Changeling Hunter

by Frank Hurt

  “You’ll have plenty of time to take his statement after I’ve stabilized him.”

  “So he’s going to make it, yeah?”

  “We’ll be treating him for sepsis, but we got to him in time. The bullet missed his liver but it clipped his large intestine.” Dr. McMahon sounded almost bored as she recited the prognosis. She didn’t look up from her work. “Now please, wait outside with the others.”

  Ember slipped the Leystone pin into the front pocket of her pants. Those pants matched her shirt in that they were both smeared with dried blood provided by the Schmitt brothers.

  It was the other brother she checked on next. He laid upright on an exam table in the secondary operating room of the medical center. It, too, smelled of iodine and dried blood. Gloria and an assistant worked on his injuries.

  Alarik’s shirt was removed, revealing a defined chest peppered with hair. His skin had some color to it again, though even to her eyes it wasn’t yet a healthy hue. He breathed through his mouth, as his broken nose remained unattended to. When he saw her walk in, he swallowed and asked, “how is he?”

  Even now, he’s more concerned about his little brother than he is about anything else. “Dr. McMahon’s extracting the bullet yet. But, she says he should be fine. They’ll be watching for infection and I’m guessing he’ll have a long recovery, but Arnie’s going to survive.”

  Alarik exhaled and closed his eyes. He leaned his head back and allowed his body to slack. “Thank god you got to us when you did. I should’ve listened to you, to your warnings about the Changeling Hunter. My stubbornness. I almost got him—”

  “Don’t you even start with that self-blame malarkey, Rik. You and Arnie are safe and everything’s going to be hunky-dory. That’s what matters.” She squeezed his left hand and grimaced at his face. “Oh, but your poor nose.”

  “He’s going to have a misshapen nose alright,” Gloria muttered behind her surgical mask. “Not much I can do about that. You should be more concerned about his finger. Even less can be done about that, especially since we don’t have the missing pieces.”

  “His finger?” Ember’s focus ran down the man’s mangled right arm to his hand. Where his index finger should have been, a fresh bandage dressed a stump extending from the knuckle. “Oh no, Rik! What did he do?”

  Alarik clenched his jaw. “The fucker didn’t believe that Arnie couldn’t shift. He thought that he could force him to by slicing on me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Didn’t seem like that big of a deal at the time, considering how critical Arnie’s condition was.”

  “But I could have gotten your finger. Dr. Rout could’ve attached it.” Ember glanced at Gloria. “If I go retrieve his finger, you could still attach it, yeah?”

  Gloria’s gloved hand bore a Leystone ring identical to the one Dr. McMahon wore. She waved her hand dismissively. “Bah, it’s too late now. Be grateful he still has his metacarpal. Your boyfriend will still be able to hold a pencil, though he might have a tougher time playing the piano.” Her bespectacled eyes turned to Alarik. “Are you a pianist?”

  He shook his head.

  “Ah, there! You see? He’s going to be fine then.” Gloria gestured at her assistant. “Irrigate this forearm wound again before I finish closing him up.”

  Ember chewed her bottom lip. “Oh, Rik. You poor thing. I’ll get your finger anyway. It doesn’t feel right to leave a piece of you there.” She leaned down and planted a kiss on his forehead. With her nose so close to him, she detected the scent of singed flesh—the burn marks the cattle prod had left on his neck.

  “It’s all kind of a blur, but I think it’ll be two pieces,” Alarik said. He swallowed, then feigned a grin. “I’m lucky his cigar cutter broke after the second knuckle.”

  “Cigar cutter?” Ember stood straight. “He used a cigar cutter on your fingers?”

  “I think that’s what it was anyway, yeah.” Alarik looked up at the acoustic ceiling panels, recalling the memory. “It was silver, had twin blades. Hurt like a motherfucker.”

  Cogs slipped into place within the wheels of her mind. Cigar cutter. The thick glasses with farsighted prescription lenses. That’s where I recognized this Malvern from.

  “I’ve seen him before.” Ember murmured.

  “Who?” Alarik frowned. “That bastard who did this?”

