Changeling Hunter

by Frank Hurt

  “Before you call them, we should make this official.” The Viceroy tucked his narrow, red tie into his suit jacket. “We five will witness the renewal of your oath as you recite the Investigator’s Creed.”

  She recited the Investigator’s Creed from memory:

  “I, Ember Wright, do swear by the spirits of my ancestors that I will well and truly serve the Druw High Council and uphold The Council's Law in words and in deeds. I will do right to all manner of people after the laws and usages of The Council, without fear or favor, affection or ill will.”

  Even as she said the words, internally she corrected it to the traditional version—the one which existed in Barnaby Harrison’s age:

  “I, Ember Wright, do swear by the spirits of my ancestors that I will well and truly serve the Druwish people and uphold justice in words and in deeds. With our Supreme Inquisitor's enlightened guidance, I will do right to all manner of people, without fear or favor, affection or ill will.”

  The members of the tribunal applauded. The Viceroy was the first to congratulate her. “How did you know I was lying?”

  “Everyone has a tell, sir. Even you.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes, sir.” She didn’t elaborate.

  The Viceroy held out his hand. “Remind me never to play poker with you, Senior Investigator Wright.”

  She accepted his hand and gripped it firmly. “There won’t be any need for reminders since I don’t play games.”

  Bartholomew and Geoff offered their congratulations as they filed out of the boardroom. Higginbotham was next in line, with Duncan last.

  Ember tapped into her mana to quickly form an Aura Shield as Higginbotham stepped up.

  “Nice work, Miss Wright.” The Director of Wellness bared his perfectly aligned, whitened teeth. “I’m glad you’re a team player.”

  Yeah, but not your team. She said nothing.

  When he shook her hand, she saw and felt a thread of mana pass from him to her forearm. The Aura Shield worked flawlessly, deflecting his Deference Spell harmlessly away from her. Black wisps of energy evaporated into the ether.

  “You do remember who you answer to, Miss Wright?” Higginbotham continued holding her hand in his.

  Ember clenched her jaw. She imagined punching him in his unblemished, tan throat. Instead, she kept her cover. “Of course, Director Higginbotham. I live to serve you.”

  He flashed his grin, nodded once at Duncan, and left.

  When Higginbotham’s footsteps faded down the hall, Ember snarled. “I really can’t wait to take that vile man down.”

  Duncan watched the exchange with lowered eyebrows. He walked over to Ember hesitatingly and murmured, “I didn’t know they were going to do that. I was told that I was assigned to be one of the liars. I didn’t know they all were going to lie.”

  “You’re an excellent liar at that, Duncan.” Ember gave him a wink. “But I believe you.”

  The man grunted. “Thanks. And congratulations on your Ascension. Youngest Senior Investigator on record.” Duncan leaned his head toward her without taking his olive drab eyes off the hallway. “Did he just try reinforcing a Deference Spell upon you?”

  “He tried.”

  “But you stopped him? How?”

  “I told you before, Duncan. You know only a little of what I’m capable of.”

  “Congratulations, former partner. I’m proud of you.” Wallace’s voice emerged from the speakers of the rented Highlander. “But why do you think the Viceroy sponsored you to take the Ascension Test, seemingly on a whim?”

  Ember turned in her seat to stare at the blood-stained cargo area of her rented SUV. I’m really not getting the deposit back on this car. She combed her fingers through her long, blonde hair. “The Viceroy is a politician. He’s got ambitions beyond his current post. He knows that my parents each have voting rights in the selection process for the Druw High Council. I think he was trying to curry favor with them, all while expecting me to fail.”

  “At the risk of sounding cynical, I think you’re right, on both counts.” Her former partner chuckled. “But as clever as he may be, it looks like he underestimated Ember Wright.”

  “Maybe so, but it doesn’t matter much now.”

  “How so?”

  “There’s already one Senior Investigator here, and I’ve got less than a month left on my travel visa. I’ll be forced to come home to Malvern Hills, either way.”

