Ronan’s jaw snapped shut and he observed Varik like he was listening hard. And also like Varik might be about to produce a treat.
Varik looked past the pup, to the parking lot, where Ashe was getting in the car with the man from the diner.
“Let’s go,” he said, striding off.
He could hear the pup leaping after him, nails clicking on the asphalt.
The car was a pathetic wreck of a thing. But that would make their work easier. Varik only hoped it wasn’t going any great distance.
He slipped the compass from his pocket and held it up.
An icy weather vane with a tiny mermaid on top lifted from it and spun as if there were a harsh wind blowing.
The mermaid pointed in the direction the car was moving.
Varik walked after it, taking his time.
It did no good to draw attention to himself. He had learned the hard way that big guys who had wolf cub pets and were a little too good-looking to be human could get hung up in unpleasant conversations when they let themselves be noticed. It was best to move like mortals, with plodding slowness.
The pace was probably best for the pup as well. His legs were short and Varik would end up carrying him in his satchel if the walk went on too long.
But for now, the pup was happily scampering along beside him. As always, the cub’s happiness called to his own and Varik relaxed a little.
Ashe couldn’t be going far if someone else was driving her. They would find her soon and be back in Faerie in time for breakfast.
He tried not to think about his prize for this quarry.
“Never count your chickens before they hatch,” he advised Ronan.
Ronan glanced up at him with his pink tongue hanging out of his mouth roguishly, as if to say that no one could stop him from counting chickens.
The mermaid on the compass swiveled to point him down a tiny suburban street.
“Thanks, babe,” he told her.
She winked at him dewily.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he warned her.
But she kept smiling and pointing.
Even the masthead on his enchanted compass wasn’t afraid of him tonight.
“Have I gone soft?” he asked the pup.
But Ronan was chasing a piece of trash that had blown off the street and paid him no mind.
“Put that down, Ronan,” he said firmly.
The pup scampered back, tail between his legs.
“It’s okay, bud,” he told it.
After a while, the mermaid swiveled again, and he found himself standing in front of a grocer’s shop with a CLOSED sign in the window.
Two windows with pretty flower boxes face the street from the second floor.
As he studied the windows, wondering if someone lived over the shop, a light flicked on, flooding them with yellow warmth.
“Gotcha,” he whispered, clicking the compass shut.
It was odd, Varik had always been a gifted tracker, able to pick up on the smallest trace of his prey. But somehow, he could sense this girl’s presence, even without the compass. As if a strange sort of gravity drew him nearer to her.
The pup whimpered.
“Okay, Ronan,” he said sympathetically. “You can have your dinner now. We need to wait a little while anyway.”
He slipped into the backyard of the little shop.
A stand of lumpy sycamores and leggy rhododendrons lined the back of the grassy area. It was a perfect hiding spot.
He patted his satchel where he kept a supply of jerky, and Ronan danced beside him, ready for his meal.
3
Ashe
Ashe observed the inside of the apartment in darkness for long minutes before daring to turn on the lights.
But it seemed that the changeling, whom everyone called Willow, lived alone, and it was safe for Ashe to make herself at home here.
She flicked the electric switch by the door and was rewarded with a wash of warm light. When her eyes adjusted, she saw the place was crowded but clean.
The walls were lined with unmatched bookshelves, stacked and stuffed with volumes. Some were leather bound and lovely, others were dog-eared paperbacks.
Several area rugs marked out the “rooms” of the open space. A traditional navy and red rug was in the living area and a soft white tufted thing was under the queen-sized bed by the two windows.
A tiny kitchenette stood in the near corner, and behind it a door led, she assumed, to the bathroom.
Bowls of fruit and potted plants covered every surface of the kitchen. More plants hung from the ceiling near the windows.
The whole layout was as cozy as it was efficient.
Her eyes caught on the closet and dresser on the far wall of the bedroom area. She moved toward them in relief. Her gown was torn and uncomfortable, and she certainly couldn’t fit in with it in this realm.
She opened the closet to find a collection of white blouses and red skirts similar to what Willow and the servants in the diner had been wearing. Those must be for work.
She pulled open a dresser drawer and found a pair of silken trousers and a thin sleeveless chemise with the words sleeping beauty across its chest.
These must be what passed for sleeping garb in this world.
She grabbed them and headed to the bathroom.
It had a toilet, sink and a tall glass box with faucets.
Willow was used to a luxurious soaking bath, but figured that she could clean herself off well enough in that box.
She stripped down, trying not to look in the mirror.
It would be an odd sensation to see her own face for a while.
I have no reason ever to see her again, she told herself. Willow will enjoy life in faerie. She will be a princess, and never want for anything again. And I will simply slip into her life here.
She played with the faucets until it was raining down warmly in the glass box.
Willow had a wealth of scented bathing products.
Ashe tried them all and finally emerged feeling decadent in her silky sleeping costume.
She glanced at the kitchen, knowing she should probably eat something.
But she was exhausted, and the bed called to her.
The near bedroom wall was festooned with snapshots and Ashe looked at them on her way past without thinking.
She was in most of them.
Or at least she appeared to be in them. She knew it wasn’t really her, but the resemblance was uncanny.
The fae created changelings for all sorts of reasons. And when they swapped a fae babe for a mortal one, the fae child physically transformed into an exact duplicate of the mortal babe, so that the human parents would not suspect a thing.
If Willow were here right now, her own parents would not be able to tell which of them was which by sight.
Another pang reminded Ashe that they were really her own parents.
She searched the wall for answers about the life that had been stolen from her.
There were pictures of Willow with a group of other young women doing various fun things outdoors. There were photos of her in a black gown with a strange black hat with a golden tassel hanging down. There was a photo of her in her work uniform outside the diner.
And in the center was a photo of Willow outdoors with a happy smile on her face. A boy who looked an awful lot like her was next to her on a park bench. And behind them were two smiling adults.
“Mother and Father,” Ashe whispered reverently.
Her own parents had never smiled that hard. And they certainly weren’t up for outdoor romps with Ashe and her brothers.