Ghost of Doors (City of Doors) (13 page)

T
HE SUN WAS SETTING. LORELEI
could tell because the light coming into the mirror world from the other side of the reflection was fading. Since no one had seen her message scrawled on the tabletop, she became determined to find a way out of this world herself and she had spent the last several hours trying to break free from the elastic and invisible bonds holding her. Wolfgang was gone no doubt to the human world as he had planned. At least, Lorelei hoped so. She hoped that his doppelganger--her real son--had not found him and cut his journey short. As the sun set on her prison and no one came back to the apartment, Lorelei's hope had faded with the unseen words on the tabletop. At first held fast in the confines of the tabletop's reflective sheen, she continued to struggle until the prison became more flexible, and a world that reflected the one she saw when she looked out through the table became increasingly more real.

It was not as complete as Doors. For example, from the tabletop view she had, there was in her world only a room with a door. But in time, after moving against the weak bond that bound her to the tabletop, she reached across the narrow room and got a grip on the door latch. It turned easily, and her feet became more steady the more she moved them, becoming used to the surface of the land as an astronaut might to the surface of the moon.

There were no people. At least, she didn't meet anyone like her, a 3-dimensional fae, as she roamed through the little world, reflective window to reflective window. Small pools of land would open up here and there as a reflection occurred from a puddle, or a window, or an actual mirror while others would close again, and she had to be careful where she stood so that the space would not swallow her up when it vanished. She had to remind herself that it was just a copy of the world she knew, the "real" Doors, and that she could use this to guide her through the bits of the city that were accessible to her, but it was still difficult because the city appeared almost completely different now in mere bits and pieces, like a completely new city made up from pieces of another. Sometimes, copies of animals or people appeared in these new spaces, but they were two dimensional and merely puppets of whatever sentient thing lay on the opposite side, projections into the mirror world, ghosts in the glass. They did not notice her and did not interact with her independently, even if she was caught by the person looking into the mirror. The few times this happened, the people looked behind themselves as if expecting her to be there, thus turning their backs to her so that the mirror image did, too. But none of them could help her anyway, so far as she knew, so she didn't waste time with them. She had to get to her husband's laboratory, both to be freed and to warn him. There was no telling what her son would do.

Several times she collided with the mirror's edge. It was always a giving buffer and didn't hurt, but neither did it let her pass through. After traveling for hours and almost sure that she was hopelessly lost, she leaned occasionally against the mirror's edge like a hammock, picked herself up and continued on, ignoring the hunger and weakness she felt, her limbs burning from the exertion. As she recognized some shop windows and billboards that served no purpose in Doors other than for zombies or gnomes to break and for the city to magically restore, her heart skipped a beat. She was almost there. Hopefully she would not be too late.

A flash appeared in the corner of her eye, a gleam so subtle that she almost didn't notice it. To survive in Doors, even the fae had to hone their awareness so that no change in the environment--no matter how small--went unnoticed. Ignoring your enemy didn't make him go away, and ignoring the signs of his presence could be a deadly mistake. The tattoo on her forearm began to stir. The dog's awakening was a confirmation of what she already suspected: The gleam was dangerous; spark from a fire. Before she could react, either to flee or to fight, a question entered her mind, a voiceless question from something unlike humans and unlike fae:
How did you get here?

Because whatever it was proved telepathic, she thought her answer and at the same time wondered how deeply could the thing probe her thoughts.
Who wants to know?

Her question was ignored.
You are not human. Are you a friend?

I am fae.

Tell me.
The hairs on her neck stood up, and the dog tattoo on her arm threw a fit.
You are in my world. Tell me, or I will eat you.

For a moment in a slight panic, Lorelei grew puzzled. Then enlightenment: It couldn't read her thoughts at all. Lacking a speaking voice, it projected a voice telepathically, but couldn't read her reply. "I...am fae." She looked around but always the little gleam, the shining thing, was just out of sight, dwelling solely and maddeningly in the corner of her eye. "Show yourself."

You are in no position to threaten. I could eat your heart in one bite, not-human, fleshy thing.

"Fae."

Whatever.

Still nothing came forward to face her. Lorelei began to think that, perhaps, it couldn't. "You said you--that this is your world. Are you a mirror-creature?"

Bah! YOU are the mirror-creatures. Our world is the first world. Your world and the worthless human world came after. Everything came after. We are the center of the universe.

"Okay," she said, trying to sound as if she agreed. An angry mirror monster was the last thing she needed. Judging by how well it stayed out of sight, either by predicting her movements or responding to her actions quicker than light could shine, she really didn't want to have to fight it. She wanted to live to help her family. "Then, what do you want from me?"

What I said. How did you get here?

It occurred to Lorelei, being a of trickster race herself, that this thing was asking because it wanted out of this world just as much as she did, and by learning how she got here, it might find a key to escape. "My own folly," she said. "I was banished here."

There was a long pause before a reply came to her thoughts.
Then we are friends.

So here they were, brothers in arms, or friends in banishment, but for some reason, that didn't give Lorelei a good feeling. It made her think that, in her new friend's case, there was a good reason for it. Now she wanted to know by whom, and why.

"Dare I ask, what are you? If we are friends as you say, you would show yourself to me. Wouldn't you? That's only fair, isn't it?"

It is not my nature to be seen. Most are not worthy to receive death by my bite. More still are not worthy enough to fill their filthy meatball eyes with my form. My glory would burst their flimsy eye sacs, anyway.

