The Changeling

A Walter Ulric story

A cool, autumn breeze filtered into the room through the half-open window as I puffed thoughtfully on my cigarillo. Conrad LeFontain sat in the corner, reading something on his tablet. Just outside, the two bull terriers alerted to a presence on the property, approaching our office. 

“Mail call!” said a voice from outside. 

“Howdy, Perry,” I said, inclining my head to the lanky, middle-aged postman. 

“Howdy, Walter, Conrad,” replied Perry, tipping his pith helmet. “You’ll never guess what happened today!” 

Perry was known for telling tall tales, which most people thought he’d fabricated. Conrad and I knew better. Perry rarely just made stuff up, no matter how outlandish. 

“What happened, Perry?” asked Conrad, sitting up in his aging recliner. 

“Another hell-hole opened up on my mail route!” replied Perry excitedly. 

“Great. Another one,” said Conrad with an exasperated sigh. We were all the time having to close them things.

“Where?” I asked.

“It’s on McElwaine Way, past Dead Horse road.” 

“We’ll take care of it,” I said.

“You going to the class of 2008 reunion?” asked Perry, suddenly changing the subject as he is wont to do. I cringed. 

“Probably not,” I replied, taking another puff of my cigarillo. 

“Why not?” asked the postman. 

“I got my reasons,” I replied.

“Well, I’ll be there, seeing as the wife’s a math teacher,” said Perry.

“I figured as much,” I said.

“It ain’t too late to change your mind,” said Perry. “Well, see you around… the bend.”

“Good day to ya, Perry,” I said.

With that, Perry went off on his merry way. 

“Well, we got a hell-hole to fill in,” said Conrad.

Gathering up our gear, we placed it in the back of Conrad’s Jeep and started the engine. 

“You getting any vibes?” I asked as we approached the spot indicated by Perry.

“Yup,” replied Conrad. “There’s a dark energy vortex coming around this next curve.”

Parking the Jeep along the side of the road, we took our equipment out of the back and began our search. It didn’t take us long to find the hell-hole. The black circle opened in the forest floor, waiting for someone to fall in… or out.

While Conrad sprinkled Holy Water into the hole, chanting in Latin, I scattered salt around the edge of the hole. Gradually, the hole closed. 

“Do you think anything got out?” I asked. 

“Probably,” said Conrad. “I’m still getting some dark vibes on the other side of those trees.”

“Well, we better have a gander,” I remarked. 

Given my unusual heritage, I too could sense things weren’t quite right. In time, we came to a clearing in the forest, marked off by police tape. 

“Hello,” said Conrad. 

Gazing onto the property on the other side of the tape, I observed one of the little houses that one finds in these parts, with red, wooden siding. County Sheriff’s vehicles lined the road and deputies were coming in and out of the house. I saw Julia there, of course. She wore blue rubber gloves, taking notes on a tiny notepad. Her long, sleek, black hair was in a tight bun on the nape of her neck. Ducking under the police tape, I began swaggering over to her.

“Walter, what are you doing?!” asked Conrad.

“I’m gonna talk to my girlfriend,” I replied.

“She gonna be pissed!” he warned. 

“What else is new?” I quipped.

“Deputy!” I called as I swaggered across the lawn to Julia. “What brings you out here on this fine September day?”

Julia shook her head.

“Walter, what are you doing here?” she asked. Her voice dripped with annoyance. 

“Just closed a hell-hole,” I replied, “How about you?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She’s cute when she’s mad. 

“What happened here?” I inquired.

“Someone died under mysterious circumstances,” she responded. “I was actually going to call you about it.”

“Oh, Walter!” said Sheriff Donne, as he ambled out of the house. “I might need your help with this. You too, Conrad.”

The sheriff ushered us into the cottage. The walls and floor were splattered with blood. Furniture, appliances, books, and other articles littered the floor. 

“What the Sam Hill?” I exclaimed.

“Where’s the body?” asked Conrad. 

“Follow me,” said Sheriff Donne. 

He led us to the coroner’s van, where a body bag lay, waiting for transport. He partially unzipped the bag so we could see the face of the victim. His skin was pale; paler even than a dead body would be normally. His throat was sliced open with a knife.

