The Urban Fantasy Anthology

by Peter S. ; Peter S. Beagle; Joe R. Lansdale Beagle

  “That’s not helping.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “But there’s always been something different about him.”

  Different? I suppose. There’s certainly always been a part of him that I can’t reach—that I feel I’ll never know—but that touch of mysteriousness is half of what attracted me to him in the first place. And I’ve never been the kind of person who believes in changing the person I’m with. You fall in love with them because of who they are. Unless they acquire some new, destructive habit, why would you want to change them?

  “Just remember,” Gwen says. “You’re not defined by your relationship to him.”

  “I know that.”

  “And besides, you’re not even married.”

  That’s so Gwen. For her, a piece of paper always has more weight than the knowledge we acquire beyond school or university, or the depth of the feelings people carry around in their hearts.

  For me, the feeling is everything.

  We fall silent for a few moments. I drink some of my coffee and consider getting one of the café’s fancy scones. Gwen has a sip of latte and I know she’s not even tempted by the treats behind glass at the counter. She’s looking out the window. It’s a beautiful autumn day out there, but that’s not what has her attention.

  I’m not sure if she’s fascinated or repulsed by the parade of people with their tats and piercings and individual fashion sense. Probably a little of both. She so doesn’t fit into the scene down here in Crowsea, but I feel right at home.

  “You know,” she says, “whenever I hear about something like this, a big change that comes out of nowhere, I…”

  She gets this look that I’m beginning to recognize. This has come up before. Her gaze turns to meet mine.

  “What happened that last year of high school?” she asks. “I thought we’d be friends forever.”

  “We’re still friends,” I say, my voice mild.

  She nods. “But you know what I mean. You just changed overnight.”

  “I didn’t change. I evolved. If anyone changed, it was you.”

  “I didn’t…”

  “Besides,” I say before she can go on. “Change doesn’t automatically mean bad. Sometimes we need to change, to become who we really are.”

  “And who are you, really, Mary?”

  This is new. I’m about to brush off her question with a joke, but I think about what’s happened to me, my suspicions about Edric, and the way it has me feeling stupid, spying on him, grasping for some, any kind of understanding.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her.

  I manage a CD shop over on Williamson, but I don’t believe that people are defined by their jobs any more than they are by their relationships. Both can tell you something about a person, but they’re only pieces of the big puzzle. And that’s what I am to myself right now. A big puzzle.

  “This is going to sound awful,” she says, “and I’m totally sympathetic to your situation, but I have to admit that there’s a little piece of me that feels relieved that you can be going through all of this.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s just…well, I found out that Bill’s been going to this website called SuicideGirls. You know, it’s one of those pay porn sites where girls pose naked. Girls who, you know…”

  “Are all tattooed and pierced like me.”

  She nods. “Everywhere you turn, that’s the cool thing. Actors, musicians, porn stars for god’s sake. They’re all cool. It’s like you’re a Neanderthal if you don’t have a half-dozen tattoos and something stuck in your tongue, or dangling from a place that was never meant to dangle anything.”

  “In your opinion.”

  “In my opinion, yes. All of you are the people who are sexy and cool while the rest of us are just, I don’t know, drones or something.”

  “I don’t think you’re a drone,” I tell her. “And I don’t think that there’s anything innately cool about tats or piercings. They’re either something you use to express yourself, or they’re not.”

  “That’s not what the media seems to be telling us these days.”

  I smile. “Except mostly what I see in the media are skinny women with big boobs and blonde hair. They’re not exactly Goths, or punks.”

  “No, but they make it out like there’s this whole exotic underground that ordinary people can’t be a part of.”

  “Do you want to be a part of it?”

  “That’s not the point. They’re selling it as the new cool. I mean, Angelina Jolie’s already way more beautiful than any of us could ever hope to be. Do they really need to add in tattoos when they hype her?”

  “So don’t listen to them.”

  We fall silent for a moment.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said anything like that.”

  I can’t help but smile. I know I should be a little pissed off, but this is Gwen. She’s so square that they check rulers against her to make sure they’re straight.

  “But you can’t help but feel relieved to find out that ‘cool’ people—” I mark quotations in the air between us. “—have their problems, too.”

  “I know. I’m an awful friend, aren’t I?”

  I shake my head. “No, you’re just being honest. We’ve earned the right to that between us.” I wait a beat, then add, “So you think Bill’s cheating on you, too. Maybe with some little tattooed Goth girl?”

  “Oh, God, no. I just find it weird that that kind of thing could turn him on.”

  “Did you ask him about it?”

  She shook her head. “In a vague sort of way. But he thought I was accusing him of lusting after you.”

  “And you didn’t correct him?”

  “No. Because then he’d know I was poking through his browser history. Oh, come on,” she adds at the look on my face. “Everybody does that. Don’t tell me you never have.”

  “I never have,” I say. “And even if Edric wasn’t a complete Luddite and actually used our computer, I still wouldn’t.”

  “He doesn’t use a computer?”

  “He doesn’t like any kind of modern technology. I got him a cell phone, but while he carries it around, he doesn’t even have it turned on. When I asked him why he kept it, he said he thought of it as a talisman to remind him of me.”

