The Strangers of Precedent

Syren stormed into the library.

“Ah,” Thoth said, “Here for a lesson?”

Syren appreciated the lessons Thoth had been giving her, but that wasn’t relevant at the moment.

“We have a Changeling,” she revealed.

“Correct,” Thoth answered, not bothering to look up.

“Not me, a different one. I spotted him, and he spotted me, and that’s not good.”

Thoth closed his copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

“How could you tell he was a changeling?”

“I just know,” Syren explained, “This could be a problem.”

“It could,” Thoth admitted, “But I’m not interested in removing someone from town or school on account of race. It feels a bit hypocritical in a Haven Town.”

“But what if he outs me?”

“Outs you?” Thoth asked, “Why would he do that when you could very easily do the same with him?”

“Because I’m adopted by a wealthy family, and the world is much better primed to the concept of otherworldly beings.”

“Are you of another world? I’ve been under the assumption you’ve been on Earth your whole life.”

“Urgh!”

Thoth was infuriating, and Syren still wasn’t sure how to counteract it, especially when he was clearly smiling at her suffering.

“Strike up a conversation,” Thoth said, “Let him know you don’t want information of your Changeling status to spread.”

Syren nodded.

“What if he doesn’t listen?”

“Then we ask Charmer’s help. She’s best suited to multiple solutions.”

“Multiple solutions?” Syren asked.

“Find him, talk to him.” Thoth made a shooing motion that was hard to ignore.

Syren had suffered a series of near misses on talking to the Changeling. He was on time to his classes, and walked surprisingly fast. If Syren didn’t know any better, she’d think he was avoiding her, and she wasn’t sure she knew better.

She sat on a bench, writing her efforts down in her journal, while she waited for him to leave class.

Her writing looked more like a list of places around Campus than an actual recounting of events, but she doubted future Eves would read her journal for that time she failed to chase a fellow Changeling down. She added details on how she missed him to each location just in case.

“Have you been following me?” he asked as she wrote down his most recent disappearance.

The other Changeling was smaller than her, even a little bit shorter. He looked Asian in appearance, Korean by Syren’s guess. He wore a loose fitting sweater and pushed up his glasses as he clearly noticed her staring.

“Yes,” Syren admitted, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“First time you’ve seen another Changeling in the wild, eh?” he sounded Canadian in the way he used his syllables, though his cadence sounded more American.

“Not yours?” Syren asked.

He sat down next to her.

“Not in the slightest. We’re everywhere if you keep moving around. I’m surprised you haven’t. Puberty hasn’t freaked out your parents yet?”

“Did your parents kick you out?” Syren asked, suddenly worried for him.

“I moved out before they could find out what I was, late bloomer in our regard.”

Syren was envious. She still had to concentrate to make sure no part of her stained the bench before she got up.

“Early,” Syren admitted, “Not that my parents know. I think it got jumpstarted by a different incident.”

The Changeling nodded, extending a hand.

“I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Syren.”

He stared at her nails.

“Where’s your color?” he asked.

“My what?” Syren asked.

Peter displayed his fingernails, a fluorescent pink.

“There are always signs, little things that are hard to change. Mine’s in my nails.”

“You’re pink?” Syren asked. She’d assumed her black ichor was universal.

“And what are you?”

“Black,” she admitted.

“Hah, double meaning,” Peter said.

Syren rolled her eyes.

“Sorry,” Peter said.

“Don’t tell people I’m a changeling,” Syren requested, finally coming to her preferred subject, “I don’t think you will, but I just wanted to make it clear.”

“Of course not. My parents never found out I was a changeling, but I know what it’s like for secrets to be revealed, and I moved many miles away because of it.”

“What got revealed?” Syren asked, immediately realizing she shouldn’t have asked, “Not that you actually have to tell me. That was just curiosity talking, you know?”

Peter looked her up and down.

“I’m gay.”

“Oh,” that didn’t seem too major to Syren.

“It’s hard enough being Asian, you know, when everyone expects you to be a model minority, but being gay almost seems worse when you’re already something else, and now people have two bags of hatred to pull from.”

