Harvest of Changelings by Warren Rochelle Read Free Book Online Page B

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    By the time Malachi came home the second time it was late, a little after eleven. Malachi knew he was going to be exhausted in school tomorrow, but he didn’t care. He could fly. He landed on the front stoop and standing beneath the outside light, fished his key out of his pocket and unlocked the front door. He stepped into a silent house. The lamp on the end table, beside the couch, was on, making a soft yellow circle on the rug.
    After cutting off the lamp, he went down the hall. No light edged his father’s door. The bathroom night-light made a tiny white sphere, illuminating the linoleum and the bath mat. Malachi looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes weren’t just golden-brown anymore. They were becoming the color of the gold crayon in the Crayola box. For a brief moment, his eyes glowed and just as quickly the glow winked out. His hair—was it getting even lighter? And his ears—Malachi turned on the overhead light and turned his head to one side and then the other. Yes, his ears were getting pointed. Dad couldn’t ignore these things, could he? Like he ignored the floating bowls? He knew all that was happening wasn’t normal. Was he—no, not going crazy?
    Dad, you know; I know you know. Why won’t you talk to me?
    Before leaving the bathroom, Malachi pulled the night-light out of the socket. He had told his dad a hundred times he was too old for a night-light. He very slowly and carefully opened his bedroom door at the end of the hall. The lamps on his night table and his desk were on. His father lay on his back on Malachi’s bed, fast asleep and snoring.
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    April 30, 1991
The Technician
    â€œCampus Magic”
    Today is Beltaine or May Eve. Walpurgis Night. Uh? Like, so what? Walpurgis Night, the eve of May 1 or May Day, is, according to legend, the night when witches fly. Beltaine is one of the four most sacred days in the Celtic calendar, and at midnight the way between here and the Otherworld is open. And you are still going uh and so what, right?

    A lot of your classmates aren’t. According to statistics just released from the Campus Ministries Office, there are at least 250 undergraduates and about 70 graduate students who list their religious affiliation as either Wiccan, Druid, Pagan or Neo-Pagan, or the Old Religion. A coven meets regularly at the McKimmon Center, every third Thursday.
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    The next time you take a seat in English 111 or Compsci 101, take a good look at the people around you. They probably look pretty normal to you, don’t they? Your typical NCSU students. Engineers, foresters, ag majors, pre-vets, teachers, right? Well, one of those civil engineer-wannabes or one of those pre-vets—anyone of your classmates—could be a real, live practicing witch. That’s right, you heard me: a witch, or warlock, a wizard. A practitioner of the occult ...
    Russell Avery White
    Russell slowly dried himself with a thick, orange towel. He wanted to stretch out the time in his bathroom sanctuary as long as possible. The steam from his shower had clouded the medicine cabinet mirror, the tiles on the wall, even the window. Russell sighed as he rubbed down his legs. He knew he couldn’t stay too long, or his stepmother would start complaining how he was monopolizing the room and didn’t he realize other people had to take showers and use the john? Didn’t the boy ever think of anybody but hisself? Larry? Can’t you make your son behave?
    Better not push my luck, he thought, and wrapped the towel around his waist and picked up his clothes from the floor. As Russell turned to go, he stopped and looked back into the mirror. For a very brief moment, his eyes had seemed to be greener and brighter than they had ever been. Russell blinked and looked again. The extra-green brightness was gone—had it really been there? A trick of the early light? He rubbed his eyes and took his T-shirt and wiped the fog off the mirror.