Last Car to Annwn Station (2 page)

Mae blinked. “Commanded?”

“Aye, Miss Mae, I’ve been sent by—”

The streetcar jolted to a sudden stop, causing Mae to pitch sideways and fall between the bench in front of her and the one she had been sitting on.

Howling, high and hollow, filled her ears.

“Well, this is unexpected,” she heard Death say.

Ellie flapped her wings, rising toward the roof. Mae heard Kravis’s voice, tight and frantic, speaking in a language she did not understand.

“What’s happening?” Mae asked, trying to stand. Around her, she heard screams and the sounds of the other passengers fleeing the car. A strong, clawed hand grabbed her elbow and lifted her from the floor. She found herself looking into the eyes of the ugly, gray-faced creature.

“The C
n Annwn have broken the magic of the streetcars. Things will move quickly now.”

Mae frowned. “Wait! The what?”

Kravis grabbed her by the elbow and started to drag her toward the exit at the rear. “No time to explain. We have a connection to make.”

Death allowed them to squeeze past as he stood in the middle of the aisle. “Run, Maeve Malveaux. The hounds are akin to me, and I wield some small power over them. I shall hold them here, for a time.”

Clutching her bag, Mae followed Kravis and Ellie out the back door as several white-coated, red-eared hounds charged down the streetcar’s narrow aisle toward the unflinching figure of Death.

Mae and Kravis dashed around the streetcar while Ellie zipped ahead of them, flying quickly despite her fragile-looking wings. Around them, creatures and spirits scattered, running away from the streetcar in every direction.

“Come on, woman, run faster!” Kravis urged Mae.

Mae ran as hard as her short legs allowed, her messenger bag flopping against her side, the strap pulling on her neck. She looked up at where Kravis seemed to be leading her. Lakeview Cemetery loomed, dark and brooding, its wrought iron gates closed, chained and padlocked.

Ellie turned in the air and faced them. “Kravis, I’m not sure going in there is the best idea! The restless dead—”

“It’s the fast and straight path. Come on!” he called to Mae, who was starting to lag behind.

The howls at her back gave her a fresh burst of panic-powered speed.

“The gate!” Mae gasped. She knew there was no way she would be able to jump it, not at her height, and she would never be able to climb it before the hounds caught up to them.

She need not have worried. Without slowing down, Kravis lowered his shoulder and—with a defiant yell—smashed into the wrought iron, shattering the lock and flinging the gate wide open.

Mae leaped over Kravis as he tumbled and rolled down the path. Kravis, his shoulder smoking and torn where it had struck the gate, sprang to his feet as the first of the hounds reached them. He grabbed the hound and slung it into the nearest piece of statuary. There was a hollow snapping, and the snow-white hound lay still.

“Run!” Kravis yelled at Mae and Ellie. “Get to the platform across from the lake! Ellie, you have to lead her.”

“This way,” Ellie said, taking Mae by the hand. Mae stumbled on tree limbs and debris littering the ground. Small stones and markers that were barely above the earth and hidden by the snow threatened to trip her as she ran. Around her, the howls and barks of the pale hounds filled the night air.

A wail of pain and despair rose high and terrible behind Mae, and was abruptly cut off. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She imagined she could feel the hot breath of the hounds behind her, their wicked, yellowed teeth inches from the back of her throat, ready to rip both flesh and life from her body.

Mae looked over her shoulder, trying to find where her attackers would be coming from. Something on the ground, she could not tell if it was a white branch or a skeletal hand, snagged her leg and she flipped. Mae curled into a ball and rolled down the steep hill toward the fence below. She thought she heard Ellie scream her name. Mae closed her eyes as she tumbled. She expected her life to end any second, whether at the teeth of the ghost-white hounds or by the snapping of her own neck, and she did not want to see what finally killed her.

Mae came up against the fence, bouncing off the steel enclosure and lying on her stomach, gasping.

“Get up!” Ellie’s frantic, shrill voice broke through Mae’s stunned brain.

Mae rose to her hands and knees. She looked up toward the sounds of howling and barking, but could not see any of the hounds.

“Mae! Mae, we have to go!”

“My bag,” Mae said. Her messenger bag lay a few feet away, its contents scattered on the ground.

“We don’t have time!”

Mae scrambled back to her bag. She gathered up the file she had taken from work and checked to make sure no pages lay on the ground. She picked up her keys and pepper spray.

“Mae!”

“I’ve almost got it all!”

