by Frank Hurt
And so, Lady Justice continued fighting with her sword hand tied behind her back. For now.
Ember glanced over her folder, studying the summation of numbers she had been gathering as part of the census audit. The audit was just an excuse, a cover story for the Druw High Council to send her to Minot, but her findings were authentic. She was finding plenty of discrepancies in what the colony thought they had in their population of changelings and Malverns versus what she was finding. She was just cynical enough to suspect that the census numbers were purposely faked, though she didn’t have a theory why anyone would report fake statistics.
Duncan was never late for the morning staff meeting; he took pride in being punctual. Yet the minute hand on the wall clock ticked forward until it was five minutes past 9:00. Jackie and Roseanne didn’t seem to notice or simply didn’t care.
Ember clicked her ballpoint pen and started doodling in the margins of her notepad. She had only a couple more weeks of work left on the census audit, assuming she continued dragging her feet. She and Wallace would need to find another excuse to keep her at the Magic City, so she could continue helping the Mandaree Incident scouts. She had become friends with the Schmitt family and they needed her.
They had been helping her, too. Besides the fact that Alarik and Anna had saved her life at Devils Lake, they were proving resourceful in swaying the other changelings to trust Ember. This was no small feat, given the skepticism changelings showed toward mages in general. Without them vouching for her, she might never have gotten their disabled brethren to even share their insights.
She subconsciously reached for the wooden coyote pendant Anna carved her. Ember worried its features and thought of the pain and suffering Arnie and the other scouts had been enduring for nine years. Nine long years without relief, without support from the corrupt Malverns who sent them in to investigate the fog. Yet here I am, wasting time in a meeting room instead of working to bring them justice.
“That’s it, I’m going to go find Duncan.” Ember dropped the pen onto her notepad and slid the chair back.
“What’s the hurry?” Roseanne peered up from her phone with squinty eyes. “You’re just going to spend the rest of the day holed up in your supply closet, tapping at the computer screen.”
Jackie yawned. She sounded bored and kept her eyes closed as she said, “Roseanne’s right. At least when you had that guy from Security driving you around, we had something nice to look at.”
Roseanne’s face pinched. “You liked that guy?”
“Dennis? Yup, he’s funny. And he’s kinda cute. Don’t you think?”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Roseanne grumbled. She scowled up at Ember. “Little Miss Princess, I thought you weren’t supposed to be driving yourself anyway. How’d you get around that?”
“It’s a hired car. The embassy was concerned about liability on their own vehicles, but there’s no legal reason I can’t rent my own.” Ember walked to the door, then looked at Jackie incredulously. “Wait, you thought Dennis was funny?”
Jackie just shrugged. She still hadn’t opened her eyes.
Ember stepped into the hallway and collided with Duncan. “Oh, Duncan, I’m sorry, I was just coming to look for you.”
Duncan frowned at Ember and pointed at the table. “Perhaps learn patience, Wright. Please take your seat.”
She knew he had to keep up the appearance of being Higginbotham’s lackey, but sometimes he filled the role a little too well. Ember sat back down and crossed her arms.
“I’m late,” Duncan announced without sitting down, “because I was on the phone. Someone called in a dead changeling. It’s down in McLean County. The victim was in animal form, found in a ditch along a gravel road out in the country. It’s been dead for a while, apparently.”
“Great, another one.” Roseanne rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“What do you mean another one?” Ember’s spine straightened as she looked from Roseanne to Duncan.
“It happens, Wright.” Duncan seemed irritated. “These young changelings especially, they like to run around in animal form, then they get hit by a car or shot by a hunter. They forget how eager some Mundanes are to shoot at anything that moves. They forget how easy it is to become a hood ornament when a truck comes barreling down the road at night.”
Ember thought of Doug, the changeling crow that Alarik killed with his pickup. The memory flashed through her mind of how she scraped the bird from the grill guard using Doug’s own knife. That death was no accident, though.
