Second Door to the Right

by Nikki Hyson

  The metallic click of a pocket watch shutting counted down the last few seconds allotted to the salvation of a man. “Lily.”

  She continued to write. “I know.” Just ten more words. “I know.” Five.

  “We’re going to have to run.”

  Spelling out the last, she didn’t look up. “Then we’ll run.”

  “Lily, now.”

  Finishing with a period, she clutched pen and journal close. “There. Done.”

  Cris grabbed ahold of her hand, pulling her back into the rain. Umbrella abandoned completely, they ran.

  “How will we know if it worked?” she panted.

  “We won’t.” They rounded the corner onto Adeline Road, two black sedans passing slowly by them. They kept running. “Until it’s too late.”

  “What are you saying?” Her lungs were burning, shoes soaked through. Cold, shivering, they drew even with the building. She almost didn’t hear his answer.

  “If he’s dead, it didn’t work.” Cris put a hand to her arm. “Lily, wait. Whatever you see, it isn’t his fault. It’s mine. If you must blame someone. Hate someone. Choose me. Promise?”

  “Do you revel in being utterly mad?”

  “I’ve gotten rather used to it. Promise me you won’t hate him.” He laid his hand over her heart. “This won’t work. Your words won’t work if there is hate.”

  Lily couldn’t promise what she didn’t understand. More confused now than a moment before, she needed answers. “Cris, I—”

  She got no further. The door latch clicked, swinging wide. Hyde stood on the threshold. Cris, flinching away from her side, brushed past Hyde to enter. Two of the agents stepped from the sedan, falling into place behind her, blocking freedom from the way she’d just come.

  Hyde barely stepped back, his coat brushing her as she passed. “My dear. You’re soaking wet.” His smile beamed. “You should’ve accepted my offer and come in the car. Are you shivering?” He snapped his fingers and a blanket materialized from someone. He settled it around her shoulders, lingering long enough about it to inspire an unconscious step away.

  “Thank you,” she said, hating that she felt indebted in any way, but embracing the warmth. Lily tried to catch Cris’ eye but, forever elusive, he refused to meet her gaze. Back carefully directed her way, he fussed with a file from the receptionist’s desk.

  All other choices removed, she faced Hyde. “Where’s James?”

  39

  James stood waiting in the rain soaked shadows. He’d watched Lily enter the little café, spying her form through the glass windows as she found a corner and settled into it. That’d been several hours before, but she still hadn’t stirred other than repeatedly lifting cup to lips. Too busy reading to notice her surroundings, he didn’t need to stray closer to know what captivated her.

  He could feel her fingers pass over his pages as surely as if she sat touching him herself. James knew when she paused, lingered, or reread certain passages. He knew when she reached the end and he died.

  He felt her tears for him.

  James also saw when Hyde arrived with his agents, filling the café with their black suits and hard lines. He shifted against his doorway across the street. This, as Cris had predicted, was the hardest part about the plan. He had to remain out of sight, letting the plot unfold. James had to be still. He growled softly into the sharp night, liking this less than Cris could have imagined.

  James watched the barista come around the counter to protect Lily and blessed the man, cursing Cris with equal fervor for not being on time. He glanced up and down the empty street; checking his watch for a third time. Surely, Cris must be late.

  The watch claimed it to be five minutes early. The episode continued, glass and distance masking words but body language clear to any with an eye.

  Fear flashed across Lily’s face, two of Hyde’s puppets breaking off to intimidate the counter girl. James lifted a foot, ready to dash it all and interfere. “Sorry, Cris.”

  A softly uttered note swept up above the pattering of rain across puddles. James knew it and smiled, easing back into shadow. Cris stepped under a street lamp, looking right at him. A smile glinted white under the brim of his hat, followed by a slight finger flick to bugger off.

  James, touching forefinger to brow, complied. Now that he knew she’d be safe. He could move on to the rest of the night’s events. Slipping from the doorway, he headed back down the way he’d come. Behind him a jangle of bells sounded with the opening of a door. The clock was running fast now.