“Hmm,” I said, scratching my whiskers. Something about this seemed familiar. What was it? 

“This ringin’ any bells for you?” I asked.

“Yeah,” said the Sheriff, “Can’t quite remember why. I’ll check the old case files and give you a call if I find anything.” 

“Thanks, Sheriff,” I said. “See you later, Julia.”

“Bye Walter,” she replied. 

As we left the crime scene, my brain was flooded with memories from high school; the names, the faces, the terrible things that happened that sent me on the path I now walked. There was no way I was going to that damn reunion.

…

I thought about the events of that day as we sat at the supper table, enjoying the beef stew my Ma made. My Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Mary sat across from me. I ate my bread and stew in silence while Uncle Jimmy regaled us with something that happened to him in the Gulf War. 

“You going to the reunion, Walt?” asked Uncle Jimmy, suddenly switching subjects. 

I Looked up at him and swallowed a mouthful of stew

“Nope,” I said, returning to my meal. 

“Why not?” he pressed. I gave him an expression that was probably akin to Dirty Harry as he was asking a criminal if he felt lucky.

“High school was a waking nightmare, Uncle Jimmy,” I said. “I’d rather have a tooth removed without anesthesia.”

“It can’t have been that bad,” said Katherine, brushing a lock of hair away from her face.

“Try going through what I go through every full moon and see how bad it is,” I said.

“Try being a girl,” she retorted.

“She’s got ya there, Walter,” said Ma. 

“We got any pie?” asked Conrad, changing the subject again. 

“That we do, Conrad,” said Aunt Mary. Aunt Mary wasn’t the best cook in the mountain country, but one thing she knew was pie. As she was getting up to fetch said dessert, a melody emanated from my vest pocket. I took my phone out.

“Walter, you know the rule about phones at supper,” said Ma.

I swaggered out on the back porch to take the call.

“Julia,”

“Walter,” said Julia. “I think you were right about this.” 

“Right about what?” I asked. 

“The body… it didn’t have a single drop of blood in it,” she responded.

“That ain’t natural,” I said, making an understatement to hide my anxiety.

“I just… figured you should know,” she added.

“You gonna be alright?” I asked. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she replied. She wasn’t fine.

“Well, gimme a call if there are any more developments.”

“I will. Goodnight, Walter,” said Julia as she hung up the phone. 

…

It was a Friday morning as the red sun rose over North Fork. Conrad and I had returned to the crime scene to find any more clues to the creature’s identity. 

“This is a bad idea, man,” said Conrad, as I jimmied the lock on the old house. 

“Look, there’s a monster loose in North Fork, and we’re gonna track it down and send it back to where it came from,” I said.

Clearing his throat, Conrad tapped my shoulder. Turning my head, I beheld Julia standing behind us, her arms crossed, her lip curled into an oddly attractive snarl.

“I thought you two would come back here,” she said, producing a key and opening the door for us.

“You’re helping us?” I asked, astonished.  

“Either I help you, or you do it on your own,” she responded. “Might as well make it semi official.”

Shrugging, we entered the cottage, carefully looking at the evidence.

“Is there anything in here that could tell us what that thing is?” I asked.

“Could be a vampire,” offered Conrad. 

“Naw,” I replied, “Vampires don’t use knives, normally.”

Father McKay’s ringtone started playing in my vest. 

“What can I do for ya, Steve?” I said into the phone.

“Walter,” he replied, “something’s come up. I need to see you at your office.”

“I’ll be right there,” I said, hanging up.

“Gotta go,” I said. 

“You just got here!” protested Julia. 

“Conrad can help you; I gotta talk to Father Steve.”

…

The minister waited outside for me when I arrived. He was pale as a sheet. 

“Steve,” I said, “You’re bleached!”

“I know,” he replied. “I barely slept last night.”

“Come in, you better have a seat,” I said, unlocking the door. 

We sat down in the office. Reaching into my desk drawer, I withdrew a bottle of Perry Wankle’s moonshine and a couple of glasses.

“Now,” I said, pouring the liquid, “What happened that’s gotten ya looking like that?”

“I saw… Francesca… last night” replied Steve.