  She nodded slowly, her fire-blue eyes blinking as frames of memory came into focus. “The Changeling Hunter. I’ve seen him here, at the embassy. He must have been in to visit the Spa. And if he’s a customer of the Spa, then he has to have a profile in the personnel database.”

  Ember gave Alarik’s left hand a squeeze before releasing it. “I’ve got to get to work.” She was already out the door, her mind already three steps ahead, formulating her tasks list. She almost missed it, among the pungent iodine, dried blood, and burnt flesh: a familiar yet foreign, oily taste.

  She stepped back into the room, slowly. Mechanically, she raised her hand and pointed at the medical bag sitting on the countertop. Her voice carried an intense chill. “What is that doing here?”

  Gloria looked up and then over to where the Investigator pointed. “What? That’s my med bag, you know that.”

  Ember held the door open and stared at the Healer’s assistant. “Give us a minute.”

  The assistant glanced at Gloria, then back at the blonde woman. Whatever she saw in Ember’s expression convinced her not to argue. She sat the bottle of Betadine on the tray and hastily made her exit.

  Ember released the door and stepped over to the medical bag. She knew what she would find before she extracted it: the Aedynar Artifact. She kept her eyes locked on Gloria’s as she held the cotton sample bag and the heavy brass object within. “Why is this here?”

  “There she is with the drama,” the Healer dropped her hand at the wrist. “I’m just going to try to use it on Arnie while he’s here, that’s all.”

  “Elton Higginbotham is just outside in the waiting area talking with the Schmitt family,” Ember hissed. “What do you think would happen if he discovered this artifact? What do you think he would do with this kind of power if he figured out how to use it?”

  “Bah, you’re being dramatic. How would he even know I had it?”

  “How did I know you had it? I bloody tasted it, that’s how. What if he is able to sense it, too? Or, what if he just walked in while you were trying to use it on Arnie?”

  “I was going to be careful,” Gloria frowned. “I know how to be careful. She thinks I don’t know how to be careful.”

  “It sounds like she was just trying to help,” Alarik interjected.

  “Exactly. What he said.” The doctor nodded. “The medical center is right above the Ley Line. I’m just trying to help. I thought you wanted me to help your friends, but I guess you don’t—”

  “Bollocks. Don’t you even think of trying that passive-aggressive rubbish with me, Gloria.” Ember pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers. “Listen, we all want the same thing here, yeah? Well, our only hope to help Arnie and the others is with this artifact. So we have to be smart. We can’t let this fall into his hands.” She shook the cotton bag by its drawstrings.

  The Healer shrugged. “So what do you want to do, since you insist on being in charge here?”

  “I’m going to get this bloody thing out of the building. I’ve got to focus on catching this guy—the Changeling Hunter. None of us are safe until he’s stopped, that much is self-evident. After that, we’ll try using the artifact on Arnie. But we’re going to work together to make that happen. Yeah?”

  They both nodded.

  “Brilliant.” Ember touched Alarik’s stubbled face with her fingertips. “Take good care of him, Dr. Rout. He’s important to me.”

  Gloria grumbled, “she thinks I don’t know that already. You just go, leave me be. But send the girl back in here. An old woman can’t be expected to do everything herself.”

  Ember shook her head and left. Af
ter telling the Novice Healer to return, she headed for the elevator. She purposely avoided the waiting room and held the cotton sample bag tight against her hip.

  Two figures were lingering by her Highlander in the dimly-lit alley outside. When they heard the heavy steel door slam shut, they turned toward her.

  “Speak of the devil,” a gruff voice said.

  “Duncan. Jackie.” Ember nodded at both as she descended the steps to ground level. She kept the cotton sample bag in her hand, wishing it was smaller or her hands larger. “What’s going on?”

  “We were just admiring your ride,” Jackie flashed a grin. “Looks like you were caught out in the storm?”

  “Right. I was.” Ember unlocked the door and sat the artifact on the floorboard of the passenger side. She retrieved her purse and hoped neither of them noticed the exchange. “My first North Dakota hailstorm.”

