Changeling Hunter

by Frank Hurt

  “You see more than I ever could when I engaged in Boundary Transcendence.” Barnaby continued staring at her.

  “So…um…what do you see when you look at me? When you look at the physical world?”

  The features in the ghost’s face relaxed. Barnaby stood up straighter as he slowly turned a full circle while speaking. “Everything smells of wet soil, of mold and decay and the excrement of worms. I do not precisely see light. I do not see the sky. I hear sounds, but they are distant, like memories. Shapes appear when I focus my attention, forming into trees, grave markers, birds. Though you are colorless, I see and hear you clearly. That may be due to your role as the one who woke me, the one who anchors me to the physical plane. Otherwise, I can see no farther than a few rods. Beyond that is only darkness.”

  Ember felt the chill of goosebumps on her arms, despite her jacket and the sunlight. “That doesn’t sound very bloody inviting.”

  Barnaby touched his muttonchop whiskers. “It is a sensation without feeling.”

  She didn’t know what that meant but didn’t think she wanted to know, either. “The Aedynar Artifact, then. Is there any way that you know of, that we might be able to tap into its mana? Some way to unlock the magic?”

  The ghost shook his head. “As you had described it to me, it contains energy not of this world. I have not experienced anything of its nature.”

  “I’m working with a Healer.” Ember picked at the pinecone, breaking scales free from its axis. “She thinks she may be able to use a Leystone to enhance her powers, so she can force her will into the artifact. Doctor Rout says she might be able to somehow use the Aedynar Artifact then to help guide the changelings’ subforms home. Back from where they are trapped, between worlds.”

  “That may be.” Barnaby paced around his grave site. “I have no experience in this, so I may only guess. What this doctor describes makes sense. If she is of sufficient strength, there is no reason to doubt her prognosis. Yes, I should think that applying the energy of a Leystone could help coax the foreign mana into a medium she could use. It is worthy of consideration.”

  Ember chewed on her lip. She felt disappointed, somewhat, by her ghost-mentor’s opinion. That’s one more vote for breaking my oath.

  She plucked another scale off the pinecone and dropped it at her feet. “Then the Deference Spell. What can I do to protect myself against that wanker, Elton Higginbotham, if he tries to hit me with it again?”

  Barnaby held up his hand, folding down a third digit to leave only his middle finger extended. Ember wasn’t sure if the gesture symbolized an insult in his lifetime like it did in hers. She decided not to ask.

  “It is an Aura Shield Spell. Without knowing the term, without receiving any training, you have already discovered the essence of this skill, Ember Wright.”

  “He was already…infecting me, though, with the Deference Spell.” Ember shuddered as she remembered the feeling. “It felt like an invasion. I only barely was able to trap and then repel the energy when I thought of it as a shadow. I imagined fighting it back with bright light.”

  “In just this way, Inquisitors can preemptively form an Aura Shield around themselves.” Barnaby folded down his middle finger to form a fist. He soundlessly demonstrated by hitting his fists upon one another. “A Fourth Level Inquisitor may defend against offending magic by forming an Aura Shield around himself. With training and adequate reserves of mana, a Grand Inquisitor can strengthen this shield, as well as provide a shield to others. A Supreme Inquisitor can do all this and much more.”

  “More?”

  “An Aura Shield of sufficient strength will counter offensive spells. It will reflect magic back upon the one who cast it.”

  Ember considered this insight. She whispered, “bloody hell, that would be powerful.”

  “Indeed, Ember Wright. Mighty powerful.”

  20

  Only as Strong as the Weakest Link

  Ember slipped her right arm around the woman’s neck, pulling her fist up with her other hand. She closed the rear chokehold and imagined her biceps flexing into a vise, working in tandem with her forearm to constrict both carotid arteries in her target’s neck.

  The woman’s neck muscles tensed, her pulse struggling to find a way past the obstacle. Finding none, blood was unable to find a route to the brain. Not two seconds later, the woman reached up and rapidly tapped Ember’s forearm.

