I picked up the blinded doll from the floor with shaking hands. I didn’t want the story to be true, but parts of it were horribly easy to recognize and identify. Was the Pirate King
really so strong? Had he really left the River Policeman for dead? Was that why I couldn’t reach Dante? Was the darkness beyond the bank . . . death? I felt a chill lift the hairs on my arms.
My mouth filled with dust. I didn’t want to be here. I had known it was going to be hard to see Valerie like this, but I didn’t think it was going to be this hard. I wanted my friend back, the one I’d known since third grade, the one I’d told my secrets to during late-night sleepovers, the one I’d grown up with. I didn’t know this person sitting across from me.
I wanted to leave and was ready to say so when Valerie leaned close and touched my knee.
“I knew you were coming, darling,” she said. The childish lilt to her voice had fled and she sounded like the Valerie I remembered. A flicker of almost familiar light touched the corners of her eyes. “I told him so when he came to see me. He said he hoped you would. He wants to see you, but he said you’re a hard woman to reach.” She held up one of her chained wrists, and the light in her eyes grew brighter.
“He knows exactly who you are. He wanted me to give you a message. He wanted me to tell you that this is only the beginning. That he’s in charge of the river now. That his gifts are stronger now. That you can’t stop him.”
I looked at the Pirate King doll propped up in her lap, then at the crumpled River Policeman in my hand. Maybe I couldn’t stop him. But I knew I had to try.
“Riddle me this,” Valerie said suddenly, wrapping her fingers around my wrist and turning my hand up. She opened my fist as easily as peeling an orange.
“Made of steel or hair, it can be snapped like a finger or picked like a string. It will stay closed to any but its partner, though it will always open for skeletons. What is it?”
As she spoke, she traced a series of letters on the flat of my palm with her fingertip. It was an old game we’d played as kids. A silent and secret method of communication. The goal was to pose a riddle while writing something completely different from what you were saying; the winner was the one who could answer the riddle and recite the secret message correctly.
I watched her finger move fast and sure, tracing out each individual letter; her nail felt like a needle against my skin.
When she finished, she closed my hand around the words she’d written and met my eyes.
“Do you understand?” she asked me.
I nodded, my heart beating hard and fast. “I understand perfectly.” If Valerie was somewhere in there, trying to communicate with me, then I hoped she would recognize the words and finish the game.
“Then speak the words and answer,” she responded.
“It’s a lock,” I said, recognizing one of our first riddles. “A lock made of steel, or a lock of hair. It can be snapped closed, or picked open. It prefers its own key, though a skeleton key can open anything.”
Valerie nodded, a wise and slightly sad smile on her face. “You win.” Then the light faded from her eyes. “Oh, he will be so mad.” She cupped her hands over her mouth and giggled like a child. “But first he will have to find me.” She darted from the bed to the open closet, crouching down in the corner behind the bathrobes. Covering her eyes with her hands, she started counting. “One. Two. Three. Ready or not, here I come.” But she didn’t move or uncover her eyes. “I said—ready or not, here I come!”
I slowly stood up and backed away until my heels hit the closed door. Seeing her like this was bad enough, but having caught a glimpse of my old friend trapped inside made it worse. I couldn’t stay here anymore. Pressing my closed fist to my chest, I reached behind me, fumbling for the doorknob. I didn’t find one, though, and realized that I wasn’t particularly surprised. This place was more of a prison than a hospital. Why would they want to give the inmates a way to leave their rooms?
“Dr. Blair,” I said. “I’m ready to leave.”
The door opened behind me and Dr. Blair stood in the hallway as though she had expected my call.
“And did we have a nice visit?” she asked, clasping her hands in front of her like a schoolteacher.
I nodded; I didn’t dare trust myself to speak. Behind me I could hear Valerie’s voice, high and quick: “Four. Five. Six. Ready or not, ready or not.”
“Oh, good. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you out.”
Dr. Blair led me to her office, returned my phone and watch, and then walked me to the front door. I could feel her eyes on me, watching, while I dialed Mom’s number. She might still have been watching a few minutes later as I climbed into the car and we drove away; I wasn’t brave enough to look back at the James E. Hart Memorial Hospital.
The whole drive home I kept my fist closed around the words Valerie had written on my palm like they were a handful of diamonds. No, they were better than diamonds; I suspected they might be the key to everything.
F-I-X I-T. Y-O-U C-A-N F-I-X I-T.
Chapter
7
There was another message waiting for me when I got home. A sticky note slapped to my bedroom door bore Hannah’s unmistakable touch:
Dearest Abby,
Call Natalie.
Love,
Your personal answering service
I plucked the note from the door and walked down the hall to Hannah’s room. “Hannah, when did Natalie call?”
“When you were gone,” she said from behind a book. The title on the spine read The Once and Future King and the cover had an elaborate painting of King Arthur wielding Excalibur.
“Ha, ha,” I said dryly. “When—exactly?”
“I don’t know. Ten minutes ago. Maybe twenty.”
“Did she say anything?”