  “Dang, and what a doozy it was!” Jackie laughed. “Sorry, I know it’s not funny. I mean, you’re insured and all, right?”

  “It’s a hired car,” Ember shrugged as she slammed the passenger door shut. She looked up at the two Investigators. “Anyway, none of that matters. We need to talk. Inside.”

  She led them to the stairs, her shoes splashing through a puddle along the way. After sliding her badge through the lock, she held the door open and followed them in.

  “Dang, girl, you look like hell!” Jackie gasped as the interior lighting bathed them. “Were you stabbed or something?”

  Ember started to comb her fingers through her mane, only to catch a knotted length. Blood or mud cemented strands of hair together. The Magic City Spa was closed for the night, so she chose an unoccupied massage room at random and led them in.

  “What’s all this about, Wright? We were on our way to take statements from the victims,” Duncan said in his smoker’s timbre.

  “I can identify him. The Changeling Hunter.”

  Duncan crossed his arms. “You got a good look at him?”

  “Only for a second. Good enough, though. He’s a Malvern, and he’s been to the Spa. Which means he’s in the database.”

  Jackie’s jaw dropped. “A mage has been killing those changelings? But why?”

  “I don’t know his motive, and I don’t know his name yet. I’ll need to search the database photo by photo until I see him.”

  “Even cutting the number of Malverns in half for gender, that’s still, what, 500 images you’d have to sort through?” Duncan shook his head.

  “That’s why Jackie’s going to help me. She can help narrow the search for men wearing glasses who visited the Spa in the last month. I’ll give her a description and she will use her computer, while I use yours.”

  “Why would you use my computer?”

  “Because it’s the fastest in the office. Much faster than that ancient thin client you set me up with in the supply closet. I can’t wait five seconds every time I click to the next database record, Duncan.”

  “So let me get this straight, Wright.” Duncan kept his arms crossed, though his fingers tapped agitatedly at his elbows. “You see the perp for all of a second, and suddenly you know he’s a Malvern, and that he’s been to the Spa?”

  Ember grit her teeth. “There’s no time to explain.”

  “Well, you’re damn well gonna have to make time, Wright. You expect me to stay here all night, watching over your shoulder while you search through photos?”

  “You won’t be watching over my shoulder. The crime scene needs to be secured and picked up before a NonDruw stumbles across it. I’ll give you directions. You’ll be heading over there with Roseanne.”

  “Oh! Am I now?”

  “Right. And you’d best take a security detail with you, too. We can’t know that the Changeling Hunter won’t return.”

  “You think since you got lucky with your hunch tonight, that you can start disobeying the chain of command? Now you listen here, Wright.” The Senior Investigator’s left hand balled into a fist and came to rest on his hip. His other hand pointed at her as he began a lecture.

  She heard his chastisement only distantly. Ember’s attention was focused on Jackie, who wisely had stepped aside. Ember visualized a projection of herself, posing and moving in the dance Barnaby had taught her. When she reached the pivotal moment where she would plunge her hand into the Deference Spell surrounding Jackie, she instead glided over the dark tarpaper tent. Just as she had done with Gloria, with Duncan, with Nick and Katrina, Ember now found a weak thread in the spell and plucked at it. It soon came loose and unraveled, its sickly shadow evaporating harmlessly into the air.

  “Now is that understood?” Duncan growled.

  Ember exhaled and blinked. She gestured with her chin at Jackie. “After you log me into your computer, I’ll need you to explain to Jackie what a Deference Spell is, and how she needs to pretend she’s still under one when she’s around Higginbotham.”

  Jackie touched long, manicured fingernails to her freckled face. “Dang, what just happened?”

  Duncan looked at Jackie. His head snapped back to Ember, his face glowering. When he spoke, only his lower incisors showed. “What did you do?”

  “You know what I just did, Duncan. What I should’ve done weeks ago.”

  “I ordered you not to! Livingston backed me up. You’ve gone too far, Wright. You’re a loose cannon, and this is the last straw. I’m gonna—”

  “I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do is go upstairs, together.” Ember’s voice was silk. Her fire-blue eyes blazed with righteousness. “You’re going to log me into your computer, after which you’ll call in Roseanne from home and arrange for a security detail to meet you downstairs. Then, you’ll debrief Jackie so she can help me search the database.”

