Changeling Page 7

  Now that I was actually on one, I hated it. The noise was boneshaking. I felt like I was smooshed up in the middle of a crowd, but I couldn’t actually see anyone or anything but ads (STORMS BY HOWLAA: THUNDERBOOMERS OUR SPECIALTY) suspended in the air above me. The Betweenways aren’t dark, exactly. It’s more like they’re always on their way somewhere else, so they’re not really there.

  Plus, I didn’t have the first idea where I was trying to go. The fairy changeling wiggled and kicked and screeched.

  “Ow!” I yelled as her sandal hit a bruise on my leg.

  “Do you want to be the Ghost of the Betweenways? Shut up and let me think!”

  She elbowed me in the stomach.

  I wanted to let her go. In fact, if she hadn’t just basically rescued me from Carlyle and his bogey friends, I would have. But only oldest sons and wicked stepsisters abandon Folk who help them out of tight spots.

  Following the Pooka’s rules for subduing hysterical supernaturals, I wrapped my arms more tightly around her. She jerked a few times and screeched almost louder than the Betweenways. But she stopped struggling just enough for me to be able to consider the options.

  Where I wanted to go, of course, was home. I wanted Central Park so badly that the station sign blinked past us over and over like a fairy flying in tight circles. But Central Park wasn’t home anymore, was it? Hadn’t the Green Lady said its paths were closed to me? And wouldn’t the Wild Hunt be all over me as soon as I set foot there?

  Not in the daylight, it wouldn’t. The Hunt only rode at night.

  I guess the Betweenways took that as a decision, because the next thing I knew, it spat us out onto a platform. In front of us was a sign that said CENTRAL PARK and an arch that framed a familiar scene of trees and bushes. I was home.

  I released the fairy changeling and stepped out into the Park. Morning light slanted along a path winding through a grove of linden trees. I knew those trees. Central Park Central lay beyond them, and the Turtle Pond and Belvedere Castle. And Satchel and my safe, curtained bed. And Astris.

  I swiped at my eyes and blew my nose on the hem of my spidersilk dress. There was no point in crying now. Soon I would be in the kitchen at Belvedere Castle, dumping all my problems into Astris’s white, furry lap.

  But not right away. My biggest problem had collapsed under the arch in a full-scale fairy fit.

  You can’t talk a supernatural out of a fairy fit, or comfort it, or tease it. All you can do is wait it out. I looked up to check the sun. Midmorning. Plenty of time before I needed to worry about the Hunt.

  I sat down on a rock in the sun and wondered what Satchel would give me for dinner and whether Astris might have baked some cookies and what kind of adventure this was going to be. Maybe the Pooka would trick the Green Lady into lifting her ban. Maybe the Pooka and Astris and I would all go on a quest together. Maybe Astris would find a prince for me to marry.

  I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  While I was wondering, the fairy changeling continued to melt down. I’d seen plenty of fairy fits, but this one was harder to watch than most. I think it was because her face was all red and squinched out of shape, and her nose was running. If that was how I looked when I cried, it was no wonder the Folk laughed themselves into fits. Their idea of crying (when they do cry) is to allow two perfect crystal drops to fall from their eyes.

  I sat and watched her until the sun left my stone, and then I got up and paced.

  I started to worry about how long the fairy changeling could keep this up. Maybe I could just leave her and come back later. Would that make it my fault if she got into trouble? What if she was rude to something dangerous and got eaten? What if she forgot and told our true name to somebody like Peg Powler? I wasn’t certain whether knowing our name would give Peg power over the fairy changeling, but I was sure it would give her power over me.

  Figuring out how to Folk-proof somebody who didn’t believe in magic occupied me long enough for the changeling to calm down a little. By the time I’d worked out a plan, she’d collected a bunch of pebbles and twigs from the path around her and was sorting them into piles. In the sunlight, the embroidery on her jacket glowed bright as a flower garden. Her face had smoothed, and she was humming: three notes up and three notes down, over and over again, kind of like the compressor-beast in the broom closet.