  He found the first phone booth on the next street over and stepped within, not fully shutting the door so the light didn’t come on. Feeding the machine until a dial tone replaced the hum, he punched the number he’d memorized last night. It only took four rings, a feminine voice, thick with sleep, offering greeting on the other end.

  “Hello?”

  “Sarah Westfell?”

  “Yes.” Concern replaced confusion in a moment. “Who is this?”

  “You must listen to me carefully. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re supposed to meet Lily at her flat tomorrow afternoon. Don’t wait until then. She’ll want you there at nine o’clock.”

  “What’s going on? James, is that you? Should I go to her now?”

  James closed his eyes, touching forehead to glass. If she went early, or called the police, or did anything other than what he asked, alarms would be raised. Alarms echoing back to the Guild, making this all for naught. Yet Peter and Cris had agreed this was a calculated, necessary risk. Whether Sarah trusted him or not.

  No one wanted Lily left alone for hours with no one to hold her. Sarah was the only one who could be trusted. She’d be the one Lily would turn to.

  “Yes, it’s James. Nothing’s wrong at the moment. She won’t know what you’re even doing there. I have to give her some bad news over breakfast. Can you do this for me, Sarah? I think she’ll want you there.” He allowed the plea to carry over all his words, painting a desperation he felt, but would have never shown anyone.

  Sarah considered on her end, then asked, “What are you going to tell her?”

  “I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I won’t be coming back.”

  Her hesitation bit. “You’ve become quite close. You’re right. She’ll feel the loss of your friendship.”

  James read the meaning in Sarah’s tone. She saw no loss to be troubled over. Still, she was a mother. Lily’s pain would be her pain.

  “Thank you, Sarah. You’ll go then? Nine o’ clock?”

  “I’ll be there. Thanks for calling me, James.”

  “Peter was lucky finding you. Goodbye, Sarah.” He hung up the phone before she could reply and stepped back into the rain.

  That’s when Lily changed his ending, rewriting his past and setting his future free.

  He felt it; a line of black ink winding slowly through his body:

  He sucked in one last breath, opening his eyes. “Barrie, promise me.”

  “Anything.”

  “Make it a cracking good yarn.”

  Barrie smiled even as tears slid down his cheeks. “I promise.”

  “James. James, where do you think you’re going?” Her voice teased him, tugging him back away from the beckoning light and to the bright gold of her hair. “I never gave you permission to go.”

  With great difficulty, James opened his eyes and found her gaze upon him. She was smiling, laughing even as tears fell from her cheeks to his. “Anne?”

  “Yes. Did you think I wouldn’t come?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Barrie sent one of his boys to tell me. You can’t leave me, James. Not now. Not when I am free to love, and strong enough to never let you go.”

  “I can’t. They won’t let. Anne.” He stopped explaining, instead filling his hand with the glory of her hair. His strength gone, he had nothing left to bring her lips to his. But she already knew what he wanted. She wanted it too. She kissed him, sealing t
heir forever with a pledge that lasted until he was gone.

  Her cry pierced his spirit. Soul cutting free from the body that’d failed him, he rose on a prayer. Her voice followed, an unbreakable oath made to death.

  “I lost you in this life. I’ll not lose you again. I claim you, James. Bone of my bone, breath of my breath. You will always be mine, heart of my heart. I will find you again. I will always be yours. And I won’t let you go…

  James broke from his past with a gasp and a cry. “Lily! You did it. Sweet little sister, it’s been your doing all along. You brought us back together. My story is Anne’s. You freed us both by binding our pages. Now I can do right by you both.”

  Time growing short, James took a step and gasped. Sudden pain burning his left hand, itching under the skin as if a hundred thousand— My left hand?

  James ripped off the glove protecting his plastic hand and could only stare. He spread the fingers wide, lifeline widening, etching anew across his palm. He closed it into a fist. Real. Flesh and blood. Hook no more.

