I be able to follow Daniel’s advice? Or had I based my happiness on being with him? I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted Asher to stay.

  “Please, stay,” I whispered.

  The thirty-minute drive felt longer than driving to Gran’s.

  Jack pulled to the side of the curb and stopped.

  The home immediately outside my window was in disrepair, with one of the front windows broken and patched over with cardboard, while the tan paint of the siding was fading. The roof missed shingles, and the garage door wasn’t quite closed, hanging at a slant. There was a single, straight-trunk tree with leaves mostly fallen to the earth, brown and scattered around the grass. No one had raked. A beaten, old Astro van was parked in the driveway, so the home wasn’t abandoned.

  A feeling of deja-vu fell over me. “I...feel like I’ve been here before,” I said. But in my memory, the house hadn’t looked so run down. I got out, and a heavy feeling seized my chest.

  Nearby, William shut his door with a slam, with the responding beep as the car locked.

  Jack met me on the sidewalk.

  “This…” I struggled to place the memory. “This looks like my aunt’s house.”

  “Your aunt?” Jack asked, as William joined us.

  I nodded, then looked at William. “Asher mentioned knowing my cousin, Ozzy. That his father mentored you. Did you ever visit their home?”

  “No. They always came to ours. Alexander never wanted us at his house. You say this looks like your aunt’s?” William asked. “It’s a rental property when I researched it.”

  I nodded. “Did Emma know Ozzy?”

  William frowned. “Yes. He was over at our house a lot, same time Emma would be.”

  “Then if this is Ozzy’s house, it’s likely where Emma stopped,” Jack said.

  An uneasy feeling twisted in my stomach. “According to my mom, my aunt Isla is possessed by a fiend.”

  Jack’s brows lifted. “Same flying monkeys we killed at your house?”

  I slowly shook my head. “No. Those were imps. There are different types of demons. My aunt’s is probably a companion fiend, since she still has control and isn’t a lunatic.”

  “So, I should bring the dagger Jerrick gave me,” William said.

  “My pocketknife is in the car,” Jack said.

  As they retreated to their separate vehicles, my curiosity to find out if this was my aunt’s home drove me up the sidewalk. I waited for Jack and William to join me before ringing the doorbell.

  A flourish of footsteps pounded on the other side of the door, and a young girl with blonde curls pulled back the curtain from the unbroken window to peek out at me.

  “That’s Britta,” William said in a soft voice. “It is them.”

  I have a girl cousin? “Hello!” I elevated my voice as loud as I could so she could understand me. “It’s your cousin, Tara.” She disappeared. “Hello?” When no response came at the door, I knocked again. “My name is Tara Evedon. I’m your cousin. I want to say hello.”

  Movement echoed beyond the door, then there was clicking with a series of locks and latches being undone.

  The door cracked open, and the girl, who looked somewhere between Oops and Nathaniel in age, appeared. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

  She did not smile or look me in the eyes.

  “Hi, Britta,” William said. “I’m an old friend of your father’s. Remember me?”

  She slowly nodded.

  “This is your cousin, Tara. Are your parents home?”

  “I’ll go tell Daddy,” she said, then shut the door.

  “Something isn’t right,” Jack said. “I just got a strong feeling like she needs help. And needs it now.”

  Chills raced through me.

  Britta returned, only opening the door wide enough for her thin body to stand. “Daddy says to go away and don’t ever come back.” As she spoke, she gestured with her hands, and then closed the door.

  Disappointment settled on me. The temptation to repeat knocking burned inside me, and I lifted my hand, but Jack took my wrist.

  “She si
gned help,” William said. “Jack, I think you’re right.”

  I’d come here expecting to find answers for Asher, and instead I was finding out my cousins needed help. Could this week get any more traumatic?

  There’d been no sound of the door being locked again, and when William tested the doorknob, it moved under his touch. She’d left it open—on purpose?

  As it opened inward, an angry male voice echoed from deeper in the house—and someone was crying. The rapid fire of someone striking another led to the cries sharpening. Handing his dagger to Jack, William took a gun from where it had been hidden under his jacket and tiptoed down the hall.

  “Dad, leave her alone!” a boy said.

  Jack and I followed.

  “You still haven’t learned,” the man growled.

  The boy howled in pain.

