The Spinner of Dreams

by K. A. Reynolds

  And I can do this, four more.

  The spike in her cursed hand twisted as the train whistle blew.

  Chapter 10

  A Mysterious New Friend

  I can’t do this.

  As Annalise stood before the open train door, every atom in her body seemed to spin ever faster. She counted stars, cats, worries—anything to stop her heart from banging too fast at her ribs—as her growing fear stole her breath.

  I can’t do this.

  Panic squeezed.

  I can’t do this without Muse. I can’t leave without Mom and Dad.

  I can’t-can’t-can’t-can’t.

  Knuckles white, Annalise clutched her bag tighter and glanced far across the field toward home. The light in her bedroom was on.

  Mom and Dad were reading her note!

  Annalise’s grip on the bag slipped. Her bag dropped. Her knees buckled. She lost her balance and fell.

  Several cat eyes watched her through the train windows. Were they laughing? Calling her names? The reality of leaving home crawled up her spine like a million baby spiders and nested in her heart.

  Stop! she told herself with a shiver and pushed herself off the ground. If I’m to have any chance against the Fate Spinner, I must believe in myself and my dreams.

  But how could she leave her mom and dad?

  “The first step toward one’s dreams is always to believe,” Annalise’s mom had always told her. “Sometimes the world feels like a dark hallway lined with locked doors. The key is imagining with your entire being that on the other side of one of those doors, there’s a table set in a sunny meadow with a seat bearing your name. That there is a crowd gathered in celebration and they’ve only been waiting for you. And that, when you finally walk through that door, they will cheer and raise their cups and welcome you like an old friend. Keep this belief in your heart, and eventually, when you least expect it, you will find the right door, and it will open for you. Believe in your dreams, Annalise, and nothing, not even fate, can stand in your way.”

  Hair rushing wild in a strong wind, Annalise faced the train. She counted slowly to four as she walked up the white-feather stairs. “I believe in myself and my dreams,” she said at the top. And with a whoosh, the train doors whispered shut behind her.

  The train of crows climbed the glowing tracks into the sky. Signs began flashing from the ceiling: Please Take Your Seat. Turbulence hit hard and fast. Annalise’s nerves jumbled, and her feet stumbled. She grabbed the backs of two seats holding two cats who were less than impressed. “Sorry,” Annalise mumbled, cheeks hot as twin supernovas, and kept moving.

  Other night travelers murmured softly. Every cat on the packed train stared.

  At her.

  This was one of Annalise’s strongest triggers for panic. Her first instinct was to run. Beg the conductor to take her home. She contemplated leaving her dreams behind but pressed on, counting light fixtures instead. Each lantern on the white-feather walls cast a warm apricot glow within the train car. Outside the round windows, the night rose like a bird and cocooned them in black.

  Annalise spotted no empty seats.

  To her left, a couple of cats watched her intently. One nodded to her. The other was reading a newspaper. She recognized them from the platform before boarding the train. When Annalise passed, the cat with the paper hid the headlines. But not before she’d seen the front page of a tabloid called The Daily Eye of Fate. The caption read: WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE.

  Below the headline was a sketch of her cat guide, Muse.

  Wanted dead or alive?

  Annalise leaned in closer to the cat who’d hidden the headline, momentarily pushing her anxiousness aside. “Ex-excuse me,” she stuttered. “I couldn’t help seeing your newspaper. Do you know my guide, Muse? Can you tell me what he did wrong?”

  The cat in the heeled boots and top hat shifted awkwardly and crumpled the paper under its seat. “Ah yes, Muse.”

  The one beside him, wearing a severe black dress and monocle, hissed.

  “Now, now, Despiteous, you can’t stay angry at Muse forever, can you?”

  The perturbed cat growled and resumed reading her book: When Love Goes Wrong: A Cat’s Tale of Tears, Claws, and Woe.

  “Let’s just say,” the first cat continued, “Muse and the Fate Spinner don’t see eye to eye. Haven’t for, oh, about eleven years, if you get my meaning. They’ve been playing cat and mouse ever since.”

  Eleven years: the number of years since her birth.

