Second Door to the Right

by Nikki Hyson

  Lily followed his gaze up above the mantle to a painting. A woman, in vivid hues, dressed in the robes of medieval times. She seemed no more than thirty, the artisan taking great pains to capture the proud tilt of her chin, and the grief filled shadow across her gaze. “Who is she?”

  “Not her. The necklace.”

  Lily narrowed her gaze to the key nearly lost among the folds of scarlet velvet. It hung on a cord around her neck. Brass? Perhaps four inches long, and possessing a curious feature at the head. A small clock appeared to be fixed within it. “What does it unlock?”

  “A mirror. The mirror. The one to the Forsaken Corridor. Moriarty thinks you’ll find it if we let you go. He believes you’ll move heaven and earth to save James.”

  “Why does he think I can find it? I know nothing of it.”

  “Because you are the only one who saw our door before James bumped into you.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Lily swallowed dryly. “What will he do if he ever gets it?”

  Cris shifted his gaze back to the corridor he’d come from. “You need to take her and go.”

  Lily glanced back at the cell door. Black wrought metal fell creakily open, revealing a woman she didn’t know. Pale face and sapphire eyes. Hair the color of pirate’s gold. James’ description brought to life. Lily’s breath caught. “Anne.”

  The woman might’ve nodded but Cris stood, pulling Lily up with him. “Later,” he said briefly. “Lily, time to go.”

  Reason demanded swift obedience, but her limbs refused to move. “The key will save James? What has he done? Cris, he didn’t—”

  “Lily.” Cris’ look confirmed her fears. “Now.”

  “Where is he? Can I see him?”

  “You know you can’t.”

  “But I wrote him free. I—”

  He offered a book. “This is Anne’s. Moriarty can’t hurt her anymore. Take your mother, Anne, and this. Get away from here.”

  “Cris, what was the point? Why my father? Why—”

  “—Don’t come back. Don’t look for the key. I baited the trap as ordered, but you don’t have to look.”

  Lily accepted the rolled canvass he held out.

  Already knowing who it contained, she stared up into Cris’ face for a long moment. All hard angles and no compassion. She refused to believe it of him.

  “Whose side are you on?” she demanded at last.

  “My own.”

  Lily didn’t believe him. Reaching up, she laid her hand against his cheek.

  Gaze impassive, he couldn’t prevent the cold marble of his skin from flinching away.

  “You did wrong by him, Cris.”

  “It was James’ choice.”

  Lily shook her head. “No,” she corrected slowly. “Not, James. You did wrong by Edmond Dantes. He would have never done this.” Raising herself up on the tips of her shoes. “I wish I could hate you.” Pressing the warmth of her cheek against his, she whispered, “But, I forgive you, Cris. Tell James this isn’t over.” Then she walked away.

  Epilogue

  Cris placed the last pieces of shattered glass into a metal bin, memories tinkling faintly. Twelve mirrors worth of reflections stared back. He looked away, to the man sitting on the floor. The man stared back as well, confusion marring an otherwise handsome face.

  “They got away,” Cris said slowly. “Lily and Anne.” Searching the face for some reaction, he pressed harder. “You did it, James. They’re safe.”

  The man frowned, cerulean blue eyes lit with a childish innocence. “Who?”

  Cris dropped the last shard of glass atop the pile, then went to him. He stared down at his friend, who looked back without recognition. Cris’ guts twisted. There was nothing he could do. Nothing other than what was expected of him. Her words haunted. I forgive you, Cris.

  A chuckle stuck half way up. More than I can say for myself.

  “You are the Oracle.” Cris sighed. “One day you’ll understand what that means. For now, I’ll take you somewhere to rest. Alright?”

  The Oracle nodded, simply holding up his hand for help. “Okay.”

  Cris reached down, grasping his forearm, and pulled. “Let’s go.”

  The Oracle rose. Balance wavering, his hand landed on Cris’ shoulder.

  Cris frowned. “You alright?”

  “No. I see.” The Oracle pulled back. “I see you in flames. You’re burning.” Eyes both wide and afraid, he stared at Cris with diamond hardness. “What is this?”

  “Probably Hell.” Slipping an arm around the Oracle, Cris guided him across the bare room. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Passing the rubbish bin, Cris couldn’t help a final look at the broken life waiting to be tossed.

  A flash of cerulean blue caught his eye. He hesitated. Perhaps. Grabbing it quickly. One day.

  Tomorrow the room would be filled with a new ring of mirrors.

