Anthology of Speculative Fiction, Volume Two

by Short Story Anthology

  At Eva’s feet, a garter snake writhed in the grass. Nita slapped it with her paw and hurled it into a basket.

  Her form shivered and she coalesced into a Nunne’hi woman. Spinning wildly, she called, “Salali!”

  The redbird landed on her outstretched wrist. Weeping, she bent her head over the bird, and her hair hid them both. This was true love.

  Whatever Eva felt for Giancarlos didn’t go much past lust. She wrapped her arms around her chest and shook.

  Nita’s voice was low as if she were answering something the redbird had said. She sighed. “Mortal. Why did you come here? To murder more of my people?”

  Under the weight of her gaze, Eva had trouble catching her breath. “I—I didn’t mean to.”

  “You cause much damage for someone without intention.”

  “I just wanted to request Giancarlo’s return.”

  The redbird chirped. Nita lifted a trembling hand and stroked the bird’s feathers. “Are you in love with him?”

  Eva had a crush and certain fantasies, but in love? Knowing how many spells were broken by true love, answering “no” could mean that she wouldn’t be allowed to seek Giancarlo’s release. But the Hidden People, particularly the Nunne’hi, were notorious sticklers for the truth. The literal truth…. “I came after him, didn’t I?”

  “So you did.” Nita stopped in front of a cage and crouched to stroke the cat inside. “Why?”

  “I told him I would keep him safe. Will you release him?”

  The bird chirped again and Nita lowered her head and answered Salali. “Yes, love, but—There are rules. I may not release him.”

  Eva balled her hands into fists. Saving Nita wasn’t enough? She tried to calm her breathing and think. Asking Nita to release Giancarlo was like asking the Earth to release gravity, but the lore was full of ways to get around these rules.

  Eva tried to think of the right language to use in asking for Giancarlo’s release. Bargains with the various Hidden People were a tricky thing and lord knew, she’d spent enough time researching it, but there was a big difference between knowing something for a research paper and putting that into practical use. She cleared her throat. “May I win him?”

  “You may try. Once. Your mortal is here.” Nita swept her arm in a gesture around the clearing. When she completed the gesture, she held a small birch bark casket. “Find him and put all of him in this casket”

  The casket weighed almost nothing. Eva needed to approach this like the scholar she was. Examine the evidence and draw a conclusion.

  The nearest basket held a bluejay, which flew to the top of the basket and gripped the sides. It cocked its head to study her with bright, black eyes. Eva hesitated and went onto the next. Cennetig’s raccoon picked at the edges of the basket, as though it could unweave them, but the green willow had taken root and every hole the beast made filled with new green growth.

  Eva shuddered.

  Among the animals in the baskets, she found a hedgehog, which had curled into a small ball and huddled against the side of its basket. If Giancarlo had just arrived, wouldn’t his animal self be more traumatized than the rest of the animals here? Or would he be fascinated? God. Did she know anything about him?

  Think, Eva. She had seen Cennetig break into four animals. Nita had said to put all of Giancarlo in the casket. The Cherokee believed that people had four souls. Or some of them did. Her grandmother had been Catholic. She shook her head—she had to think like a scholar. When Nita said to put all of Giancarlo in the casket, she was talking about the Askina. Eva needed to find four animals if she wanted to save Giancarlo.

  She went from cage to cage: possum, cat, rattlesnake, raven, field mouse, cricket, bat, canary—

  Canary. Those weren’t native to North America and the rest of the animals had been. Could it be that simple? Did she just need to find the European animals?

  Thinking it through, the first soul of the Askina was the conscious life and animated the other three. So… so that soul would know and remember being Giancarlo. Probably the hedgehog, which seemed traumatized.

  The second soul is physiological which would mean…what? It was seated in the liver and produced yellow bile. Was the canary part of Giancarlo’s soul?