“You’ve hit puberty, can’t you change to something less hated?”

Peter tilted his head.

“I could, but then I wouldn’t be me, eh? Peter’s a gay Korean man, and even if I can look different, it wouldn’t feel right to be anything else. Maybe wealth makes your life easier—I’ve seen your mansion—but I doubt you’d want to look like anyone else.”

“But I already do,” Syren said. She even had her name too. There was no escape from Syren I.

“Right, imprinting. I’ve aged past my doppelganger. I take it you haven’t.”

Syren shook her head.

“My aunt. I’ve never met her, but everyone else has, and they all have their own issues with the fact I have her face.”

“I’ve never met her,” Peter said.

“Well, neither has Bobbi or Drake. Singe hasn’t either, but he doesn’t even know Australia exists apparently.”

“Singe?”

“A friend,” Syren explained, “He’s living with his uncle in town for the time being.”

“Maybe I should meet your friends,” Peter said.

“Maybe I’ll introduce you.”

“I’d at least like to be your friend,” Peter said, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone I could be honest with.”

“I’d like that,” Syren said.

“Until we meet again.”

Peter removed himself from the bench, offering a two-fingered salute as he walked off to his next class.

Syren felt herself dissolve into the bed, with only her mind keeping her together. At first it was a terrifying prospect, but now there was something nice about not having a normal body for a moment, especially when she knew she could reform herself fairly easily at this point.

“I get it,” she heard Bobbi say, “You’re worried about her. I would be too, but there’s not much we can do to keep her safe.”

“There’s plenty,” Drake said, “Especially since you’ve become more comfortable with your power.”

“Am I finally going to get some privacy?”

“You’ve been avoiding me well enough,” Drake said.

“Sorry, I just…” Bobbi said after a minute of silence, “Syren seems to have it figured out, like she can handle herself, and you getting paranoid about her having a new friend is like an overprotective big brother. You aren’t even related to her.”

Syren reformed from the bed with surprising ease, stealthily and carefully moving to where she could see the two discussing her.

“He’s a Changeling!” Drake spat.

“Isn’t Syren one too?” Bobbi asked.

“Changelings replace people, steal their place, and once they’re done using the love of that person’s family, they run, because the facade only works for so many years.”

“So Syren’s special because her parents are in the know?” Bobbi asked, “Because the original Syren is already too far gone to actually have her life stolen? How do you know that isn’t the case with this person?”

“Why do you need to defend someone you barely know?”

“Because you barely know him and you’re assuming he’s a bad influence. If I had let your initial vibes lead to assumptions, we wouldn’t even be debating this right now.”

“Why not?” Drake asked.

“Because I wouldn’t be talking to you, Vlad. Syren can make choices. It’s allowed. She’s an adult now, believe it or not. Maybe don’t let children’s bedtime stories create disapproval.”

“What makes you so sure that’s all they are?”

“Because Vampires are supposed to be monsters,” Bobbi counted on her fingers, “Demons are supposed to make you a worse person, and Dragons are supposed to kidnap people. The benefit of the doubt is the least I can offer.”

Drake looked mad. What was he going to do?

Apparently he was going to take a deep breath and let some of that anger go.

“Then I shall do the least as well, but if Syren ever disappears, I know which suspect I’m going to first.”

“See?” Bobbi asked, “Not so hard. Good work.”

Syren never realized Drake cared that much about her. She was grateful for Bobbi though. Drake clearly cared enough about her opinion to reign in his own.

Syren plucked a rose from the bushes outside her house, watched for any onlookers, and absorbed it into her palm. She’d been practicing the trick for awhile. Hopefully, the rose would permeate her and ward away vampires, or at least depower any who might attack her, like drinking rose tea could.

She knew the brotherhood seemed to ward away from people they deemed “impure”, but they would throw away their rules at the drop of a hat if they were hungry enough, and hungry enough never seemed like a hard point to reach for them.

It was daylight though, and she was meeting Peter to talk about the other Changelings he’d met. It was the closest she could get to a cultural history. She didn’t even know why Changelings went to other worlds instead of staying on their own.

