No Man's Land

Decay time varied, depending on the age and art of the Huldu who’d built the enchantment in the first place, how much effort went into the spell, and how long the changeling had been in place. Gray figures, like ghosts, or just—smoke.” Hardy shrugged. “And then, suddenly, it was just the sergeant and myself shooting. As future iron thralls, as playthings, as the slaking of some momentary spite or thirst, a possessive passion-on-sight whim that seemed to manifest in mortals only among the truly deranged. (Were the Fae mentally ill? Finally, inevitably, he found himself standing in front of the window, staring out at the rain and the gathering murk.