  Excited now, she searched for the third soul. Located in the heart, it was associated with blood. She paused by a cage which held a bat. That would be a curious blending of Cherokee and Italian traditions, if the bat’s European association with vampires also linked it to blood here. But was this a North American or a European bat? She shoved her hands in her pocket, thinking, and felt her phone. Slowly she turned to Nita. “Is it cheating if I use something in my pocket to help?”

  Nita’s eyes narrowed as she considered. The redbird chirped and she sighed. “My love thinks this is not your fault. You may use the contents of your pockets.”

  Eva pulled her phone out of her pocket. The chances of getting a cell signal in Faerie seemed darn slim. Thank God she was a witch. Plucking strands of her own hair, Eva braided them into an intricate knot around the phone. Biting her tongue, she took a picture of the bat and texted it to Sandra. “Is this an Italian or American bat?”

  “What do you have?” Nita asked.

  “Um…. It’s a magic rock.”

  “I believe you mean a smart phone. I was wondering what model you used.”

  “I–um…. It’s a GSB Sensibility. The 900 model.”

  “Hm…. I find I prefer the ones with a physical keyboard myself.” Her face crumpled for a moment and she closed her eyes. “My son had wanted one. There is little iron in a phone and it is shielded. So…I thought why should we not use this tool?”

  “I thought…the European Fae are more resistant to technology.”

  “And they are weaker than we are.” Nita straightened and brushed her hand over her eyes. “It is still a new thing to us, but since I told you that you might use it, carry on.”

  Eva could write a whole paper about the mix of technology and Hidden People when she got back but for now…. The fourth soul was located in the bones and was the soul of energy. Darn. This would be easier if she knew anything about Giancarlo. If she hadn’t been so determined to keep things professional.

  Her phone buzzed and she gave a half shriek. Her phone buzzed again, and then a third time. Three text messages waited for her.

  WTF? Into Faerie? Are you insane? Wait!

  Double WTF? You’ve been gone for weeks and then ask me about bats? Please tell me this is a how.

  I meant “joke” not “how.” But if it’s not, that loss like an Italian Long-eared bat. If you can trust Wikipedia. And are you texting me from Faerie? WTF?

  WTF did not even begin to cover it. Weeks. She’d been gone for weeks in the mortal world and only half an hour had passed here. If that. Eva didn’t text back, guessing the spell would only work three, four, or seven times, depending on which tradition she was invoking. It would be so much simpler if she only had one culture to parse.

  If she waited too long, how much time would have elapsed in the mortal world? People had been gone for decades before and thought they had only spent one night. If she waited, her parents would be dead. Everything she knew would be dust. She had to make a choice.

  What did she know about Giancarlo? He was curious, and bright. Smart. He liked old stuff? She thought about him standing up to the bear and to Nita. He was brave and noble and foolish. Eva stopped in front of a cat’s cage. The tabby stared at her and winked a green eye. Cats lived all over the world. Of all the animals in the circle, could she think of something more brave and curious?

  Praying she was right, Eva parted the willow on the cat’s basket and pulled it out. It purred in her hands and shoved its head under her chin. Carefully, she set it in the casket. The canary sang when she pulled it out.

  Lord…what if the cat ate the canary? She watched them for a moment, but the canary hopped onto the cat’s back. Eva sighed with relief.

  She went to the bat next. It stret
ched its wings out like a child wanting to be picked up. She hoped that meant it was part of Giancarlo. The fur was soft and warm under her fingers. She set it in the casket and went to the hedgehog. The casket seemed to weigh no more than it had when she’d started.

  The hedgehog still lay in a trembling ball at the edge of the basket. “Giancarlo?”

  It twitched and pulled its head out of the ball to look at her. This one, at least, she was certain about. Gingerly, Eva picked up the tiny beast. The spines pierced her palm making her hiss. Slowly, she placed the creature in the casket.

  Nita was sitting on the ground by the house, weaving something out of grass. Without glancing up, Nita nodded to the house’s door. “Through there.”

  “That’s it?”

  Nita wove as though Eva were not there.