  He was free.

  Rain continued to pour, adding to the tears blurring his thanks. A contribution he didn’t mind. In the distance he saw two figures race from alley to pavement. They kept running. “Thank you, Lily,” he said softly.

  40

  Lily’s gaze held fast, even when Hyde started to smirk. “Where is he?” she asked a second time.

  Hyde’s smile magnified. “Why don’t we ask the dear Count since he seems to be part of the inner circle?” Clapping a hand on Cris’ shoulder, he leaned in close. “Where is he, Cris? Where’s Hook?”

  Staring at the open file, Cris bore the unwelcome weight with a sharp clenching of his jaw. “I don’t know.”

  “No. You don’t.” Hyde squeezed Cris’ left shoulder. “You don’t know. The Professor does. Now I know.” He continued to squeeze, a crunching sound costing Lily a muffled cry. “Never pretend to be superior again. Never pretend to be better than me.” Hyde continued to press, trying to drive the Count to his knees. “Do you understand?”

  Cris drew a breath, held it. Remaining upright, he nodded once.

  “Say it properly.” Hyde continued to squeeze, pressing bone fragments into tendons. Cris went white between one moment and the next.

  Lily couldn’t take any more. “Stop this now.” Shunting reason, she stepped forward. Directing the focus onto herself, she pressed hard with another question. “I only came here to see James. Is he here, or not?”

  Hyde released Cris, but didn’t step away. “Gone,” he said simply.

  She shook her head, unable to comprehend. “What do you mean? You just said you know where he is. Where is he?”

  “On assignment. He should be back before dawn. Would you like to leave a message for him?”

  Lily didn’t answer immediately. Still searching Cris’ face for some clue to unriddle the madness she waited a beat longer. “Just tell him I finished my novel.” Cris didn’t look up. “He knows all about it.”

  Hyde snapped his fingers once. “Do you mean this?”

  Cris reached across himself to fish into his pocket, left hand hanging uselessly beside it. Withdrawing Lily’s purple journal, he handed it over. She took a step forward, hand half stretched before she realized. It drew a look. For an instant, her eyes locked with the Count’s.

  Hyde didn’t seem to notice. “The Count tells me you write quite well. I haven’t read any of it yet, but our Professor is quite impressed.” Hyde’s voice continued to flow, even cadence following a rhythm meant to lull, meant to seduce. “That is why you were asked here tonight.” The serpent preparing to strike. “He would like to meet you.”

  Lily couldn’t listen to any more. “You had no right to steal my journal.” She took another step forward, letting the blanket fall. I’d rather shiver. Hand extending fully, she said, “I’d like it back now.”

  The journal remained tucked close to Hyde’s chest. Under his hand. Out of reach. “Did you ever let James read it?”

  Temper mixed with fear, creating a fuel capable of scorching common sense and reason. Drawing herself up a little straighter, Lily’s eyes flashed an emerald warning. “I’ll be going now.”

  Hyde chuckled. “No. You won’t. He requested your presence.” Flicking his next words over to an agent newly arrived from a far corridor, “Everything ready?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. Would you like to change out of those wet things first? I’m sure we can find something suitable.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “It would be wise to go quietly. No one wishes you any harm. Not yet. Ask Cris. He knows.”

  Lily didn’t need to be told where to seek help. Her eyes were already on Cris, begging for answers without saying a word. How could he be Edmond Dantes, her beloved Count, and stand there doing nothing? He still refused to look up.

  “Edmond,” she said at last, rejecting the alias and calling him by his true name. “Please.”

  He didn’t shift. Didn’t flinch a step.

  “Come now. You guided her this far. Surely you can take her the rest of the way.” Hyde taunted with a ready laugh, too eager to salt the wound. “Take his arm, Lily. Just as you did before.”

  She rocked back on a heel, considering flight. The door stood less than a meter away. No one blocked her path. She might make it to the street before they grabbed her. She could scream. She could try.

