MORTAL COILS (92 page)

It
didn’t matter what you called it, real or imagined, myth or science. As Aunt
Dallas had told them, you just had to accept some things to communicate with a
part of your mind that had no language. Learn to use and control it . . .
before it controlled you.

“Okay,”
Eliot whispered to Robert. “Give me a second to figure this out.”

Eliot
propped Lady Dawn onto his shoulder and touched the bow to her strings. He
tapped a rhythm to the beat of his heart. The faint vibrations cleared his
thoughts.

Eliot
had found the path to things before: Souhk, Amanda Lane, even the Golden Apple
sealed in that container. So all he had to do was compose Fiona’s song. That
would lead him right to her.

But
taking what he knew about his sister and turning it inside out for anyone to
hear felt wrong. Music gave him power over the things he played about. No one
should have that kind of control over Fiona.

He
decided to work on the doorway first. Take it one baby step at a time. Find a
way to bring the door back, open it, then track down his sister on the other
side.

He
remembered the snow-filled valley, a party in progress, people laughing and
singing, and the music that accompanied them. Eliot had heard the song before
(despite RULE 34), through the thin walls of the Oakwood Apartments complex
every New Year.

He
started humming it, but stopped, only able to remember a bit. He turned to
Robert. “Do you know that song?”

“Who
doesn’t?” Robert looked perplexed.

“Would
you sing it for me?”

“You
don’t want me singing anything.”

“I
need to hear it to open the door.”

Robert
winced, looked around, then sighed, cleared his throat, and sang.

   
Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind.

   
Should old acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne. . . .”

66

The
tune was simple enough. Eliot reproduced the melody on Lady Dawn, then built
upon it, adding a phrase for the falling snow . . . and a flourish,
representing the fireworks that shot over the alpine village.

The
bricks in the wall cracked. The temperature in the room dropped to icy cold.

Eliot
layered in a harmony that reminded him of the laughter he had heard in the
valley. He sprinkled in a few notes for the moonlight glinting on the snow and
the reflection of the aurora in the night sky.

The
doorway thickened: no longer mere paint on brick, but real wood and iron
bindings. The brass doorknob stuck into a mortared joint rattled and
straightened with a clack.

Eliot
played faster and took a step toward the door.

The
knob slowly turned.

But
the music drifted; a single note that went down the scale when he had wanted to
go up.

It
was happening again: control slipping from his grasp.

Angry,
he tightened his grip, wrestling with Lady Dawn, trying to master the piece.

His
cut finger throbbed with pain, and he felt the hot poison push up the vein in
his wrist.

What
if the music knew something he didn’t? Maybe it was better to let it go and
ride it to wherever it wanted to take him.

66.
Auld lang syne means “old long since” or “anytime but now,” but earlier folk
translations for this phrase suggest a meaning closer to “once upon a time,”
which has been a standard opening phrase (or some say evocation?) used in fairy
tales since the fourteenth century. Gods of the First and Twenty-first Century,
Volume 5: Core Myths (Part 2), 8th ed. (Zypheron Press Ltd.).

He
hesitantly loosened his grip. The music transformed into a jig, and his toes
started tapping. But the mood darkened. All the happiness soured to melancholy.
The fun became pain. It was the same music, just twisted into something
terrible.

The
clockwork mechanism of the knob’s lock clicked . . . and the door swung open.

Eliot
stopped playing and set his hand on the strings.

It
was probably best to only let the music take him so far.

Robert
stared at the open doorway. His breath fogged as he said, “Nice work.”

Beyond
the doorway it looked like the inside of the snow globe. A thick layer of white
covered hills and forests, and it all shimmered. The village was still there in
the distance, lit with candles and blinking strings of Christmas lights. People
sang that New Year’s Eve song, and when it ended, fireworks rocketed into the
sky.

It
was all the same. Exactly the same. Like déjà vu.

The
snow near the doorway, however, had scuff marks where Fiona had tumbled.
Footprints circled around and around, but those impressions had nearly been
filled by the falling snow.

“She
must have been trying to open this door,” Robert said, “or maybe she couldn’t
find it at all. That could be a problem.”

Robert
rummaged through the debris, found a crowbar, and wedged it under the door.

How
long had Fiona wandered out there? Eliot stuck his hand through the doorway.
Snowflakes lit on his palm and didn’t melt for several seconds. It was very
cold. He withdrew, curling his stiffened fingers.

“Her
tracks led towards that settlement,” Robert said. “I’m sure she’s okay.”

Eliot
wasn’t so sure. There was no telling how far that was. The snow muted his sense
of distance, making the village seem near and far at the same time.

“We
better find you a jacket,” Robert said.