A low growl sent a shiver down Mae’s back. She looked up to find one of the hounds had reached her, ahead of its pack, and was staring at her, its teeth bared and hackles on end. The hound’s ears lay back on its head, eyes wide as it prepared to spring at her.

She aimed the can of pepper spray, pulled the pin and fired directly into the hound’s face. The creature howled and dropped to the ground, rolling in a frantic attempt to clear its eyes of the stinging chemicals. Mae stood and ran to the fence, leaving the injured hound behind.

“We have to get to the next platform,” Ellie said, nodding at the small raised wooden structure next to a set of rails. “Can you climb?”

Mae nodded. She tossed her bag to the other side and climbed over as the remaining hounds reached the fence. Her slacks hung on the top row of barbed wire and she fell flat on her back once on the other side, her pants ripped at the right calf. Mae grabbed her bag and half-walked, half-crawled to the platform and the waiting streetcar.

“Miss?” she heard a voice say.

Mae looked up at the big yellow streetcar. “Harriet-Como Line” read the sign. She looked around for her companion, but Ellie was nowhere to be found. She reached into her slacks and pulled out a piece of paper.

“I have a transfer.”

The man took the piece of paper and examined it carefully. His jaw worked in agitation. “Um—okay then. Do you mind if I hang on to this? I’d like to put it on display at the museum.”

It was Mae’s turn to be confused. She looked at the car’s other occupants.

The insides of the streetcar were decorated in paper ghosts and bats. Jack-o’-lanterns lay on the floor, secured by mounds of straw. A dozen children and their parents sat inside, most of the children in Halloween costumes. Mae glanced at the driver. She was dressed as a pirate. The conductor was obviously supposed to be Frankenstein’s monster.

Mae smiled shyly and moved toward the back of the streetcar, all too aware how she must appear to these people, with her blouse untucked, her hair full of twigs and leaves, covered head to toe in dirt and makeup running down her face. She took a seat and tried to become as small and invisible as possible.

Several of the children looked from her back to their parents, obviously curious. A couple pointed and whispered only to be hushed by parents too embarrassed to acknowledge her presence.

She watched out the window as the streetcar slowly made its way to the small station near Lake Harriet. Mae knew where she was. All she needed to do was make the short walk up to the Linden Hills neighborhood shopping district and she could catch a Number Six bus back to Uptown Station and home.

She wondered what had happened to Ellie and Kravis. She—she had no idea what had happened, except that it seemed like something out of a nightmare. Or one of the stories her father had told her as a child, stories filled with fairy folk and other impossible things.

She exited out the back of the streetcar as soon as it came to a stop, determined to reach the bus station before some well-meaning person called the police. The last thing she wanted to do was field questions with no sensible answers.

She reached the stop as the bus pulled up to the curb. Passing her card over the reader, she gave the other riders a quick look. They all appeared blessedly normal, even the young woman with the spiky pink hair and nose ring. Mae settled on the back bench and stared out the window, watching the night pass by.

When she reached the sanctuary of her apartment, she dashed straight into her bathroom, turned on the shower, stripped off her dirty clothes, and stepped under the driving stream of warm liquid. Feeling safe at last, she cried until the hot water ran out.

Tuesday, 24
^th
of October

Mae arrived at her office the next morning, the previous evening’s events still sharp in her memory. She had hoped after a night’s sleep they might fade, but instead she had tossed and turned all night, her mind filled with the terrifying image of the white hounds chasing her. Rationally, she knew last night could not have happened. Except it had. Instead of sleeping, she had lain awake all night and tried to remember every tale her father had told her and everything she had picked up from her comparative mythology class in college. The important thing that struck her was how poorly it typically went for humans who dealt with mythological creatures.

She had uneasily ridden the bus into downtown, alert for the appearance of streetcars and nightmare creatures. No ghostly conductors asked for fares, no monsters jumped out of the shadows at her, she did not even hear the voice of Roy Orbison.

Mae was not reassured by any of this and, all the way to her desk, nervously jingled the loose change she had placed in her pocket as a just-in-case measure.

The one consolation was that the morning had been quiet at work. It gave her a chance to spend some time on the Internet refreshing her knowledge about the C
n Annwn. Her father had taught her more about Welsh mythology than she had ever thought necessary, but now she was desperate to brush up on those lessons. She was not reassured. The C
n Annwn were the hounds of the Wild Hunt, responsible for helping to bring souls from the mortal realm to Annwn, the ancient Welsh afterlife. If the white hounds
were
real, and they
were
after her, she was in deep trouble.

