//------------------------------// // eight. she. lotus eater. // Story: he. she. we. // by Shinzakura //------------------------------// I hear the crowds cheering, the blaring of the music and the sensory assault of dozens of lights and lasers. I smile as I watch the opposing team come on. “And now for the final match of the Digital Carousel 5-on-5 Fighting Extravaganza! In the red corner, Team Kill Your Co-Workers!” TKYC walks onto the floor, each of them introduced individually, each of them dressed in the “team uniform” of a suit and tie, all covered in paint spatters meant to look like blood. Because that’s going to make them all that much tougher. As if. For the past three days, this has been my temple. These have been my worshippers. I am a goddess ascendant. “And in the blue corner, The Vector Vixens! On System One, Broka-Cola!” Broka-Cola, aka Brooke Cole, is my lieutenant for Team B. She says she’s been playing Street Fighter since she could walk and I believe it – she moves Guile like nobody’s business. “On System Two, Frisbee!” Frisbee walks onto the stage…or rather, bounces onto the stage like she’s downed a dozen cans of Jolt. Her real name is Diane Pye, and for some reason, that’s another name that I feel I should know. “On System Three, Ms. Glitch!” As we watch Caitlin walk out, I’m talking to Janus – real name Pumpkin Spice; how she got a very pony-like name is beyond me, but she says it’s legit. In any case, she’s the former member from the Jills, and while she’s a great stick mover, she’s the most skittish member of our group, and probably the reason why the Jills let her go. And though she’s been winning, this hasn’t been easy on her. “You going to be okay?” I ask her. She nods. “Yeah, but crowds really make me nervous.” I take off my eyeglasses, then look right at her. “Freak them out like crazy instead.” She looks right into my eyes – my “unnatural for a human” eyes – and she’s mesmerized by them. “Your…your….” I grin. “Contacts,” I tell her. “All part of the act. Thinking about recommending them to the team.” “Sign me up!” she says with a smile as one of the backstage crew flags her and I hear the announcer’s voice boom, “On System Four, Janus!” Pumpkin walks out there and while I can sense she’s nervous, there’s something else about her that I really can’t quite define. But I have to prepare for my own entrance now, and as the stagehand motions to me to walk out, I am ready. “And finally, on System Five, Team Captain – Nightmare Moon!” I walk out in my own outfit, something I put together myself: based on Kyo Kusanagi from King of Fighters, the only thing that is missing is the headband, the gloves, and instead of the sun symbol on the back, it has a cartoonish picture of my normal form, or what people think is my avatar. My body’s glistening – a little magic application never hurt anyone – and as I walk down the path towards the ring, I’m shaking hands, giving high-fives and hoofbumping…I mean fistbumping…everyone I can. All the while, I scan the crowds, looking for the one that makes me complete, the love of my life. And there he is! Oh, and looks like Carrie’s come too! I still don’t know his sister well enough, but I should give her a chance, right? I finally make my way to the stage, where my team is milling and talking to the TKYC players. In particular, a tall gentleman with a scowl on his face walks up to me; his uniform tag reads HELLO MY NAME IS MURDERHOBO. He looks me over and says with a sneer, “Ain’t ever broken a girl before. Hope you don’t cry much.” His tone indicates this isn’t just smack talk; this guy’s a genuine asshole. I look at him, eye to eye, and say right back, “And I doubt you’ll find out, because I’m out of your league.” He looks at me again and said, “Those contacts supposed to scare me, bitch?” “No, but you’d better hope that I don’t scare you – you’re not ready for that.” As the audience starts to feel the tension between me and this idiot, I send a message out to North. «I’m going to break him, hon.» I can practically feel the hesitation in his comment. «I thought you were going to make this fair.» I then give him a recap of my discussion with Murderhobo, and once I’m done, North tells me, «Either you break him, or I will slug his fat ass when I see him.» «Tsk, tsk,» I tell my love, even as my heart swells at his response. «No violence, dear – that’s my job. In any case, I should be done soon.» The ref looks at both me and Murderhobo and says, “Okay, it’s just a game. Break it up and to your systems.” Murderhobo sneers again and looks at me. “Any last words before I break you into pieces?” Oh, yes, I do. “What the Elements did to me?” I say to him. “I’m going to do much worse to you.” With that, I walk away from him, confused look and all, and sit down at my system, a brand-new JAMMA regulation Sega Lindbergh Universal Mk. II candy cabinet. Hey, a filly needs to know her gear, right? The Lindbergh II has a webcam, so you can taunt the guy sitting across from you. I can see his face, and, not too surprisingly, the juvenile twit just flipped me off. Well, child, you have no idea what you’re messing with. I am a goddess. This is my temple. And angry deities smite like no tomorrow. I stand up from my system ten minutes later, and only that because the game format is a Best of Three, with each match being five rounds each. Ultra Street Fighter IV is a fun game to play and if you know the characters, you can work wonders. He brought out Balrog, a fighter I noted he was very comfortable with. I brought out Poison, one I’ve never played before, but had some time to watch Brooke use earlier. Final score? Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect…. You get the idea. Murderhobo stomps over and thrusts a finger at me. “You cheated, you fucking cunt!” I raise a delicate eyebrow. “Oh really? How do you figure that?” I ask. “I don’t know, but I swear I’m going to find out and I’m g—” At this point the referee tells him to sit down. “Our IT judges were watching and at no time did she do anything that wasn’t by regs,” the ref tells him. “You lost, fair and square. Now be a good sport about it.” The ref then turns to me and says, “Congratulations – that was some serious skill there.” “Thanks,” I tell him, though I feel a bit guilty for cheating with my magic; after all, I was moving my hands slightly faster than human APM tolerances and slowing Balrog’s reaction times by hairs of a second. Then again, this jerk deserves it. Then again again, that’s the sort of behavior that that got me/us/her/Luna in trouble in the first place. I silently make a vow to never do this again, even if the person deserv— My thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a punch to my face. I crumple to the floor, and standing above me is an enraged Murderhobo, being held back by the ref and two members of his own team. “FUCKING SKANK! I KNOW YOU CHEATED! I KNOW IT!” One of the other members of TKYC looks at him and says, “Okay, Wally. You’re fucking done.” He then turns to the ref and says, “On behalf of TKYC, we forfeit.” “The hell?” Murderhobo screams. “What the fuck are you doing?” Murderhobo’s living up to his name apparently, as he stares daggers at the other guy – Cutie Bird. “Cutie Bird”? Odd name for a gamer, but I’m not going to complain. “You crossed a line, Wally, and we don’t play that shit. You’re done. I’ll call management and you can expect to see your pink slip by the time we fly back to Portland.” Cutie Bird then moves over to me and offers a hand. “You okay?” “Yeah, an—” I don’t say anything further as I suddenly feel embraced by strong arms and catch a familiar scent behind me as I’m gently pulled to my feet. And then suddenly I realize: Oh stars, North saw all that. I turn and the look on his eyes is frantic. “Honey, you okay?” He’s briefly panicked enough that he doesn’t even send anything over our telepathic channel. I fake wooziness and touch my cheek. Though it’s healing already – yay for alicorn physiology – humans don’t recover as fast and I’ll need to keep up an illusion for a few days. “It’s probably going to bruise, but…I’m fine.” Meanwhile, security’s been called and they’re dragging off that asshole. Given that I’ve turned in North’s embrace and am holding him back, I know he would’ve done something and that might have made it worse. Just…I’ll let it go this time. Turns out that now that Digital Carousel is over, we did well; if TKYC hadn’t forfeited, we would’ve won anyway, three to two, with Frisbee dominating her opponent and Janus halfway there. As for the other teams, Scythe and her group did outstanding, their five-player TF2 team holding off everyone for a nearly-perfect score; and three of Team C made the top ten in the singles tournament, with Caballero taking second place – she apparently celebrated by tearing off her top like a soccer player and dancing around the arena. She probably should’ve worn a bra…but knowing Cab, that was intentional. So, the team is in our suite and I’ve got Carrie fussing over me like a mother bird – don’t know how to react to that – and North is on the phone with the Chicago PD. He hangs up and said, “Hon, looks like we’re going to have to stay here another couple of days. Police want us to head down to the station tomorrow to make a statement.” “Man, that sucks!” Smackdown says. A member of Team D, we gave her the nickname because she curses enough to be the Element of Profanity. “You’re going to miss the train ride back!” Granted, travelling by train was interesting and we mainly did that because it allowed us to practice on game systems, something we couldn’t do while airborne. Of course, it probably means North and I will have to fly back when we return to LA tomorrow – that I’d look forward to, since human methods of flight sound fascinating. I mean, I’ve passed by more than a few aircraft while on my personal airtime, but being inside one sounds fun. “Well, wish I could stay, guys,” Carrie told us, “but I’ve got classes on Tuesday, so I have to get back.” Several other Vixens murmured assent; the ones out of college