  “That’s…different.”

  “No, that’s just Edric.”

  “So what are you going to do about him?”

  I shrug. “What else can I do? The next full moon, I should follow him to whatever gig he’s supposed to have.”

  “Or you could just ask him,” Gwen says.

  “Right.”

  “You seem to think I should have done that with Bill.”

  “This is different.”

  “How’s it different?”

  I nod slowly. “I guess, it’s not really, is it? It’s just women being insecure and doesn’t it suck that with all these strides we’re supposed to have made, we still come around to this: letting our confidence be undermined by our relationships. God, it’s like high school all over again.”

  “Except you’ve already got the tattoos and piercings this time,” she says. “Ha ha.”

  But she’s right.

  “Have you been cheating on me?” I ask Edric.

  Here’s the thing when people have something to hide. Usually, they don’t answer you right away. Instead, they come back with a question, like “Why would you think that?” Or maybe they just say, “I can’t believe you think that.” They beat around the bush until you make them answer you, yes or no, simple as that.

  Edric looks at me with what appears to be genuine surprise.

  “No,” he says.

  We’ve just finished dinner. He doesn’t have a gig tonight. We have the whole evening, so what better way to spend this time together than accusing my partner of being unfaithful?

  “It’s just…things feel different between us,” I say when he doesn’t fill the silence.

  B
ut that awkward bit of conversation never happens.

  I agree with Gwen. It’s what I should do, but while Edric and I do have the evening free, he spends it practicing his guitar, while I stay busy scanning pictures of musicians from British music magazines, and then making buttons out of the print-outs that I can sell in the store.

  It’s Tuesday night. This Wednesday’s a full moon. And of course Edric’s got an out-of-town gig. So I’m going to do the stupid, senseless thing. I’m going to follow him to the gig and see what, if anything, is going on. I’ve already got one of my part-timers coming in so that I can have the two days off.

  I know, I know. He could be doing the dirty deed while I’m at the store during the day, but I don’t think so. I’d know if he was having somebody in the apartment besides his music buddies, and there are none of the usual signs when he comes back from being out. It’s only these nights of the full moon. Now that I’m paying attention, I can sense some tension in him as the time approaches, and he’s…I don’t know. Relieved when he comes back.

  You could put it down to gig nerves, but the one place he’s entirely at home is on stage with his guitar in his hand.

  Wednesday morning I leave the apartment the same time I always do, but instead of walking to the store, I take El Sub to my friend Karen’s place in Upper Foxville. She’s lending me her car. And a blonde wig to hide my black hair.

  “You’re sure you don’t want me to come with?” she asks. “Because these things never turn out well.”

  “No, I’m good. And really, how bad can it be?”

  “If you find out he is cheating on you? Really bad.” She pauses to give me a considering look. “Unless you don’t care anymore.”

  “Oh, I care.”

  “Then maybe you should have some company.”

  “No,” I repeat. “This is going to turn out to be all in my own head.”

  Karen sighs, but she lets it go.

  Thirty minutes later I’m parking behind the store. I’m working the morning since I know Edric won’t be leaving until around three or so. His gig’s in Sweetwater tonight, which isn’t that far out of town. He’ll want to miss the rush hour traffic, but it’s not like he has a whole day of driving ahead of him.

  “I sure hope your uncle’s going to be okay,” Cassidy says when I come in the back door.

  See, that’s what this has done to me. Not only am I going all weird about Edric, I’m lying to people about it. Cassidy thinks I’m going to take care of a sick uncle for a couple of days.

  I nod. “It’s only until my cousin gets back. I’m just going to make sure everything’s okay at the house—get him some groceries, that kind of thing.”

  I leave the lie hanging between us in the back room and go out into the front to make sure everything’s okay. I check that there’s plenty of stock on this week’s sale items, ask Laura if we need change and if she’ll put up the buttons I made last night, then I go into my office to get yesterday’s deposit ready for the bank.

  The day drags the way it only can when you’re waiting on something, but finally it’s time for me to get going. I don’t put on the wig until I’m in the car, adjusting it in the rearview mirror, then I ease out into the traffic and head for home.

  Or rather, a half block away from home where I can see our car parked in front of the apartment building. My timing’s pretty good, because by the time I get parked myself, I see Edric coming out of the building. He loads his guitar and gear, then pulls out.

  And right away my fears seem to be confirmed. Instead of taking any of the eastbound streets, which is what he’ll need to do to get to Sweetwater, he works his way over to Williamson Street and then heads north. I stay a few cars back as I follow him out of town and onto the highway.

  This so sucks.

  I want to turn around and return Karen’s car to her, go back to the store and just forget about all of this. But it’s way too late for that. Now I have to know where he’s going, what he’s up to. Who he’s doing it with.

  It’s so pathetic. I should have just confronted him last night instead of going through all of this crap. Right now I should just pull him over to the side of the road and demand he level with me. But no, I feel trapped in this stupid plan I’ve put into motion and all I do is follow him.

