"Very good, very GOOD, Roza," Aunt Frances says. "Quite what we'd expect from your kind." My kind? What? And why isn't she angry?
"What do you mean, my kind? I know I'm not normal! Just tell me what's going on!" I'm getting flustered but she remains as cool and collected as the iceberg that sank the Titanic. "Patience, child," she intones, every word like a blast of liquid nitrogen shooting down my spine. "Everything will come in its own time."
"NO! I want it NOW! Why can't you just explain!" She sighs as if I am a greenfly that refuses to stop crawling up her arm. One she will swot at any second.
"We can't speak about it here," she says. "Too many... mortals." She motions to the woman who made my hot chocolate, who is standing by the till, a her mouth a seemingly permanent O. From what I've worked out, not only am I crazy, I am some immortal being. Or at least, she is.
Aunt Frances bustles me outside into the local park and steers me to a hidden bench behind a cluster of bushes. Secretly I'm not really comfortable with being in such an enclosed, private space with her. What if she's a psycho who feeds kids lies and then murders them horribly in this exact spot every time? Am I this week's victim?
"Hah. Always cautious. Though that particular fear is somewhat irrational.." Now she can read my thoughts. Evil cow. Yes, Aunt Frances, I did mean you.
"The fact is, Roza, you're not normal. Strictly speaking, you aren't Roza Darling at all."
"Then who am I?"
"Changeling 139F. 139 is your code number. F is your element, fire. It's because of your powers. You know, to make things burst into flames, how your eyes flash red when you're angry.." She goes on and on but I'm not listening. A changeling!
"So.. what do you think?" she exclaims, her eyes lit up with this strange glint. I laugh.
"I think that's the worst lie I've ever heard," I say truthfully. Come on. Changelings don't exist. That's just some weirdo Pagan belief that they considered possible in the 14th century. Anyway, if I was, I'd have horns and maggots crawling across my shrivelled grey scalp.
"You need proof, don't you? All right 139F, I want you to close your eyes and imagine the biggest fire you can. Roaring, spitting, hostile flames, rising up and clawing the air with scalding heat. Feel it crackle and growl and flicker." I find myself doing exactly what she says. This should be funny when I open my eyes and Aunt Frances will feel like a moron.
"Open your eyes, 139F. Open. Your. Eyes."
YOU ARE READING
Devil's Daughter
FantasyWhat if your whole life had been fake? What if your purpose was to do evil? What if you weren't you.. Just a replacement?