  Eva took a deep breath and held it, just in case, before she stepped into the house. Bitter cold dropped on her. Shivering, she staggered forward three paces and was out back into the mortal world. A full moon cast the clearing into silver light.

  The casket writhed in her arms. She had time to think of the tale of “Thomas the Rhymer,” before it twisted to become a man with the hind quarters of a cat. He strained against her. Eva wrapped her arms around him as the clawed feet kicked, tearing through her jeans. Eva held tight and he changed again, to a yellow canary that stabbed her hands with its tiny sharp beak. Gritting her teeth, she braced herself for the next change.

  Giancarlo twisted, beating leathery wings against her head and arms. Each wing buffeted her, driving the air out of her lungs. One more. She only had to hold him through one more.

  He transformed, spines growing from every surface. A thousand pins pricked through Eva’s clothes, driving into her front. She choked on a cry. He struggled in her grasp, the spines digging deeper into her skin. Eva closed her eyes and hugged Giancarlo to her.

  Then the pain vanished.

  She held a man, slick with sweat. “Giancarlo?”

  He groaned, an inhuman noise. Tabby stripes streaked his hair.

  “Are you all right?” Aching from pinpricks and bruises, Eva slowly straightened.

  He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. His breath rasped in his throat. Eva kept her arms around him. He had to transform again. His hind quarters were still those of a cat and his tail lashed furiously.

  Unless she had guessed wrong.

  Swallowing a wave of nausea, she ran through every piece of folklore she could think of. There was only one consistent thing that broke spells across multiple cultures. Taking a breath, she said. “I’m going to kiss you. To see if that helps. Is that all right?”

  His eyes opened, cat green glaring out of his classic profile. He nodded, panting.

  She pressed her lips against his. Giancarlo opened his mouth with a moan, as his tail wrapped around them both. His teeth were sharp and his tongue was rough on hers.

  His breathing eased, slowing and deepening. A deep purr rumbled out of him. Eva pulled back from the kiss. Fur still covered his legs.

  “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

  “It helped. I feel more…”

  * * *

  He gestured to his legs which were still tabby-striped but straighter now, almost human in conformation. “I—How do I explain? Less alien? More settled… I do not know if there is a right word in any language.”

  No human language at any rate. Eva tried to pull her rational detachment back, and use it to examine his situation like the professional she was. His soul was only three-quarters his. “I suspect that you are absorbing the cat’s attributes as part of yourself. It’s… I don’t know. I’m guessing.” Was there even precedence for that? She needed to take photos before he transformed farther.

  Eva’s stomach turned at her own thought. She couldn’t look at this man as a science project. She couldn’t profit from her mistake, and especially not when he had to pay the price. “I suspect that your personality will shift to accommodate the new piece of your soul. We could try to go back…” Even as she said it, she knew that would not happen. That price would be even worse. “Or, is there someone who could—I think the kiss needed to be from your true love.”

  “There is no one. But…I am willing to wait.” He lifted her palm and kissed it. The pace of his words had slowed and the rolled Rs of his accent fairly purred. “Isn’t there a saying something about the sum of parts?”

  “You mean, ‘I am greater than the sum of my parts?’”

  “Yes that.” His kiss moved to the inside of her wrist.

  She could barely catch her breath. “What are you doing?”

  “I—” He dropped her hand and backed away, eyes widening. “I am so sorry. That felt—I am sorry, that was inappropriate.”

  Eva took a step closer. “You didn’t know that you were—that you were kissing my hand?”

  He shook his head, wrapping his arms around his body as if suddenly remembering that he was largely naked. “I knew but, for a moment, it felt natural.”

  With a struggle, she responded as an academician. “I note that you are less inhibited now.”

  “You might need more study to prove that.” He smiled shyly. “Would you reconsider attending that film with me—Or no. We’ve been gone for months, haven’t we. Then I will claim that I owe you dinner at least.”

  “But—” She gestured at his legs, which were still those of a cat, to explain her failure. She barely knew him.

  “Ah. Of course.” He turned away, jaw clenching. “The legs.”