  The cat laughed at his own joke and glanced toward Annalise’s marked hand, squirming under her cloak. “She wants his hide, but she’ll never catch him. He’s a wily one, that Muse.” He patted her small hand. “Once you leave our company, what with our magical hats and assorted whatnots, the Fate Spinner will be able to see you.” He tapped the side of his nose and winked conspiratorially. “The white crows of the Spinner of Dreams can only protect you outside the maze—they’re not permitted to help you inside the Fate Spinner’s Labyrinth. So eyes open, dear girl. Stay focused and forget about Muse. The Fate Spinner doesn’t play nice.”

  Annalise grew even more confused. Why did the white crows wish to protect her?

  The cat in the severe dress leaned over her seatmate and added, “My best advice to you, young miss, is to find a friend—someone who’s got your back when the Fate Spinner pushes you down. Not like that good-for-nothing—”

  “Despiteous . . .” The other cat smirked at her and she cooled her claws at once.

  “Sorry about that,” Despiteous contined. “As I was saying.” She nudged a paw at the cat at her side. “It helps knowing you’re not alone.”

  Annalise inhaled and bravely lifted her chin. Muse was a friend, but he was gone. Friend or not, she wouldn’t let the Fate Spinner stop her from going after her dreams.

  “Thank you,” Annalise said brightly. “Good luck to you both.”

  “And to you,” they added together. “May the magic of dreams be yours.”

  Annalise continued in search of a seat. Finally, at the very end of the train car, a dark shape caught her eye. A small black fox lay curled in a ball on the last bench seat on the right. Its nose was hidden in a fluffy tail, and its copper eyes were fixed on her.

  At first, the fox’s gaze was curious. But the closer Annalise drew, the quicker that curiosity morphed into fear. Annalise didn’t want to frighten it further, but the only empty seat on the train was next to the scared black fox.

  Putting on her gentlest smile, Annalise stopped at the empty seat beside the terrified creature. She clutched her bag to her chest like a shield and said in a quick voice, “Hi.”

  The black fox scrambled atop the seat, trying desperately to shrink closer to the wall, or perhaps merge with it. The fox had only three legs: one front leg was missing. This endeared the fox to her even more.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Annalise went on. “But . . .” She peered hopelessly at the full seats and then back to the fox. “Would you mind terribly if I sat with you?” She lowered her eyes and said softer, “I could use a friend.”

  The three-legged fox trembled, eyes giant as copper pots, and eventually nodded, just once.

  “Wonderful!” Annalise smiled and slid in beside the fox, dropping her bag into her lap. Sometimes her anxiousness loosened her words; other times it tied them in knots. Currently, all the nerves and worry unraveled inside her and spilled off her tongue all at once. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous. I’m sort of frightened of trains. I also recently lost the friend I came on this journey with.”

  The fox blinked at her through the fine hairs of its tail. It had just opened its muzzle as if to speak, when the dull pain in Annalise’s big hand shifted into high gear. She clenched her big hand tighter. The pain worsened as the horned thing within it pushed through.

  Please, stop, she begged it, nearly bursting into tears. For the love of dreams, STOP!

  The pain died immediately. The horn retreated and Annalise relaxed a bit. Though
the fox remained silent, its curious, wary gaze remained.

  “So,” Annalise asked, tapping in fours on her bag, “are you here with anyone?” The fox trembled harder and sank lower. Its fur shone in the light like polished onyx. “Um,” Annalise stumbled as her mind went blank and mouth dry. “Uh,” she said and stroked her braid. “Are you from Carriwitchet, too?”

  Silence.

  A cold shiver brushed her skin at the panic in the frightened fox’s eyes. It feared her. It sensed her differentness—her dangerousness—her monster. The fox pushed farther away. Then things got worse.

  From the car behind them, the voice she’d heard on the speaker boomed, “Tickets please. Have your tickets at the ready.”

  Ticket. Right. She didn’t have a ticket.

  The fox lifted something out from under its thick black tail—a long rectangular ticket—not taking its eyes off Annalise for a second. One half of the ticket was black with red writing; the other was white with gold. Curly script was emblazoned on them both:

  Single Passenger Ticket: Nonstop to the Mazelands

  “You’re going to the Mazelands, too?” Annalise asked. The fox must also have a dream. Annalise wondered what it might be, and if the black fox had also left its loved ones behind. “I am as well. If they let me get there.” Muse had never mentioned how to get a ticket. The creases of her brow deepened.