  “I’m going to tell you a story,” I said. “It’s about your dream. It has all kinds of made-up things in it, like fairies and bogeymen and magic animals. Those things don’t exist when you’re awake, but they’re real in your dream. The rule is: If it talks, then it’s real, and you have to be polite to it.”

  The fairy changeling began to arrange her pebbles and twigs in a pattern of neat, interlocking rows. She didn’t look up from her task, but she did stop humming. I decided this meant she was listening.

  “Once upon a time,” I said, “a girl dreamed she was kidnapped by a tengu and brought to a place called New York Between. In the dream, she met another girl, called Neef. Together, they escaped from a bunch of scary bogeymen and rode the Betweenways to Central Park Central. Are you with me so far?”

  The fairy changeling added a pebble to the pattern. I checked the sun. The morning was passing.

  I took a deep breath to steady myself. “In this dream, if somebody knows your name, they can use it to hurt you. So Neef gave the girl a special made-up name. She called her”—I hesitated—“Changeling.”

  I held my breath, waiting for my fairy twin to object, but she only poked a twig more perfectly straight.

  I went on. “When Neef and Changeling got to Central Park Central, they went to see Neef’s fairy godmother, who was called Astris. She was kind and beautiful, with eyes like rubies and a coat of soft, white fur.”

  Changeling wrapped her arms across her chest and clutched her elbows. “People with fur coats are bad,” she said. “It is wrong to kill an animal just so you can wear its skin.”

  “Do mortals do that? Just like ogres. Ick. No, it’s nothing like that. Astris is an animal, see, a white rat. She talks. Remember what I said about things that talk?”

  “You said they were real,” Changeling said dubiously. “But . . .”

  “No buts,” I said. “They are real.”

  Changeling fingered the embroidery on her sleeve. “I am not a big fan of rats,” she said. “Rats are dirty. They carry diseases.”

  Suddenly I was so mad I could hardly see. “Not here, they don’t. And where do you get off, calling anybody dirty?”

  Changeling pulled the flowery collar of her jacket up around her ears and started humming again. A breath ago, I’d wanted to kick her. Now I wanted to kick myself. Folk only understand their own rules. Unless they’re tricksters, they don’t mean to drive you crazy. They just can’t help it. Yelling at them makes it worse. I knew that. It would have been easier to be patient with her if she didn’t look so much like me.

  “I’m sorry, Changeling,” I said formally. “I keep forgetting you don’t know the rules here. There are lots of them, and I think I know them all. I know the Words of Protection and the Seven Signs of a Shapechanger. I know where Monkey keeps his heart and Lion keeps his courage. So you don’t have to worry. Stick with me, and you’ll be okay.”

  Changeling stopped humming and lifted her head. “You promise?”

  I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t. Words are power in New York Between. A promise is a Promise, and breaking it is even worse than breaking a geas because you’ve taken it on of your own free will. If I promised Changeling I’d keep her safe, I’d have to do it, even if I could hardly stand to look at her.

  The sun was moving up the sky. We needed to get a move on. “All right,” I said. “I promise. Can we go now?”

  Changeling got up. “Which way do we go?”

  That’s when I found out what the Lady had meant about the paths of the Park being closed to me.

  I’d grown up in Central Park. I’d walked on its grass and played hide-and-see
k in its groves and ridden all over it on the Pooka’s back. Belvedere Castle was my home, and I could almost see it from where we were standing. But I couldn’t get there.

  It was like one of those dreams where I’m in the Museum and I’m looking for Early Roman Art and I keep ending up in Eighteenth-Century Furniture instead. I’d take three steps toward Central Park Central and find myself heading uptown or crossing the bridge to the Lake or veering off toward the Museum, which at least was in the right direction, if the next step hadn’t taken us to the ravine where I’d found the kazna peri.

  I stamped my foot and carefully did not swear. I was in enough trouble without swearing.

  Changeling was starting to look frayed around the edges. “Where is the talking rat?” she demanded. “Are you lost?”

  “No,” I said through my teeth. “I know just exactly where I am. It’s getting where I want to be that’s the problem.”