  “Right. About that. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to keep you in North Dakota longer, Ember. You just provided the solution.”

  “I did?”

  “Sure. I’ve been reviewing the census audit you completed. As you discovered, there are more Druws living in North America than originally thought. Plus, there are those who are living off the books, such as that Luke Farsching chap you met, along with his brother and possibly others. The Druw population is large enough to support a Director of Investigation. I’m going to officially nominate Duncan Heywood for that position. You’ll be promoted to take over his current duties. We should be able to expedite a long-term work visa through back channels.”

  “Then I would be able to continue my work here? That would be brilliant, Wallace.”

  “And if I know you at all, Senior Investigator Wright, this means you’ll need to replenish your supply of Marmite.”

  42

  My Sidekick

  “No, they’re not quite right. They need to dig right…here.” Nancy Shaw glided over to a nondescript clump of bromegrass. The sleeves of her terrycloth robe concealed all but the tip of the bony finger that pointed at her feet. “I’m about three feet down.”

  Ember stepped into view of the trackhoe’s cockpit. She gestured emphatically at the spot where Nancy stood. “Over here! This is the spot.”

  The changeling man operating the Bobcat popped the plexiglass door open. “What now?”

  “You need to dig right here, please. This exact spot.”

  The man frowned. He glanced at the sod where he was going to dig, then looked at the spot where she pointed. “Are you sure? This looks more like a mound, doesn’t it? There aren’t any markings anywhere to tell one area apart from another.”

  “I’m quite sure,” Ember shouted above the din of the excavator’s engine. She continued pointing at the ground where the ghost stood. “I’ve got reliable information. Dig here, but no more than two feet, please. The body will be at three feet and we don’t want to tag it with your equipment. It’ll be hand-digging for the last twelve inches.”

  “You sound pretty convinced, lady.” He didn’t hide his skepticism.

  “Call it a guess if it makes you feel better. Either way, humor me and dig right here.”

  She stepped back and waited until the Bobcat was repositioned. When the bucket sunk into the ground, she glanced at Nancy for confirmation. When the ghost nodded, Ember mirrored the movement, adding a thumb’s up gesture for the equipment operator to continue.

  “I used to play in this coulee when I was growing up,” Nancy hugged herself, as though she was cold. The high-pitch whistle in her voice was muted beneath the revving of the skid-steer’s engine. “It’s weird, remembering things like that when you’re dead. Time is…funny. I can almost see my younger self playing along the creek banks with my dog. It’s like I’m right there. But I know I’m not.”

  Ember glanced up the slope to where Debra Morgan stood. She paced next to the flatbed trailer and pickup that had transported the skid-steer to this site. The Security officer’s tempered bronze eyes surveyed the terrain constantly, always watching. When Ember closed her eyes, she saw the changeling’s mountain lion subform, picking its way through the tall grass with its ears forward.

  “You’ll look out for my grandson, won’t you? And for Caroline?” Nancy’s transparent blue features were difficult to make out in the bright sunlight, but it was impossible to miss the concern in her voice. “They’re going to need all the help they can get.”

  “I will.” The Senio
r Investigator looked over at Debra and noticed the woman had a quizzical expression as she watched. Ember pulled out her Motorola and flipped the phone open. She held the phone to her ear and pretended she was answering a call. I hope Debra doesn’t realize there’s no cell signal down here in the coulee.

  “I’ll look out for them, yeah,” Ember said into her phone. She nodded once as she peered at the ghost’s glowing, empty eye sockets. “A lot of people will be checking in on them. They’re in good hands, Nancy.”

  The Bobcat had stopped digging. The man kept the engine running, as though he expected he would be needing it again soon. He climbed out of the skid-steer and joined a second changeling contractor to begin digging with shovels. They didn’t have to move much soil before one of them looked over at Ember and yelled, “looks like you were right. We’ve found it.”

