Last Car to Annwn Station (4 page)

The girl nodded her head.

“Hello. You must be Chrysandra.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the child said shyly.

Mae opened her mouth to ask her question, when movement out of the corner of her eye made her glance at the mirror.

The four occupants of the room were all in full view, but where there should have been the reflection of a healthy, well-dressed twelve-year-old child, there was instead a decomposing corpse reflected in the mirror, its hair falling out in clumps, its flesh mostly pale, but in places mottled with red and black streaks. Mae missed a beat as the horrid reflection startled her and bile rose in her throat.

She swallowed, hoping she had recovered before Arneson or Hodgins noticed. She asked the apparently healthy child a series of what she felt were appropriate questions, stopping herself from turning to stare at the mirror.

Mae finished and—giving the mirror the barest glance—thanked Arneson and Hodgins and made her exit.

She ran down the driveway to the street where she bent over and expelled the meager contents of her stomach onto the pavement.

She was just getting control of herself when the streetcar rolled up and the door opened.

Mae rode the car back to Uptown. She rested her head on the cool glass of the window and watched the shadowy world that she knew was her hometown pass by. As they closed on Uptown proper, more passengers came aboard. Mae paid no mind to the parade of faerie and spirit creatures, whether grotesque, beautiful or mundane.

She stared out the window as they reached Hennepin Avenue. Trendy young professionals, hipsters, punkers and goths, and the ever-present teen crowd, filled the area, dressed for each other in their best plumage. Liberally laced in the crowd were what could only be categorized as normals, wandering through Uptown on their way to a particular theatre or restaurant.

This ordinary scene was shattered by the less-than-ordinary participants in the swirling chaos that was the corner of Lake and Hennepin. Mae wondered why she could see them now. Had her encounters with the streetcars changed her, pulled back whatever veil had hidden the fantastical world that seemed to exist alongside the one she had always known?

It was not as if they were
everywhere
, which Mae supposed made them stand out even more. A woman with the lower body of a goat stood in front of The Rainbow Building. Two manlike creatures, one short and decked out in a red cap, the other tall with hair so golden it shone, argued in front of Calhoun Square. Mae saw the bison-headed man, hunched in his heavy winter coat, waiting for the light to change so he could cross the intersection.

Mae closed her eyes. She did not
want
to see this world. She did not want to be a part of this extra reality, not if it meant confronting things like reanimated dead children. She feared it was too late to return to her old life.

Mae shivered as the streetcar turned up Hennepin. She climbed off the car in front of the old Walker Library building, the squat, solid structure that stood across the street from the newer underground complex.

Mae stood on the sidewalk and let the crowds of pedestrians pass around her. She was surprised by how much activity there was for a Tuesday night. Of course, she did not get out much; for all she knew this was perfectly normal.

She was not ready to face her empty apartment after the night’s events. Mae wanted something warm to drink and, if not conversation and company, then at least the presence of her fellow humans. She drew her coat tighter around her body and, checking to make sure her bag was closed and secure, decided to walk to one of the local coffee shops.

“Mae? Mae! Over here!”

Mae looked up to find Jill crossing the street toward her, bundled up in her wool coat, wearing a jaunty little knit hat, and looking entirely too put-together.

“How are you?” Jill asked, her breath filling the air with vapor, her eyes and cheeks bright from the night’s chill.

“I—um—I was just going to get some coffee.”

“Great! Do you want some company?”

Mae considered telling Jill she wanted to be alone, but changed her mind. “Sure.”

Mae felt Jill slip her arm under her elbow, locking their arms together. Jill led her the rest of the way through the intersection.

Mae pointed her finger toward Lake Street. “Dunn Brothers is just over there.”

“Yeah, and Dunn Brothers is perfectly nice. But Muddy Paws has cheesecake. Many, many types of cheesecake.”

“That’s quite the walk,” Mae pointed out. Muddy Paws was a good six blocks away.

“It will warm us up!” Jill said, dragging Mae along toward her goal.

Mae looked over her shoulder at the slowly receding Dunn Brothers sign. “We could warm up in there.”

Jill laughed. “Come on, you.”