didn’t have jobs to return to, but they did have lives of their own. “Hey, anyway, we have reservations at The Girl & The Goat in an hour. Shall we get going?” Katie asks. “I think I’ll pass,” I reply in what I hope sounds like a fatigued tone, “because I really still feel dazed.” I then look at North and say, “You can go if you want, hon.” “Not on your life,” he tells me, and I smile. Have I said how absolutely much I love him? “Okay, if you need anything, Moon, just give me a call, okay?” Katie insists. “Sure thing, Katie,” I wave weakly. She walks out, followed by Carrie and the others, leaving Pumpkin behind. “Something wrong?” I ask her. “I…I just want to make sure that you’re okay,” she says to me. “I’ll make sure she is,” North tells her. “Okay, you’d better,” Pumpkin tells him, then flashes me a smile before leaving. Once she’s gone, I change back to normal. “You okay?” North asks, checking my cheek for a bruise. “Hon, it was gone five seconds after I was hit,” I tell him, “and I fell more from the surprise than the injury. Earth pony endurance, remember?” “I guess,” he tells me, satisfied that I’m not injured. “Besides, you know you’d better heal up, or else Pumpkin’ll be angry with me.” “Oh?” He chuckles. “It’s clear she has a crush on you.” “Noticed that, did you?” I say coolly, but right now I just want to facehoof. How could I have missed that? We’ve been training for DC since late January, about three months ago. Pumpkin’s always come up to me for help, and she’s always confided in me because she sees me as a friend and mentor; in fact, she’d been the one to admit to me that she was in truth fired by the Jills because she’d had a relationship with one of the guys on the Jills’ counterpart team Strike Force Alpha and turned out he was the husband of the head Jill. She didn’t know and explanations weren’t enough. She did, admit, however, that she was very brokenhearted about it. But I suppose that’s the norm for a twenty-year-old girl, and in any case, she started dating Dazzle’s older brother two months ago. “So, room service, then,” he says, reaching for the menu on the coffee table. “Anything you’re interested in?” “Honestly?” I tell him, nuzzling him gently, “I’ll just let you decide. Just let me know if it’s meat or not so I’ll change.” “Change?” “Yeah. Easier to digest meats as a human instead of a pony,” I tell him. “In the meanwhile, I’m just going to take a nap, okay?” “Sure thing,” he says, kissing me on the forehead…and studiously avoiding the horn. We found out a month ago that one of my “zones” is at the base of the horn, and…. Well, let’s just say once we were done, we had to order a new couch. Fluttering over to the bed, I pull back the sheets and slip in, wishing we were at home in our bed. Of course, we still have to completely unpack since we moved into the new house in Irvine; fortunately, we opted to keep the old home as a vacation pad. Plus, the new home has enough room, a garage for both his car and mine, and a swimming pool in the back, though I suspect he’ll be using it more than me, because frankly, I’ve never been much of a swimmer. And as I think about all that, it hits me once again, that North has completely upended his life for me: I’ve caused him to leave the sanctuary he needed when he lost Rachel and he’s done so much for me since I came into his life. Granted, now that I have my own job, I can contribute to the bills and just be a normal woman in this world, but I wouldn’t have any of that if it wasn’t for him. But then I feel the brush of his fingers against my muzzle and I sigh for feeling so stupid. No matter how much his life – and mine – have changed, there’s just been one thing clear since we became a couple. He’s not doing this for me. He’s doing this for us. The following morning I change back to my human form, shower, toss on some clothing, and tease North repeatedly before he takes his own shower – a cold one – and once he’s done and changing, we head downstairs to have breakfast before we’re supposed to meet at the police station. Breakfast is kinda lonely; I miss the comfort of having my friends around. But then again, given that this time a year ago I had no friends and only a “jailer” – and that only in my mind – it’s a vast improvement. And to think that I went from wanting to conquer the world to just wanting my friends and dearest love around? Well…it’s a learning experience, I guess. For some strange reason, it makes me wonder if Celestia’s daughter made friends with her shieldmaidens, or if they’re just her regular guards. From what I remember, they acted oddly at points, almost as though they’d just met. I giggle slightly as I realize that it’s just ludicrous – what are the odds that a crack team of mares that were able to wield the strongest weapons Equestria’s ever known had met just prior? The amount of time it takes to build a team that strong and loyal…that’s a long time in coming and from what little I remember of the Elements, you’d have to naturally be in tune with them, and that alone takes a