  Debra coughed after Ember released her grip. The woman nodded once and breathed. “Good, that’s good. See? It doesn’t take much pressure to apply a choke. You have small arms, and that can be an advantage; just slip them beneath someone’s chin, close the triangle, and keep the pressure until you feel them slack. So long as you get your hold right and you don’t let go, you can take down someone four times your size if you catch them by surprise.”

  She rolled off her instructor and onto the padded mat on the dojo’s floor. She couldn’t help but grin. “That didn’t take long, either.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Our brains can’t stay conscious for more than a couple seconds without constant blood flow. They shut down, black out to protect themselves. But you need to be quicker to get the lock on the hold. If I would have tried fighting back, you’d have lost your grip.” Debra stood up and stretched, cracked her neck. “That’s enough for today.”

  Ember watched the tall changeling walk to the corner of the room, where their gear bags waited. Debra Morgan’s long, jet-black hair was tied up in a bun. She wore a grey spandex tank top and skin-tight leggings. The thin clothing couldn’t hide the taut, defined muscles flexing beneath.

  The woman must have sensed she was being watched because she looked back at Ember. Her eyes narrowed. “What’re you staring at?”

  Ember blinked self-consciously. “Oh, uh, sorry. I was just thinking about what great shape you’re in. I’d kill to have abs like yours.”

  Debra ran a towel around her neck and shrugged. “It’s just hard work and watching what I eat. The body’s a machine, and it only runs as well as it’s maintained.” She turned and pointed at her glistening, exposed midsection. “This isn’t vanity, this is earned.”

  “Right.” Ember stood up and found the towel in her own gear bag. “That’s what I’m saying: I admire your discipline and conditioning.”

  “You were soft when we started your training three weeks ago,” Debra said as she pulled a camouflage t-shirt on. She looked Ember over and gave another shrug. “You’re a runner, but you lacked upper body strength. Now, you’re starting to get in better shape. Keep it up.”

  “I do notice that my clothes seem to be fitting differently.” Ember ran her hands along her sides. “I owe you a lot, Debra. I feel much more confident. Much more situationally aware. You’re a good instructor.”

  “You’re a good student. Training almost every day like we have yields fast results.” Debra appraised Ember with eyes the color of tempered bronze. “You know, when Joy told me that you asked her about finding a personal defense instructor, I was warned away from you.”

  “You were?”

  “You bet. A couple people told me that you’re a prima donna. Rich chick with a princess complex.”

  “I’m…I’m really not! I don’t know why anyone would say that.”

  “I know that now.” Debra shrugged. “You’re cool in my book.”

  “Well, thank you.” Ember knelt and pulled the laces tight on her ASICS. “Why didn’t you heed their warnings?”

  “My father taught me to make my own judgment. Until someone proves themselves good or bad, I try to keep an open mind.” Debra zipped her duffle bag shut and hefted it to her shoulder. “Besides, I needed the cash.”

  Ember laughed. “All good reasons. Hey, did you want to grab a bite to eat? The Sweet and Flour next door has scrummy pastries.”

  “It’s two in the afternoon. On a Sunday.”

  “You say that like there’s ever a bad time to have pastries.” Ember winked.

  The tall, toned changeling wo
man watched Ember in silence, long enough that Ember started to think she hadn’t heard the invitation. Debra slid the bag’s strap off her shoulder, letting the heavy duffle drop to the floor. Her voice was hushed, her gaze serious. “Look, Ember. Not that I’m not flattered, but I think it would be best if we keep this relationship professional, okay?”

  “Of course, I want that too.” Ember stood and frowned at her instructor. “I don’t understand how having an afternoon snack would make us unprofessional.”

  Debra continued speaking in a low tone. “Let me think about how I can say this. You know this is a small state, right? And the Druwish population is smaller still.”

  “Right. I don’t know what any of this has to—”

  “Well, people talk.” Debra placed a hand on Ember’s shoulder. “Jackie told me how you came on to her. It’s none of my business who you’re interested in seeing, but I would just rather we not go down that road, okay?”