Mae gave in and followed Jill, heading north on Hennepin Avenue, past the library, the transit station, the goth apparel and gear store, and a dozen small, quirky, independent shops and restaurants, all obstinate resistors against the large corporations swallowing the neighborhood.

“Do you ever go home?” Mae asked as they stood waiting for a light to change, their target in sight at the other end of the block.

“Sure I do,” Jill answered, starting across the street with Mae firmly in tow. “I’ve changed clothes since we left work, which, it seems, is more than can be said for some of us.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a story behind that,” Mae mumbled as they walked into the coffee shop.

The smell of roasted coffee beans and baked goods filled her nose. Her stomach actually rumbled and Mae realized that she had not eaten any dinner, and whatever had been left of her light lunch was slowly freezing on a street in front of the Arneson mansion.

Jill smiled at her. “Good. Let’s order and you can tell me all about it.”

Mae chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, considering what to order and what to tell Jill. Mae wished she had kept her big mouth shut.

Mae watched Jill order a large caramel mocha and a slice of turtle cheesecake and wondered exactly where Jill put all the food she ate. Mae ordered a medium cappuccino and a plain piece of cheesecake.

“I’ll get us a table,” Jill said. “Give me your coat.”

Mae considered pleading that she was still cold and keeping her coat on. She also considered making a run for it when Jill’s back was turned. Instead, she handed Jill her coat and suppressed a stab of panic.

Jill returned as their order came up, and the two settled at the small wooden bistro table Jill had secured. Mae realized how terribly small the table was. There was barely enough room for all their food and drink. It was tucked into a dark corner of the shop, the kind of table designed for the maximum enhancement of romantic whispers.

Mae took a sip of her cappuccino and watched Jill from over the rim of her cup. She swallowed the hot, frothy liquid and, deciding the best defense was a good offense, she opened the conversation.

“What brings you out to Uptown on a Tuesday night?” she said, looking Jill squarely in the eyes.

Jill shrugged and dug into her caramel and walnut-covered cheesecake. “I was feeling restless, so I thought I’d wander down and see if anything was going on.”

Mae nodded. Jill owned a townhouse in the LynLake area. East of Uptown, it was a haven for artists, students and people who lived on the fringe, having suffered less of the gentrification that made the core corner of Uptown looked like an outdoor shopping mall. Mae and Jill were practically neighbors.

“So? Spill!”

“I’m sorry?”

Jill’s eyes lit up. “You said there was a story.”

Mae looked down at her half-eaten cheesecake. “I think it might be more of a—”

“Third date story?” Jill supplied. “Because if that’s the case, then what say we go out to dinner tomorrow night and you can tell me all about it.”

Mae frowned. “I was going to say it was more of a ‘one year into the relationship’ kind of story, and did you just ask me out?”

“That must be some kind of story and yes, I did.” Jill scooped up another huge bite of cheesecake on her fork. She paused before popping it into her mouth. “So?”

Mae rested her elbows on the table and laced her fingers together in front of her. She settled her chin on top of her fingers and tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible. She thought Jill was interested in her, but Mae also knew she was lousy at reading signals. “I thought you liked the ‘hot, hot boys’ down at the Fine Line.”

Jill swallowed her cheesecake and gave Mae a little smirk. “I do.”

Mae sat up straight in her chair in an attempt to, as a friend from college once said, “Get the girls up where they can draw attention.” Mae was not sure if the effort was having the desired effect, but it was the best she could do short of taking off her blouse. She could not stop a slight smile from forming on her lips.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a boy. I mean, I realize I’m a little—”

“Waif-like?”

“I was going to say ‘boyish’ but that works as well. However, I am
not
a boy.”

Jill rolled her eyes and took a drink of her coffee. “Yes, Mae, I realize that. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I like hot, hot girls as well?”

Mae’s posture relaxed and she leaned back on the table again. “Oh. Well, then…”

“Or maybe I like hot, hot lawyers.”

“I could introduce you to some, if you’d like.”

Jill reached across the small table and placed her left hand on top of Mae’s right one. “Maybe I like hot girl lawyers named Mae.”

