Changeling

(57)

(57)

Nobody bothered the truck as it slowly made its way to Shangri-La, to Nestra’s complete lack of surprise. Vassily was keeping an eye on the freed slaves who were still high on something, while Aunt Clecle kept chugging various medicines, half wrapped up in blankets. Nestra’s paranoid nature kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It didn’t. The universe was vexing her by being on her side.

Between the relative calm and with Aunt Claire within arm’s reach, Nestra finally allowed herself to calm down, at least a little. The adrenaline fading from her system made her tired. At least she wasn’t hurt this time.

It also gave her time to think.

A gleam, huh. She’d waited for so long for that, and she’d also found her path. The true form. Having a proper gleam mask now would be...

It would be really fucking nice. But also it was so late in her life compared to everyone else. She would be hopelessly behind. She would also finally, finally be in the race.

There was no doubt that she would accept, of course. There was no question, not after the efforts aunt Clecle had gone through. The only thing that could stop her would be Sereth warning her it would lead to her discovery. If the operation failed, then that would be it, but what if it succeeded? Would she become like some of the people she despised? What would Stibbs think? What would it change about her life? Fuck, so many things to consider.

But she wanted, she really, really wanted it, because it meant her parents might love her again. Wait no, not like that, more... they would know how to show that love. How to treat her like their daughter with normal gleam bonding moments: the training, the first raids.

She wanted that.

She wanted that so bad. Please, let it be that it wasn’t some sort of mistake. Or a scam. Let her have her hope.

Her hopeful reverie stopped alongside the truck. In front of them, the walled city of Shangri-La was a buzz of activity. Not one, but three helicopters were visible in its skies with one clearly being a military transport disgorging auged soldiers on top of the town hall. Nestra frowned as she jumped down from the truck.

“What the fuck? Are they invading?”

“In a manner of—”

“Gah!” Nestra screamed when Winslow appeared next to her.

“In a manner of speaking,” Winslow finished with a congenial smile.

He was back to being the kindly middle school student beloved by everyone. His face was, at least. The rest was still a blood-stained combat suit.

“Don’t scare me like that.”

“Miss Palladian, I was standing right here.”

“You were hiding,” she reproached. “Steam and a minor in shadows for sure.”

Winslow appeared surprised, but the expression was so brief it might have been Nestra’s imagination.

“As I was saying, there is no way for the auction to have occurred without local help. There are few things a government dislikes more than citizens fearing criminals more than them, but officials bribed by foreign agents is fairly high on that list. I’m afraid the hammer is coming down, and it’s coming down hard.”

“Is it bad for us?”

“I would hope not, not after we helped them.”

He didn’t seem too concerned though it was hard to read a spook. Here was a man who seemed to know what was going on though, and Nestra had questions.

“Look, can I ask you something? I’m still a bit worried.”

“If I can answer, I will,” he replied with a knowing smile.

“Ok, so didn’t the battle strike you as a bit too easy?”

Amusement and pity warred on the spook’s face. It pissed her off a little.

“Miss Palladian. I will merely say this: Threshold stands at the forefront of the raiding world. The Palladians stand at the forefront of Threshold. There is a reason why your house received immediate and unconditional support in the recovery of your aunt, and it is not just kindness on our part.”

“We’re not one of Threshold’s top families,” Nestra said.

She knew this was true. House Palladian was mid-sized and unaffiliated. They were no heavy hitters. Well, not the heaviest hitters around in any case.

Winslow was not amused. He looked like an impatient educator now.

“Miss Palladian, your criteria for what constitutes ‘the top’ are far too restrictive to accurately represent reality. Perhaps living with them as a family has skewed your perception of reality. While you were obviously concerned, I am telling you, I was not.”

“Huh.”