Eliot’s
pocket buzzed. He jumped.

Robert’s
phone jangled, too.

They
both pulled out their cell phones.

“Mr.
Mimes said they were the same phone,” Robert explained. “It’s probably for me.”

“How
can they be the same?”

Robert
ignored Eliot and answered his phone. “Yeah?” His face immediately darkened.
“No, he’s not.” Robert started to hang up.

“Wait.
It’s for me?” Eliot opened the phone Louis had given him.

Robert
looked extremely unhappy about this.

“Hello?”

“My
boy.” Louis’s voice filtered through the tiny speaker. “Would you be kind
enough to tell Mr. Farmington to stop listening to our conversation? Why, I
believe the League has rules about such things.”

Robert
steadfastly held the phone to his ear and shook his head.

Eliot
shot him a glare worthy of Grandmother.

Robert
frowned, but slowly folded his phone shut and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Very
good,” Louis said. “Gossip can be a nasty thing. Sometimes you practically have
to kill people to stop it.”

“It
was you before, wasn’t it?” Eliot asked, half-irritated, half-intrigued. “I
mean, you were Robert . . . disguised.”

“Of
course.”

“You
said you would never lie to me.”

There
was a pause, then Louis said, “I did not. Did I ever say I was Robert? Do you
think your sister would’ve come with us if I had appeared as myself?”

He
had a point: Fiona wouldn’t have.

“But
why bring us to the doorway? Why am I even talking to you? Fiona could be
freezing to death—and it’s your fault!”

Eliot
slid his thumb over the END button, but for some reason he couldn’t press it.

A
sigh hissed through the speaker. “Your sister is perfectly safe. Her every need
will be seen to. That valley may be the one place where she will be safe during
some very unfortunate events that must happen tonight.”

Unfortunate
events? That had to mean the family. Either the Council had plans for him and
Fiona . . . or it was the Infernal side of the family. Eliot’s anger
momentarily subsided, and his curiosity took over.

“You
are my father, aren’t you?” There was a long pause this time, and Eliot thought
the connection had been lost. “Sir? Are you?”

“You
and I have something we must do tonight,” Louis said, not answering his
question. “Your sister cannot be a part of it. I will not explain any

more
over the phone. You must come to me. Come, and then I will answer all your
questions.”

“I
don’t think so. I’m getting my sister.” Eliot hesitated, finding it hard to say
the words. “I don’t trust you, Louis. You’ve never lied to me, but somehow I
don’t think you’ve been entirely honest with me, either.”

“Too
much truth is unhealthy for growing boys. But I will tell you this: if you are
not with me tonight, Eliot, I will certainly die.”

“Die?
How? Why?”

“Too
many details to discuss over this contraption,” Louis said casually.

“Besides,
it makes my ear hot. Does it have that effect on you?”

“Just
tell me.”

“No.
Come to me, my boy. Behind Ringo’s. The alley. Dusk.”

“But—”

“I
leave it to you to decide if my life is worth saving.”

The
line clicked to silence.

“Louis?
Louis?!”

Eliot
glared at the phone. Why was it that every adult he spoke with left him feeling
utterly frustrated? Especially his relatives. He squeezed the phone until his
arm shook.

“Whatever
he told you,” Robert whispered, “you shouldn’t listen. He’s dangerous.”

“I
know.”

Eliot
was so angry that for the first time in his life he couldn’t think. He wanted
to scream. It was as if Louis had deliberately waited until the worst possible
moment to spring this stuff on him.

On
the other hand, Louis had given him something no other adult ever had: a
choice. Everyone was always telling him what to do. The Council,
Grandmother—well, maybe not Cee, but she didn’t count.

This
was now Eliot’s choice. Help his sister or help someone who might be his
father.

Maybe
it was like Robert said—Fiona had just walked to the village. She was probably
sipping apple cider by some fire right now.

And
Louis? Would he really die if Eliot didn’t come to him?

“I
hope you’re not thinking of listening to him.”

Robert
had better ears than Eliot realized if he had overheard.

“There’s
no way I’m giving you a ride to that creep,” Robert continued. “You want to
help him instead of your sister? You can walk back to Del Sombra.”

“Don’t
tell me what to do.” Eliot’s irritation flared, now directed at Robert. “I
don’t need you. There’s a bus stop a quarter mile back. I can grab the Red Line
and be in Del Sombra by dark.”

Robert
opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed. “You’re right. It’s a family thing,
man. Do what you have to. But I’m going after Fiona. Come help me, and then
I’ll drive you wherever you want.”

That
sounded reasonable, only Eliot didn’t know how long it would take to find
Fiona. And what if they got lost on the other side of the doorway?