Beagle, Peter S. (ed) - The Urban Fantasy Anthology / Бигл, Питер С. (ред) - Антология городской фэнтези [2011, EPUB, ENG]

A Bird That Whistles short story by Emma Bull Make a Joyful Noise novelette by Charles de Lint The Goldfish Pool and Other Stories / Пруд с декоративными рыбками и другие истории novelette by Neil Gaiman On the Road to New Egypt short story by Jeffrey Ford Julie's Unicorn novelette by Peter S. Beagle Companions to the Moon short story by Charles de Lint A Haunted House of Her Own short story by Kelley Armstrong She's My Witch short story by Norman Partridge Kitty's Zombie New Year short story by Carrie Vaughn Seeing Eye novelette by Patricia Briggs Hit short story by Bruce McAllister Boobs / Сиськи short story by Suzy McKee Charnas Farewell, My Zombie short fiction by Francesca Lia Block The White Man novelette by Thomas M. Disch Gestella novelette by Susan Palwick The Coldest Girl in Coldtown / Самая холодная девушка в Коулдтауне novelette by Holly Black Talking Back to the Moon short fiction by Steven R. Boyett On the Far Side of the Cadillac Desert with Dead Folks / На дальнем краю пустыни Кадиллаков с мёртвым народцем novelette by Joe R. Lansdale The Bible Repairman short story by Tim Powers Father Dear short story by Al Sarrantonio

If human testimony, taken with every care and solemnity, judicially, before commissions innumerable, each consisting of many members, all chosen for integrity and intelligence, and constituting reports more voluminous perhaps than exist upon any other class of cases, is worth anything, it is difficult to deny, or even to doubt the existence of such a phenomenon as the vampire. “Carmilla” —J. Sheridan Le Fanu

It was the general understanding that the world was falling apart in all directions. Bad things had happened and worse were on the way. Everyone understood that—the rich and the poor, old and young (although for the young it might be more dimly sensed, an intuition). But they also understood that there was nothing much anyone could do about it, and so you concentrated on having some fun while there was any left to have. Tawana chewed kwash, which the family grew in the backyard alongside the house, in among the big old rhubarb plants. Once they had tried to eat the rhubarb, but Tawana had to spit it out—and a lucky thing, too, because later on she learned that rhubarb is poison. The kwash helped if you were hungry (and Tawana was hungry even when her stomach was full) but it could mess up your thinking at the same time. Once in the third grade when she was transferred to a different school closer to downtown and had missed the regular bus, she set off by herself on foot, chewing kwash, and the police picked her up, crying and shoeless, out near the old airport. She had no idea how she’d got there, or lost her shoes. That’s the sort of thing the kwash could do, especially if you were just a kid. You got lost without even knowing it. . . .