The Last Changeling (19 page)

24

T
aylo
R

When I pulled into the parking lot of Whittleton Cemetery, all of the spots were empty. The clock on the dash read 12:38 a.m. Technically, it was Sunday morning. It helped me to think I was sticking to my Sunday routine, since everything else in my life was starting to feel like a nightmare.

Says the guy heading to the graveyard
.

Still, the place didn't scare me. I'd been there a hundred times. And even though the faeries of the Dark Court were apparently very real, that didn't mean other things were out to get me.

That's what I told myself as I opened the big metal gate. It didn't even bother me that Eddie, the night guard, wasn't sitting in his post. Yes, this place was so fancy they had a security guard working nights.

Graveyard shift at the graveyard
.

These kinds of thoughts kept my spirits up.

Spirits.
Get it?
A definite chill was creeping down my neck. I followed the little stone paths like I always did, between the gargoyles that kept evil out and the angels that kept goodness in. A breeze drifted past me, cool and potentially soothing, but it carried the scent of death. Maybe this doesn't seem strange, to smell death at a cemetery, but usually it just smelled like grass and flowers.

Tonight it should have smelled like spring.

But it didn't.

It smelled like autumn.

Like leaves drying.

Like decay.

Stop.

I'd been here a hundred times, but never at this hour. Why were things different now? What was it about the human mind that feared the dead coming back to life?

Dead is dead. The soul leaves. There's nothing in there to come back to life
.

I knelt before Aaron's grave. Instinctively my hand fumbled for that patch of dirt, the one I kneaded nervously whenever I visited, as if I could somehow reach his hand that way. Even in the cool midnight air, the dirt felt warm, like maybe he was reaching for me too. But thoughts like this, however comforting, would do me no good this time. I couldn't hold on to the idea that he was lingering in the land of the living.

I had to let go.

Words poured from my mouth, the way they always did here, but this time they had a greater meaning. “Aaron, I want you to know I'm sorry. I know I've said it a million times, but I am. Dad's sorry too, he told me. Can you believe that?” I paused, looking at the ground, the distant trees, anything. “You probably don't believe it. But it's the truth.” I squeezed the dirt so tight. “I love you, Aaron. I'll never stop loving you and I'll never forget any of it.”

That wasn't entirely the truth. Some memories were as clear as yesterday; others were fuzzy, like they'd happened in a dream. But it was okay to say it. Some lies were okay, if they were what you really wanted. And if he could hear me, I wanted him to believe that his memory would never fade in me
.

I wanted to give that to him.

“I have to go away now,” I said, still squeezing the dirt, squeezing like I had the power to give life to it. “I don't know when I'll be back. But that's okay too. Adventures are like that. You might never come back, but you have to go because it's what you're meant to do. I have to go, and you … ” I bent over, touching my hands to my lips. “I don't want you to be afraid.” Tears spilled over my hands, blending with the dirt. “No matter where I go, I'll still be with you. No matter what happens, I'll always be your brother.”

I stopped, tilting my head. I thought I'd heard a car door shutting in the parking lot. For a minute, everything was quiet. Then, from the other direction, I heard an impossible sound: the not-so-distant sound of a kid crying.

It sounded so much like Aaron, I couldn't breathe for about three seconds. Who would let their kid wander around the graveyard in the middle of the night?

Who would let their brother climb to the top of a fifty-foot tree?

“Are you okay?” I called, and the crying stopped. I almost convinced myself that I'd imagined the whole thing. It would have been so easy to return to the parking lot and see who'd arrived.

But I didn't.

Instead, I walked toward the sound, and in that moment the universe made its little alterations. What might have been different if I'd chosen the parking lot over the darkness?

What might have been different if I'd never gone to the swing-set that first night?

Our choices change us, every one of them.

I went looking for the kid, and the course of my life was forever changed.

I caught a glimpse of him as I reached the back end of the cemetery. At least, I thought it was the back end, but through the trees I saw no sign of the fence. What I did see was a boy's head—a young boy, with hair a shade darker than Aaron's had been. It was the exact same shade as mine. This similarity struck me as significant, but I couldn't figure out why.

I was too eager to catch him.

I'm not sure when things shifted from “find” to “catch,” but it was clear he was hiding from me. And it wasn't like I was going to hurt him, or even detain him
unless he was in some kind of danger. I just wanted to look at him, face to face, and maybe bring him home to his family.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” I called, stepping into the space between the trees. No matter where I went, I couldn't get away from trees. It seemed like the trees here outnumbered the graves, and that couldn't be right.

None of this is right.

The thought sent chills up my spine. I told myself to stay calm. I hadn't exactly spent a lot of time exploring the outer edges of the cemetery, and I certainly didn't know every inch of the place.