  Ember snapped photos for the official records before allowing them to proceed. The two men continued exhuming the decayed corpse of Nancy Shaw. They positioned the yellowed bones in an unzipped black body bag, piece by piece.

  “This is…really hard to watch,” Nancy murmured.

  Ember held her phone back up to her ear before she replied. “I cannot begin to imagine. I’m sorry you have to see this.”

  Nancy shook her head, the curlers soundlessly clinging to her scalp. “So what happens to me now?”

  “I have some paperwork to file, but ultimately you’ll be buried in the private Druwish cemetery outside of Towner.”

  “No, I mean what happens to me?” Nancy pointed at the accumulation in the body bag. “Those are just my bones. I’m talking about me.”

  “Oh. Right.” Ember chewed her lower lip. “Sorry. I suppose I will just release you. Your apparition will dissolve into fireflies which will scatter and fly away. It’s really quite beautiful.”

  “But then what? I’ll just go back to…the darkness, where I was before you woke me?”

  Ember nodded imperceptibly. “The eternal plane, I’ve heard it called.”

  “But I don’t want to go back there,” Nancy hugged herself again.

  “It’s not like you can just wander the physical plane. What would you do, haunt people?”

  “I could…I could help you.” The high whistle of Nancy’s voice rose excitedly. “You were able to call on me from another county using my old locket. Whenever you need me, you could use the locket to call on me.”

  “Your locket? I thought you would want Caroline to have it.”

  “You should keep it, so you can call me with it. Just take his photo out of the locket and toss that away.” Nancy paced soundlessly around Ember as though she was in an orbit. “And think about how handy it would be, having a ghost as your sidekick. We could fight crime together.”

  “My sidekick?”

  “Absolutely! Don’t tell me it wouldn’t be useful having someone who can walk through walls. Who can go places you can’t go. Who can see when a bad guy is hiding something from you, like a gun in his pocket.” Nancy lowered her voice to a mutter. “It’s not my fault that you chose to ignore me when I told you about it.”

  Ember considered the ghost’s offer. Her fingers absently touched the small lump against her sternum, feeling the contours of the carved coyote face pendant. A ghost for a bloody sidekick. That might be a first.

  “Brilliant. But we’re going to need to work on your lookout skills, Nancy.”

  Bonus #1 - Free Prequel Novel!

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  Bonus #2 - Preview of Ascending Mage 3: Buried Truth

  It’s incredibly foolish to annoy a powerful mage.

  A vindictive Malvern (as mages are formally known) can cast all manner of nasty spells. An Investigator can wipe one’s thoughts with a Memory Wash spell. An Artistic mage can enchant with a well-crafted song or cause one to become obsessed with a sculpture or painting. There are even certain Elementalist spells which can rain Hellfire upon the Earth. There’s no end to the number of ways in which a determined mage can torment an unwitting victim.

  Fortunately, under High Council Law most of those terrible spells are illegal to use against NonDruws. Even those which are allowed are highly restricted, justifiable only in self-defense. Generations ago, the elders of the Council recognized such laws were necessary for the existence of Druws to remain concealed from other humans.

  To men like Elton Higginbotham, however, such rules didn’t apply.

  In his mind, those laws were meant for everyone else. He and the other Sixth-Level mages were superior beings—practically a species unto themselves. The Council had its place in keeping the changelings under control and the less capable Malverns in check. It was the natural order of things for lesser beings to seek guidance. Elton and his associates needed no such guidance.

  From the stool at the end of the bar, Elton contemplated his role in the reordering of Druwish society. It was a century-long chess match, but the pieces were all slowly slipping into place. The future they were making would be vastly superior—at least for him and the other high-level mages. For everyone else, well, they would just have to be taught the benefits of servitude to benevolent masters. All for the greater good.

  The ice in the old-fashioned glass settled as he sipped the last of the rusty nail. The bartender had gone heavy on the Drambuie, just as Elton ordered. The drained tumbler only just touched down on its paperboard coaster when the bartender noticed.