“Anyway, we still need to retrieve the body, see if there’s any way of identifying who it was, and if not, then bring it back to put on ice until their next of kin reports them missing.” Duncan placed a scrap of paper on the table and gestured at Roseanne and Jackie. “Nelson, Roberts. I need you two to head out.”
Jackie laid her arms on the table and dropped her forehead onto them. She groaned, “I hate scraping up roadkill.”
“Why do I have to be on shovel duty?” Roseanne whined.
“I’d send Page, but since he’s on vacation, you’re up.”
“You don’t need two of us to scrape up a carcass.” Roseanne glared at Ember. “Send out the princess instead. She’s not doing anything, anyway.”
Duncan tapped his foot. “Wright’s not here to do field work.”
Ember hated how indifferent they all were acting, how casually they spoke of a fellow Druw’s death. There were so few of their kind as it was. This was somebody’s son or daughter, dead. Because it’s a changeling, they’re bloody dismissive.
“I’ll go.” The words came out before Ember even realized she was thinking them. “I’ll go with Jackie.”
Duncan raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Alright, Wright. You and Roberts, head out.”
Jackie opened her eyes and slapped her hand on the handwritten note. She slid it across the table and blinked at the address. “Underwood? That’s, like, an hour away!”
“I know,” Duncan said. “So, get going.”
Ember gathered her papers and headed for the door. Even if it ends up being a simple accident, we can still treat the body with respect.
Jackie stretched and yawned. “So what kind of animal am I scraping up this time, Duncan?”
“It’s just a coyote.”
9
We Tried to Escape
They didn’t talk much during the hourlong drive from Minot. Jackie preferred to listen uninterrupted to her classic rock CDs. It was just as well, as this afforded Ember the chance to get to know her fellow Associate Investigator in more subtle, nonverbal ways.
Jackie was slender and fairly tall at five-ten. Her long hair was such a bright scarlet to suggest it might have been dyed, but for the fact that her eyebrows were the same ruddy hue. Her neck and face were peppered with freckles and punctuated with a small, slightly upturned nose below her blue eyes. The woman’s manicured fingers were wrapped around the steering wheel of her Chevy Malibu. She was thrumming her opalescent gel-coated fingernails to the drum beats of Creedence Clearwater’s “Have you ever seen the rain?”
The smudged shadow of the Deference Spell clung over Jackie’s figure, hiding her true aura from Ember’s view. No longer fearing its presence now that she understood it, she was able to inspect it up close during the long drive. The smudge was thin and moved slowly whenever Jackie talked, but otherwise appeared static.
When Ember asked Duncan questions about the Mandaree Incident, the Deference Spell’s shadow over him had grown darker and frighteningly imposing. At the time, she mistook the response as an attempt by the unfamiliar spell to somehow contaminate her. She learned since, that the spell was simply reacting to the Senior Investigator’s internal struggle as he impotently fought against the shackles to his free will.
That was all the reason Ember needed to free Jackie and the other Investigators from the mental slavery they had been enduring for nine years. She had wrongly assumed Duncan would be eager to free his subordinates, too. His insi
stence on not lifting the spell from the others was based on sound logic. When they had huddled around her secret prepaid phone to consult Wallace, her former partner sided with Duncan. She was overruled by the two men, who both outranked her. The decision frustrated her, but Ember was a team player, so she acquiesced.
“That’s really annoying, you know,” Jackie said, without taking her eyes off the road. “You keep staring at me.”
“Oh, I…um—”
“It’s flattering that you’re interested, but I gotta shut you down. You’re cute and all, but you need to know that I’m not into girls.”
Ember blinked, “Oh. Well…that’s nice to know.”
“Roseanne, on the other hand…” Jackie’s voice trailed off.
“Oh, that’s…that is to say…I’m not—”
“Yeah, she’s not your type, I get it.” The scarlet-maned woman chuckled. “Roseanne can be a complete bitch at times. Most of the time. Okay, all of the time. She’s a good Investigator though. Just rough around the edges.”
“She’s a little cynical, I’ve noticed.”