  Picking a path and closing my eyes didn’t work. Concentrating on Astris didn’t work. I was very close to melting down myself. Then I took another step, and—we found ourselves standing at the edge of Central Park Central, looking across the meadow at Belvedere Castle.

  Our shadows streamed out to the left. I looked west. The sun was perched on the pointed tower of a tall building like a giant yellow pompom. We’d been wandering around the Park all afternoon.

  “Why are you going around in circles?” Changeling asked. “Is this some kind of a game?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s a game. Unfortunately, nobody told me the rules.”

  It was then that my brain, which I’d thought was completely out of ideas, came up with another one. “There’s one move I haven’t tried yet,” I said slowly. “The only thing is, we’ll have to hold hands.”

  She thrust hers deep into her pockets. “I told you. I do not like to be touched.”

  “To win this game, you have to lead me to that castle over there. How can you do that if you don’t touch me?”

  Changeling scowled thoughtfully, then grabbed a handful of my spidersilk skirt. “I will lead you like this,” she said.

  “That’ll work,” I said. “Okay, I’m going to close my eyes and you’re going to take me to the castle. Straight there, okay? Don’t step either to the right or to the left. And don’t stop until we get to the door.”

  “You can trust me,” she said proudly. “I am very good at staying on task.”

  “Fine. I’ve got my eyes closed now. Onward and upward.”

  Changeling took off at a trot. Following her would have been easier if I could see my feet, but I didn’t dare peek. Central Park Central seemed to have grown very big, and somebody had been planting sharp rocks in it. By the time we got to the Castle stairs, my toes were throbbing. I stumbled upwards, wincing at every step. When we got to the courtyard, the sun-warmed pavement was like fire under my feet.

  “I believe we have arrived,” Changeling said, and stopped.

  I pried my eyes open. The Castle door was about an inch from my nose. Light-headed with relief, I shouted for Astris, who popped out the door as if she’d been waiting for me.

  “Neef!” she said, her whiskers twitching nervously. “What a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “Changeling brought me,” I said. “She’s—”

  “I know what she is. You realize, of course, that as soon as the sun’s below the horizon, the Wild Hunt’s going to come for you. My guess is they’ll be even happier hunting two changelings than one.”

  “I know,” I said miserably. “What are you going to do?”

  “You,” Astris said, “are going to get out of the Park.”

  I stared at her. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

  “And have the Lady’s ban fall on me, too? What good would that do? I’m Park Folk, Neef. I don’t have power anywhere else.”

  “I’m Park Folk, too!”

  “No, you’re not; you’re a mortal. Mortals are supposed to leave home and seek their fortunes. You’re just a little ahead of schedule, that’s all.”

  “But I don’t want to leave home. I’m not ready to seek my fortune. Where am I supposed to start?”

  “The Metropolitan Museum, of course.”

  I thought about this. I’d been a Museum member as long as I could remember, and had a lot of friends among the docents and exhibits. The Museum wasn’t home, but it was close.

  “That makes sense,” I said. “Only, how am I supposed to get there? I can’t take a step now without getting totally lost.”

  “That’s why I summoned the Pooka,” Astris said.

  I heard a busy clicking behind me, and a big black dog dashed up, yellow eyes flaming and feathery tail whipping the air. I threw my arms around his furry black neck, but had to let go when he shifted into his pony shape.

  “Up with you, then,” the Pooka said. “The sun’s sinking fast.”

  I climbed up on his back. Changeling was backed up against the Castle wall, as far from the Pooka as she could get. She’d retreated into her jacket again. I couldn’t hear, but I guessed she was humming, three notes up and three notes down.

  “Changeling?” I called. “We have to go.”

  “Leave the creature be,” the Pooka said. “What’s the harm in it if the Hunt eats her?”

  “She comes, too,” I said.

  “I ask again, what’s the harm? For all she’s your living spit, she’s no kith nor kin of yours. She’s neither full fay nor mortal child, and not a particle of use to man nor beast.”