Mae gave her a soft smile. “Jill—”

Jill released Mae’s hand and leaned back. “This is the part where you tell me you’re not interested in me as girlfriend material, and I get to feel like a damned fool, right?”

“Actually, this is the part where I tell you I’m terrible at relationships, and that right now may not be the best of times for me to start something new.”

Jill’s face broke into a wide grin. “So you are interested!”

Mae looked straight into Jill’s pale blue eyes. “Jill, I’m not going to lie to you. There is a lot of—weirdness—going on in my life right now.” Mae sighed. “There are things I’m not sure I can talk about, not without sounding like a complete loon.”

Jill crossed her arms. “Try me. I’m into weird.”

Mae looked up as the barista approached their table. “Ladies, I just wanted to let you know we’ll be closing in about ten minutes. Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you,” Jill said.

The barista smiled and walked away.

Mae turned her attention back to her cheesecake, devouring it almost as quickly as Jill finished hers. As Mae took her last bite, the voice of Roy Orbison came over the radio playing behind the counter, where before there had been soft Celtic music. Mae turned in her chair and gave the radio a suspicious look.

“Walk you home?” Jill asked, rising from her chair. She checked to make sure the lid on her cup was secure.

Mae stood with her and pulled on her coat. They both moved toward the door, cups of hot coffee in hand. “You don’t have to.”

“Maybe I want to. I have to catch a bus at Uptown Station, so it’s on my way. Besides, you still haven’t answered my question.” Jill held the door open for Mae.

The cold air grabbed both women with its brutal embrace.

“Shit!” Jill shrieked as the stiff October winds rushed up to greet them.

“Dunn Brothers was closer to the bus station, too,” Mae said, laughing at her friend’s discomfort.

“Hush, you,” Jill said. “Aren’t you freezing?”

Mae took a drink from her coffee. “In this? This is nothing. I was thinking about breaking out the grill.”

“You’re weird. So are we on for tomorrow night?”

Mae gave her answer a moment’s thought. She had enjoyed herself tonight and in truth, she needed some normalcy in her life. “Okay. Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking that barbecue place in Calhoun Square.”

Mae gave Jill a faux-horrified look. “Barbecue? This early in the relationship?”

“We’ve been out together bunches of times, I’m going to hold you to mid-relationship dating rules. Beside, wasn’t it you who was just talking about grilling?”

The wind rose up and buffeted them, bending the lightweight maple trees along the avenue dangerously and knocking the lighter Mae into Jill.

As Mae steadied herself on Jill’s arm, she heard the faint strains of Roy Orbison’s voice singing “I Drove All Night” from a passing car.

She followed the vehicle with her eyes and found herself looking at four figures trailing her and Jill, about a half block behind them. Mae shivered as she watched them. There was something wrong with the way they walked. Their gait seemed stiff and forced. As she watched, the wind blew back the hood of one of the men.

He had ears, similar to those of a dog, on top of his head. The creature quickly grabbed its hood and pulled it back over its head, but not before Mae saw a long white snout.

“Jill—”

“I see them. Let’s make for the transit station. It will still be full of people, even this late, and there might be a transit cop nearby.”

Mae knew a transit cop would not be able to handle what was following them, but she did not have a better plan. “Okay,” she said softly.

The two women picked up their pace. Mae resisted the urge to look behind her, partially because she knew if she did, she might panic and break into a run, and something told her running would be disastrous. She noticed Jill reach inside her coat and withdraw a metal rod. Mae recognized it as a telescoping baton. She sincerely hoped they did not have to try to fight their way out of a confrontation, the more so because she still had not replaced her pepper spray.

“Cross!” Jill said as they reached the corner at 28
^th
Street, grabbing Mae’s hand.

The two women dived into the crosswalk. Mae chanced a glance over her shoulder. Their pursuers had picked up the pace, closing rapidly despite their awkward gaits. They raced along the sidewalk unmindful of the other pedestrians’ indignant protests as the four crashed through in pursuit of Mae and Jill.

“They’re gaining!” Mae cried.

“The station’s right there. We can jump on the Twenty-One bus. It drops off near my place.”