Winslow closed the conversation with assurances that Nestra could relax and that she was safe now. And indeed, nothing bad happened. In fact, nothing happened at all. The truck stopped in an open plaza filled with temporary tents and crawling with soldiers. An army of paramedics took charge of the rescued captives with terrifying efficiency. The only catch happened with Ulysses’ catch, so to speak. The woman he’d captured was still sullenly following him.

“We will be taking custody of her,” Tian said, backed by a group of augs.

She was wearing heavy manacles of a make Nestra didn’t recognize. She wasn’t familiar with gleam restraints. She just knew there were several kinds and MaxSec used a mana-resistant basic model for the kind of gleams she might have faced.

“That’s Seraphine Velion. There is a price on her head in Threshold. She was my upperclasswoman!”

“And now she is a captive here.”

“My captive,” Ulysses elaborated.

Things grew tense, with the Palladians giving them their attention. At a distance, augs stopped what they were doing to see if things would escalate.

“There is no extradition agreement between our nations,” Tian said, very calmly.

“That is correct, young master Palladian,” Winslow said, moving to the front. “I’m afraid our agreement does not cover Miss Velion here, and so I will respectfully ask you to surrender her to their custody.”

“Wait,” the woman said in a broken voice. “You can’t do that. Do you know what they do to their gleams? Wait!”

Winslow replied in his ever-calm voice.

“Rest assured that your status and condition will be reported to the Threshold authority. We will be negotiating on your behalf for your safe return, of course.”

Seraphine was on the verge of a panic attack. Nestra didn’t feel much sympathy for a slaver.

“Please! Help.”

“We will provide assistance, of course,” Winslow said, and his gaze was quite cold. “But you understand that your... choice of profession, or the fact you escaped Threshold to avoid a prison sentence for murder will not work in your favor. Goodbye for now.”

They dragged her away. Tian returned a moment later, much more confident than before.

“Right. Regretfully, I cannot guarantee you a return before tomorrow morning. In the meanwhile, I have taken the liberty to reserve you a suite in the town’s best hotel. It is normally reserved for government officials.”

“I could kill for a shower!” Aunt Clecle exclaimed.

Many eyes turned to her.

“Metaphorically of course. You guys need to chill.”

“Yeah, let’s all chill! Do they have hot spring things here?” Helena asked.

Tian escorted them to the hotel herself. The few guests present were being sent out by armed guards and the staff was utterly terrified so they had stellar service. Nestra made sure to ask for her chocolate bar payment from Tian who delivered it with a half smile. She also assured them that the service would be free for the night so Clecle rushed to the baths with a bottle of Japanese Umeshu, a very sweet plum liquor. The women caught up to her in the secluded place though Nestra was loath to leave her gear behind. It didn’t feel safe.

Aunt Clecle was showering and already lathered. The water at her feet was brown.

“Damn. That’s a lot of scars,” Nestra remarked.

On her mom too. Most of the scars were fading or faded, some on the verge of disappearing because B-rankers had full control over their bodies, but still, the fact they even had those spoke of gruesome wounds inflicted with mana-charged attacks or spells. Attempts to kill that had failed but not by much. It made Nestra worried for them.

“Speak for yourself young lady. Why do you even have stab wounds?” her mom asked.

“I got stabbed.”

Nestra shrugged.

“Hey, hey, I’m cool as well!” Helena said.

She pointed at one of her only scars. It was on her leg where a fae warrior had landed a successful hit the first time she and Nestra had raided together — the one when Sashimi had proven she could be useful.

Terror gripped Nestra’s heart.

“How did you get this? The school didn’t notify us.”

“I, uh, I was testing my coating.”

They didn’t buy it.

“With a knife...” Helena finished miserably.

The four women stood in a circle with Deborah Palladian made ready to deliver her judgment.

“I wanna drink,” Aunt Claire said.

“Oh very well, but Helena, we will be discussing experimentation later. This is clearly self-harm... if you’re telling me the truth. Don’t do that again.”

“Sorry mom.”

“Come on. This is a happy reunion!” Aunt Clecle said, flying to the rescue.