As she heard the creature's thoughts, Lorelei understood that it was not actually thinking in any particular language, but that her mind processed his ideas into a form she could accept.

But it is true...we are friends.

And with that, before her whisked a simple creature, its shining scales gleaming brightly in even the faintest hint of light, as if it was scaled in stars. A fish. And then it smiled, rows and rows of tiny, angry teeth bowed into a hungry grin, piranha-like. Before Lorelei could react, recoil or show any sign of fear, it was gone, hovering only in her peripheral vision like a ghost just always out of reach.

"You're a fish?"

That is how most meat-eyes see me. Yes.

"Most?"

Some see me differently.

Lorelei considered that it was possible to see the mirror fish as several things, depending on how it moved or how much someone actually saw of it.

"How do you know so much about humans? Were you ever in their world?"

A long time ago. I would go back again. If you find a way back, you must promise to take me with you.

Lorelei got a sinking feeling unmatched by any sinking feeling she had ever had before. This creature was so swift, she could never avoid it by normal means. As quick as she was, it proved quicker every time. It had a swiftness that came from the gods, a divine messenger, or a demon. How could she escape without bringing it with her, if it really wanted to come? "But if this is your home, why do you want to leave?"

Unfinished business.

Spelled: Revenge. "Gotcha," she said. It wasn't unusual for wizards or witches to summon creatures to help them fight or perform menial chores. Maybe this fish had been called by a wizard to perform a distasteful task. Who could blame it for being angry? But there was something about the way it spoke and moved that said the wizard must have been incredibly powerful to summon a creature like this one and control it. This fish, though small, reflected a power that rivaled that of an elder fae. She didn't want to spend any more time in its presence than she needed to, but she realized this fish had probably been following her since she entered its world, and she could no more avoid it than one could avoid the air. "Well, I...I have to go," she told it. With no reply forthcoming, she turned to go and almost ran face-first into the fish, stopping barely a hair's breadth from its skeletal nose.

Promise.

She didn't want to promise. What if, by promising, this thing would come with her, and she would never be rid of it? What if it followed her out only to kill her and everyone else she knew? If she refused, she might die here, but at least everyone else would live. There was only one solution--to promise without promising. "If," she began, "it is possible for me to find my own way out, then yes, I will be sure to let you know." The fish made no sign of acknowledgment, so she shortened it, "If I get out, I promise to tell you."

Show me. Show me, not tell.

"Yes, okay. If I get out, I will show you."

Fine.

The gleam was gone. For the first time since she entered the mirror world, the gleam that she had assumed to be the sun or a reflection or a lamplight and ended up being an enchanted fish was gone. She was alone in the middle of a reflection of a shop window, her earlier problems and concerns rushing back to her like the tide upon the shore.

A familiar figure appeared before her in the mirror world. Someone was reflecting into the world, someone she knew. Her heart instantly leapt at the sight--Wolfgang. But no, it wasn't Wolfgang. The throbbing heart in her chest shrank to a small knot as she recognized the long hair, the dark boots, and the fiendish gaze as belonging to her son. He saw her in the mirror, their eyes met, and for one terrifying second she saw him smile at her. He did not look behind him as the others had for he knew who she was, knew she was trapped. The pleasure in his smile terrified her. She followed his reflection worriedly until it disappeared into an unreflective place, sure that she couldn't overtake him and now would have no chance to arrive before him and warn her husband. She cursed herself for moving so slowly, and, even though she lost him, she was certain she could find her way. Perhaps guiding her as far as he had, however unwittingly, would be his undoing. Lorelei could only hope that undoing would come soon.

Chapter 9

W
HEN HIS SON RETURNED, CAME
through the doors of the laboratory as if nothing had happened, Dr. Schäfer wondered if Wolfgang had lost his memory, but then he wondered how he would have managed to find his way back. "Good to see you again, son," he said, and when Wolfgang, whose eyes had been wandering among the many weapons, books, and artifacts scattered about the laboratory, rested his eyes on him, something deep in Markus’ psyche made him regret drawing attention to himself. Something primal. Because something about his son was terribly wrong. Someone—or something—else wore his skin. He dared not let on that he noticed anything amiss; such a misstep could be deadly. But at the same time, he couldn’t pretend everything was all right. The thing would know for sure that he suspected. "Are you feeling okay?" Slipping a hand inside a bookshelf as if adjusting one of the books, Markus activated a concealed panic button. In moments, the guards in the hall would come rushing into his laboratory. Or so he thought.

"Dad," the impostor said, and reached out to hold him with one arm, to pull him close, which he did. "How could anything not be okay when I am here, with you?"

Markus had made the mistake of letting the thing get too close and now there was no backing out. It would come to blows, possibly ending with one or both of them dead. He had lived so long in Doors. Who would have thought that one small mistake could result in death? It was like finding the towline tangled around your foot as the pulley screeched alive. In an instant, he weighed the benefits of attacking now, attacking first as best as he could, and assessed what he could say or do as a distraction. He was about to ask Wolfgang if he’d found the Hindernis, then thought better of it. That could be the cue the thing was waiting for to make itself known and would prompt it to act. A bad smell came off the thing as it held him fast in a grip too tight to be loving, the smell of long time spent traveling and little time spent washing. Long, greasy hair draped over one arm. "I didn’t expect you back so soon."