The question took Annalise off guard. She’d often longed for a friend to share secrets with. Someone to listen to what frightened her, someone who might help make those fears go away. Now here was her chance.
“I have so many. Too many to list, really. But,” she continued, “I do have one I’ve never told anyone.” Annalise twisted her wet hair. “Even though I’m sure they’re not bad creatures, I’m quite scared of spiders. I’d never hurt them, of course! Because they can’t help the way they are. It’s just . . . they remind me of my worry-thoughts—the way they scuttle over my brain and make me fear everything.”
Mister Edwards shivered as if a million deadly arachnids were flooding the walls. “I’m not fond of them either. But I’d battle a million of them to protect those I love.” They hit another dead end. Mister Edwards stood in the shadows, eyes glinting with the red moon’s light. “To protect Mister Amoureux, Miss Meriwether, I would do anything.”
“I understand,” Annalise replied. Her cursed hand contorted painfully. Annalise clenched it tighter. “I’d do the same for my parents to keep them from the Fate Spinner.”
Without warning, Annalise’s cursed hand sparked with fire and lunged for the fox’s throat.
Mister Edwards ducked and ran around Annalise. “What are you doing?” he shrieked as Annalise fought for control.
But her monster was stronger than it used to be. “Stop,” she cried at her cursed hand. “Leave him alone!” Mister Edwards backed away in fear. “I’m sorry,” Annalise said, choking the black flames from her palm until they extinguished. “I think, maybe, the thing inside my hand doesn’t want me to talk about her.”
“Oh, that’s—that’s all right,” the fox stuttered, keeping his distance. “Maybe we shouldn’t speak about her, then.” Mister Edwards and Annalise started back up the corridor. Annalise glared at her big hand and cursed the monster inside as they rounded the next bend.
“My hand—it’s getting worse. That’s another one of my fears, actually.” Annalise stroked her hair by fours. “Making a friend, only to hurt them with my curse.”
Mister Edwards’s eyes went wide. “Wait. Your bigger hand was cursed?”
“I’m afraid so.” Annalise peeked at him from behind a curtain of hair.
He crept bravely forward. “A curse given by . . .” he whispered as if revelation just hit. “The Fate Spinner herself?”
“Sadly, yes.” Annalise wrestled with her big hand under her cloak.
Mister Edwards furrowed his furry brow and mumbled, “Why would she curse you?” Then he cleared his throat and said louder, “I’m truly sorry to hear that.”
Howls echoed close by—too close. They both stopped in their tracks.
“Night wolves,” Annalise said. Which way were the cries coming from? The air cooled, frosting their breath. “They sound like they’re everywhere.”
Annalise had never wanted to believe the night wolves belonged to the Fate Spinner—that they’d fallen through the sky at her birth. That would mean she was responsible for every person in Carriwitchet who’d died in their jaws. But now, she had a worrisome idea that the townsfolk had been right.
The howls of the night wolves closed in.
Mister Edwards kept his ears flat and his paw on the raw place where his other leg should be, and hurried faster and faster into the shadows. “Please, let’s just keep going.”
Annalise’s stomach panged with hunger, her tongue felt made of sand, and she was sure Mister Edwards felt the same. Still, they raced ahead, stomachs grumbling and twisting in protest, and skidded around the next turn.
Dead end.
“Oh goodness,” Mister Edwards said. “We must have gotten turned around. I’m sorry. Just when I think I know which way to go, the walls seem to change.”
They’d have to go back. It felt like they’d be striving forward forever but never reaching the end. Annalise thought it very difficult indeed to keep chasing one’s dream, with no guarantee of ever catching it.
Then, as they were about to turn around, a television screen pushed out of the ivy-strewn dead-end wall and zapped to life. “Good morning, good people of Carriwitchet,” chirped Penny Fabius, with her frizzy red hair, thin lips, and vicious blue eyes. “Today in Carriwitchet, the air is rancid, the weather unfortunate, and the land stinking of blood.” The newscaster held up her evil-eye talisman and glared at the screen. “But fair citizens of Carriwitchet, our own Richard Inglehart reports that the joyous rumors are true!” She blew a noisemaker. “At long last, the accursed child has run away for good!”