  “What? I don’t…I mean I’m not…” Ember stammered. She stamped her foot on the floor. “I kissed a guy on Friday! A man!”

  Debra patted the top of Ember’s head. “Good for you. Nice job.”

  “Bloody hell, woman. I’m not asking you out! I just thought it would be nice to have a chat.”

  “Okay. Just a chat? You’re sure?”

  “Yes! Is it so difficult to imagine that we might be friends?”

  “Friends?” Debra hoisted her heavy duffle bag effortlessly. “I could do that, sure.”

  Ember grabbed her gear bag and marched past the changeling. “Come on, before I change my mind.”

  The dojo was a small, brick structure next door to a much larger three-story relic. The one-time Old Moline Plow Factory had long ago been converted into upscale apartments, with commercial space on the ground floor. A dance studio claimed the south half of the first story, with a bakery on the street-side facing north. The scent of fresh-baked goods was the Sirens’ call that lured Ember into the Sweet and Flour nearly every day.

  Bakery customers seated at other tables sipped coffee and ate pastries as they enjoyed a lazy Sunday afternoon. The weathered hardwood planks of the floor creaked its murmured groans as people moved between polished, square tables. The counter in the back stood between glass display cases, within which a mouth-watering assortment of donuts, muffins, and other hedonistic carbohydrates waited their turn to be chosen.

  Debra selected a chair facing the front door, where she watched warily as she sipped an iced green tea.

  Ember nibbled on a poppyseed kolache. “You remind me of my friend Anna, the way you do that.”

  “Do what?” Debra glanced at Ember.

  “The way you’re always watching. Always aware.”

  “Situational awareness.”

  “Right. That. I’m getting better at it, too. More aware of being situationally aware, you might say.” Ember grinned.

  “You have poppyseed in your teeth,” Debra said. Someone had left behind a copy of the Sunday edition of the Minot Daily News. She forcefully tapped her finger on it. “If this woman would have been more aware of her surroundings, maybe she wouldn’t have gone missing.”

  Ember ran her tongue along the front of her incisors and looked where Debra was pointing. Above the fold, the leading headline read, “Police Continue Search for Kidnapped Minot Woman.” Below the headline, a cropped photo of an attractive, young woman was positioned next to a grainy security camera screenshot of a man wearing a baseball cap and overalls. He was loading a limp, person-sized object into the rear of a white cargo van.

  “I’d heard about that,” Ember ran her fingers along the caption. “Tara Bennett. Her husband came home to find her gone. No ransom note, no clues beyond the security camera footage.”

  “This kind of shit never happens around here,” Debra insisted. “It’s probably some scumbag from out-of-state. This oil boom is attracting all types. Yeah, a lot of the men are coming for work, but there are con artists and criminals among them.”

  Ember chewed slowly. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “And it’s mostly men, too.” Debra all but spat the words out. “In Williston, it’s probably a twenty-to-one ratio of men to women. And it’ll get worse, mark my words.”

  “Really? You think it’s that lopsided?”

  “Sure. Think about it: you’ve got thousands of jobs paying six figures, requiring no degree or even much experience. Most of these jobs are dirty, dangerous, require heavy lifting, twelve-hour days, seven days a week. Who does that attract?” Debra shoved the newspaper aside. “Young, single men. And who is most likely to commit a violent crime like this one? Young, single men, that’s who.”

  “I suppose statistically that might be true, but—”

  “But, nothing. Locals don’t know what they’re in for. Especially local women.” Debra glanced around the bakery, her tempered bronze-colored eyes always scanning for trouble.

  “You’re kind of a soldier, aren’t you?” Ember tilted her head as she watched the changeling. “Working security, training in Krav Maga.”

  “Sure, a soldier. You could say that.”

  “Do you ever find yourself questioning the orders of your superiors? Do you ever find yourself faced with a no-win choice, where you have to choose between doing what you think is right and what your oath tells you to do?”

  “No, never. A soldier’s place is to follow orders.”

  Ember nodded slowly. “But what if the orders are wrong?”