  Some weeks later, the Guild rested quietly under the light of day. All returned to normal. Contracts were accepted; assignments handed out. A new class was being compiled to replace those James killed the night he saved Lily and Anne. It was as if no wrinkle had creased Moriarty’s plans.

  Whatever they are, Cris thought, slipping down the final turn of steps to the catacombs below the building on Adeline. Part of the Professor’s innermost circle for nearly a month, he still had no idea what Moriarty’s true purpose might be.

  Reaching his destination, Cris pulled open the heavy iron door, shivering against a blast of stone chilled air. Cursed tomb. He hated it down here, but he’d a book to deliver.

  The writer, a young man somewhere past thirty, stared blankly at the table before him, hand moving a pen blindly across a sheet of ordinary loose leaf. He didn’t look up. He must’ve been down here for a while, Cris realized, for all the fight to have gone out of him. Remnants of Hyde’s cruelty still lingered in those left behind.

  Cris laid the book upon the table, opening it to a ribbon marker. “You’ll want to start writing there.” Touching the age rough page, “and when you reach this point…” Cris pulled a sheet of paper from the back, laying it beside the book. “Write this to the end. Understand?”

  Without looking up, the writer nodded his dark brown head once. His hand continued linking letters across the page already before him.

  Impatient, Cris pulled the paper away. “Here.” Shoving the book under his eye line, “Get going.”

  The writer responded flawlessly, left forefinger finger tracing Cris’ path while his right took up the refrain.

  Satisfied, Cris glanced down at the page in his hand. Only one word covered the surface a hundred times over. Lily Lily Lily Lily Lily Lily Lily. Lily.

  Cris blanched. Looking at the writer again, he exhaled a name. “Stephan?”

  COMING SOON

  The Forsaken Corridor — A Paper Souls Fantasy

  Book 2 Coming in May 2019

  Shades of Eleanor — A Paper Souls Fantasy Prequel Book 3 Coming July 2019

  Acknowledgments

  While writers spend large swaths of time all alone in front of a glowing screen, no book is made readable by just one person. For everyone listed below, my many humble thanks:

  Jackie- You are not only a cheerleader, Skype buddy, plot unsnarler, beta reader, formatter, verbal Xanax when I need to be talked off the inevitable ledge, but you are my friend. This book would not be published if you weren’t in my life. Thank you.

  EJ- You aren’t just a story coach and cheerleader, you are my friend. (What a lucky gal am I) Even when I asked you to go over this with me a third time, you only asked one question. What time do you wanna Skype? I am a better writer because of you. Thank you.

  Jen- When I can’t turn my neck cause I’ve been sitting at my desk for too long, you’re there. We laugh and cry and laugh some more. We walk dogs, watch TV, cook, play games, and are there for each other in all the little ways that matter. You call me on my bad attitude with a look and raise me up when I’m low with a hug. I am a
better person because of you. Thank you.

  All my beta readers- When you work on a book for 5 years, and various incarnations, you pick up a few betas. If I have forgotten one of you, I am deeply sorry. I have valued all your feedback. You made this a better book. Melanie, Saralynn, Kirstie, Jackie, Charmain, Sandy, Barb, Cass, Michelle, Anastasia, and Mom.

  Mom- You are the worst beta reader ever cause you love everything I write. And that makes you the very best Mom. Thanks for being my #1 fan! XO

  All the Writer Groups I am a part of. The Writing Gals, 20BooksTo50k, and NaNoWriMo. I’ve learned so much from all of you. Thank you for letting me tag along, ask questions, and always treating every writer with the deepest respect. Every story matters.

  And to you, loyal reader: If you actually made it all the way to this line, I thank you too. See you next time, for the next book in the Paper Souls series…The Forsaken Corridor.

  About the Author

  Nikki Hyson started writing at the age of 8 when her local library ran out of horse stories and her mom suggested, “Then write one.” Since then she’s dabbled in nearly every genre, but a childhood raised reading Narnia and watching The Princess Bride at every opportunity has led her to fantastical realms. (Willow, Ladyhawke, Labyrinth, and all the Roald Dahl books only added fuel to the fire).

  After spending her teens hopscotching around the country, she settled in Alaska and found it suited her. When she isn’t weaving spells with her words, she can be found snuggling with one of her senior-aged Labradors, walking in the woods, cooking for friends, or lost in a good book. She believes chocolate was invented by wizards, a good cup of Matcha can cure anything, and every maiden is just waiting to rescue the fair prince in distress. If only he’d stop to ask for directions.