Mothman's Curse by Christine Hayes Page B

the dirt, watching a bug creep along the rocky ground. The other, tall and fair-haired, watched a young woman as she sat on a stone bench nearby, reading a book.
    â€œEdgar, you’re missing the best part of the afternoon!” the taller man called.
    â€œI like the view just fine from here, William.” Edgar scowled, his dark brows knitting, creasing his angular face.
    â€œYou and your bugs,” William said, and went back to watching the woman, his chin in his hands. “Ah, Elsie. There must be some way to capture your attention.”
    The scene dimmed, rushing past in blurred streaks of light and color and motion.
    *   *   *
    Edgar reappeared, a few years older. His wavy hair was slicked back. He stood on a porch, clutching a drooping bunch of wildflowers.
    A matronly woman answered the door. “I’m sorry, Edgar. Elsie is out with William this afternoon. Would you like to leave those for her?” she said, reaching for the flowers.
    But Edgar snatched them from her reach and crumpled them in his hand. He stormed away, muttering to himself.
    *   *   *
    Edgar sat in a dim basement, hunched over a long worktable. He was surrounded by dead bugs of every shape and size, carefully pinned under glass and mounted in dark frames like gruesome trophies. He held delicate tools in his hands as he carefully fashioned a tiny piece of gold jewelry. Edgar kept a running conversation with himself as he worked. “She’ll love it. There isn’t another like it anywhere. She won’t want anything to do with that simpleton William when she sees this.” He held it up to the flickering light of an oil lamp. It was a stickpin. In its center was a moth, preserved under a perfect circle of glass.
    *   *   *
    Edgar stood at Elsie’s door once more, a hopeful smile softening his face. He wore a dark suit, his slim shoulders thrown back. Elsie graced the open doorway, holding the pin in her outstretched hand. Her full lips shifted from a grimace to a forced smile.
    â€œEdgar Tripp, what a nice … gesture. But I’m afraid I can’t accept it. My heart belongs to William. It’s not your fault, dear. Girls just don’t fall for boys like you, with your bugs and your childish ways. I do wish you well. Perhaps we will invite you to the wedding.” She moved to hand the pin back but dropped it at the last moment, her smile twisting, eyes unkind. “Oh, dear. Clumsy me.” She shut the door in his face.
    Edgar bent to retrieve the pin. He cradled it in his palm, then clenched his fingers around it, blinking back tears.
    *   *   *
    Once again at his worktable, hair in disarray, Edgar hunched over a paper filled with scrawled handwriting and strange symbols. His lips moved in a whispered chant as he read aloud from the page, the words coming faster, turning to smoke that twisted and writhed from his mouth like a serpent, winding to encircle the pin and lift it into the air, where it began to glow with a white-hot fire.
    *   *   *
    Edgar stood in the grassy field, pointing a gun at Elsie and William. William stepped in front of Elsie, his face a mask of fear and disbelief. Edgar’s own face was smooth and peaceful.
    â€œI’ll give you a choice this one last time, Elsie. I’m only going to kill one of you. Save the life of your beloved William, or save your own. It doesn’t matter to me, but I believe you truly love no one but yourself. Prove me wrong.”
    â€œEdgar! We were friends. Please don’t do this. Please!”
    â€œDo be quiet, William. You were only my friend when you had nothing else to keep you amused for the day.”
    Elsie looked from one man to the other, her face streaked with tears.
    â€œQuickly, now, Elsie. I’m getting bored.”
    â€œI—I choose…” She met William’s eyes, then looked away. “I choose him. Kill