Changeling on the Job: A Changeling Wars Novella by A.G. Stewart Page A

some soured milk in the cafeteria. And the resultant chaos—accusations, parental involvement, health inspections—would give them entertainment for days to come.
    But Anwynn didn’t leap into the brush and make for the school on the other side of the field.  She halted at the end of the street, her nose held high and still in the air.
    I slowed to a jog as I drew closer. “You found them?”
    Her furry black nose pointed to my right, just a little ways down the intersecting road.
    Six sprites hovered around an old beat-up car, the green paint worn away to rust in spots on the door and hood.  Their pearlescent skin shimmered beneath the street lamp, their dragonfly wings flicking through the air. Pale hair floated from beneath their helms, fading into wispy ends like clouds.  They were dressed in matching quilted armor, needle swords strapped to their sides.
    “Hey,” I called out to them, “back away from the car.”
    Six pairs of eyes fixated on me.
    “Not the best idea,” Anwynn said.
    And then the sprites backed away from the car, in a manner of speaking. I mean, they vacated the area around the car, because they all, as one, swarmed toward me and my hound, their teeth bared.
    “Uh, Anwynn…?” I said at the same time her ears flattened against her head and she muttered, “I hate sprites.”
    I only had the time to reach in my pocket for my trusty butter knife before they reached us. Fighting a charging small army in front of a county jail was one thing. Fighting (or trying to fight) a small group of tiny, swarming pixies was somehow claustrophobic. Instinctively, I tried to swat one away with my left hand and got a needle in my palm for my efforts.
    I sucked a breath in through my teeth. That…stung. A lot. But I had my butter knife in hand, and with a slight bit of concentration, I imagined it as a sword, gathered my desire to protect the city, and used the emotion to push the idea into reality. The butter knife lengthened, the blade sharpening.
    Beside me, Anwynn growled, snapping at the air like a dog trying to catch a particularly agile fly.
    I lifted my blade, blocking a diving sprite. Another flew in from the side and cut a gash along my ribs, ruining what had been a perfectly decent shirt. I supposed I could add “increased clothing budget” to “increased food budget” in my list of downsides to discovering I was adopted and, oh right, not actually human.
    “Watch your eyes,” Anwynn barked out, just as another sprite tried to gouge mine out.
    I batted it away with the flat of my sword. “I’m not here to hurt you,” I said to the sprites. “I am Nicole, the Changeling. I’m here to send you back to the Fae world.”
    “Trying to reason with sprites is like trying to find the bottom of a well by shouting at it,” Anwynn said.  One of the sprites sank its sword into her back and she winced. “Just kill them. I’m hungry anyways.”
    I tried again. “You’ve done enough mischief.” I didn’t want to kill them. I’d had enough killing in the past couple months to last five lifetimes. They just kept coming, their tiny swords cutting gashes across my skin. I swatted two more away and then turned, closed my eyes, and concentrated.
    Opening a doorway to the Fae world felt a little like tearing through gauze, but with my brain instead of my fingers. It was a neat party trick—and I was the only one alive who could do it. Other Fae, both greater and lesser, couldn’t get to the mortal world without a piece of moonstone to draw a doorway with.
    One of the sprites took advantage of my momentary distraction. I felt the flutter of wings and tried to block it, but that only meant it sank its blade into my shoulder instead of my neck. Pain blossomed out from that spot, and the little beast wasn’t gentle when he yanked the sword back out again.
    Someone jogged by on the sidewalk, giving me and Anwynn a quizzical look and increasing his pace as he passed. Most of the smaller Fae could