  Waving for the two of us to stop, William peeked around the corner then jumped into the next room. “Hands in the air where I can see them. Now.”

  “Don’t shoot him!” A girl screamed. “He has a fiend inside him.”

  I hugged the wall, waiting, as my nerves ran high and dark source clutched my chest. My uncle had the fiend inside him? Not Aunt Isla? Maybe they both did. If that was the case, we probably should have taken better caution.

  A deep chuckle echoed from the room. “Officer Scoville, it’s been awhile.”

  “Alexander,” William said, confirming it was my uncle. “Step away from your children. Now.”

  Jack gripped the dagger and his pocketknife Dad gave him, looking at me.

  “If I can drain my uncle of his source,” I whispered to him, “then you can kill the fiend?”

  He nodded.

  I peered around the corner.

  A tall man with broad shoulders stood in the middle of a dimly-lit room, holding a switch. At his feet lay the young man from Asher’s picture, except his hair was cut short and was back to its natural bronze. He was shirtless, revealing tattoos on both shoulders, and his wrists were tied together. Blood dripped from his lip, while the right side of his face flamed red.

  The abuse was obvious.

  I jumped out from my hiding spot. “Knock him out,” I shouted to William.

  When he saw me, shock replaced the amused expression on my uncle’s face.

  Determination replaced Ozzy’s fear. He jumped up and threw his arms around his father’s neck and pulled back, strangling him. They fell back to the ground, and William aimed the gun, pointing at the man’s head.

  “Don’t move,” William said.

  “You’re going to kill me?” he laughed, the sound chilling. “It’s the only way to get me out.” He snarled then choked as Ozzy pressed his grip harder.

  I knelt by him. “No, it’s not.” I placed my hands on his head. As I did, I became aware of his wild changeling source, mostly negative with only a trickle of positive. When Uncle Alexander looked at me, fire burned deep within his eyes, bringing back a flashback of Jerrick glaring at me through the gate.

  “You can get the demon out?” Ozzy asked. Tears made his blue eyes glisten. Such fractured beauty.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll only enter you,” the fiend spoke through Uncle Alexander.

  “Try it.” Jack came alongside me.

  “You’re a demon slayer,” my uncle said. His hand reached up to take my wrist. Seeing it, Jack kicked it away then stepped down.

  My uncle’s lip curled.

  As I drained source out of him, Uncle Alexander snapped his teeth at me, and William maneuvered closer. The influx of his wild, untamed source was almost suffocating. To be done with it faster, I increased the rate I drew it out. A sharp, burning sensation blazed through my arm, making it hard to concentrate.

  My uncle’s demeanor relaxed. The demon flame behind his eyes dimmed.

  His negative source overwhelmed me, and I began to have difficulty breathing. There was no outlet for it.

  “Tara, do you need help?” William asked, shifting his stance while keeping the gun aimed at Alexander.

  “Almost there,” I gasped, struggling not to cry.

  Alexander fought back with brute strength, and William butted him across the head with the handle of his gun.

  As my uncle lay stunned, an oily, yellow humanoid leapt out of him, intent on me. I jumped back from it.

  The fire-eyed creature with razor teeth was centimeters from my face. Jack lunged forward and thrust it with the dagger and knife.

  It dissolved into a puff of smoke hanging over me, and Jack collapsed to his knees beside me. “I hate these things,” he muttered, inhaling deep to control his breathing.

  “Me, too.” Blackness from Uncle Alexander’s source swirled through me, stealing away all my energy. I reached for Jack’s hand and gave it a squeeze, then dropped it as a wave of nausea swept over me.

  “Is it really gone?” Ozzy whispered. “Is it really gone?”

  “It’s gone,” my uncle sounded relieved.

  Avoiding the haze as it dispersed, I scooted back, then collapsed as nausea made me dizzy.

  “Are you all right?” Jack asked.

  I couldn’t even shake my head. “Feel like I ate something rotten.”

  Warily, I looked at my uncle, who covered his hands with his face, and Ozzy, sitting nearby. William untied the ropes binding Ozzy’s wrists, and my uncle staggered to his feet, covering his mouth as he stumbled into an adjoining room. The echoes of him violently throwing up carried into the room.