  “No—It’s not that.” Shit. He thought she was turning him down because the cat legs were strange. “It’s just that… I failed you.”

  “You came after me.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “Of course.”

  “Eva—I don’t know anyone else who would do that.”

  “I couldn’t leave you.”

  “I know the stories. You might have been trapped there.” His tail twitched and he stared at it with horrified fascination. “Why did you choose the cat?”

  “Because you were brave and curious and…. I don’t know.” She swallowed hard. “What should I have chosen?”

  “The field mouse, though I am flattered that you thought I was brave.”

  “You looked brave when facing the bear.”

  “Faking it.” Giancarlo’s gaze became more serious and she could imagine the hedgehog’s frightened gaze peering out of him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. About dinner, I mean.”

  “I’m glad you did.” She had tried to keep the pieces of her life separate—the woman from the witch from the professor, and Giancarlo had paid the price for that. Eva took a slow breath and looked at the man in front of her. She had seen the pieces of him, but had kept herself in a tiny box. “I…I had a thing for you. Before. But, it was unprofessional, you know? So… Yes. I’ll have dinner with you. Because I did think you were brave, and I still do.”

  He stared at her with raw wonder, and she could almost see the rapid pulse of the canary beating in the vein at his throat.

  “You said it might take true love’s kiss. Would you be willing to try again?”

  This time, they stepped toward each other, meeting in a shy embrace. The kiss was slow and tentative. Giancarlo’s lips were warm against hers and a part of Eva unfolded a little to meet him. Her hand slid down his back to where the fur began. It remained soft upon his skin.

  She pulled away, a little breathless, and shook her head. “It didn’t work.”

  He cupped her cheek with one hand. “I’m willing to wait.”

  And so was she. True love? Perhaps it might not be in the future, but she would like to know him better. Eva tilted her head up. “Then perhaps we should keep experimenting.”

  BENJAMIN ROSENBAUM

  Benjamin Rosenbaum is an American science fiction, fantasy, and literary fiction writer and computer programmer, whose stories have been finalists for the Hugo Award, the Nebula Award, the Theodore Sturgeon Award, the BSFA award, and the Wor
ld Fantasy Award. He was born August 23, 1969.

  Born in New York but raised in Arlington, Virginia, he received degrees in computer science and religious studies from Brown University. He currently lives in Basel, Switzerland with his wife Esther and children Aviva and Noah.

  His past software development positions include designing software for the National Science Foundation, designing software for the D.C. city government, and being one of the founders of Digital Addiction (which created the online game Sanctum).

  Start the Clock, by Benjamin Rosenbaum

  The real estate agent for Pirateland was old. Nasty old. It's harder to tell with Geezers, but she looked to be somewhere in her Thirties. They don't have our suppleness of skin, but with the right oils and powders they can avoid most of the wrinkles. This one hadn't taken much care. There were furrows around her eyes and eyebrows.

  She had that Mommystyle thing going on: blue housedress, frilly apron, Betty Crocker white gloves. If you're going to be running around this part of Montana sporting those gigantic, wobbly breasts and hips, I guess it's a necessary form of obeisance.

  She said something to someone in the back of her van, then hurried up the walk toward us. "It's a lovely place," she called. "And a very nice area."

  "Look, Suze, it's your mom," Tommy whispered in my ear. His breath tickled. I pushed him.

  It was deluxe, I'll give her that. We were standing under the fity-foot prow of the galleon we'd come to see. All around us a flotilla of men-of-war, sloops, frigates, and cutters rode the manicured lawns and steel-gray streets. Most of the properties were closed up, the lawns pristine. Only a few looked inhabited -- lawns bestrewn with gadgets, excavations begun with small bulldozers and abandoned, Pack or Swarm or Family flags flying from the mainmasts. Water cannons menacing passerby.

  I put my hands in my pants pockets and picked at the lint. "So this is pretty much all Nines?"

  The Thirtysomething Lady frowned. "Ma'am, I'm afraid the Anti-Redlining Act of 2035 --"