  Outside the windows, everything glowed in a mist of shimmering pink. They were halfway from earth to sky. Breathing faster, Annalise returned her attention to the fox.

  “May I ask where you got your ticket, um . . .” She didn’t know how to address the fox and had forgotten to ask earlier. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

  The fox blinked. Slowly, it sat up and gave her a cautious, but warm, smile. “Hello. My name is Mister Edwards.” He extended his shaking paw. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Mister Edwards. What a suitable name for a shy black fox. Annalise relaxed a bit at his gentle voice and took the fox’s small paw into her own. “Pleased to meet you, Mister Edwards.” They shook. A jolt of heat burst through her marked palm. A beat later, it was gone. Annalise’s smile only faltered for a moment. She hoped the fox hadn’t noticed. “My name is Annalise Meriwether.” She blushed and took back her small hand. “And the pleasure is mine.”

  Mister Edwards stared at her for a moment, then lowered his gaze to his tail. “I’m . . . sorry, Miss Meriwether, if I seemed rude before. It’s just,” he whispered, “people haven’t been very kind to me lately.” When the fox raised his eyes to hers, within them she witnessed an ache of pain as raw as her own. She wanted to protect him—to wrap him up and keep him warm. “But you seem rather kind. So, in answer to your previous questions, I do live in Carriwitchet. And, as for my ticket, my guide gave it to me.” He frowned. “You don’t have a ticket? Didn’t you follow a dream cat to the train of crows?”

  Annalise scanned the train car. The dream cats acknowledged her briefly, then returned to their newspapers, conversations, and books. Annalise worried about Muse and hoped, wherever he was, that he was all right.

  “Yes,” Annalise answered. “I had a lovely guide called Muse.” Her expression darkened. “He didn’t give me a ticket, but I’m heading to the Mazelands as well.”

  The fox curled his fluffy tail around the stump of his missing leg. “I’m sorry to hear you have no ticket,” he offered, leaning in close. “But as my guide said before she left me, ‘Only from inside the struggle can we attempt to break free.’”

  Her dad had told her that exact thing once. So many things were a struggle for Annalise and her family. So much persecution, sorrow, and pain. Yet sitting here talking to the fox, Annalise already felt better knowing she wasn’t alone.

  “Do you know where I could get a ticket like yours?” she asked. The bellow of the ticketier drew closer from the next car. The train lurched higher into the sky. “I really need to get to the Labyrinth of Fate and Dreams. Without a ticket, I’m afraid the ticket master might not let me go.”

  The fox’s face fell. “Hmm.” Mister Edwards’s nose twitched, and fingernails tapped before peering over the seats in front of them. “I’m not sure how to find one at this late date.”

  The cat with the newspaper a few seats up faced Annalise and said with a grim sort of look, “We all have different paths to our dreams. Some have tickets to ride. Others must fight for everything they’ve got. Sorry, miss, but we’re not your guides. We’re forbidden to help you any more than we have already.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  The door between cars hissed open behind them. Annalise didn’t even have time to react before the owner of the stern voice was upon them.

  Chapter 11

  Mister Edwards’s Terrible Tale

  “Tickets, please,” the ticketier demanded. The mumblings inside the car ceased immediately. Annalise, too scared to face the ticketier, contemplated the window instead. Mister Edwards’s gaze darted between Annalise and the ticketier, now standing directly beside them.

  “Of—of course,” Mister Edwards replied, stumbling over his words as he passed the ticketier his ticket with a shaking paw. His nervousness made Annalise nervouser.

  While staring intently at the window, a sleek white wing brushed her cheek. Slowly, counting the whole way, Annalise faced the owner of the wing—and gasped.

  The ticketier was a six-foot-tall white crow.

  Its black-seed eyes round as balled glass, its stare sharp enough to cut leather, the crow stamped Mister Edwards’s ticket and handed it swiftly back to him. “Thank you, Mister Edwards.” The ticketier, whose name tag said Ms. Twixt, cast her all-seeing eyes on Annalise.

  The monster within Annalise’s cursed hand shifted but kept its flames at bay.

  For now.

  “You’re next, young miss,” the feathered giantess said. “Ticket—please.”

