CHAPTER 18
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Mistakes were made, despite our careful planning. I am troubled to this day by my part, however minor, in the series of misfortunes and errors that led to his death. I am even more sorry about the ges wrought by those two days in June, which sequences founded us for years. That none of us intended any harm matters not at all. We are responsible for our as, even when acts occur, if only for the steps we omitted lected. Irospect, perhaps we overplahey could have sneaked into the Loves house, snatched Oscar while he slept, and ily tucked Igel uhe covers. The boy always was left aloo play for hours at a time. We could have grabbed him in broad daylight a in a ged Igel for dinner. Or we could have skipped the purification by water. Who still believes in that old myth? It did not have to end in such a heartbreaking way.Oscar Love c..ame out to play on a June evening, dressed in blue shorts and a shirt with writing across the chest. He wore sandals, dirt caked between his toes, and kicked a ball bad forth across the lawn. Luchóg and I had climbed a sycamore and sat in the branches for what felt like hours, watg his mindless game and trying to attract him into the woods. We broadcast a menagerie of sounds: a puppy, a mewing kitten, birds in distress, a wise old owl, a cow, a horse, a pig, a chi, a duck. But he took st notice of our imitations. Luchóg cried like a baby; I threw my voice, disguised as a girls, then a boys. Oscar was deaf to all that, hearing ihe musi his mind. We called out his name, promised him a surprise, preteo be Santa Claus. Stumped, we desded, and Luchóg had the bright idea to sing, and the boy immediately followed the melody into the forest. As long as the song tinued, he sought its source, dazed by curiosity. In my heart, I khat this is not the way fairytales should be, bound for an unhappy ending.
Hidden behind trees by a creek, the gang lay in ambush, and Luchóg lured the boy deeper into the woods. Oscar stood on the bank sidering the water and the stones, and when the music stopped he realized how lost he was, for he began to blink his eyelids, fighting back the urge to weep.
"Look at him, Aniday," Luchóg said from our hideaway. "He reminds me of the last one of us to bee a geling. Something wrong with him."
"What do you mean, wrong?"
"Look in his eyes. Its as if hes not really all there."
I studied the boys face, and indeed he seemed detached from his situatioood motionless, head bowed to the water, as if stunned by his own refle. A whistle sighe others, and they rushed from the bushes. Birds, alarmed by the sudden violence, cried out and took wing. Hidden among the ferns, a rabbit panicked and bounded away, cottontail flashing. But Oscar stood impassive aranced and did not reatil the faeries were nearly upon him. He brought his hand up to his mouth to cover his scream, and they pounced on him, tag him to the ground with swift ferocity. He all but disappeared in the swirl of flailing limbs, wild eyes, and bared teeth. Had the capture not been explained beforehand, I would have thought they were killing him. Igel, in particular, relished the assault, pinning the boy to the ground with his knees and cramming a cloth in his mouth to muffle his cries. With a vine, he ched the boy around the middle, pinning his arms to his sides. Pulling Oscar dowrail, Igel led us all bap.
Years later, Chavisory explaio me how out of the ordinary Igels behavior had been. The geling was supposed to model his own body aures to match the child before the kidnapping. But Igel let the boy see him as he was. Rather than making the switch immediately, he tauhe child. Zaied Oscar to a tree and removed the gag from the boys mouth. Per-haps the shock silenced him, for all Oscar could do was wat dumb amazement the happening before him, his dark eyes moist yet fixed on his tormentors. Igel tortured his own fato a replica. I could not bear the painful grimaces, could not stomach the crag cartilage, the wreng bone. I vomited behind a tree and stayed away until Igel had finished molding himself into a copy of the boy.
"Do you uand, Oscar?" Igel taunted him, standing o-nose. "I am you and will take your place, and you will stay here with them."
The child stared at him, as if looking in the mirror yet nnizing his own refle. I fought back the urge to go to Oscar, to offer kindness and reassurance. Speck sidled up to me and spat out, "This is cruel."
Stepping away from his victim, Igel addressed us: "Boys and girls. I have been with you for too long and now take my leave. My time in this hell is done, and you may have it. Your paradise is vanishing. Every m, I hear the encroag roar of cars, feel the shudder of planes overhead. Theres soot in the air, dirt ier, and all the birds fly away and never e back. The world is ging, and you must go while you . I am not pleased to be trading places with this imbecile, but better that than to remain here." He swept his arms to the trees and the star-filled skies. "For this will soon be gone."
Igel walked over to Oscar and untied him and held his hand. They were identical; it was impossible to tell who was real and who was the spit and image. "Im going down below to the tunnel now to tell a story to this poor idiot. Ill take his clothes and those disgusting shoes, then you may perform the ablution. He could do with a bath. I will crawl out oher side. Adieu. e away, human child."
As he was being led off, Oscar looked bace more, his gaze disguising all emotion. Soon after, the faeries went to the tunry to pluck out Oscars naked body. They ed him in a caul of spiders silk and vines. He remained placid during the process, but his eyes appeared more alert, as if he deliberately was trying to be calm. Hoisting him atop our shoulders, we ran, crashing through the undergrowth toward the river. Until we reached the edge of the water, I did not notice that Speck had stayed behind. Béka, our new leader, proclaimed the intation as we lifted our package high into the air and threw it. In midair, the body jaifed and fell headfirst into the water. Half of the group split off to chase arieve the body, as the ceremony required. They were expected to pull it ashore, as they had doh me years before, as had been doh us all. I stood there, determio be helpful to the boy, to be uanding and patient as he made the transition.