Peter was at the Branded Flyer, a local café with a cowboy theme. He already had a drink to awkwardly sit with, so Syren dropped off her journal at his table before making an order.

“What’s the journal for?” Peter asked as she sat down with her drink.

“Eves family tradition. We record our lives, or interesting things we find out. My dad has lots of research on Changelings in our library, and my brother occasionally sends back journals from his travels.”

“You have a brother?” Peter asked, “Is he cute?”

Syren shrugged.

“He’s my brother. How would I know?”

“Fair point. Do you have a photo?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t carry around a photo of my family everywhere I go. I know what they look like.”

“Fair enough,” Peter ceded, “What do you know of Changelings?”

“I know I’m one. I know ‘puberty’ turns us into slime-monsters, but also helps us tap into our full potential as shapeshifters. I’ve heard some can turn invisible, but I’m not sure that’s true.”

“It is,” Peter confirmed, “You know how cephalopods can change color? Some of us can make it so we don’t absorb or reflect any color. It’s hard to do though. I think I’ve only seen three who could manage it, and they were all related.”

“Wait, you found a family of Changelings?” Syren asked. Everything she’d heard about Changelings said they stayed in solitude among large groups of some other race. The concept of a family seemed anathema.

“Down in France, they each travel a lot, but yeah, they’re family, and they all know each other. Apparently they’re two generations without imprinting strong. They’ve just been shapeshifting since they were young.”

Syren didn’t realize Changelings didn’t have to imprint.

“Can they imprint now?”

Peter shrugged.

“I’m still not sure how imprinting works, honestly.”

At least Syren wasn’t alone in ignorance on that front.

They continued talking about Changelings, Syren able to impress Peter by her ability to absorb items compared to him. She wondered if it had anything to do with her being fatter and having more room to store things in.

Eventually of course, they had to leave and enjoy their lives. Syren looked around for if Drake was watching her, and waved when she saw a pale face in the trees.

Peter walked her back to the mansion.

“So that Bobbi girl you’re always hanging out with…” Peter began.

“I thought you were gay.”

“I’m asking for you,” he explained.

“What?” Syren asked.

“I mean if I read things wrong and you don’t like her, I’m sorry, but you seem to like being around her a lot.”

Syren hadn’t thought of Bobbi romantically. The idea itself felt wrong. She just thought Bobbi was very pretty and liked her company.

“I don’t think so,” Syren said, “I don’t really like anybody.”

“Okay.” Peter shrugged, then someone grabbed him.

The pale face in the trees hadn’t been Drake.

“You guys know he’s not white, right?” Syren asked.

Peter watched her incredulously.

The Vampire didn’t react to her comment as another one grabbed her.

Instinct and terror made her lose her form, transformed into a pile of black goo.

“Syren!” Peter yelled. Without eyes it was hard for Syren to tell what was happening.

She reformed, trying to punch one of the Vampires in the face, only to get her wrist grabbed.

“We didn’t think you’d be this weak.”

“You planned this?” Syren asked.

“Run!” Peter yelled.

Syren shrunk her wrist and tried to grab Peter so she could pull him away, but she couldn’t get any grip.

Syren screamed.

Then she stopped seeing anything.

Syren awakened to see Peter in bad shape, bleeding from his wrists.

“What did you do to him?” she asked.

The same vampire she’d seen before looked back at her, less pale than before.

“We’ve been enlightened on the use of alternate food sources after seeing the Dragon walk through walls.”

“I thought you were all about purity.” she gave a strong judgmental look.

The vampire left his comrade by Peter and lifted Syren’s chin.

“You’re just choosing to look this way, to trick those with wealth into taking care of you.”

“I’m tricking nobody,” Syren said.

He pushed a nail up so her chin bled.

“You’re tricking everyone who’s ever spoken to you.”

“Well at least it’s not kidnapping and murder,” she said.

That made him let go of her.

“Your friends have been harming us without remorse,” the one who stayed by Peter said, “But they’ll be sorry soon enough.”

“What does Changeling blood do to you?”