  Annalise forcibly swept her anxiousness under the lumpy rug in her soul where her bad feelings were stored and replied, “I’m sorry, I—mercy. I don’t have a ticket.” Annalise pinched her lips together, stomach sloshing with otherworldly rainbow candy gloop.

  “Hmm.” The great white crow narrowed her glossy black eyes and nodded. “I see. Give me your hand.” She jutted her sleek white wing toward Annalise.

  Not wanting to anger the ticketier further, Annalise held out her hand. She hoped with her entire cursed being that she wouldn’t fear-vomit all over the crow.

  “No,” Ms. Twixt said. “Show me the other.”

  Annalise didn’t want to take out her big, wickedly horned hand—not now, not ever. But having no other option, she did as she’d been asked. The crow flipped Annalise’s big palm over with the tip of her wing, exposing her darkly cracked heart for all to see.

  The dream cats gasped; Mister Edwards yipped. Annalise stroked her hair and tried not to black out when every eye in the train car focused on her.

  Tears of shame sprang up immediately. Annalise wrapped her free arm around her belly, trembling with years of humiliation and pain. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, wiping her cheek with her shoulder. “Sometimes”—she gulped—“tears sneak up on me.”

  The crow wrapped a wing around Annalise’s shoulders and pulled her close to her warmth. Annalise sniffed and met the black mirrors of her eyes. Within their dark glass, Annalise saw herself looking back.

  “Never be sorry for showing the world who you are or who you wish to become,” said Ticketier Twixt. “These struggles have brought you exactly where you need to be.” The great crow licked one of her talons and riffled through a book she slid out from under one wing. Seeing the ticketier’s book reminded Annalise of something. . . .

  The Book of Remembering! Annalise had forgotten not to forget it. Maybe it could have shown her where to find a ticket.

  Ms. Twixt continued. “Your guide, Muse, instructed me to have this waiting for you on the train. The Fate Spinner’s maze is tricky. Without a ticket, the gates won’t open—not even o
n the Fate Spinner’s orders. He felt it safer I keep it for you here, as your ticket, miss, is quite rare.” The white crow handed Annalise her ticket.

  Annalise Meriwether, honored guest of the Fate Spinner

  Destination: the Labyrinth of Fate and Dreams

  A puddle of ice water ran the flute of Annalise’s spine.

  Honored guest of the Fate Spinner?

  Mercy.

  “Thank you so much?” Annalise, more than a little stunned, accepted the ticket with her big hand. Another, even worse stab of pain seared through her dark mark. Annalise’s eyes popped open in shock as she shoved her cursed hand back under her cloak.

  “Miss Meriwether,” Mister Edwards asked. “Are you all right?”

  Annalise squeezed her eyes shut in pain, unable to respond. Suddenly, inside her mind, she saw the Fate Spinner grinning cruelly, flashing the same sneer she wore in the picture from the book. The same sneer she gave Annalise when she’d arrived at her home years ago. Annalise had a sinking feeling she was playing right into the Fate Spinner’s hands. But like the dream cat said to Mister Edwards, “Only from inside the struggle can we attempt to break free.” And that was exactly what Annalise intended to do.

  The moment she thought this, the pain in her hand stopped.

  Just like that.

  “Miss Meriwether?” the ticketier asked with concern. “Dear girl, can you hear me?”

  “Oh,” Annalise answered, embarrassed. “Yes, thank you. I was just a bit warm, I think, but I’m much better now.”

  “Excellent,” the crow replied. “Anything else I can get you two?”

  Annalise was thirsty as a salted slug. She’d packed two jars of water, but they wouldn’t last long. “Maybe. Muse mentioned there’d be refreshments on the train? You wouldn’t happen to have anything to drink, would you?”

  Ticketier Twixt jabbed a wing tip in the air and uttered a bit of a caw. “I have just the thing.” She opened a drawer in an overhead compartment, removed two small black birds, and offered them to the bewildered Annalise and Mister Edwards. “I know it’s not plum truckle, but these licorice rooks will do you one better.” The two black licorice rooks stretched their wings and squawked before lying still on the end of the crow’s white wing. “They taste terrible and won’t last forever but will help keep you hydrated in the labyrinth, so you don’t die of thirst.”