My blood ran cold at the mention of that name. Francesca Kilkenny, “Franky” to us, was Steve’s high school sweetheart until she disappeared into the woods one day. We searched for days until someone found her. Except what they found wasn’t Franky. It looked like her, it sounded like her, but it was not her. She’d been replaced by something horrible. It would slowly drain the life-force of a willing victim until he was nothing by a husk. That nearly happened to Steve. If a willing victim could not be found, it would just kill the nearest man and drink his blood. It was the first thing we banished to the Outside. It must’ve come back into our dimension through the hell-hole. Everything made sense, now. 

“You’re sure of that?” I asked.

“I thought I’d been seeing things when I saw her walking along the side of the road, but then I saw the news,” said Steve, swallowing hard. “What are you going to do?” 

“Track it down,” I replied, taking a sip of moonshine, “then I’ll have to put it down.”

“You okay with that?” asked the priest. 

“I don’t have a choice,” I replied. “That’s not Franky. It might look like her, but she died ten years ago.”

Steve looked like he was going to break down crying. He’d been carrying the memory of what happened for a long time and somehow he felt responsible for Franky’s disappearance. It was a lie of the devil; she’d always been reckless and did as she pleased. Steve bore no responsibility, but he still felt like it was his fault. 

…

I dressed in my Sunday clothes. My hair was brushed, and my beard groomed, for once. My revolver, loaded with silver bullets, was nestled in my shoulder holster. I topped it all off with my best suede jacket. 

“Where are you off to?” asked Katherine. 

“High school reunion,” I replied.

“I thought you weren’t going.” 

“Changed my mind,” I grunted.

My boots clunked up the front steps of Julia’s place. I was about to ring the bell, when the door opened, and there she was, her dark, smooth hair was all braided and dolled up. She wore a pretty floral dress and a nice pair of boots. I stared at her longer than I probably should have.

“What?” she said.

“You clean up good, Julia,” I replied.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied. 

We then got in the jeep and drove to the high school. Conrad sat in the backseat.

“What makes you so certain it’ll be at the reunion?” asked Julia.

“Vibe,” said Conrad.

“Conrad’s rarely wrong,” I added, pulling into the nearly packed parking area.

“Stay here,” I said to Conrad. 

“Bruh!” he replied.

“You didn’t go to high school in North Fork,” I responded. “What are you supposed to be? My date?” 

With that, Conrad consented. 

Matilda Wankle, my old math teacher, greeted us as we entered the gym. 

“Oh hello, Walter, I didn’t think you were coming!” she said. 

“Well, I changed my mind,” I replied.

“Julia, I didn’t think you were part of the class of 2008,” said Matilda. 

“I was a year behind,” Julia replied, “but I couldn’t let Walter go alone.”

“Isn’t that sweet,” said Matilda. “Well, y’all have a good time there.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Wankle,” said Julia. 

The place was packed with old school mates. Some of them waved at me or gave me a high-five; some just nodded. Most looked at Julia. The DJ played 3 Doors Down as we mingled.

“Okay, what now, Walter?” asked Julia.

“We watch and we wait,” I replied.

“Howdy, Walt!” said a voice from behind. Perry Wankle stood there in a blue blazer and a Hawaiian shirt; his standard attire for such events. 

“Didn’t think you were coming to this shindig.”

“Ma changed my mind,” I replied. 

“Well, help yourself to some punch! Made it myself!” said the postman, handing me a punch glass; the contents had a peculiar odor.

“Perry, is this…?” I began. 

“White lightning?” said Perry, quietly as he could. “You didn’t hear it from me.”

And away he danced, mingling with the other guests.

I scanned the crowd again. Then I saw it. It was talking to Barton Baxter, one of my longtime enemies. Baxter and I competed for the same girls, the same sports, the same classes. We were in a race to one-up each other, except he always fought dirty. Barton waved at me, smiling that condescending smile. We were both idiots in high school; I was willing to let bygones be bygones. I approached them, Julia following close behind.

“Howdy, Baxter,” I said. 

“Ulric, how’s things?” he said. “Good to see you’re back. Everyone thought you were dead.”

“Yep,” I replied. “I had to go find myself after… you know.”

“You remember Franky, right?” he said, gesturing its direction. 