As I ducked under a branch, I misjudged its height, and spindly branches trailed across my neck. I had the strangest impression that the tree was tasting my blood, and then I knew my imagination was getting away from me. But my neck burned, and I held my hand over it to calm the sting. When I took my hand away, it was covered in blood.

Covered.

I started to panic then, pushing through the branches even though it only led to more cuts. I'd never been overly sensitive to blood, but seeing myself lose so much—at a cemetery—had a bad effect on me. My stomach churned.

Only the whimpering of the boy kept me from giving up entirely.

“I'm coming; just stay where you are. It's going to be okay.”

But was it? My heart was beating really fast, and that couldn't be good for slowing the flow of my blood. I put my hand back on my neck and it felt wet, sticky. I could have sworn that blood was dripping down my back, but that wasn't possible. It had just been a little scratch.

I wasn't going to die or anything.

I whipped around when I heard the boy behind me. Laughing, like we were playing a game. But it wasn't a game I wanted to play, because I'd suddenly realized why the cemetery smelled like autumn. That smell wasn't crumbling leaves—it was freshly turned dirt. I'd smelled it on days when someone needed to be buried. But no one needed to be buried in the middle of the night, and even if they did, it wouldn't explain the strength of the smell. It smelled like the entire place
had been overturned. Like every grave in the cemetery had been freshly dug up.

I stepped out of the trees, out of the darkness, and found that my eyes had adjusted to the night. Now I wished they hadn't, because the things I saw shouldn't have been seen by any human.

I saw the boy skittering up the back of a gargoyle, his nails so long they could slit your throat and bleed you dry.

I saw so many crows flying overhead, their bodies blotted out the moon and the sky.

And when I looked down at the freshly turned dirt of the cemetery, I saw dead things crawling out of the earth.

25

E
l
o
r
A

At the sound of the voice, I whirled around. The darkness shifted and two creatures stepped into the moonlight, wearing the shadows the way a lady wears a dress. Dark things. Unholy things.

Unseelie
.

“Lhiannon and Lamia,” I snarled, unable to hide my displeasure. “I might have guessed. What brings you to these forbidden lands? Hungry for a snack?”

Lhiannon lingered in the shadows, too proud to answer, but Lamia stepped closer. Her angular horse's body shifted with each step. Her coat was black as coal, and her eyes resembled the heavens at the darkest part of night. But if it suited her, she could transform to reflect a man's deepest desire, and in that form she could make him crumble.

Or kill.

“And now we're talking to horses,” Alexia said beside me, but her voice was pinched and shaky. Clearly she was aware that these creatures were more than they appeared. Those sharp edges, jagged as bones; those eyes that had witnessed the beginning of the earth—even the dullest of humans would have been afraid of them.

“Answer me,” I commanded the faeries, ignoring the mortal girl who was anything but dull. At least Brad was keeping himself busy. He sat in the dirt building a mud castle. “Or was I not painfully clear that I wasn't to be followed?”

Lhiannon snorted, and the movement revealed what I had not been able to see: the little creature perched on her back, webbed fingers splayed out in welcome. So familiar, my heart went a-flutter in my chest.

My old friend.

My dearest companion.

“Illya!” I rushed to her side. It struck me as odd that she hadn't flown to me already, but up close, I saw the reason.

“Oh, Illya.”

“It's nothing to worry about,” the marsh sprite replied, ducking away from my gaze. “It doesn't even hurt anymore.”

I leaned in, surveying her wings—what remained of them. “Naeve,” I whispered, my fingers hovering over the damage.

“He burned them. Curled them up like paper.”

“Brave Illya.” I held out my hand, and she wrapped herself up in it. “I'm so glad you are alive.”

“As am I. Most of the time.”

My heart broke at the words. But wouldn't I have felt the same way? I had hardly been able to bear the past few weeks, bound to the land like a human. How would I feel if I actually lost the ability to fly? Forever.

“Maybe there is a way to heal them,” I said as Illya stepped out of my embrace. But even as I spoke, my throat constrict
ed.

“Perhaps in the old days,” she said softly. Who hadn't heard stories of such things? Of magic healing all wounds, and gardens springing up at the hands of the faeries. “But power is weak now among the fey. Unless something changes … ” She glanced at the humans, unable to mask her disgust.

I reached for her, but for the first time in our long friendship, she pulled away.

“There will be time later for conciliation,” she said. “We must return to Court before Naeve discovers where we have gone.”

“What do you mean? Where is Naeve?”

“Too close for us to linger. He nearly caught up to you at the ball. He has probably captured the boy by now.”

“Captured the boy?
What
boy?”

“Just one of the humans.”

“One of the—” I couldn't breathe. I felt as if my chest were caving in. “Tell me what you saw. Did you
see
Naeve capture a human?”