  “You don’t want to keep your father waiting.”

  “My father? Why is he here?” She looked from one face to the other; one coldly triumphant, the other flush with pain and warning. “Why is he here? You let—”

  Cris stepped forward with a badly concealed grimace. One look. A silent warning. He reached for her hand. “Lily, come with me.”

  “Why should I trust you?” He took her hand. She didn’t protest, but she didn’t move either.

  He drew her closer, feeding her hand through the crook of his damaged arm. She could only wonder why he’d purposefully hurt it further. “Are you mad?” The words passed her lips without knowing until amusement flashed like lightning across his eyes.

  “As a hatter,” he said. Hyde fell into stride behind, two agents following in his shadow.

  41

  The corridors twisted every which way, turning them left, and then right. And then right again. Lily tried to remember each turning. After the fifth she knew the task was impossible.

  Glancing up at Cris, she found his eyes already upon her. A fine row of sweat darkened his hairline, complexion changing from snow to ash, jaw clenching against the pain.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I’d been written as a better man.”

  “Oh, Edmond. I’ve always thought of you as one of the very best of men.”

  “You won’t. Not when you know the truth.”

  She touched his arm lightly. “I forgive you.”

  He smiled tightly, eyes shifting to the path before them. “You shouldn’t.” He cleared his throat, bone fragments nicking at tendons. His wince raised a chuckle behind them.

  Lily glanced back over her shoulder. Hyde walked less than a dozen paces behind, lips twisting a smile that reveled in the Count’s pain. He noticed Lily’s glance, and tipped his head to acknowledge her turmoil as well.

  “The Oracle dwells there,” Cris said, pulling her attention back to him.

  “Oracle? Does she predict the future?”

  He nodded. “And the past. She is like James. A child of two worlds.”

  Her attention focused sharply on the door as they drew even with it, then moved beyond. “Who is she?”

  “Only the Professor is supposed to know. To be made into an Oracle all her memories were captured, and then broken. She doesn’t even know her name.”

  Lily recognized the breadcrumb. “Supposed to know?”

  Beside her, Cris stumbled slightly. Instinctively, Lily threw her hand against his chest, stopping his fall. He righted himself, holding her hand to h
is heart a moment longer.

  “I understand now,” Cris said softly. “I understand why he did it.”

  She frowned. “Did what?” Shaking her head, she added, “Who?”

  “James. Why he risked everything for that look.”

  Lily felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

  “The way you’re looking at me right now. The compassion. Your kindness. I understand why he’d fight to keep it. Why he’d fight for you.”

  Hyde came up on them, anger hardening the words. “Keep walking.” He shoved Cris’ shoulder with the meat of his palm. “No more talking.”

  Lily glared. “That’s enough. Leave him be.” Eyeing their tormentor, she kept Cris from taking a knee.

  Hyde laughed. “You think this is the worst he’s ever known by my hand? I can assure you, he is stronger than he looks.” He lifted a fist as if he meant to strike the shoulder again.

  One arm still supporting Cris, she stepped from his shadow. Anger rising, her chin lifted. “You will stop this now.”

  “Mind your own business.”

  “Lily,” Cris beckoned, voice dropping to a near whisper. A vain attempt to mask the pain. “Don’t worry about me. Let it go.”

  Hyde smiled, hand falling lightly to shoulder. His thumb pressed, making a quick circle that drew a gritted gasp. “Mind your own business, Miss,” he advised. “Get walking.”

  Lily knew the villain would act if she did not. She took a step forward, and then another, Cris at her side. Hyde followed after, his silent agents three steps behind.

  Bodies nearly touching in their closeness, Lily used the blind, turning Cris’ hand palm side up without drawing a question. Confused, he looked at her, but said nothing. Hair darkening to black, his sweat ran freely. Putting the tip of her finger to his skin, they made another left. Before the first letter could be traced, understanding glimmered in his eyes.