Waiting for the Moon

Edith yanked the corset tight

Selena gasped for air. Blinking white lights danced in front of her eyes. Her fingers released their grip on the wooden post, and she wrenched sideways.

"It ain't tight enough. Come back-" Edith ran after her.

Selena stood her ground, arms akimbo, her breath coming in great, wheezing gasps. "No. No corset."

"But ladies-"

"No."

"But 'tis proper. Dr. Carrick-"

The queen hushed Edith with a wave. "He isn't here. Besides, the muddle-headed doctor will hide in the dark like he always does. What does he care if Selena here wears a corset?"

Edith shrugged. "I give up. Fine, Selena, no corset for you."

Selena smiled. "Hurts."

The queen laughed. "See, Edith? Even a woman with half a brain knows that damned thing ain't right."

Edith sighed. "You're the queen. Change the fashion."

"I will-just as soon as my evil twin dies. Then ... then I'll let women wear pants."

Edith cracked a smile. "No wonder they locked you up."

Selena looked up. "Pants ... like Andrew?"

Edith shook her head. "No, Selena. Absolutely not."

The narrow main street of Alabaster, Maine, glowed like its namesake in the rising sun. White clapboard houses, placed neatly on brown patches of dead grass and hemmed by white picket fences, told in wordless

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prose the tale of ordinary family life. Although it was quiet now in the last moments before dawn, the streets devoid of sound or motion, Ian could imagine this place on a summer's day. Crowded sidewalks and teeming streets; the warm, humid air thick with the sounds of a small town-children's laughter, adults talking, the steady clip-clop of horses' hooves on the stone pavement.

The carriage hurtled down the street without stopping or slowing, which was just as well, for Ian had no reason to do either. He had been through a hundred towns like this in his life. They dotted the New England countryside like pearls tossed across an immense emerald canvas.

Ever since childhood, Ian had secretly dreamed of living in a place like this, a place where neighbors knew each other and shared Sunday suppers, where mothers wore aprons and smiles and never spoke to their dead husbands aloud.

"I hate towns like this," Johann said dully. "Pretty on the outside and rotting within."

Ian felt a flash of anger. "Now who's the cynical bastard?"

Ian glanced out the window again. The brilliant orange sun had just crested the thick, black blanket of trees, throwing light on the still-darkened houses.

"Ah," Johann said, crossing one leg gracefully over the other. "I bet you wish you'd grown up here. Scratch the surface of a scientist and you'll find a dreamer."

Ian refused to be drawn into this conversation. "We'll be at the local law office any second. After that, I'll expect you to return to Lethe House and make my apologies."

"Not a chance."

"What?"

"If you must desert our fair moon-goddess, then do so. But you and you alone will tell her what you've done. I will tell them simply that you've gone to the

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