“Oh you’re right. Forget about it honey. Let’s just have a good time.”

“Cool! Can I get some of that booze as well?”

“In your wildest dreams, perhaps.”

“I was in a battle! I deserve it, no?”

“You are mercifully unharmed and so will your liver remain,” Mom concluded and there would be no argument.

“Into the bath, the lot of you. You stink!” Clecle joked.

They didn’t jump into the bath. As Helena reminded them, the proper etiquette was to shower first. Sanae joined them soon though she went to a side room — she was very much a loner. Splashing sounds on the other side of a separation wall indicated that the menfolk were soaking as well. At least all entrances were covered, Nestra thought.

Nestra used the relaxed mood to ask the same thing she’d asked Winslow.

“So... Didn’t it feel a bit too easy?” she asked her mom.

Deborah Palladian opened a lazy eye. She was reclining against the stone wall of one of the hotter baths.

“You were severely outnumbered,” Nestra insisted. “Three B-class to seven. I know you are strong. Those are still long odds.”

“Darling, you are treating our opponents like a team while in reality they did not trust each other one bit. They were more interested in saving their skins than in cooperating to take us down. That’s one. Two, we have excellent teamwork forged over the years facing countless monsters as well as other teams: humanoid monsters but also humans.”

“You mean, like practice bouts?”

“That and... let’s just say the world was not a good place after Riel saved us all. Three, and I think you need to remember... we’re first gens, Nestra. We survived hell.”

“We really did,” Aunt Clecle added from her corner.

“We’re really, really hard to kill. You need to trust in us a little more, right?”

Nestra nodded. She wasn’t really convinced in her heart because she was just scared, but intellectually she could accept that her family was dangerous. It was just hard to reconcile this knowledge with her love for them. Or at least, it was difficult to do it while everyone was having a good time.

“Nestra. We got her. She’s safe. You need to wind down now.”

“I know, I just... this is our first time outside and my first time rescuing... sorry, helping with the rescue of a member of my family.”

Her mom put a hand over Nestra’s shoulder and drew her in for a side hug. She felt very solid.

“This is a trauma response, darling. You’re hypervigilant. We are safe. You will successfully become a gleam. Trust me.”

Nestra took a deep breath. A very deep breath.

“Ok, ok.”

She did her best to relax. It worked a bit.

“Did you know Aunt Claire was raiding for me?”

“No. She refused to tell me why she was working so hard,” mom replied.

“I didn’t want to tell anyone in case it didn’t work,” Clecle said with the bottle in her hand. “Damn that thing is too sweet. Anyway it will work. We’re sure of it.”

“Okay...” Nestra said. “Okay.”

Exhaustion finally caught up to her. She yawned, completely worn out.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Have a short nap on the bench, darling. We’ll wake you up for dinner.”

And since they knew what was good for them, they actually did.

***

Ragnarok picked the bag with great speed but also a surprisingly gentle touch. She soon had one between two wizened fingers.

“Halongrottor cookies. Homemade then?”

“As I said I also used my cooking robot,” Nestra said.

“Most people offered me rare metal ingots, which was also nice of course. Thank you dear. It was very thoughtful of you. I believe I will have some coffee now. Off you go, though. My secretary will guide you.”

Nestra left with a smile. Truly, food was almost always a good offering.

***

“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” Dr. Daniels said with a kind voice.

He was tall but also muscular now that he was only wearing a simple shirt. His neat brown hair and golden eyes of a light user gave him some sort of corporate messiah feel she couldn’t trust. He was also B-class and a strong one too. That was a concern, because it was clear he had no qualms about pulling strings. He had her cornered both socially and physically.

She felt trapped.

There was another male anglo gleam with short brown hair next to him, slightly more meek in appearance. He was C-class despite having no affinities locked which hinted at an older civilian. Perhaps a researcher. He had not introduced himself yet, and would not meet her eyes.

Nestra didn’t reply because she hadn’t agreed. She had complied. To her, there was a difference.