Say no, say no, please say no
.

“No.”

My breath rushed out in a whoosh. Still, my heart screamed.

“His beasts infiltrated the dance,” she said. “I would not have thought it possible for a dark faerie to dance so closely with humans, but then, you have been doing it all along, haven't you?” She paused, a shudder ripping through her small frame. “They followed you out of the ballroom, but they lost track of you at the bedchamber. When the boy came out
alone, they went in after you. You know what they found there
.”

Nothing.

“What did they do next? Please, Illya, this is important.”

“They followed the mortal. Well, three mortals, actually—”

“Three?
Three mortals
?” I glanced over at Alexia, who was trying to light a cigarette. Tears had blossomed beneath her long, dark lashes, and her teeth drew fresh blood from her lips.

She couldn't get the cigarette to light. “She took my best fucking lighter,” she said, flicking the wheel over and over. “I have to get it back.”

“I could get it for you,” I said, hoping to reason with her mad ramblings. She glared at me like I had offered to twist a knife in her back
.

Maybe I had.

“Tell me what happened next,” I said to Illya.

“The boy climbed into an iron chariot,” she said, watching Alexia's breakdown with detached interest. “And two others followed him, in their own.”

“A boy and girl? Brother and sister?”

“I don't know! They were humans.”

“And you followed them?”

“Yes, for a time.”

“Did you see where they went?”

“No. But we saw signs, along the path, for a cemetery of all places. That's when I offered to look for you in the opposite direction, in case you tried to slip away while Naeve tracked the humans.”

“And he allowed you to break away?”

“He knows of my bond with you. He thought that if I happened upon you, my story would convince you to rescue the humans. What a fool he is, thinking you could care for them.”

“Illya … ”

“We must return to Court while his back is turned.”

“I am not going back to Court.”

“You must.”

“I can't. Not yet.” I struggled to find a way to explain things to her. “I must stop them from interfering with the mortal world. The courts may be at odds, but we agree on one thing: humans are off limits.”

“Except to you?” Illya glared pointedly at Brad. His hands were covered in dirt, his eyes still glazed.

“Th
at remains our secret,” I said. “But if the dark faeries slaughter three humans, everyone will know of it. It will give the Bright Court power over us. We will have to allow
them
three humans, and what do you think that will do to my pact with the Bright Que
en?”

Illya turned away. Alexia had taken a seat beside Brad on the ground, still flicking the lighter. Her thumb had started to bleed.

“Let me put it this way,” I explained. “If the Bright Queen gains t
hree humans
for nothing
, why would she want one
for something
?”

Illya looked up
at me. “You will be putting us in danger,” she said.

It pained me to see how much she'd changed in my absence. How much she had hardened.

Or maybe she just didn't recognize me anymore.

“I'm not asking any of you to help me save the humans.” I knelt before Lamia, holding her gaze. “But I am asking for your aid.” I glanced toward Alexia, who was trying
to open her lighter with the heel of her shoe; toward Brad, whose cruel existence meant so much to my revolution. “I know it's a lot to ask”—I returned my gaze to Lamia's dark, fathomless eyes—“but would you take this boy some
where for me?”

Lamia did not merely shudder. Her skin rippled, like water breached by a stone. She brayed and stepped away from me, but not far enough to indicate refusal. Even though I had promised her freedom at the end of things, she was still in my service.

I was still her princess.

“You need only to take him to the borderlands,” I said. “Members of her court can meet you there.” I did not say
the Seelie Queen
. I dared not even speak her title to Lamia. It would have been enough to change her mind.

Her great head dipped, and I rose to my feet. “Thank you, friend,” I said, praying she would not attempt to suck out Brad's soul on the way. But when I turned back to him, more pressing concerns were brought to my attention. In the moment I'd turned away, Alexia had slid her arm around Brad's neck. Now the sharp edge of her heel was pressed into his skin.

“I'll slit his throat if you don't take me with you.” She caught my eye, and she did not look scared. She looked angry and perfectly in control. “You know I will.”

It took me a moment to understand. The cigarette, the fit she'd thrown over the useless lighter—it had all been a distraction.

“You are quite the little actress,” I said.

“And you are easily fooled.”

“It won't happen again.”

“It won't have to,” Alexia said. “After we rescue Kylie, you will never have to see me again.” She tightened her grip on Brad. My stomach tensed as blood smeared his neck. I knew the blood was hers—crimson remnants from the thumb she'd sliced on her lighter. But the sight invoked all kinds of images; images of blood pouring down his neck. Images of him taking his last breath.

I had no time to argue, or even to think. Brad was in danger. Taylor was in danger, as were the twins. Nodding to the faeries, I said, “A detour, then.”