All such hopes were washed away. The retrievers waited ashore, ready to fish the body from the water, but it never floated to the surface. Despite their severe fear of drowning, Smaolad Chavisory waded into the river. Soon all of the faeries were in waist-deep, frantically searg for our bundle. Onions dived again and again, until, exhausted and gasping for breath, she could barely climb to the riverbank. Béka charged dowo a ford where the body would most likely be snagged in the shallows. But Oscar could not be found. We kept vigil there all night and well into the m, examining the stones and tree limbs where his body might have been caught, looking for any sign, but the water did not yield its secrets. The boy was gone. Around midday, below in the valley, a dog yowled with excitement. Kivi and Blomma were sent to look out for the intruders. Red-faced and panting, they came back a half hour later, colleg us from our scattered posts along the riverbank.
"Theyre ing," said Blomma, "with a pair of bloodhounds."
"The firemen and poli," said Kivi.
"Theyll find our camp."
"Igel brought the boys st to our home."
The sound of baying dogs echoed in the hills. The rescuers drew near. In his first crisis as our new leader, Béka anded our attention. "Quick, bap. Hide everything. Well stay iunnels until they leave."
Kivi spoke sharply to the rest of us. "Theres too many ing."
"The dogs," Blomma added. "Theyve goo ground and woricked by a few sticks of brush throwhe tunnels entrances."
Béka looked perplexed and began to pace, fists ched behind his hack, a vein of ahrobbing on his forehead. "I say we hide and wait."
"We o run." Smaolach spoke with quiet authority. Most of us fell in behind him. "They have never been this close in all my years."
Luchóg stepped up and fronted Béka. "That mob is already deeper into the woods than any human has e. Youre wrong to think—"
Béka raised his arm to strike him, but Onions grabbed his hand. "But what about the boy?"
Our new leader turned from the crowd and announced, "Oscar is gone. Igel is gone. Whats done is done, and we must save ourselves. Gather what you carry and hide the rest. But be quick, for we will have to outrun them."
Abandoning Oscars body to the waters, we raced home. While others stashed useful items—burying pots or knives, cag food and clothing—I gathered my papers and fashioned a sack to put them in. While a few <dfn></dfn>of my possessions were safe beh the library, I still had my journal and colle of pencil stubs, my drawing of my family and the dream lady in the red coat, and some treasures—gifts from Speck. I was ready quickly and hurried to find her.
"Where were you?" I asked. "Why didnt you e to the river?"
"What happened?"
"We never found it. What happened with Igel?"
"He crawled out and started to cry."
"He cried?" I began helping her pile brush over the tunnel openings.
"Like a baby," she said. "He crawled out dazed, and when he saw that I had stayed behind, he ran off. He may be hiding nearby still."
We gathered our belongings and joihe others, climbing the ridge, now a band ees. Below us lay a simple clearing that might fool the men, if not the dogs.
"We will never e back," Speck said.
Béka she air. "Dogs. Humans. Lets go."
Now eleven in number, we raced away, the mournful bays of the bloodhounds eg through the hills, drawing nearer and nearer. We could smell them approag and heard the excited voices of the men. As the su bloodred on the horizon, the searchers came close enough for us to make out two burly fellows, straining at the leashes, gasping to keep up with the dogs. Stumbling orail, Ragno dropped his pad scattered his possessions in the leafy debris. I turo watch him gathering up his garden spade and saw a red cap flash behind him, the man oblivious to our presence. Zanzara reached out and grabbed Ragno by the hand, and off we sped to the others, leaving behind those few clues.
We ran for hours, crossing a creek like a hunted fox to mask our st, cloaking ourselves at last behind a tangle of les. The sun dipped below the treeline as the sound of the men and dogs faded. They were cirg back. We bivouacked there for the night, laying down our burdens, taking up our aies. No sooner had I stashed my papers than Béka strode up to me, his chest puffed out, ready to and.
"Go back to check when it is safe to return."
"By myself?"
"Take someoh you." He surveyed his charges, then leered at me. "Take Speck."
We waded in the winding creek back toward our pursuers, stopping now and then to listen and look ahead for trouble. Halfway to the river, Speck hopped out midstream onto a large rock.
"Aniday, do you still want to leave?"
"Leave? Where would I go?"
"Just leave, right now. We could go. I dont know. West to California and stare at the deep blue sea."
Another noise ier silenced us. Perhaps a person wading ire..am, or the splashing dogs as they crossed, or perhaps a deer queng an evenings thirst.
"Youre not going to leave, are you, Speck?"
"Did you hear that?" she asked.
We froze and listened hard. Creeping along through the brush, we carefully iigated the noise. A few hundred yards downstream, a most peculiar odor—her human nor animal, but something iween. My stomach pained me as we moved along the banks of the water. Around a bend and in the fading light through the trees, we were nearly upon him before we saw the man.
"Whos there?" the figure said, then ducked down, trying to hide.
"Speck," I whispered. "Thats my father."
She stood oiptoes and peeked at the croug man; then she held her fio her lips. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in deeply. Speck grabbed my hand and led us away as quietly as a fog.
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