The Urban Fantasy Anthology Part 18

"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. G.o.d, 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.

But 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 b.u.t.tons 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 Sweet.w.a.ter 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," Ca.s.sidy 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. Ca.s.sidy 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 b.u.t.tons 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 Sweet.w.a.ter, 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 c.r.a.p. 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 b.u.t.ton 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 a.s.sume 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 c.r.a.p 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 ma.s.sive 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.

I'm not sure when I start to hear the music-fiddles and drums and bells playing a soft marching rhythm. I just know I've been hearing it for a few moments before I see lights approaching on the far side of the meadow. And then...

I have to shake my head.

It figures. Who else would Edric be meeting out here but some back-tothe-earth Renaissance Fayre types. These ones are riding horses and they're all decked out in fancy gowns and robes. Edric's played the Fayres for years-he took me there on one of our first dates and didn't I fit in, all in black with my tats and my hair cut short and spiked. I'd laughed when Edric put on the hose, doublet and all to play the wandering minstrel, but had to admit he had the build that could pull it off.

They all took it so seriously. Apparently, a lot of them were part of something called the Society for Creative Anachronism and they had this whole role-playing thing set up where they dressed like medieval lords and ladies and had feasts and jousts and, of course, the Fayres.

I ended up liking a lot of them-once we got over our mutual culture shock. But today? Not so much. Between finding out Edric's got a twin who's apparently been sharing his conjugal rights, traipsing around in the autumn woods, which is not my idea of fun, and now this, I'm not feeling particularly charitable toward them.

I figure the looker on the front horse is the woman he's here to see. She's wearing the usual SCA low-cut bodice, a blue-green cape flowing over her mount's withers. She has a crown-naturally-and her hair is a dark waterfall that goes all the way to the small of her back in a curtain of ringlets. The rest of them are acting like they are her court-like she's the queen her crown says she is. I start to look for a safe way down to confront them when it occurs to me that none of the riders are carrying the lights. The lanterns are bobbing in the air, floating above the little entourage. And then I see...then I see...

Children, I tell myself. They're just children.

Except some of them have wings and they're no bigger than cats. They're flying-flying!-above the riders, carrying their lanterns and...and...

My knees feel weak. I sit down on the stone under my feet before my legs give way.

I try to convince myself that I'm not seeing what my eyes are telling me I am. They're doing it all with wires. Mirrors. It's just a trick. That's all.

Just.

A.

Trick.

The music falls silent when the lead rider stops her horse directly in front of Edric. She says something to him. I can hear her voice-high and musical-but I can't make out what she's saying. It's in some language I've never heard before.

Then they both look in my direction.

Oh c.r.a.p.

They don't know I'm here. They can't know I'm here.

But then a pair of those flying cat-sized people come zipping from the meadow and my pulse goes into overdrive. I want to bolt, but I can't even get to my feet. The pair dart between the boughs of the spruce, holding their lanterns, until they're circling above me. I'm blinded by the light and hold my arm up to cover my eyes. They make a last circle above me-so close the hummingbird motion of their wings has my hair lifting and fluttering and I can smell the sweet oil from their lanterns-then they're gone again. I see stars until my eyes adjust to the darkness.

My heartbeat is still drumming in my chest when I hear the woman speak once more-this time in English.

"You know what happens now," she says.

I see Edric nod. His shoulders are drooped.

He knows, and I can guess. They're going to do something to me-I don't know what. Wipe my mind of the memory of seeing them, maybe. Banish me into some weird Fairyland prison.

Or they could just kill me.

I sit straighter and stare at them, waiting for I don't know what. My sentence to be p.r.o.nounced, I suppose. But I won't go without a fight.

I look around and reach for a branch that's lying on the stone nearby. I make myself get up-will the shaking in my legs to stop. When I'm sure I have my balance, I break the branch against my knee. That gives me two small clubs with which to defend myself.

The snap is loud in the night. Edric and the fairy court turn in my direction. I can see the queen frowning from where I stand, but then she lifts her arm. I stiffen and try to psyche myself for the attack I'm sure she's about to command. But when she brings her hand down, the whole fairy court simply vanishes and the woods are plunged into night.

It takes my eyes a long moment to adjust to the darkness again. When they do, I can't see Edric anymore. I have the sudden thought that I've just dreamed the whole thing. Any moment I'll wake up-back home, in my own bed-and everything will be back to normal. But then I hear a scuffling on the rock below. I step closer to the edge and see Edric working his way up a switchback to the top of the ridge.

There are only three turns-the ridge is no more than twenty-or-so feet high. I step back from the edge when he comes into view, my clubs held out in front of me. The light's poor, even with the bright moonshine coming down through the trees, but I know he sees me. Sees what I'm holding.

"Mary," he says.

I glare at him.

"So, what did she tell you to do?" I demand. "Are you supposed to try to kill me?"

He shakes his head. I can't read his features.

"Nothing like that," he says.

"Yeah, right."

Neither of us say anything for a long moment.

"Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone?" he finally asks.

"Why did you have to have secrets?"

"I was under a geas," he says. "Do you know what that means?"