Hannah sighed and let the book drop onto her stomach. “I sort of thought ‘Call Natalie’ would be enough, but I guess not.” She cleared her throat. “Natalie said, and I quote, ‘Is Abby there?’ And then I said, ‘No, she’s not. Can I take a message?’ And then she said, ‘No, just have her call me, okay?’ And then I said—”
“Okay, okay, I get it.”
“I would have written it down, but the note was a little small, and—”
“Yeah, I get it. Thanks for the message.”
“I’ll bill you later.” Hannah disappeared behind her book again, effectively dismissing me from her presence.
Returning to my room, I slouched into the window seat and fished out my cell phone.
Natalie picked up on the third ring.
“Hey, I’m back,” I said. “What’s up?”
“When I agreed to meet you at that restaurant, I didn’t know you were setting me up on a date. And with Jason, of all people!”
“What’s wrong with Jason?”
“Nothing. He’s nice. It’s just—I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”
“What did you guys do?”
“It was dinner, Abby. We ate, then he took me home.”
“What did you talk about?”
“I don’t know—stuff. What’s with the Spanish Inquisition routine? You could have stayed with us, you know. Where did you run off to, anyway?”
“Did you have fun?” I dodged her question with one of my own.
“I guess.” Natalie sighed; I heard her shift her phone to her other ear. “I don’t understand why you did it, though. I mean, aren’t you guys dating?”
Now it was my turn to shift the phone, stalling for time. “It’s complicated,” I said finally.
“Wait, you’re breaking up with him?” Natalie’s voice hit a high note of disbelief.
“I didn’t say that!”
“Yeah, but since when has your relationship with Jason been ‘complicated’?”
Since time fractured and I woke up in a different present and I would do anything to get my life back on track. “It’s just—it hasn’t all been peaches and cream lately.”
“
So? Most people would love to have a boyfriend like Jason.”
“Would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Would you want Jason to be your boyfriend?”
“Okay, this is officially the strangest phone call I’ve had in a long time. Are you offering to, what, loan me Jason? He’s not a sweater, you know.”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” This wasn’t going the way I’d planned at all. “I was just wondering if, you know, if the circumstances were different, if maybe you could see yourself with a guy like Jason.”
“So you are going to break up with him.”
I couldn’t bring myself to deny it outright.
Natalie must have heard the hesitation because when she spoke, her voice shook with hard emotion. “You’re going to break up with Jason, and you want to let him down easy by handing him off to me? Okay, I’m hanging up now.”
“No, wait! Please—” The past had changed, but I hoped it hadn’t changed so much as to make my next words a lie. “I’ve seen how you look at him.” I could hear Natalie breathing on the other end, so I forged ahead into the unknown. “I’ve seen how you light up when he comes into the room. How you smile, and then look around to make sure no one saw you.”
“How . . . ?” Natalie’s breath hiccupped a little and I closed my eyes in relief. She was still listening—and what was more, she wasn’t denying it.
“It’s okay, Nat,” I said. “I haven’t told anyone.”
A sigh threaded its way through the phone.
“Would you do me a favor?” I asked after a pause. “Would you consider going out with Jason if he asked you?”
“He won’t ask.”
“But you want him to.”
I barely heard the word—“Yes.”
“That’s good to hear,” I said.
“You’re not mad?”
“Hard to believe, but no, I’m not mad. You were right before. I’m not sure I see a future together with Jason, so it would make me happy to know that you guys might have a chance to be happy together.”
Natalie was quiet for a long moment. “Are you dating someone else?”
I closed my eyes, Dante’s face instantly forming in my memory. “Don’t say anything, okay? I should tell Jason on my own.”
“Abby! When did this happen? Who is it? Details, please, I need details.”
I had to remind myself that in this present, not only did my friends not know I was dating Dante, they didn’t even know he existed. The thought made me unbearably sad and lonely.
“You’ll love him. I know you will,” I said, rushing on before Natalie could articulate a protest at my dodging her demands. “Listen, Nat, I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry. We’ll talk more later, okay?”
I hung up and let my head fall back against the wall. I felt terrible for cutting Natalie off like that, but my emotions were running too close to the surface and I feared I’d lose control if I tried to explain my relationship with Dante.
Why did relationships have to be so complicated, anyway?
Valerie had told me I could fix it, and I felt like I had started the process, at least as far as Natalie and Jason were concerned. But they were the least of my worries. How could I fix what was happening to Dante? How, when I couldn’t even talk to him except in my dreams?
I wished I could just pick up the phone and call Dante as easily as I could Natalie. I wanted to hear his voice again, his laugh. I wanted to watch his eyes capture the light of the setting sun, turning them to mercury. I wanted to tell him what was going on, ask his advice.
I was grateful Leo had come back to help; just knowing he was close by had alleviated some of my stress. But talking to Leo wasn’t the same as talking to Dante. I knew Leo would
be willing to answer my questions and offer suggestions, but my relationship with Leo, while it certainly went beyond
acquaintance, still wasn’t quite to the level of good friends. I felt like there was mutual respect between us, but there was something else, too. Something that sometimes felt distant and businesslike. And other times . . .