“I am Dr. Daniels, still with the Center of Magical Studies based in Austin. This is Dr. Nichols. We are experts in transformation powers —as far as the term ‘expert’ can even be applied. I appreciate that you didn’t initially want to talk to us and I wanted to thank you for agreeing anyway. We have crossed the ocean to see you, haha.”

Nestra didn’t reply. She found it much easier to remain quiet as an Aszhii anyway. Maybe they weren’t that big on talking, as a species.

Nah Sereth was a complete blabbermouth.

Maybe she should play nice. Ragnarok had asked and Nestra owed the old woman some help. She was a good person.

“Yesss?”

“Right. Let’s not waste anymore of your time. We have a few questions if you don’t mind.”

Nestra gestured that they may ask.

“Your power is very unusual. Many transformations lead to bipedal hybrids but you are the first and so far only pure, fully humanoid one. That makes you an interesting reference, a halfway point should we say. Are you familiar with transformation powers? Beyond your own.”

“Not really. Basic research only.”

“Right. The first transformation is usually considered an extremely traumatic event by most participants. How would you describe your own?”

“Not very painful. Scary and confusing.”

“I see. And if I may ask, was there any collateral damage?”

“Damage?”

“For the first transformation. Most losses and damage normally occur during and immediately after the first transformation while the user’s control is at the lowest.”

He smiled a bit more.

“Users will be confused, we understand. In pain. It leads to poor judgment, a perfectly normal reaction of course.”

“No damage. I was home.”

“I see, I see. So you didn’t leave your home during the first transformation?”

“No.”

“Did you perhaps have any memory lapse? Moment where the world felt unreal or that the transformation was happening to someone else? Unexplained movements through the house while you didn’t remember how you got there?”

“No. I was conscious. Afraid and confused but conscious.”

“I see. Have you felt instincts that you would qualify as inhuman while in your transformed shape? Something that you wouldn’t do normally?”

“Eeh... Raw meat.”

“Eating raw meat?” Daniels asked with sudden interest.

Nichols shivered. His terror was so obvious Nestra could smell it. He was perspiring heavily as well.

“Yeah.”

“What sort of meat?”

“Monster.”

“Monster meat?”

“Yes. With tabasco.”

“With tabasco...” Daniels whispered, seemingly confused.

“Have you had any desire for human flesh?” Nichols asked with undisguised horror.

“What the fuck is that sort of question?”

“Sorry,” Daniels said. “What my colleague wanted to know is if some of your instincts push you to favor one particular kind of meat.”

“No. Variety. And not just protein. I mentioned raw meat because I normally dislike it. Upsets my stomach.”

Nestra didn’t like where this was going. Those people... were they really researchers? What the hell were they researching? Those questions were so loaded.

“Changing topics,” Daniels continued. “What do demons evoke for you?”

That caught Nestra off guard.

“Pardon?”

“As you might know, transformation powers stem from a strong familiarity with mysticism, an obsession with mythology, or shamanic traditions. Most of those who transform were already intimately familiar with what we call a localized Jungian archetype, the local interpretation of a myth like the werewolf or the jaguar warrior. Hmmm.”

He drank a bit of coffee. He was carefully handling the flow of the conversation in a way that made Nestra suspicious.

Maybe he was just good at conducting interviews. Was she growing paranoid again? She resisted the urge to fidget. She could always jump back through the wall but light users were stupidly fast...

“So I was wondering if you had any ideas about what a demon is, according to any mythology? It is present in Japanese Shinto faith as Oni, or Chinese tradition as Mo. There is also the Christian faith, naturally...”

He waited for her reaction.

Honestly, Nestra was stumped. Her parents had been so uncomfortable about faith growing up that their awkward ‘well of course you can believe whatever you want sweetie’ just led to a general sense of disinterest. That wasn’t what the two assholes wanted to hear, though. If she were really a human gleam, then she absolutely had to be familiar with demons to take the guise of one.

