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“You beat Horn Tusk,” I said. “The crew should be happy you’re their captain.”
“They preferred to team up with Changelings than be my crew,” Nighteko said. “Not much of a victory.”
“That’s what those creatures were? Changelings?” I’d never seen anything like them my entire life. Except maybe in the X-Men movies. I watched as they morphed from one alien species to another. It gave me goosebumps.
Nighteko took a seat beside me and peered in the direction of the gentle waves. “We got a distress signal and thought it was Vestroil we were saving. It turned out to be Changelings pretending to be Vestroil. Stryder had planned everything—from poisoning me with the Absor to teaming up with the Changelings. I never suspected he was capable of something like that. He was the most loyal member of my crew. Shows you what I know.”
“Your crew organized for them to join us?” I said.
“The Changelings were their Plan B.” He shook his head. “But of all the creatures to ask for aid, the Changelings should be at the bottom of the list. They’re more likely to stab you in the back than help you.”
He spat the word ‘Changeling.’ I sensed there was some dark history between him and those creatures. I didn’t press him on it.
“I’m sorry about your ship,” I said. “I know it was important to you.”
He peered up at the night sky, where his ship was right now. Where he should be. Instead, he was stuck on this planet with me.
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “You’ve never even heard of Changelings before, never mind come in contact with them.”
“You knew what they were before they morphed,” I said. “How?”
“Because their mimicking skills are incredible but not perfect. If they copy someone you know, then look at how they walk and talk. If there’s anything you find strange, it could be because it’s not them. And if the light catches their eyes at just the right angle, you’ll notice a yellow tint in their irises. By then, it’s usually too late and they’ve already buried their blades in your back.”
“What if they copy someone I don’t know?” I said.
“If you’re unfortunate to be close enough to them, look at their wrists.” He pulled his sleeve back and presented me with his perfectly smooth skin. “At the base of the wrist, you’ll notice a slight ridge of flabby skin. When they copy someone, they copy them in parts. Hands, arms, head, chest, legs, and feet. Most of the time, clothes cover their bodies making the ridges invisible but if their sleeves roll up, you’ll notice that seam of skin.”
“They sound disgusting,” I said.
“They are. But it turns out my crew isn’t much better. I proved I was stronger than the strongest of them and still they wouldn’t follow me.”
I nudged him with my shoulder. “That’s because there’s a streak of honor in you,” I said, borrowing Maisie’s words of wisdom.
“Maybe,” he said. “But it hasn’t done much for me today.”
He glanced at the pile of wood I gathered. “You couldn’t start a fire?”
“I left my matches at home,” I said.
Nighteko took two pieces of firewood, split one almost in half, added a little dry grass to the notch, and then rubbed at it with a stick. Within seconds, a spark leaped into existence and the flames caught. He blew on it gently and added extra wood to it.
“You’re a wizard.” I rubbed my hands together and held them up before the flames. “That’s better. I looked for something to eat earlier but there’s nothing here.”
Nighteko moved for the jungle and snapped off a low-hanging branch. He sliced the twigs off and sharpened the tip to a point. He was done within three minutes.
“Where are you going?” I said. “You’re leaving?”
“Somebody has to get us something to eat,” he said. “If the fire starts to go down, add more wood. I’ll be back soon.”
He stepped into the jungle, the cackles and the screeches and the groans nipping at his heels. In seconds, he was gone.
Snip. Snip snip. Snip.
It sounded like a pair of scissors. I rolled over and thought Hazel was busy working on one of her legendary Projects. Making cute photo frames, knitting baby clothes for African kids, turning plastic bottles into toys for the local orphanage… She did it all. She couldn’t just sit and enjoy herself. She always had to do something.
I rolled over. My hand slapped something soft and itchy. I frowned in my dream. That wasn’t right. It should have been a nice cool sheet of Egyptian cotton.
And when I felt something crawling over my cheek, that was the last straw.
