The Stolen Child

“Yes, quiet please. They are after me.”


I looked from tree to tree, anticipating a rush of changelings.

“Who is after you?”

“Versteckspiel,” he hissed, and hearing him, a young girl burst from the green background to chase and tag him on the shoulder. When the other children emerged from their hideaways, I realized they were playing a simple game of hide-and-seek. But as I looked from boy to girl, from face to face, I could not help but remember how easily they could alter their appearance. Tess thought them cute and wanted to linger awhile, but I hurried her onward. At the river, I hopped from stone to stone, fording the water as quickly as I could. Tess was taking her time, frustrated and annoyed that I had not waited for her.

“Henry, Henry, what are you running from?”

“Hurry, Tess. They’re after us.”

She labored to jump to the next rock. “Who?”

“Them,” I said, and went back to pull her from the other side.



After our honeymoon trip, life rapidly grew too complicated to continue my research on the Ungerlands or to find another pipe organ. We had one last busy semester of school, and as graduation drew near, our conversations turned to new possibilities. Tess lay in the bathtub, tendrils of steam curling up from the hot water. I leaned on the edge of the hamper, ostensibly reading a draft of a new score, but actually for the sheer pleasure of watching her soak.

“Henry, I’ve good news. The job with the county looks like it will come through.”

“That’s great,” I said, and turned the page and hummed a few bars. “What is it, exactly, that you’ll be doing?”

“Casework at first. People come in with their troubles, I take them down, and then we make all the right referrals.”

“Well. I have an interview at that new middle school.” I put down the composition and stared at her half-submerged naked form. “They’re looking for a band director and music teacher for seventh and eighth grades. It’s a pretty good gig and will leave me time to compose.”

“Things are working out for us, baby.”

She was right, and that was the moment I decided. My life was coming together. Against all odds and despite the interruption caused by my father’s death, I would finish school, and a new career was about to start. A beautiful young woman lounged in my bathtub.

“What are you smiling about, Henry?”

I started unbuttoning my shirt. “Move over, Tess, I’ve got something to whisper in your ear.”





? CHAPTER 28 ?

The most merciless thing in the world is love. When love flees, all that remains is memory to compensate. Our friends were either going or gone, their ghosts the best our poor minds could conjure to fill love’s absence. I am haunted to this day by all those who are missing. Losing Kivi, Blomma, Ragno, and Zanzara proved heartbreaking for Speck, too. She went about her tasks grim and determined, as if by staying busy she could keep phantoms at bay.

After the disaster in the mine, we deposed Béka with his consent, and the diminished clan elected Smaolach our new leader. We lived above ground for the first time in years, bound to one small clearing in the forest by Chavisory’s immobility. The impulse to go back home ate at us all. Five years had passed since we had left our camp, and we thought it might be safe to return. The last time anyone had seen our former home, the grounds had been denuded, but surely new growth had begun—where black ash had been, saplings should be inching up amid the wildflowers and fresh grass. Just as nature reclaims its ruins, the people, too, would have forgotten about that boy lost in the river and the two faeries found in the market. They’d want life to remain as they thought it had been.

With it safe to travel again, Luchóg, Smaolach, and I set out, leaving the other three behind at our makeshift camp to watch over Chavisory. Although the wind blew cold that day, our spirits quickened at the prospect of seeing our old haunts again. We raced like deer along the trails, laughing as one passed the other. The old camp shimmered in our imaginations as a promise of bright redemption.

Climbing the western ridge, I heard distant laughter. We slowed our pace, and as we reached the lip, the sounds below piqued our curiosity. The valley came into view through the broken veil of tree limbs and branches. Rows of houses and open lawns snaked and curled along ribbons of neat roadways. On the exact spot where our camp had been, five new houses faced an open circle. Another six sat on either side of a wide road cut through the trees. Branching off from that trail, more streets and houses flowed down the sloping hill to the main road into town.

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