Nestra picked one of her favorite childhood cartoons, a twenty-years old story about angels coming to help a post-incursion mankind by binding with random children. In retrospect it had been a sort of coping story for kids who felt powerless in a hostile world.

“Hmm. Cartoons actually. I really liked Neressa from ‘Light as a Feather’.”

She’d been an ambiguous devil character who frequently helped the good side. She also used a sword and didn’t take shit from anybody. Definitely a good role model for Nestra.

“I see. A cartoon character. I see, I see.”

They didn’t look like they were buying it.

“Do the urges you feel while transformed also impact your human form?”

Another loaded question. One that implied urges to begin with.

“No strong urge while transformed. Better battle instincts though.”

“Do you ever feel a compulsion to, shall we say, transgress? Demons are often seen as creatures that oppose the laws of heaven, the status quo and fatherly authority. They are rebels, at least in the Christian tradition.”

Nestra shrugged. Those guys were just weird. What sort of question was that? Were they not interested in her powers or some such? It felt like being interrogated by an expert who was trying to build a case against her mental health.

“Not really, no. It’s about freedom and hunting monsters.”

“No urge to commit crimes for example?”

Nestra shook her head.

“Yet you were registered for the first time as C-class. Unless you were C-class to begin with, that means you were illegally raiding for an extended period of time, right?”

“That was a conscious decision to get the best anonymity protection as a masked gleam,” Nestra deadpanned. “And I was punished for it.”

“You made a conscious decision to break the law?”

“Yes. To avoid situations such as this one, but you would also know about my civilian identity,” Nestra finished.

“I see, I see.”

Nichols was furiously writing something on a freshly pulled datasheet. Nestra had a bad feeling about this.

“Tell me, how do you interpret the notion of sin?”

“I won’t answer theological questionssss,” Nestra said, losing patience.

“Please, it is important for our research. Indulge us?”

Nestra considered her options.

Fuck it, they weren’t going to advance the cause of science with her anyway.

“No.”

“Perhaps we should return to it later... or not at all! Our purpose is not to make you uncomfortable,” Daniels continued with his trademarked winning smile. “Would you mind talking about your monster hunting experience?”

It was a raider’s favorite topic, at least before the first big losses. Nestra wasn’t having it though.

“I don’t think your line of questioning aligns with any research I’d like to be a part of. I am leaving.”

“No please, we could also just listen to your experience. It’s valuable data.”

“No thanks.”

“Alright, one last thing before you leave. Your superior gave us authorization to get a few samples...”

Nichols grabbed a black bag from next to his seat, revealing syringes.

Hell no.

“No one can give that authorization but me. No.”

“Please, this is important.”

Nestra was done. She stood up, and so did Daniels. His mana flared.

His jaw locked in a sign of anger she’d seen before, as a cop. She turned to the side, offering her left flank. Void mana pooled in her hand.

Their eyes met.

Daniels relaxed so fast it was uncanny. He gave her one last smile.

“Regrettable, but I understand. Thank you for your help so far. Goodbye, Miss Crescent.”

Nestra left the room without turning her back. What the fuck had Ragnarok unleashed upon her. A ten minute dive in depths of the internet brought her an answer, and she sent Ragnarok a furious reply.

“You set me up with fundamentalists! Daniels works for a lobby that seeks to regulate transformation gleams. He wants to create ghettos!”

The answer was instant.

“Yes? I assumed you followed transformation-related news? What I said about him being influential was correct. I assumed you knew and that was why you were reluctant to talk to him.”

Fuck, it was Nestra’s problem for not working on her cover more a bit more.

“I don’t follow international news,” she sent back.

“That is not my problem. Your passport has been delivered to your house. You’re flying tomorrow. Good luck.”

So it was happening, and quickly too. She chased Daniels from her mind for now. He couldn’t do anything to her that she couldn’t agree to.

She was going to become a gleam.

If everything went well.