lifetime of training. After breakfast is done, we cab over to the police department and meet the officer in charge of our case. I take care to make sure the bruise looks as realistic as can be, then we go in. We’re escorted by the duty officer over to a Det. Kyrie Shapiro, who’s handling my case. For some reason, she reminds me of a human version of Celestia, with strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes that seemed to shade towards violet when the light hits them the right way. Then I realize how impossible that is, and that I’m unfairly taking my frustrations out on this woman. In any case, we quickly go over the whole case and I fill out my statement, going over every little detail that led to the situation. Fifteen minutes later, I had my statement over to Shapiro, who takes and looks over it. “Thank you for your time, Ms. De Lune,” she tells me, “but to be honest and quite frank, unfortunately we’ve wasted your time merely for procedure. The uncomfortable truth is…he’s probably not going to be standing trial anytime soon.” North looks at her. “I’m sorry, Detective?” Shapiro sighs. “He became catatonic an hour ago. We have medical staff on site right now and we’re getting ready to transfer him to a local treatment facility.” “Doesn’t she have to visually identify him, though?” North asks. Frankly, other than watching a couple of episodes of Law & Order, I’ve got no idea of how the modern police force works. Back in my/our/her/Luna’s time in Equestria, the Guard served both as soldiers and as police, but they didn’t have the kind of situations that would come about like this. I wonder if modern Equestria has police? Barely listening to the conversation between North and the detective, I tune back in. “Well, quite frankly, Mr. Shores, given that your girlfriend was attacked at a very public event and that most of the other people involved have already given their disposition, we’re quite certain that the individual we have in custody is our man. However, given that Ms. De Lune here was a victim of assault, we’ve brought a number of pictures with us in order for her to identify the assailant. Normally we’d just do this behind a one-way mirror, but given the individual’s condition, we were forced to do it this way.” Shapiro passes a folder to me; I think I saw something like this on an episode of Hawaii Five-0. “Please look at the pictures and, if you would, identify the individual that attacked you.” I look over the pictures of various men that all look alike; strangely enough, they’re all in black and white, which, again, based on what vastly-incorrect info I know from television, should be in color. I know for a fact that most of them are not him, because there are certain details that I can see that the average person can’t…such as the fact that Murderhobo had a single strand of hair growing out of his cheek just below his eye and to the right of his nose: a genetic mutation, obviously, but something that the average person would miss, something that I wouldn’t. Finally, I come upon his picture…and I can’t help but gasp. Both Shapiro and North assume it’s just because I’m surprised by recognizing him. But it’s not just that. “This is him,” I tell the detective, pointing at the picture. “Okay, we’ll mark it, then, Ms. De Lune,” she tells me. “Thank you for your time.” “I am curious though,” I tell her casually, hoping that I’ll have to get the answer I’m looking for, “Shouldn’t these photos be in color?” A pause. Two beats. Three. Then finally, in a hushed voice, she admits, “I’m not supposed to say this, but…we took the pictures in black and white because the suspect because the suspect…well, I realize this is going to sound odd…but he’s turned gray. Only things on him that are color are his clothes. His skin, his hair, his eyes, even the blood we drew – everything – just turned gray. We’re considering bringing the CDC in on this one, because frankly, the paramedics haven’t seen anything like this.” “I…see.” I try to sound as disbelieving as I can. Then after giving her both our home and cell numbers, North and I depart the station. “Well, since we missed the train, I’ll have to see what the next available flight back to LA is,” he tells me, “plus, we have a day to sightsee, if you want.” I shake my head and said, “Can’t do that, love. I need to stay here and wait until he’s alone, so I can check on Mr. Personality.” “What’s going on?” North asks, and I can feel his worry. “Hon, I know you. The detective may not be aware of what’s going on, but I have a feeling that you do know, and that I’m not imagining that I heard her say he turned gray.” “I’ll tell you later, I promise,” I tell him, punctuating it with a kiss. “We’ll talk about it over dinner, okay?” Five minutes later, I slink in, following the shadows. One of the interesting things about shadow manipulation magic – umbromancy, to use the technical term – is that not only can I extend shadows and utilize them as if they were solid objects, but I can travel within them and along them. None of