“The sun weakens us, makes it hard to see, but now we can walk freely. We just need to keep the both of you alive. At least until another of your kind appears. They recommended at least two.”

“Who recommended?” Syren asked. Someone was telling them about the effects. Drake only knew of the effects on himself, so who was feeding them the information?

“What price are you paying to know this?” she added.

The vampire merely cocked its head at her.

“Bandage his wrists,” he said, “We can’t let him bleed to death.”

Syren tried to call Charmer somehow, but Syren hadn’t been told her name to invoke it properly. Apparently it took some practice to get it right.

Please, please, please.

Maybe Drake had been watching them, and sounded the alarm.

The one who’d made her bleed licked the finger he’d used for it, pupils shrinking.

To let in less light.

“I think hers is more effective,” he said.

“You’ve barely had a drop of it.”

The other one scraped at her chin to try some as well.

“Incredibly effective,” he nodded as his pupils similarly shrank.

“How do you know?” Syren asked, catching onto opportunity, “You’re hanging out in an old cabin without natural light.”

They focused on each other, but she knew they heard her. If they wanted power, they’d probably be glad to test it. She just had to string them along.

“Drake’s gone outside in the sun before. Maybe you’ll catch him with advantage on your side.”

One of them opened blinds so Syren could see it was pitch dark outside. They’d turned the lights on for her benefit.

“Perhaps.”

They bent down enough to be eye to eye with her.

“But for now, sleep.”

Syren closed her eyes, pretending to obey.

The rose absorption strategy worked.

She listened to their footsteps, trying to guess when they weren’t looking at her anymore. She couldn’t ask how many of them there were for risk of blowing the fact their abilities hadn’t worked on her, when they had no reason not to.

Though maybe if she convinced them Changeling blood worked like roses and they’d been tricked, they’d let the two of them free.

No, they would just kill them, and it wouldn’t be fun.

They had to run.

She focused her attention on absorbing the rope around her wrists into her body, eventually feeling her arms capable of motion again.

She dared to open her eyes slightly to see the situation Peter was in. He wasn’t in any restraints, just severely bleeding.

“Please wake up,” she muttered.

She quietly removed herself from her chair, taking Peter’s forearms, behind where his wrists had been bled, and ran.

“Hey!” Their kidnappers yelled.

Peter was still barely conscious, but he was putting one foot in front of the other as Syren ran.

She ran until she couldn’t hear people following them any more, hoping to find road or some densely packed area, before something could find them for dinner.

Please, she sent to anyone who may be listening, Sarah, Charmer, Someone. I don’t know where we are, and Peter’s bleeding, and the brotherhood doesn’t care what we look like and—

And nothing. If they didn’t get out of here, they were done for. How did they recognize them as Changelings? Drake hadn’t known the scent when Syren had first met him, and these guys didn’t even recognize Demon from Charmer’s accounts.

She found some road, taking a moment to breathe.

“Holy Shit!” a familiar voice yelled.

“Bobbi?” Syren asked under her breath. Maybe one of the Vampires had used Peter’s blood to shapeshift. She had no way of knowing.

The woman coming toward them certainly had Bobbi’s pink hair and short height, but those were easy to imitate.

“Show me your secret!” Syren ordered. She needed proof before she trusted her, or the suspicious pale figure behind her. Even if he dressed like Drake, there was no telling.

“Fuck no!” Bobbi answered, “I’m not even sure they’ll be visible in this light. Also you have a stranger with you. I’m not showing a stranger.”

It was certainly convincing.

“Syren,” Drake said behind probably-Bobbi, “Is the Demon back?”

“What was the demon called?” Syren asked.

“Shifter or Ripper?” Drake asked.

Syren slumped. The other vampires wouldn’t have known there were two, and she was exhausted.

“We need to get Peter to a doctor or something.”

“Why?” Drake asked.

“Cause’ he’s bleeding, asshole!” Bobbi said, “You carry him while Syren and I figure out a ride.”

Drake lifted Peter up, insuring his arms were lifted.

“Hey, sailor,” Peter finally said, slightly woozy.

