1. ONE #2
I wonder for a moment if it’s wise to admit the truth. A cold spot of rain splats onto my cheek, and I’m silent for a moment too long.
The woman tuts. “Well aren’t you going to shift? I’ll show you the way.”
I blink. “Shift?”
She tips her head to one side in such a perfect imitation of a horse cocking an ear that I have to do a double take. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re a long way from the city here.”I bristle even though it must be painfully obvious I’m an outsider.
The woman laughs, her brown eyes creasing at the corners in a way that is warm and reassuring, like she laughs often and heartily. “Listen, I’m going to tell you something now that someone should have told you before you booked a ticket here, but they clearly didn’t. Mosswood’s a town of monsters.”
I swallow. “Monsters?” Of course I know monsters exist. It’s one thing to read about them on the news or on social media, but I’ve never met one. At least I didn’t think so. Now I’m about to enter a town full of them.
“Oh, you don’t have to worry. You’re perfectly safe. But we do things a little differently in Mosswood.”
I take a step back and almost trip over my bag. “Maybe I’ll just call a cab.”
The woman snorts. “No cabs in Mosswood. But I can give you a lift into town if you can’t shift. You’ll just have to be prepared…”
“Prepared for what?”
Very slowly, the woman shrugs off her jacket.
She lifts her top over her head, and I watch in astonishment as she strips down completely naked in the cool spring air, totally at ease in her own skin.
I don’t know whether to keep looking or turn away, so I sort of avert my gaze, wondering if it’s too late to get the next bus out of here.
“I’m going to change now, but I want you to know I’ll understand whatever you say to me, even when I look different.”
“Change?” I squeak.
Right in front of my eyes the air shimmers and her body contorts. One moment a middle-aged woman is standing in front of me, the next a fat brown mare with a long flowing mane and tail huffs a cloud of warm air into the cool of the night.
I stare. I’m not dreaming, am I? This woman just changed into a horse, and as if things couldn’t get any weirder today, she’s about to give me a lift into town…on her back.
The horse snorts again and dips her head, almost as if she is laughing.
She trots forward and lowers her head, clearly inviting me to climb on. And then she waits.
Welp, how much worse could today actually get?
I sling my bag over my shoulder and climb up onto the bench. The mare-woman waits very patiently until I awkwardly clamber onto her back, and then she bends, lifts her own bag in her teeth, and looks around at me as if to say hold on.
I wind my fingers into her mane hoping this is the correct etiquette for accepting a lift from a strange horse shifter.
To think, this morning I was staring bleary eyed at my reflection as the hairdresser did my hair and makeup for my wedding, and now I feel like I’ve fallen through a portal into Wonderland.
I wanted to escape, and I think I might have found the one place in the world where there’s a chance I could actually forget about Miguel for a hot minute.
The mare takes a few slow steps forward, and when I don’t tip over to one side or scream, she picks up the pace until we’re making our way steadily toward town.
Unfortunately, although she’s clearly taking care to look after me, the rain is picking up, and by the time homes start to dot the street, I’m damp and shivering and my thighs are hurting from how hard I’m squeezing her sides.
She slows when we come to the first crossroads, and I realize she’s waiting for directions. “Um, 417 Main Road.” I finger the key my pocket, grateful for Elisa giving it to me, and wonder exactly how much about our abuela we never knew. “It was my grandmother’s place.”
The horse trots forward and soon stops in front of a rundown cottage with a boarded-up broken window. It doesn’t look promising, but I’m here now. I’ll just have to make the best of it. I slide off her back and try to pretend I don’t stumble on a clump of grass before brushing off my skirt.
When I look around, the woman is standing in front of me again. “Are you sure, dear?”
“Ah, yeah. I’m good.” Am I? I’m not really sure but do know I’ve already troubled this kind lady—horse?—enough.
She hesitates, but the rain picks up and I’m shivering.
I wave her off and hurry onto the covered porch and out of the rain.
The cottage is dark, and I can’t find an outside light to switch on.
Using the flashlight on my phone I make my way to the front door.
I fumble with the key, wondering if I’ve made a mistake.
Is it too late to call the kind horse lady back?
When I look, she’s disappeared into the darkness and there’s nobody else in sight.
The wind is getting stronger and tosses the tops of the trees in the neighbor’s yard and makes the whole place seem ominous. Which is just my stupid imagination. There’s nothing scary here. Nothing is going to jump out at me when I open the door.
I try the key in the lock. It doesn’t fit.
I try it again, but even though I turn it over and twist it around, there’s no making this key go into this lock.
Great. I’ve arrived after dark in a tiny rural town with no cabs and no place to stay.
I’m about to start freaking out when it occurs to me I haven’t tried the back door. I hurry through the drizzle to the back porch and nearly weep with relief when the key fits. I push the door open, wrinkling my nose at the stale smell inside.
A huge gust of wind pulls the door from my hand and slams it against the outside wall, and I wrestle the key from the lock, placing it on the mud room sink on top of my phone and twisting to close the door behind me. Oops. Silly me. I left my bag outside in the rain.
I take three steps out of the house and that’s all it takes. The wind howls again. The door slams shut, and I’m locked outside my abuela’s cottage in the dark, in the rain, and with no phone.
Mierda!
A flash of lightning briefly lights up the sky, and a moment later a boom of thunder joins it.
I shiver.
The only sound in the too quiet street is the wail of a baby that carries across the yard next door into the night. I know exactly how that baby feels because all I want to do is throw my head back and cry too. But I can’t because I got myself into this mess. I wonder if there’s a hotel in town.
The light is on in the house next door, and I know the baby’s crying.
I’m sure the last thing they want right now is someone knocking, but at least I know they’re awake.
I hunch forward and run across the space between the properties, arriving soggy and breathless at the front porch as the outside light flicks on automatically to illuminate a neat, white-painted wooden door with glass panels at the side.
There’s a swinging porch chair and a box which looks like it would be perfect for storing rain boots and sneakers and a stroller folded up and leaning against the wall.
A family home. That makes me feel a little better.
Well, there’s nothing for it. I lift my hand and reach for the knocker, hoping they take pity on me.