Mae closed her browser and turned to her work, desperate for a little normalcy. She had several files open on her desk and, like everyone else in the office, carried a caseload that was, according to policy and statute, too large. Budget cuts at all levels made this a simple fact of life for everyone in the county attorney’s office. Mae knew that cases—cases that represented real children who needed protection and aid—were falling through the cracks.

“Hey, Mae.”

She looked up from her paperwork to find Jill settled on the corner of her desk.

“Hey you.”

“I just wanted to let you know I might miss class next week.”

Three months ago they had signed up for a self-defense and martial arts class that met every other Tuesday night, though after watching Jill in action, Mae wondered why the younger woman needed it. Jill habitually mauled and manhandled their instructors.

“I’ll let Richard know. Is everything all right?”

Jill nodded and stood up. “Family obligations. Look, I’d better get back upstairs before Millard wakes up and finds me gone.” Jill took a deep breath. “You want to come to lunch with me this afternoon? We could walk down to Kieran’s.”

“Okay. That sounds like fun.”

Jill favored her with a smile filled with perfect white teeth. “Great! I’ll swing by your desk and collect you in a couple of hours.”

Mae held her own smile in place until Jill vanished out her door. She let out a deep sigh, all of her social anxieties kicking in. They had been friends for a year, and had gone out for drinks and food several times, though nothing anyone would call a date. Mae had to admit she enjoyed Jill’s irrepressible personality, and she was tired of living like a hermit. Jill had given signals. Well, she thought they were signals. She hoped. It wasn’t as if she and Jill had talked much about relationships, since neither of them had dated anyone in the entire time they had known each other, and Mae tended to be private about her personal life. She just assumed that Jill knew.

She resisted the urge to run to the washroom and check her clothes, hair and makeup. She took a shaky breath. She resisted a
renewed
urge to run to the washroom, this time to throw up. Mae turned her attention back to the mound of paperwork on her desk, hoping to distract herself.
It’s just lunch.
She tried to steady her shaking hands.
Nothing to worry about.

Two hours and a short walk filled with awkward silence later, Mae found herself fidgeting in a chair, sipping her cup of tea and poking at her Cobb salad. Mae looked around the small Irish-style pub. It was a sparse lunch crowd, only a handful of other customers scattered about the tables. Jill gave her a measuring look.

“Anything wrong?” Jill asked.

“It just seems too—empty, I suppose.”

Jill shrugged and turned back to her bangers and mash. “It’s probably the weather,” she said, attacking her food with reckless gusto. Jill’s aggressive eating style always surprised Mae, who had spent most of lunch pushing her food around on her plate, too nervous to eat.

“Mae, can I ask you a personal question?”

Mae bit her bottom lip and nudged her lettuce with the fork. “Sure, I guess.”

“What are you scared of?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just that, well, you’re smart, and you’re good at what you do. You’re liked and respected around the office—”

“But?”

“Do you know most of the guys in the office think you’re a lesbian?”

Mae raised an eyebrow. While they had never talked specifically about sex, Mae was pretty sure Jill knew. “I am.”

Jill shrugged. “I know. I’m just telling you what the office gossip is. Apparently you’ve never shown any interest in their clumsy attempts to flirt or their cheesy pick-up lines.”

Mae closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. “Back up. There was flirting and pick-up lines? When?” she said, opening her eyes.

Jill laughed softly and turned to her food for a minute, chasing onion-sauce-covered mashed potatoes around, and occasionally off, her plate with her fork. Mae took the opportunity to take a real bite of her food. It was a good salad, but nothing special.

“I’m serious!” Jill said after she swallowed her food. Her face took on a sly smile. “Are you seeing anyone you haven’t told me about?”

Mae nearly choked on her salad.

“I’m sorry,” Jill said, raising both of her hands in supplication. “I shouldn’t pry.”

“Jill, we’ve been friends for over a year. You’re allowed to ask a personal question. You just caught me by surprise. That’s more of a pre-date question, really, and no, I’m not seeing anyone. I’d tell you if I was.”

“So, is this a date?”

“No, it’s lunch. Why, do you want it to be?” Mae fired back, Jill’s easygoing demeanor and utter lack of table manners setting Mae at ease. “I take it from your familiarity, you’ve also been on the receiving end of those clumsy attempts to flirt and cheesy pick-up lines?”

Jill rolled her eyes and took a last bite of her food. She nodded her head in an exaggerated manner while she chewed. “Yeah,” she gasped out after she swallowed. Jill gave the corner of her mouth a dainty dab with her napkin, an act wildly different from her eating style.

“Would you like a to-go box?” the waitress asked as she cleared their dishes.