“Mia donna di luce,” I murmured, remembering how Leo had offered me his pledge. It sounded a little cheesy, but the memory of his actions reminded me of a knight and his lady.
With Dante, though, I didn’t have any question about what was between us or what we shared. With Dante, I felt like part of a team. We were together. And when we were together, I felt more like myself. He brought out the best in me. I felt braver and stronger knowing he was on my side. I knew I could count on him. Beyond that, I knew he knew he could count on me.
He was counting on me right now. And I didn’t know how to help him.
That wasn’t entirely true, I realized. I had promised to return to him again, and even if I didn’t have any answers yet, I could still let him know he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t forgotten.
But how could I get to the dream-side of the bank? It was the middle of the afternoon; I wasn’t tired enough to fall asleep. And even if I could pull the covers over my head and sleep, I didn’t have any guarantee that my dream would take me where I wanted to go.
There had to be another way. Once before I had traveled to the bank deliberately, and I’d already been to the dream-side twice. If I could combine the two experiences, then there might be a chance of success. The worst that could happen was that I would miss the safety of the dream and land squarely on the actual bank. I hesitated; if that happened, I might not make it back. But if I did end up on the bank, Leo could find me. He could bring me back. And the best that could happen was that I would find a way to reach Dante. Was he worth the risk?
There was only one answer to that question.
I slipped out of the window seat and crossed to my bed. There was no time like the present, and if I was going to try the impossible, I might as well be comfortable.
Lacing my fingers across my chest, I settled back into my pillows, exhaling in one breath. I closed my eyes, trying to tap into my memory from that night in the Dungeon when I’d counted my way to the bank.
Butterflies beat a slow rhythm in the pit of my stomach. I squelched the fear I felt building and concentrated instead on forcing my surroundings to thin, to shift from here to there. I needed to slide between. I needed to get close enough to the bank and yet still be able to stop short.
Was it even possible?
Or was I fooling myself into thinking that I had the ability to do what no one else seemed to be able to do?
Lying in bed, I centered my thoughts on Dante. He was the difference. I wanted to be where he was, and he most certainly wasn’t on the bank. With my eyes closed, I traced the letters of his name in my mind. The tall, straight back of the D, and the convex curve, so smooth and graceful. The pyramid point of the A, angular and precise, and the steady crossbeam that connected the slanted sides. The twin pillars of the N, with a slope sliding between them. The balanced T. And finally the three prongs of the E—like a brass hinge covered in
symbols: a shell curling on itself; a half-sun, half-moon; a rising scale.
The pivoting hinge of the black hourglass door.
I drew in a quick breath and held it, tasting the delicate air under my tongue and in the soft tissue of my throat.
A shiver moved deep in my bones, as though a chime had been struck far away and the reverberations had reached me before the sound had.
I could feel the world around me slow, bending and twisting before drawing to a point, waiting for me to take the next step.
This was the moment. It was my choice. Would I go forward and risk it all, or would I withdraw?
In that still moment, I heard laughter in the distance. Wild, unfettered laughter, as though I had arrived too late to hear the punch line of the greatest joke ever told. The laughter grew louder, stretching out longer and longer. I stepped forward, following the sound like a thread strung through a labyrinth. As I drew closer and closer to the source, it became easier for me to count my heartbeats, the rh
ythm of my breathing. I fixed my destination firmly in my mind. I fixed the image of Dante in my heart. I summoned my memories of how the bank had looked the last time I’d visited it in my dream. I would find my way there. I had to. I focused on my counting, on capturing that feeling of dreaming, on following that laughter.
Silence enveloped me between one breath and the next, and I jerked back, startled. At the same time, my surroundings shifted, tilting on an axis like a twisted kaleidoscope. Watching in amazement, I saw the walls of my room fracture and fade into the wide-open spaces of the bank. A black sky replaced my ceiling and the black ground rose to meet my feet.
For the first time, I looked around the bank in delighted surprise. I had done it. I had wanted to end up on the dream-side of the bank, and here I was. Now that I had done it once, I knew I could do it again. And now that I was here, I didn’t want to waste any time.
“Dante! I’m here. I came back.”
The silence stretched out, thick and oppressive. I looked around for him even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to see him. He had to be here; he’d made me a promise.
Abby? Is that really you? I must be dreaming.
It felt so good to have his voice wash over me again, I almost didn’t notice how frail and hollow it sounded. “No, I’m the one who’s dreaming. I’m getting good at it, too.” I grinned. “I made it back on my first try.”
How long has it been?
“Not long. Only two days. I told you I’d be back.”
Two days? Impossible. It’s been longer. It has to be. I’ve been counting . . . He sounded disoriented, distracted.
“Oh, Dante,” I murmured, my heart afire with sympathy. I reached out my hand through the rippling air around me, pushing my arm in up to my elbow, hoping we could connect like we had before.
Almost immediately, I felt Dante’s ghostly hand grab mine and squeeze tight. He lifted my hand to his face; I could feel the contours of his cheek and the hard edge of his jaw. Stubble scraped along my palm as he turned to press a kiss on the