  Debra faced Ember, locking her gaze with the mage. “If we break our oaths, we’re nothing. Order collapses. Who we are, what we do…we’re a chain. And a chain is only as strong as the weakest link.”

  “Yeah. I guess.” Ember’s thoughts drifted to the Aedynar Artifact, the prospect of smuggling a Leystone from the embassy, and what that decision would mean against her oath to the Investigator’s Creed.

  “You look like something’s on your mind.”

  Ember chewed her lip. “Just something I’m working out. It’s complicated.”

  “Isn’t it always?”

  The gear bag at Ember’s feet rang. She extracted the Motorola Barrage from a side pocket. Before she flipped it open, she saw the icon stating “4 missed calls” above the caller id.

  “What the heck? It’s Jackie’s mobile number.” Ember frowned. “Calling me on a Sunday.”

  Debra waved her hand. “You’d better answer.”

  She did. Jackie’s voice arrived in a frantic stream. “Wright? Dang it, where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for the past two hours.”

  “Sorry, I had my phone tucked away.”

  “Never mind. You need to get your ass down to the embassy morgue, pronto.”

  Ember faced the wall, away from other customers in the bakery. She cupped her hand to the flip phone’s receiver and hissed. “The morgue? What’s going on?”

  “You need to get down here right away,” Jackie repeated. “Another dead changeling was found.”

  21

  Oh Fuzzyface

  Ember wasted no time getting to the morgue. She tossed her bag into the rented Highlander and drove the four blocks to the Parker Building. The front street was still in a state of resurfacing, so she avoided the barricaded road and parked in the limited employee spaces in the alley.

  Ami, the lobby receptionist, was exiting the rear of the eight-story brick building. When she saw Ember arriving, she wedged her foot against the heavy steel door to prevent it from closing. “Hola, Ember! I’m just getting off shift. Isn’t it a beautiful afternoon?”

  “Oh, hi Ami.” Ember glanced up the short staircase at the young half-Druw woman holding the door. Ami had her black, nappy hair styled in tight cornrows. Her mocha skin took on a lighter hue in the bright afternoon sun.

  “You’re coming in for a workout?”

  “No, just finished sparring with Debra Morgan. I’ve been called into work.” Ember shook her gold ponytail as she ascended the steps. The black paint on the iron handrail w
as chipped and flaking.

  Ami swung the door wide and stepped aside. “I hope it’s not something serious.”

  “It is,” Ember murmured as she walked past. She glanced back to belatedly thank the woman for opening the door, but Ami was already gone. Daylight narrowed into a shrinking L-shape and then disappeared altogether as the heavy piston-spring arm sucked the door shut.

  Ember opened her purse and plucked her name badge from her wallet. The laminated card had a magnetic strip embedded within, which operated the elevator and granted her access to all of the floors, except for the sub-basement where the Ley Line itself was exposed. That floor was reserved solely for Security and upper-ranking members of the embassy bureaucracy. She slid her card through the slot and called the elevator. The morgue is in the basement, just one level up from the Ley Line. If I were to try smuggling out a Leystone, I might be able to find a way down from there. The stairwell will be key card locked going down, but not up.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a cheerful voice calling out to her from the lobby beyond. “Hey-a Ember! What’re you doing here on a Sunday afternoon?”

  Ember turned to see hazel eyes smiling at her. The young woman’s ivory teeth were set in a grin, in sharp contrast to her mocha skin. “Ami? Didn’t you just ask me that a moment ago?”

  Ami’s grin morphed into a bemused smile. Her jet-black hair had been straightened, tucked behind her ears except for a purposeful wisp which lingered in a curved hook against her forehead. She set her head back and raised her chin slightly. “Funny thing to say, but no. I just got here. I did work on Friday though, so maybe that’s what you’re thinking?”

  The elevator chimed and its doors slid open. Ember backed into the car, not taking her eyes off of Ami. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t have words to offer. The doors lazily closed. Only then did she think to push her thumb against the button labeled “LL.” The button was already illuminated.