  “You don’t give me orders. I’m your supervisor.” Duncan’s anger was superficial. His tremulous voice and wide olive drab eyes betrayed deeper emotions of dismay.

  Ember closed the distance between them and looked up at the man. She let the words roll off her tongue in a conversational volume, though her tone was anything but casual. “No, we’re not playing that bloody game anymore, Duncan. I let doubt reign while I dismissed my instincts, and it almost cost me two of my closest friends.”

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know only a little of what I’m capable of. Either help me or get out of my way.” She took a step back and tilted her head. “The choice is yours.”

  “I,” Duncan stammered, “I’ll help you.”

  Ember leaned to the left, just enough to make eye contact with Jackie.

  The woman’s manicured hand hadn’t left her cheek. Framed by a scalp of scarlet curls, her eyes were wide and her mouth was slack. It seemed to take a moment for her to register that she was being called upon. Jackie’s head bobbed repeatedly. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”

  “Brilliant.” Ember’s eyes rolled up to meet Duncan’s. “Then let’s get to work.”

  35

  So Stubborn

  He looked so pathetic, lying there beneath the warm, orange light of the Restoration Chamber. Alarik’s face was bandaged, his broken nose stuffed with gauze and taped up. From his elbow to his wrist, bandages revealed none of the torn skin and damaged flesh within his right forearm. The man’s missing finger was a stub, skin pulled over the remaining knuckle and covered with honey and bleached wraps of stitched cloth.

  She sat in the shadows next to his narrow bed in the unlit recovery room. Ember had thought to visit him, to learn more about his encounter with the Changeling Hunter if he was ready to talk about it. It had been such a traumatic experience—literally and metaphysically—but recording his formal statement was procedure. Seeing him peacefully asleep made her realize all that could wait. It didn’t matter that the sleep was medically induced. He and his brother certainly deserved every minute they could get away from recent events.

  She touched his stubbled cheek with her fingertips, tracing the line of his square jaw. Her fingers found their way to h
is lips, swollen and split by his tormentor’s fist. Ember couldn’t help but think of those lips touching hers that night at the well site. Then, her heart had fluttered with anticipation. Now, the thought of someone damaging Rik’s perfect smile made her mind tread in dark places. Some part of her—the part which she would never admit to anyone—fantasized about taking that electric cattle prod to the man who did this to her friends.

  Her mind’s eye was so engrossed that she didn’t hear Anna arrive until the woman spoke.

  “It’s surreal, isn’t it?”

  Ember spun around. “Oh, right. Surreal.”

  “I just can’t believe how close I came to losing my brothers today. Both of them.” The tall changeling woman’s raptor-eyes darted over Alarik’s orange-bathed form. “It’s pretty bad when they have to spend time in the Restoration Chamber. Arnie’s had a few overnight visits in them, back when they still tried to treat him for his…disability.”

  Ember bobbed her head slowly. She whispered, “did Doctor Rout say how long they’d have to receive treatment?”

  “You don’t have to be quiet. She gave him some sort of potion. He’s basically in a short-term coma for the next twelve hours. Helps the healing process.” Anna’s gaze flitted from the table to Ember, her head turning to follow a second later. “Arnie’s going to be in for several days, maybe a week. The doctor said that Rik will be good to go by tonight. All healed, except his finger. She said if he’d have brought her the pieces, she would have been able to reattach them, probably.”

  “He’s so stubborn,” Ember ran fingers through her hair. “I would have grabbed them, had I known. He was so focused on getting Arnie out of there. Getting his brother help. Duncan’s going to bring them back when he’s done cleaning up the site.”

  “That sounds about like Rik. Knowing him, he’s going to be blaming himself for this, somehow.” Anna crossed her arms, a paperback book tucked beneath one. Her eyes narrowed, creating an alien expression in the orange gradient from the Chamber’s lights. “Speaking of, you aren’t blaming yourself for what happened?”