  “Was that one more to your taste, sir?” The twenty-something-year-old man wore a pitiable mustache that resembled a fuzzy caterpillar. “Better than the first one?”

  “I think you’ve got it right,” Elton admitted. He glanced at his Rolex; there was still twenty minutes until the meeting. “I’ve got time for one more if you think you can replicate this.”

  “You betcha.” The fuzzy caterpillar quirked as the bartender produced a clean glass. The ice cubes made a satisfying clink when they were dropped into their final home.

  A heavily-muscled college kid with bleach-blond hair stepped up to the corner of the bar. He rapped his knuckle on the smooth surface, as though he was knocking on a door. “Yo, barman! Can I get four Bud Lights over here?”

  “I’ll be right with you,” the fuzzy caterpillar twitched with the response. The bartender poured a shot of honeyed whiskey from a black-labeled bottle, chasing it with an ounce of Scotch. A zest of spiral lemon garnish served as an exclamation point for the cocktail.

  “Wassup, brah?”

  It took Elton a moment to realize the bleached head of hair was talking to him. “Hmm?”

  “Yeah, I’m totally gonna get some tonight.” The young man hooked a thumb over his shoulder to a table where two women sat with another man. Each of them looked barely over the legal drinking age. “Mitch and I’ve been working on these girls for, like, two weeks. Taking them out to eat, shit like that. Stacey’s the blonde with the sweet rack. She’s mine.”

  “I’m sorry, do you think you know me?” Elton’s icy blue eyes searched the uncouth young man’s face. “What makes you think I’m interested in your activities?”

  “Nah, brah, I’m just pumped, a’ight? Don’t hate the player, brah.” The young man shrugged. He bore the scent of cocky young hormones and too much cologne. “You’re an old businessman an’ shit now in your suit and tie, but, like, I’ll bet you were a stud a long time ago. You were a mad player back in your day, am I right?”

  The fresh cocktail arrived to replace the drained tumbler. Elton brought the rusty nail to his lips and sampled deeply. The honeyed liqueur was tangible among the bittersweet concoction.

  “That one work for you, too, sir?” The bartender asked as he lined up four bottles of beer.

  “As good as the previous. Nicely done.” The mage glanced at the table of coeds as an impulse entered his
consciousness. “I’ll pay my tab now, but before you close it, put this young man’s order on it.”

  “Really, brah? What for?”

  Elton flashed a perfect, white grin. “Consider it a congratulatory gesture on your impending Pyrrhic victory.”

  Bleached-Head raised his eyebrows. “My…what? Dude, I don’t know what that means.”

  “I didn’t expect you to. Go, grab your beers and join your flock.”

  The mage paid his tab in cash. He swallowed the last mouthful of rusty nail and checked his wristwatch. Just enough time for a little amusement. He twisted the gold-and-black barrel of his ballpoint and scrawled his home address onto a square napkin.

  The table was on his way out. He walked past, slowing just enough to be noticed.

  “Hey, man! Thanks for the brewskies.” The one Bleached-Head had identified as Mitch raised his half-drained bottle of Bud.

  Elton paused, allowing a smile to form on his lips before turning to face the two couples. “You’re quite welcome. I should introduce myself. I’m Elton.”

  Elton extended his hand to the two girls, first. They offered their names as Stacey and Brandy. Though he wasn’t in an amorous mood, he couldn’t resist closing the trap he had set. I don’t want them, but you do, and that’s good enough reason to take them.

  When his tanned, bejeweled hand closed around each of theirs, Elton pulled a wisp of mana from the cobalt blue tiepin he wore. The magic energy flowed from that Leystone over his skin and down across each of the seated girls. He allowed a moment for his Deference Spell to take root, which wouldn’t take long on a couple of simple NonDruws such as these.

  “If you don’t mind my saying, you girls look like you might be a little tipsy.” Elton casually planted the suggestion. “You probably should call it a night soon, yes?”

  Mitch laughed, “they haven’t even had a whole beer yet.”