“She’ll wear off on you. Or wear you down.” Jackie shrugged. “And this is the sprawling metropolis of Underwood.”
The town of fewer than 800 residents was built up along the west side of Highway 83 where it curved, about halfway between Minot and the state capital of Bismarck. The terrain was almost perfectly flat, allowing for a clear view of towering smokestacks a half-dozen miles to the south. Twin columns of cloud-white vapor emitted into the late-morning sky, drifting eastward as it met the breeze.
The sedan turned west onto a paved tributary road, as Ember’s gaze continued southward. “What’s that big industrial facility?”
“It’s a power plant. I think they make ethanol, too.” Jackie glanced south, then back to the road ahead. “We’re on the edge of coal country now. Big mines. Big equipment. Big men.” She raised her eyebrows at Ember. “Probably not your area of interest.”
“It’s not, really. Wait, what interest are you referring—”
“Okay, I think this is the road we need to turn onto.” Jackie turned the steering wheel without signaling. “Dang it! Mud! I just washed Cali yesterday. Of course, it would have to rain. Dang it.”
“Um…Kelly?”
“It’s a Malibu. Chevy Malibu.” Jackie straddled a series of puddles. “You know, California?”
Seconds passed before the pieces connected for Ember. “Oh, Cali. Brilliant.”
“You know what’s not brilliant? That we have to pick up roadkill in the mud. I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”
“You know, it’s not just roadkill, Jackie. This is a fellow Druw we’re talking about. A changeling who just happened to get hit by a car while in animal form. Would you still call the person ‘roadkill’ if they were in human form when they died?”
“Dang, Miss P.C. here!” Jackie swerved around another puddle and turned onto an intersecting road. Wet gravel sprayed along the fenders of the car as the front wheels slid across the intersection. She spun the wheels in the other direction and recovered, narrowly avoiding the ditch. “What do you care what I call them?”
“I just think it’s insensitive, dehumanizing. I have changeling friends, and I don’t like to think of them as somehow less than Malverns.” Ember gripped the armrest. “Do you think maybe you should slow down?”
“If I’m gonna get Cali muddy, I might as well let her have fun. She likes slipping-and-sliding.”
A mud-coated minivan stood on an approach up ahead. Jackie slowed down and parked on the shoulder nearby. “This must be the woman who called it in. Duncan said she planned on meeting us here.”
Sunflower fields covered the flat ground on either side of the wet gravel road. The late morning sun drew water toward it, helping to dry the road surface with each passing hour. Evaporation made the air humid and muggy. A southwest breeze made the bowed heads of the sunflowers sway, dancing in waves.
Jackie grumbled as she stepped onto the gravel surface. Ember surveyed the road, seeing no sign of a body.
A petite woman exited the minivan, dressed in tall Muck boots, blue jeans, and a short-sleeve t-shirt. A camouflage baseball cap topped her head, beneath which hung short, auburn hair—a darker red than Jackie’s. Ember closed her eyes for a couple seconds. Behind her eyelids, she saw a tabby housecat walking towards her.
The changeling waved. “Hi. Uh, are you from Minot?”
“We are,” Jackie answered. “Are you the one who called this morning?”
The short woman nodded. “I’m Mel. Mel O’Connor. I live just down the road a ways. I was out for my morning jog when I found it. The body. I could smell it was a changeling, even though it’s in bad shape.”
Ember looked left to right. “Where is it? Did you move it?”
“Oh god no. I didn’t touch it. It’s in the north ditch.” Mel pointed to the side opposite of where they were parked. “You might want gloves. It’s not pretty.”
Jackie opened Cali’s trunk and produced a short spade and a black garbage bag, along with a pair of disposable latex gloves. “You’re up, rookie.”
“I’m the same rank as you are,” Ember frowned. She accepted the shovel and slipped the gloves on. “You didn’t bring a body bag? We’re just going to stuff someone into a rubbish bag?”
Jackie sighed. “Dang it, don’t start with me. It is what it is, alright?”
“You’re not going to help?”
