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“Mary, I—”
I put up my hand to stop him. It’s still holding my makeshift club, so I throw it and its partner away.
“Don’t,” I tell him. “Don’t say anything else.”
He nods. He gives me another long look, then he steps to one side, and just like the fairy Court, he vanishes.
I’ve managed to hold back my tears, but now that he’s gone, I go down on my knees on the top of that granite ridge and let them come.
It takes me a while to get back to where I left Karen’s car. I get turned around a few times, but I finally find the big field and from there on it’s pretty easy. I half-expected to find a ticket on the car, or that it had been towed away by the highway patrol, but it’s right where it’s supposed to be.
I have another crying jag, once I’m behind the wheel. It’s a long time before I can wipe my face on my sleeve and start up the engine.
I feel wrung out. Empty. Sadder than anyone has a right to feel.
And then the anger comes back.
I know Edric was right. I shouldn’t have anything to do with his changeling twin. But when I turn the car around, I don’t head south, back into the city. Instead, I cut east, aiming the car for The Custom House in the little town of Sweetwater. That’s the bar where Edric was supposed to be playing tonight. Where his changeling twin is playing.
I have a moment of disassociation when I step through the front door of the bar and see him on stage. Because I can’t tell it’s not him—Edric, I mean. He looks exactly the same. He plays exactly the same. It’s not until the end of the set when I go up to the side of the stage as he’s retuning his guitar that I see the difference.
Actually, there is no difference—at least nothing you can measure. It’s in the way he looks at me. In the tone of his voice.
“You,” he says.
I have to clear my throat, but when I do manage to speak, my voice is steady.
“Yeah, me,” I say.
“What are you doing here?”
“I just had to see for myself.”
He scowls at me.
“I’m the one who’s real now,” he says. “This is my life now.”
I shrug.
“I’m grateful for the part you played in my getting it, but—” “I’m not here for your thanks.”
“—this ends here. We’re not taking up together or anything.”
I pull a face. “Like I’d want to.”
“I’ll just come get my stuff tomorrow, and that’ll be it.”
“You don’t have any stuff,” I tell him, “so don’t bother.”
His eyes narrow. “Well, then you don’t have a car anymore.”
“Fine. If you want the cops to pull you in for car theft, don’t bring it back.”
“Then I’ll get a warrant to get my stuff back.”
“I told you. You don’t have any stuff. But Edric’s crap is going to be sitting on the curb just as soon as I get home from here.”
“I’m Edric now.”