Mae looked up at the woman. “No, I’m finished.”

The young woman set the bill on the table. On impulse, Mae snatched it up before Jill could make a move.

“Hey, I invited
you
out to lunch,” Jill said.

Mae dug through her bag for her wallet, finding it and producing a credit card. The waitress immediately vanished with Mae’s credit card and the bill.

“I’ve got it,” Mae said.

“At least let me pay my half.”

“Next time,” Mae said. She felt some of her earlier confidence fade. “If you want there to be a next time.”

Jill reached over and placed a reassuring hand on Mae’s arm. “Of course.”

Mae felt a pleasurable jolt go through her body. She looked away from Jill, afraid she might be blushing, and tried to find something to change the subject to or at least provide a distraction. She was saved by the return of the waitress with the credit slip. “We should, um, get back.”

Mae and Jill stepped out into the cold October afternoon. They started back toward the Government Center, joining the press of pedestrians going about their daily business, Jill chattering on about bits of office gossip.

The ringing of a bell made Mae look over her shoulder. Coming toward her along Fourth Street was one of the big yellow streetcars. Mae gave the pavement a quick glance. There were no tracks.

“Mae?”

Mae looked up at Jill. She realized they were about to cross the street toward their building. Mae was not sure how they had ended up so far down the street without her noticing. “Yeah?”

Jill turned to face her. “Where did you go?”

“I—ah—I was just—” Mae looked over Jill’s shoulder at the streetcar passing through the intersection. Faces both beautiful and grotesque peered at her out of the yellow car’s windows. Mae shuddered.

“Are you all right?” The concern in Jill’s voice was plain.

“Yeah. I was just thinking about one of the cases I’m working on.” Mae turned and watched the streetcar continue through the intersection.

The walk sign changed, giving them the right-of-way. Mae took her eyes off the streetcar that should not exist and followed Jill across the street. They made a final dash inside as the winds picked up again, swirling papers and other debris around their legs.

“Thanks for buying lunch,” Jill said as they rode the elevator up.

“Thanks for the invite,” Mae replied as the door opened to her floor. She stepped off and turned to Jill, who gave her a little wave as the elevator doors closed.

Back at her desk, Mae settled into a quiet routine of reading files for her pending cases and reviewing ongoing issues, making notes on a legal pad, moving from one case to the next for two hours.

A soft tapping at the side of her door made her look up. Donald Leftwich, director of the department, stood in the opening. The cuffs of his white long-sleeve shirt were rolled back past his wrists. He looked tired, all red-rimmed eyes and five o’clock shadow.

“Mae, do you have a minute?”

Mae nodded, filled with unease. Any time Donald asked if you had a minute, it meant trouble. “Sure. What can I do for you?”

Donald slipped the rest of the way into her office and settled his thin frame into the one cheap folding chair Mae kept as a courtesy. He looked around her cramped space, examining everything on the walls. “I want to talk to you about the Arneson case.”

Mae made a quick search of her desk, finding the Arneson file, which she had snuck back in that morning. “I think we’re in a strong position heading into—”

“There’s not going to be a hearing.”

“Excuse me?”

“There’s not going to be a hearing. The case has been settled. The Arneson child will be returned to the custody of her mother, under the supervision of the court.”

Mae went quiet and still inside. “I see.”

“I’m sorry about this, Mae,” Donald said.

Mae doubted his sincerity. She supposed her look told him that she was having a hard time believing him. Donald lifted his hands in surrender.

“It wasn’t my call.”

Mae’s frown deepened. If Donald was telling the truth and he was not the one who had interfered with her case, then that could only mean the county attorney had made a decision without Mae’s input. “You’re trying to tell me Backstrom intervened on behalf of the mother?”

Donald gave another shrug. Mae felt the urge to dive across her little desk and take him by the throat. She made a noise somewhere between a growl and a sigh.

“I don’t like this, Mr. Leftwich.”

Donald straightened in his chair and glared at her. Mae knew going formal on him made him feel his authority was being challenged. She did not care. The safety of a twelve-year-old child was being compromised because her bosses were making backroom deals. Mae was not so naive as to think that wealth did not matter in situations such as this, but she was damned if she’d be intimidated.

Donald stood and loomed over her desk. “It doesn’t matter what you like, Miss Malveaux. The matter is closed. The case is closed. I expect that file to be
closed
and on my desk before you leave the office tonight. Do you understand, Miss Malveaux?”

“Yes, sir. You’ll understand if I place a formal letter of complaint in the file, stating that I disagree with the decision made by the county attorney?”