“How did you find me?” Syren asked.

“Summer Camp,” Bobbi said, “Survival skills. I know how to track things, and Drake was worried about you, so that rushed things a little. I assume the empty cabin was Vampires.”

“There wasn’t anyone there?” Syren asked.

“No,” Bobbi said, “It’s a miracle we didn’t bump into them.”

“I absorbed rose into myself, made them powerless after they drank it. Luckily they were looking for something that would let them walk in broad daylight, so they didn’t realize what happened. Then I ran.”

“Clever,” Drake said, “Next time, pull it out and shove it down their throats.”

Suddenly someone jumped from the forest onto Bobbi, pushing her into the road. Luckily no cars were on it.

Syren could only watch stunned as they went for Bobbi’s neck, her struggles amounting to nothing.

“Get off her!” Drake ordered, passing Peter back to Syren, which set her off balance.

Drake pulled the figure off of Bobbi before placing his hand through their throat and pulling up.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Peter said.

Drake threw the head to the other side of the road, leaving the body on the asphalt before offering Bobbi a hand.

“Thanks,” Bobbi yelped as she returned to her place by Syren’s side.

“Let’s get home fast,” Drake said, “I think Charmer’s cabin isn’t too far, assuming we make it past the traps.”

“Traps?” Peter asked.

“We’ll be fine,” Bobbi assured, then repeated under her breath.

“You weren’t bled as badly as you might think,” Charmer said as she offered Peter a blanket.

“Then how bad was it?” he asked.

“You’ll want to avoid moving your wrists too much for the next few weeks.”

“What?” Peter asked, “I’m in college. I use my wrists to do my schoolwork.”

“I know,” Charmer said.

“How many professors are going to hear me say, ‘I was attacked by vampires, so my wrists are out of commission,’ and actually give me an extension?”

Bobbi grimaced, handing him a mug of rose tea.

“Helps ward them away, if they know what’s good for them.”

“I use my wrists for this,” Pete said.

“You’d be surprised how little bending of the wrist is involved in mugs,” Bobbi said, “It’s mostly just the arm that—”

“I don’t care!” Peter yelled. Bobbi quickly set the mug down and backed away.

“Sorry,” Peter said, “I’m just a little shaken after nearly dying.”

“You were certainly in a precarious spot,” Charmer said, “You’ll figure things out, people have to navigate situations without using their wrists for far more benign reasons than yours.”

“And they don’t have the story to tell,” Drake added.

“Do I have a story to tell?” Peter asked, “This is a Haven Town, but several of these people have proudly stated that Mages are all frauds or something of that nature, because there can’t be more freaks beyond their kind. How many of them are going to buy that vampires are real?”

“Well, you have us,” Bobbi said, “We’ll understand you.”

Peter shook his head.

“I don’t want you.”

He turned to Syren.

“I will gladly keep being your friend, Syren, but this,” he gestured at the rest of the people in the room, “I don’t want any part of whatever this is.”

Syren hadn’t spoken since they’d gotten to the cabin for a reason.

“Then maybe you should leave MK West.”

“What?” Peter asked.

“They said they needed two Changelings. I can’t leave my family, but you can go out, and be safe. We can exchange letters. I do it with my brother, but I don’t think you can stay out of this if you stay here.”

She watched for any response from Peter.

“I’d like to think about it before I make any major life decisions,” he replied.

“In the meantime Singe can keep an eye on you,” Drake said, “Since you’re not a night student.”

“Is he one of you?”

“He similarly denied membership,” Charmer said, “But he’s still in town, and a natural born helper.”

“He’s not worth fucking with,” Bobbi said.

“And he’s cute by most reports,” Syren added, trying to sweeten the deal.

Peter cracked a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

Hecate stared up from the floor, questioning all her life choices.

“Get up,” her instructor ordered.

“I would rather not get defeated again,” she replied.

She could sense the waves of annoyance, and who knew what that could become?

She returned to her standing position.

“As before:” he said, “Land a hit before I knock you down, and you may ask a question.”

This time she fell on her face.