Seanan McGuire - Rosemary and Rue

Ignoring the pain in my leg, I turned and bolted for the back of the apartment, slamming the hallway door as every late-night horror movie I’d ever seen flashed through my mind. The windows in the bedrooms were too high and narrow to climb through, and there were no windows in the bathroom. Unfortunately, when I rented the place, I wasn’t exactly thinking in terms of how quickly could I escape a homicidal shapeshifter without using the front door.

Lacking any other options, I ran into the bedroom, locked the door, and shoved a chair under the knob. I heard the hall door slam open, hitting the wall with a crash that almost certainly took care of my security deposit. I didn’t have time to worry about that: I was too busy scrambling to get the baseball bat out from under my bed. It was more for comfort than anything else—I wasn’t dumb enough to think I could take the thing down with a piece of dime-store sports equipment—but it gave me something to hold onto and made me feel a little less naked. I spared a moment’s longing thought for the gun in my living room. There’s nothing like heavy weaponry to cure a little spiritual nudity.

The Doppelganger’s slow, patient steps echoed down the hall. It was in no hurry. The damn thing was probably having a good time. Glad somebody was.

The taste of roses was starting to rise in the back of my throat, taking advantage of my distraction, and I could feel the wounds in my shoulder and thigh beginning to bleed again. Blood loss was going to become an issue. Of course, with no way out of the apartment and a homicidal Doppelganger on my trail, that just might be the kinder way to die.

The footsteps stopped outside the door, and the Doppelganger whispered, “Found you, little thief. And you’re scared now, even if you won’t scream. You’re so scared I can taste it from here.” I took a step back, holding the bat in front of me like a sword. I didn’t bother trying to run. Why would I? There was nowhere left to go.

It hit the door hard, bowing it inward. The cheap plywood door started to give way on the second hit. It was never meant to stand up to this sort of abuse. This was it: this was the end. I was going to die wearing nothing but a bathrobe, at the hands of a Doppelganger I’d been stupid enough to invite into my home. I was never going to find the answers I was looking for. Evening and Ross would never be avenged.

The doorbell rang.

Silence reigned as the Doppelganger ceased its assault on the door. There was a long pause, both of us sorting out what to do next.

And then I heard my own voice call, cheerfully, “Coming!”

Footsteps moved away, down the hall, too light for a creature the size of the Doppelganger . . . but just right to be believably mine.

I stayed where it was until the footsteps faded. Then I undid the lock and pushed the chair out of the way, opening the half-shattered door. The hall was empty. The Doppelganger had actually gone to answer the doorbell. Oh, that was smart. Why didn’t it just hang a sign on its back that said kick me?

The carpet crunched underfoot as I inched along, despite my best efforts to be quiet. Considering the beating I’d taken—and the amount of blood I was losing—I thought I was doing pretty well just by not falling down. Not that it would do me any good if the Doppelganger caught me out in the open. I might be walking into a trap, but that was a chance I had to take.

I was halfway down the hall when I heard the voices arguing from my living room. “You don’t understand!” Dare, the combination of anxiety and desperation making her voice impossible to miss, even without the affected accent. “When Devin says to come here, we come here. You can’t tell us to go. We can’t listen. He won’t let us.”

“She’s right, ma’am.” Oh, root and branch, Manuel was with her. I shuddered, unable to stop myself from imagining what the Doppelganger would do to them, and forced myself another few feet down the hall. “Devin said we had to come and help you with anything you needed.”

“I’m sorry, kids,” my voice replied. The Doppelganger was using a painfully cheerful tone that would have been a clue that something was wrong all by itself, if Manuel and Dare had known me better. I never sound that happy before sundown. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to visit right now. Maybe you can come back later? I’ll bake you some cookies . . .”

Okay, that was it . I hadn’t had a chance to use the kitchen for anything more elaborate than coffee and fried eggs, and I’d be damned if some invading monster was going to beat me to it. I stepped into the living room, bat still held in front of me like a poor man’s broadsword. “You are not using my kitchen.”

It wasn’t the best comeback ever, but considering how much blood I’d lost, I didn’t think I was doing too badly. My double turned to face me, stolen eyes narrowing. “I thought I sent you to your room.”

Manuel and Dare gaped as they looked between us. It wasn’t hard to tell us apart: the Doppelganger was fully clothed, and I was wearing nothing but a bathrobe. Also, I was the one doing all the bleeding. “You did. Unfortunately, I’m a little old to be grounded.”

“Uh . . . ma’am?” said Manuel, wide-eyed.

The Doppelganger lashed out with one hand, fingers morphing into talons, and shoved Manuel away from the door. He shrieked in pain and surprise as he fell backward, tumbling out of sight.

“Manny!” Dare shouted.

The Doppelganger turned and stalked toward me, growing taller as it abandoned the pretense of my form. “Bad girl,” it chided, grinning. “Bad, bad girl. Time to be punished.”

It was moving slowly, certain of its own strength. That was the only opening I was likely to get, and so I took it, swinging my bat as hard toward its midsection as I could. Something in my shoulder ripped free, and the world was suddenly bathed in a fresh veil of pain.

The Doppelganger reached out and caught the bat midswing, careless as a child gathering daisies. It tightened its hand, and the wood shattered into splinters, leaving me holding nothing but the bottom third of what used to be a bat.

“Oh, crap . . .” I said, starting to back away. Aluminum. Next time, I was going to buy aluminum. Or maybe a tire iron.

Moving too fast to dodge, the Doppelganger reached out and grabbed my chin, talons cutting into my cheek. “You’re a stupid thief, but you’re scared enough now,” it said, still smiling. “You’re going to tell me everything I need to know.” Dropping the splinters of my bat, it dug its fingers under my armpit and lifted me off the ground. My heart was pounding so hard that it hurt almost as badly as my injuries. I’d seen death before, even recently, but it had never been that close.

That might have been the end, if the Doppelganger hadn’t made one small, fatal mistake: it turned its back on Dare. I didn’t know her very well, and I still could have told it that turning its back on her wasn’t a good idea. The young changeling had been given time to process all her possible responses to someone smacking her brother aside like a stray dog, and she’d settled on the one that came most naturally. Rage.

“Hey, ugly! ” she shouted. The Doppelganger didn’t turn around. That’s probably why it was so surprised when the knives started slamming into its back. It bellowed, dropping me. Miraculously, I landed on the one part of my body that hadn’t previously been in pain: my ass.

Snarling, it turned toward Dare. I had to give the girl this much: she might have been an arrogant little brat, but she looked into the face of death and was sincerely unimpressed. “I’ve seen scarier things than you on blind dates,” she said. She still needed a dialogue coach, but I wasn’t in any position to judge. “You wanna piece of me?”