that “travel like smoke” Dracula stuff – though subfitomancy is a separate discipline – but it’s subtle and far more useful than what I would have done. And I’m ashamed to admit that once I would have had no qualms doing so. But since I’ve been studying her magic based on the fractured memories I have…I would never admit it to anyone save North, but it proves all the more that I was the fool. Or that she was the fool when I came into existence. Or that…. Look, I could spend eons trying to explain it and it would never be enough. The long and the short of it is that I/we/she/Luna had so much promise with the abilities that I/we/she had, and even the ones that were native to me when we split…they are worlds better than what was used in the past. She may feel shame about all of it…but I am that shame. It takes me an extended period of time to make my way down to the cells, mainly because of the increase of light and lack of objects to cast shadows, but I finally reach his cell. I patiently sit upside-down in a small shadow left by the overhead light and wait until the last of the paramedics depart; they’re talking about moving him out to a place called Lakeshore, wherever that is. In any case, I don’t have time to wait. I slide down the thin ribbon of darkness at the edge and then coalesce into my native form, just in case I have to fight my way out of here. Not only do I have more power that way, I have the advantage of no one ever believing that a “black winged unicorn” showed up to prey on the wicked…or something like that. As I close up on my assailant, I note that his color is slowly coming back. Using my magic, I carefully pry open one of his eyes, noting the lifeless, insensate look in them. Other than that, his breathing is normal and he seems hale. Which worries me, because seeing him up close, I know what’s wrong with him now: lotothosis, a coma-like condition caused by extreme exposure to a thymophage. And my blood runs cold as my realization sinks in: I’m not alone on this Earth. There’s a changeling here, too. “We have to leave – no, scratch that, you have to leave!” I tell North over dinner that night. It’s a shame, really; we picked the finest steakhouse in town, and now all that food’s going to waste because I’m absolutely worried about the man I love. “No,” he tells me, a defiant look on his face. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong, Moon.” He reaches over and takes my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. “And you telling me to abandon you here in the third largest city in the country is not helping things.” “Because it’s not a city anymore,” I tell him. “It’s going to be a warzone.” With that, I explain to him what changelings are, and they are, if anything, the closest thing to being an absolute enemy to every species on my homeworld. I explain to him some of the actions of the changeling queens of old: of Queen Metasoma, who almost brought the world under her hoof, had it not been for the efforts of Master Starswirl; of Queen Coxa and the war she started between the minotaurs and the griffins by pretending to be the latter and assassinating the queen of the former; of the war my people had with them shortly before my birth, which according to historical records, consumed a third of our whole race. And now they were here…on a world of seven billion people, a world with no magic defenses or ways of knowing they were being hunted by monsters worse than any human imagination could create. As I finish my tale, the look on his face is worried…but I know it’s not himself that he’s worried about. “Moon, don’t do this. You could be in serious danger.” I shake my head. “If anything, that’s my advantage,” I insist. I know it’s here, but it doesn’t know I’m here. “That you know of,” he tells me, and I have to admit, he’s right. We spend the next few days in Chicago, and during that time I run myself ragged. During the day, we’re “sightseeing” but in truth walking around the Windy City and using my skills to find the thing. After dinner, I then depart and fly around the other parts of the city in search of it. By the last day of our time here, three things have come to mind: one, that I’m probably going to listen to North when he insists that I sleep the whole plane ride. Two, that after a week of doing all this, I’m pretty sure that I’ve exposed myself enough that it knows I’m coming for it. And three, I really, really, really hate Chicago. Nothing against folks who live here, but I think I like the City of Angels better. Well, at least I like the guy that came with the real estate…. In any case, as for my first flight, I really don’t remember it well…mainly because I was completely asleep. That’s okay; it’s not as though I haven’t been airborne on my own. Then again I remember hearing something about a “mile-high club”, and pegasi tend to get kinky in that sort of way…. I’ll have to look up the effects of higher altitudes on the human body. Just…purely for research, of course. We step onto the concourse at Long Beach Airport. Given