“Sure I am. I’m going to take the witness statement.”
Mel looked back and forth between the two Investigators. She raised her hand slightly. “I just found the body this morning. I didn’t witness anything.”
“It’s just procedure, Miss O’Connor.” Jackie pulled out a clipboard. “I just need to take down your contact info and ask a few questions.”
“It’s, uh, the body is near the bottom of the ditch.” Mel pointed with her index finger curled, as though she was mimicking the curve of the road bank.
Ember grabbed the black drawstring trash bag and used the shovel for support as she half-walked, half-slid down the wet grass slope. She smelled the corpse before she saw it.
The coyote had been decomposing for some time. The overnight rain might have washed away some of the stench, but mostly it just contributed to what days in the hot summer sun had accomplished. The coyote’s buff coat was torn, its vital organs picked apart by wildlife. Rotting flesh buzzed with flies and crawled with maggots.
Ember retched and turned away from the sight. The base of the ditch was sludgy with rain run-off. Sheltered from the breeze, it was mosquito territory, and the bloodsuckers buzzed and bit any exposed skin she offered.
She swatted at the bugs and looked back at the body. Right. Sooner done, sooner over.
The flat shovel wedged beneath the stiffened, depleted body, and she worked to get the garbage bag beneath the coyote’s hips without flipping it into the water. Her footing slipped, and her feet slid into the sludge, soaking her socks and pant legs.
She opened her mouth to shout out to Jackie for assistance. That’s when she noticed the gunshot wound. It was a small enough thing to miss, given the condition of the carcass, but from her angle below the coyote, the bullet hole in the animal’s skull was visible. So, you didn’t die from a vehicle.
Ember couldn’t see Jackie and Mel, and they couldn’t see her. She squatted, laid her shovel against the embankment, and hovered her hands over the body. She took one more glance to verify nobody could see her, and then she said, “awake, changeling, and speak with me.” She willed mana into her words. The mosquitoes and black flies darted away as the air around her suddenly dropped thirty degrees.
She looked up to see a young male coyote sitting on the slope above, watching her warily. His eye sockets were empty and glowed faintly cobalt, to match the monotone of his transparent body. The ghost’s head swayed slightly, side to side.
“Can you understand me? Can you talk with me?” She said the word
s tenderly.
“I don’t understand,” the coyote said. “How is this happening?”
“You died,” Ember held her hands aside from the carcass. “My name is Ember, and I want to find out what happened. Can you tell me your name?”
“I’m dead.” The coyote stared at his corpse for several seconds. “That really happened.”
“I’m sorry. Yes, it did. Please, can you tell me your name?”
“My name?” The coyote looked up from his body and blinked its vacant eyes at her. He sounded confused. “I…I don’t remember my name.”
“That’s okay, it’ll come to you. You just need to coalesce a bit.”
“Coalesce? I don’t understand what you’re saying. Are you dead, too?”
Ember shook her head. She avoided looking at the decomposing corpse next to her. “I’m not dead. But I am talking with your spirit.”
“So, what, you’re like the Sixth Sense?” The coyote cocked its head. “You know, the movie? Haley Joel Osment. ‘I see dead people.’ No?”
“I don’t believe I’ve seen that movie,” Ember admitted. “Nor do I believe I’ve ever discussed cinema with a ghost.”
“A ghost,” the coyote repeated. “I’m a ghost. What would Brandon say to…” His voice trailed off.
Ember stood up slowly. “Is something wrong? Who is Brandon?”
The coyote looked up at Ember and then down at his body. “Oh my god, not Brandon!” The coyote leaped up and ran to the roadway, gliding over the surface without touching it.
Ember blinked as the coyote-ghost disappeared from view. It took some effort for her to follow, using the shovel to half climb, half crawl up the wet grass and weeds until she could walk upright. The latex gloves easily shredded as her hands gripped rough vegetation. Mel and Jackie were still talking, though Jackie had the clipboard under her arm and was gesturing with her pen. She overheard them talking about makeup and hair care products.