“Hi, Walt,” it said, looking at me through evil eyes.

“Hi, Franky,” I responded. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well.”

It had a predatory look in its eye.

“What’s this I hear about you starting a detective agency?” asked Baxter.

“I figured the town needs a little investigating.”

“Yeah,” said Barton. “You were always into that weird Twilight Zone crap.”

“Kept me off the streets,” I retorted. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know; sales,” he responded, adjusting his cuff to reveal his Rolex watch. 

“I don’t think you know Julia,” I added, trying to act natural.

“Hi,” said Julia, “I was a year behind the rest of y’all.”

“Whoah, somebody’s come up in the world,” said Baxter.

“Excuse me?” said Julia, narrowing her eyes at the man.

“I mean come on, you’re like filet mignon, and he’s more like a cheeseburger” quipped Baxter, “not that I have anything against cheeseburgers.”

I shrugged. Julia’s eyes were like daggers.

“So what did you have to do to convince her to come out with you, Walter?” asked Baxter. 

“Listen, buster,” said Julia, “Who I go out with is my business. All he did was ask. I said yes, because, unlike you, Walter is a gentleman.”

Barton Baxter stood there in stunned silence. The thing that looked like Franky had wandered off somewhere, unnoticed. Without another word, Julia took me by the arm and dragged me toward the snack bar.

“Where’d she go?” I asked.

“I didn’t see,” replied Julia, snagging an hors d’oeuvres and stuffing it in her face. She always eats when she’s angry.   

“We’ll have to find her again,” I said, downing a punch. I’d need it to get through the evening. “We gonna talk about what just happened?”

“We should split up to cover more ground,” said Julia. 

“That’s what it wants,” I returned. “It wants us alone.”

“Walter, we’re both armed and we’re in a building full of people,” she protested. “What’s it gonna do?” 

“You have no idea what that thing is capable of,” I replied.

“We only have so much time. Here,” she said, placing a walkie-talkie in my hand. “Buzz me if you see it.” 

With that, Julia went off to another area of the school. Meanwhile, I scanned the crowd again. Then my eyes met the changeling’s. It was across the gym from me, near one of the hallway doors. It gave me a wicked smile, its eyes turning pitch black. It beckoned to me. I walked slowly in its direction as it disappeared down the hallway.

“Found it,” I said into my walkie as I followed it into the hallway.

“Where?” responded Julia.

“Just went down a hallway on the north side,” I replied.

“Be right there, don’t move!” she said. 

“Too late,” I said in reply. 

We were alone in the hall. I started to reach for my gun. 

“What you did wasn’t right, Walter,” it said. 

“From where I’m standing, it seemed proper,” I replied. 

“A girl’s got certain needs,” it said. 

“You’ve killed folk,” I returned. “Nearly drained the life outta Steve, and you expect me to just let you walk?”

“Walter, I’ve been just so lonely these last ten years,” it whined.

It sauntered a little closer to me, seductively moving its hips. I froze. I couldn’t bring myself to move. 

“Get back!” Steve stood behind me, holding a crucifix. His shout was enough to break the trance. The thing bit my hand as I drew my revolver. The weapon fell to the ground with a clatter. The creature pushed me into the wall, pressing its lips against mine. My will was broken. I could feel my life draining out of me. Before the next new moon, I’d be a shell of the man I was; another victim.

A shot rang out. Then another. The thing slumped to the ground, dead. Steve stood nearby, holding my revolver in his quivering hands. Dropping the weapon, he fell to his knees. 

I heard Julia in the gym, telling everyone to stay calm. She busted into the hallway, Glock drawn. 

“Are you alright?” she said, returning the gun to her purse.

“We will be,” I replied, placing my hand on the minister’s shoulder. He’d finally gotten closure, but that didn’t take away from the anguish he’d suffered that night and all those years since Frankie’s disappearance.

The next day, Steve said a Mass for the repose of Frankie’s soul. I don’t know if I believe in Purgatory or not; that question’s a bit above my paygrade, but I figured it couldn’t hurt, and it would help Steve get some closure. 

“Thank you for coming,” said Father Steve. 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I replied. 

Father Steve smiled. There was a peace about him that I hadn’t seen in a while.