our unusual schedule, this was the closest that we could find to returning home. At this point, North would probably just suggest us flagging down a taxi and taking a drive home, but then I remembered a friend who lives in Long Beach, and wouldn’t probably mind at all. Sure enough, twenty minutes later, here comes Pumpkin. “Sorry it took so long!” she calls out to us, looking harried. “Had to borrow my boyfriend’s SUV, since I doubt I’m going to get all your luggage in mine!” I’d completely forgotten about that; Pumpkin drives this tiny as hell Dodge Dart, while her boyfriend David is the outdoorsy type and has a Ford Behemoth or whatever the car is called; it’s one of those monster SUVs that you actually use as one instead of a grocery tank. Wow, I’m starting to pick up North’s snarkiness, aren’t I? As we’re heading home, we give Pumpkin a very edited version of our trip to Chicago, with all the tourist stuff that goes along with it. Obviously I’m not going to explain to her the real reason we stayed for a week, mainly because she wouldn’t believe it and it’s bad enough having North at risk so I don’t need to expose another. I’ll just have to pay very close attention to the news for a few weeks, especially to Chicagoland-area news sources. “Oh! Guess what?” Pumpkin says excitedly. “My sister Vanilla is coming to visit!” “Vanilla? As in Vanilla Spice?” North comments from the back seat. “Did your parents want stripperiffic names for their kids or what?” I’m going to punch him when I get home…then maybe kiss and make up. After an hour or two. Or three. Tops. Fortunately, Pumpkin takes it in stride. “Hey, what can I say? She and I are twins, so…maybe my parents just had a weird sense of humor that day.” She then looks at me and asks, “Do you…mind if I bring her to visit? I think you two would get along great!” “I…sure,” I acquiesce. It’s going to put a damper in my search for that damn changeling, but at least it’ll make Pumpkin happy. Finally, after getting home, having dinner with Pumpkin – yeah, North’s right, I think she does have the hots for me, though I worry she’ll neglect her boyfriend needlessly – before I can shower and change back to normal. It’s raining, and I think I’ll cancel my evening flight for a change; I just took a shower and really don’t want to get soaked again. As I use my magic to move the hairdryer around my form, I hear North’s gentle tapping on the door before he peeks in. “Busy night tonight?” “I hope not,” I tell him. “I just want to enjoy the weekend before I have a meeting with Mythware on Monday.” They want me to be the spokeswoman for their new “Nightmare” line of gaming peripherals. I shuddered at the name initially, but it does predate me and I am using my old name as a screen name now, so I guess it doesn’t do any harm. Besides, the contract’s a nice chunk of change. I really should consider getting me and North a getaway vacation – a real one. Maybe Hawaii? I mean, I’ll have to go there for the Pacific War tournament in October, so maybe if we go early we can actually see the sights? “Moon?” I roll my eyes; I did it again. “Yes?” I ask him, looking up at him. “Um…did you…grow?” “Grow?” I ask. Funny, he doesn’t seem as tall as he did earlier. Too young for osteoporosis? In turn, he points me at a mirror, and I look. And what I see surprises me. I’m taller. I mean, I’m no longer the size I was just even days ago. I’m now…I’m now the size she was when she created me. The realization surprises me. Was it because I’ve been using more of her magic than my own? Is it because I’ve changed who I was and turned my back on my destiny? Am I fated to change further? Will I become Luna? I look at my love with worry. I don’t want to lose who I am. Luna…she was a spoiled foal whose jealousy set both our fates on this course. By changing who I am, have I done the same? Is it a correction…or a purification? “Corruption?” I speak, and I’m surprised the word comes from my mouth. “Are you okay?” he asks me. “I don’t know,” I tell him. I would hide this from him if I could, but…no. Secrets are a foal’s way. North is my love, my mate, my all. I promised no secrets from him, and that is what I will do, even if it costs me. He wraps his arms around my neck, kissing my gently. “I like the look,” he tells me. “You don’t look…well, like some sort of equine abstract, if that makes sense. You look more…well, more real.” I nuzzle his face. “I love you,” I tell him, meaning every word of it. He reaches over and takes my wing, gently. “Let’s just…let’s go to bed. Something’s bothering you, and while you don’t have to talk about it, I want you to know I’m here for you, Moon.” I let him lead me to our bed. And for the first time since we became lovers, we do nothing else but fall asleep in each other’s arms – or forelegs for me, right now – to the patter of the gently falling rain. And yet, I can’t sleep easy. Something dangerous is out there, and my friends and the man I love are in terrible danger. Well, changelings can be dangerous, but then again… …so can I.