  The rotten egg feeling in my stomach sharpened, and I pushed myself up. Seeing a plastic toy tub nearby, I grabbed it, dumped out the blocks, and vomited into it. Jack caught my hair for me. Tasting sour in my mouth, I hesitated over the tub, then, as my uncle’s next wave sounded in the next room, I heaved, squeezing out what was left in my stomach and gagging as little came.

  Jack rubbed my back. “Oh, Tara.”

  Dark source still remained throughout me. I needed another outlet.

  Looking up with sticky eyes, I saw an orange tabby cat peering at me from behind the couch. It looked so much like my old cat Tabsters. I lifted up my hand. “Here, kitty,” I whispered. He came over and sniffed my fingers, then crawled up onto my lap. The instant relief, as it naturally pulled out and displaced negative source, was amazing.

  Exhausted, I closed my eyes and breathed.

  A second cat rubbed against my face, and I looked up. Britta was holding a white, long-haired down to me. Her cheeks were wet, but she smiled, and her blue eyes glowed with it.

  “That one’s Thomas, and this one’s Princess,” she said.

  Taking Princess from her, I laid her next to the orange tabby. Ozzy arrived and crouched by me with a plate of raw pot roast on it. “Figured this might help.”

  I smiled a little, because it was obvious Ozzy and Britta knew how to take care of a changeling. I wondered if either of them were one, or if they were pure alvs. Both their parents were changelings, so either was possible. “Thank you.” I rested my hand on the raw meat and dropped dark source into it as quickly as possible. The odor that erupted was like rotten milk left out for a month. This is so gross.

  “That is foul, and very astonishing,” Jack said. “That stench makes me want to throw up.”

  I glanced at him as Ozzy handed me several sanitizing wipes, which I used to wipe off my hand.

  Yep, Ozzy understood changelings.

  Meanwhile, Britta took the plate and ran it into the room where her father had gone. The murmur of voices coming from it revealed that William had gone in there with him. A female voice joined them, which cut off abruptly weeping.

  Was that my aunt?

  Footsteps sounded in the hall, and a young woman slightly younger than me with golden brown hair appeared. “It’s gone? It’s really gone?”

  Grinning, Ozzy nodded.

  The girl looked dazed, having to support herself up against the wall. “How?” Her gaze landed on me.

  Britta came skipping back into the room. Coming up to me, she gave
me an impromptu hug. “Livie, this is our cousin, Tara. She got the fiend to come out, and her friend killed it.”

  Livie sank into a nearby couch, then smiled at me. Slowly, she shook her head. “How did you get it out?” she asked.

  “I’m a changeling. I drained source from your father,” I said.

  “You drained…” Tears ran down her cheeks, and she covered her face. “You mean I could have gotten it out of them this whole time?”

  “We would have needed an alv dagger, too,” Ozzy said. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

  Based on this conversation, I suspected she was a changeling alv, while Ozzy and Britta were both pure alvs.

  “Tara, this is my sister, Livie,” Ozzy said.

  She looked at me. Her blue eyes held a brokenness to them I’d never seen in anyone, but a smile of relief brightened them.

  Ozzy now wore a short-sleeve tee, but his lip was swollen, and a dark bruise circled his left eye, something I hadn’t noticed before. The abuse of his demon-infested father was definitely apparent, and my gut twisted thinking about how Mom had said my aunt, with the fiend in her, hadn’t been nice, but hadn’t done any physical harm. Not so with the fiend inside my uncle.

  “My mom told me Aunt Isla had a demon in her,” I said. “That she wouldn’t let anyone take out from her. She didn’t say anything about your father having one, too.”

  “He didn’t,” Ozzy said. “About a week ago, it left her and went into Livie. Apparently, it wanted to host inside father, but he’d refused.”

  “Dad took on the fiend to get it out of me,” Livie whispered. “Mom always had partial control over it, but Dad hardly had any.”

  Jack extended his pocketknife to Ozzy. He looked at it surprised.

  “I can’t take—”

  “Your Uncle Hiskia gave it to me.” Jack smiled. “I can get another one.”

  Ozzy smiled appreciatively. “You know an alchemist?” Ozzy asked, taking the pocketknife reverently.

  Jack nodded.

  “Don’t tell mom about it,” Britta whispered, and Ozzy nodded.

  I looked toward the other room where William’s voice, though hushed, sounded argumentative. The cop was obviously sorting out what to do with the abusive situation he’d come across.