  We go up as far as an old deserted motel that sits on the inside of a curve of the highway. He signals and turns into its parking lot, steering around the clumps of weeds and broken asphalt. I drive by, stopping on the side of the road when the curve takes me out of sight. I yank off the wig, jump out of my own vehicle and run back through the woods and brush. By the time I can see the motel, the car’s no longer there.

  Hidden around back, I’m guessing.

  This is gross. Couldn’t he and his girlfriend at least get a room in a working motel?

  I cut across the parking lot, then follow the wall of the building to the rear. There I see the car, its engine still pinging. I lift my gaze and spot Edric heading into the woods on the far side of a wide field behind the motel.

  Now I don’t know what to think. He can’t have some girl stashed away in the forest, can he? So what’s he doing? What could possibly bring him out here every full moon?

  Gwen’s stupid comment about werewolves comes to mind, but I dismiss it before it can even start to take hold. This isn’t a story about boogiemen. Whatever sordid secret Edric’s got hidden in these woods, it relates to this world, not the make-believe world of horror movies or fairy tales.

  When Edric disappears in between the trees, I jog across the field, aiming for the big oak tree that marks the place where he vanished from my view. I slow down when I get near, trying to walk carefully, but I’m a city girl, not some Indian tracker. I know I’m making noise. I just hope it’s not enough to give me away.

  It’s cooler under the trees, but surprisingly clear of brush. I button up my coat, and step under the oak’s boughs. They’re heavy with dead leaves, brown and golden. Beyond the oak, it’s all tall pine trees and next to no underbrush. The forest floor is littered with their needles. I can see a fair distance through the trees, but it still takes me a few moments to find Edric. When I do, I duck behind the fat trunk of a big pine tree and mouth a silent curse when I lean against it and my hand comes away sticky with sap.

  I peer around the trunk to see that Edric’s stopped. He’s about a hundred yards away, reaching into what I assume is a hollow of a tree trunk until I realize his hands are going right into the wood. That barely has time to register before he starts pulling something…no. Someone out of the trunk.

  And then I realize that it’s not just someone. It’s himself. He’s pulling a mirror image of himself out of the tree.

  I try to make sense out of what I’m seeing, but it’s no use. It can’t make sense because it’s impossible.

  I can feel myself starting to shut down.

  This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

  I sink to my haunches and lean against the pine, not caring if I get sap on my clothes or hair. With bark rough against my face, I watch as Edric talks to his double.

  There has to be a rational explanation for this, I think, as Edric’s double takes the car keys from Edric’s hand, then turns away to retrace Edric’s path through the trees. I move around the tree so that I won’t be in his line of sight as he comes by.

  Okay. Figure this out.

  Edric has a twin he hasn’t told me about. That’s possible—and the only probable explanation. And since people can’t exist inside trees, Edric’s twin must have been standing on the other side of the tree and it just looked as if he’d stepped out of it.

  It doesn’t explain why they’re meeting here in the woods, but at least I no longer have to feel like I’ve gone off the deep end.

  I peek around my tree and see that Edric’s walking off, deeper into the woods. I look around the other side. His twin goes by, heading for the field. The resemblance is eerie. They’re even wearing the exact same clothes. I start when
a twig snaps under his feet.

  I wait and watch until he steps into the field, then I force myself to my feet. I still feel a little shaky, but I can deal with all of this now. I give the twin a last glance, just to make sure he’s really leaving, then set off in the direction Edric took.

  When I think about what I’ve seen, I realize that the twins are switching places and I wonder what that means for this relationship I’ve had with Edric for the past seven years. Was it with him, with his twin brother, or some weird combination of the two?

  It’s not him cheating on me with another woman—at least not so far as I’ve seen yet—but the more I think about it, the angrier I get.

  I should just leave. I should go home and pack up his crap and leave it waiting for him or his twin out on the curb. Because there’s something particularly twisted about how all of this is playing out.

  I slow down when I see that Edric has stopped up ahead. He’s standing in a small clearing. To get to that clearing myself, I have to leave the quiet carpet of pine needles for the underbrush that’s growing up on the edges of the meadow. I look left and right, then spy a ridge of granite that rises steadily on the north side. It could give me a view of the meadow. It just depends how much foliage there is in the way.

  It’s starting to get dark now, so I hurry over to the ridge and clamber up the rock. It’s steeper than I thought, but I find plenty of hand- and toe-holds and soon I’m jogging along the top of the ridge, my running shoes quiet on the granite.

  I keep an eye on the meadow as I go. Edric’s still just standing there. Waiting for something, I guess. Probably for some bush girl who lives out here where sensible people don’t even visit, never mind live.

  Finally, I reach the part of the ridge that’s closest to the meadow. There are pine boughs in the way, but I find places where I can peer through them and get a good line of view. Behind Edric is another of the massive oaks that seem to be scattered through this mostly evergreen wood. I’m close enough that I could call out to him and he’d hear me.

  The dusk is steadily falling. I can still make Edric out. He’s wearing a pale tan fleece and the light from the moon picks it out. Around me, the forest falls deeper and deeper into shadows.