  There wasn’t time to argue. I leaned down, grabbed Changeling’s shoulder, and tried to haul her up onto the Pooka’s back. Bad idea. As soon as I touched her, she hit me. I would have had to leave her if she hadn’t suddenly shot up into the air and landed square on the Pooka’s hindquarters. I looked down to see Astris brushing sparkling dust from her front paws.

  “I knew I’d been saving that fairy dust for something.” She held a familiar brown leather bag up to me. “Here’s Satchel. Don’t let it out of your hands again. Obey the rules and keep your mortal wits about you. Be careful. Find your fortune. And remember that I’ll be waiting for you to come back and tell me all about it.”

  I hardly had time to sling Satchel across my back before the Pooka spun around on his hind legs and sprang over the wall and down off Castle Rock. Changeling clamped her arms around my waist. I whooped with excitement. Now that I was on my fairy godfather’s back, running from the Wild Hunt seemed less like a nightmare and more like an adventure.

  We landed on the far shore of the Turtle Pond with a thump that knocked the breath out of me. To the west, the sky flamed red and gold. Over the clop of the Pooka’s hooves, I thought I heard a distant howling.

  The Hunt was awake.

  CHAPTER 10

  HE WHO HESITATES IS LOST; LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP.

  Neef’s Rules for Changelings

  The Pooka raced across Central Park Central like a wind-blown cloud. In three strides, we were past the Obelisk and almost to the Museum. I felt a small, perverse pang of disappointment. Our escape was too easy.

  Then the Pooka swerved north and galloped up the path that led to the Reservoir.

  Startled, I grabbed the Pooka’s mane and yanked for all I was worth. I expected a quick and undignified trip to the ground, but he only tossed his head and ran faster.

  The light faded as the Pooka ran. Branches caught in my hair and plucked at my skirt. I clung to the Pooka’s back, and Changeling clung to me, doing her banshee impersonation in my ear. I tried to tell her that she couldn’t fall off unless the Pooka dumped her, but I don’t think she heard me.

  Halfway around Harlem Meer, I lay forward on the Pooka’s neck—not an easy move, with Changeling stuck to my back like a baby monkey—and yelled, “Hey Pooka, what do you think you’re doing?”

  His ear twitched irritably. “Riding you through the Park, of course.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m the Pooka,” he said unhelpfully. “When a mortal
gets on my back, I take her on a wild ride. That’s what a Pooka does. I have no choice in the matter.”

  I wanted to kick him, but I didn’t. “You do too have a choice. You’re my fairy godfather. What about your oath to protect and aid me?”

  “I’m not at all easy in my mind about it,” the Pooka admitted.

  “Oh, that makes it all right, then.”

  “It’s a fierce dilemma,” the Pooka said, sounding hurt. “There’s the Lady’s geas and my oath to you; there’s my heart that bids me help you and my nature that bids me gallop the stranger on my back until sunrise. Throw the fairy changeling to the Hunt, and I’ll take you to safety before a faun can scratch his ear.”

  I thought about it—not very hard, and not very long. But I did think about it. “I can’t,” I said. “I promised Changeling I wouldn’t let anything hurt her.”

  The Pooka tossed his head and slowed to a rough trot. “Do you say so?”

  “I do,” I said. “I owe her a life debt. She helped me escape from a tengu and three hundred bogeymen, plus Eloise and a bunch of screaming kids.”

  “She outwitted the Genius of the Plaza Hotel?” The Pooka was impressed.

  “Kind of. Plus, she shares my true name, Pooka. If you save me, you have to save her, too.”

  A low-hanging branch raked across my back like grasping claws. Changeling, who had settled into a steady moaning, shrieked with terror.

  “Idiot,” the Pooka said.

  “Thanks a lot,” I said bitterly.

  “Not you,” he said. “Me. Hang on tight.”

  He veered suddenly. I heard a snap that sounded horribly like sharp teeth missing my head. A deep voice bayed behind us in the undergrowth: “They’re getting away!”

  The Wild Hunt had found us.

  The Pooka crashed through a stand of trees and barreled down the East Meadow, the Hunt surging up at his heels. A dead-meat smell choked my nose; wings and claws and snapping mouths haunted the edges of my vision.