Cheers erupted in the background. Mister Edwards glanced sadly at Annalise. She looked away, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes.
“But that’s not all. It seems the devil’s parents”—Penny spat on the floor—“left right after her.” A live-feed image of the Meriwether home appeared. The house had been burned to the ground. Only char, smoke, and the cage remained. Annalise stumbled backward, clutching her chest. “Join us for a party in the town square to celebrate this happy event. Stay tuned to Channel Seven, the Eye on the Sky, for updated Meriwether reports.” The television pushed back and vanished into the ivy and stone.
Tears, hot and horrible, dripped down Annalise’s cheeks. Her parents had left.
Did they go after her on the strange train of wolves? Or did the townspeople chase them out? Or worse, were her parents dead?
The wolves were getting closer, their cries hungrier. Annalise’s gaze darted from the fox to the tops of the labyrinth walls.
“Miss Meriwether?” The black fox reached for her arm.
She shook her head. “Please don’t touch me.”
Panic curled around and inside her like an old friend. She wanted to close her eyes, to fall, to hide. Walls on three sides, wolves and a fox in her path, her parents and home gone; Annalise heaved in breath after breath, body buzzing with a rubbery numbness. She twisted her braid, trying to count her worry-thoughts away. But her breath kept coming faster and her heart kept beating stronger until her fears scrambled like spiders over her brain. Until Annalise was a girl-shaped bundle of fear, pulsing at the edges of time and space, no trace of hopeful Annalise left.
“Miss Meriwether!”
Annalise could barely hear Mister Edwards over her scuttling thoughts—so many that they blurred into a cacophony of sound. A sound that had weight, wrapped her body in ropes, and squeezed.
“Miss Meriwether!” Mister Edwards’s voice echoed from far away. He said something else about walls and ivy and then screamed, desperate for her help.
Hang on.
My friend needs help.
Annalise’s panicked thoughts cleared at once.
“Mister Edwards?” Blood pumping with adrenaline, she scanned the dim corridor. She couldn’t see him. Annalise had the shakes but wasn’t cold. “M-mister Edwards, answer me.”
Thunder clapped. The ivy at her feet moved. Clouds sheathed the red-light moon. Annalise dropped to her knees, calling her friend’s name.
No answer.
Her big hand shot forward and skimmed the labyrinth floor, searching for the black fox. “Mister Edwards, if you can hear me, answer!” Laughter fell from the sky on a cold wind. With it, familiar black hearts rained around her. Grazing her skin. Nesting in her hair. While batting them away, she heard something mutter from behind the ivy-strewn wall. Annalise drew nearer. An eye blinked from the vines in the dark. “Mister Edwards!” Her cursed hand lit with gold flames yet didn’t hurt. She held it up to the wall to better see the fox. The ivy curled tighter around him. “Hold on!”
His fur was matted. Drops of blood dripped from his belly and arm. He struggled but couldn’t escape. Twin vines, working like a spider’s legs, wrapped his body in a web and dragged him up the wall. Annalise thrust her small hand into the ivy, ripping at the plants. “Save yourself,” he mumbled before his face went slack and his eyes closed.
“No.” Annalise pulled at the vines, steering clear of the sharp leaves. But
the more she pulled, the tighter the vines squeezed. “Mister Edwards, you have to fight back—for your dream—for Mister Amoureux!”
At the mention of his Mister Amoureux, Mister Edwards’s eyes popped open. He thrashed like he’d never thrashed before. He bled and hurt but didn’t stop fighting. But it wasn’t enough. The wall took him deeper and deeper. If she didn’t do something to help him, she’d lose her only friend.
She would not let that happen.
Annalise considered using her big hand and the flames within to help free Mister Edwards, hoping it didn’t hurt him as it had so many others before. Be good to him, she asked her cursed hand. He is my friend. And Annalise thrust her burning big hand into the ivy after him.
Golden flames burst from Annalise’s black mark in a whoosh. The ivy screamed like a hurt animal, curled inward, and died. Sparks of ash and flames coughed from the wall and spat Mister Edwards at her feet.
Annalise grinned with surprise.
Her plan had worked!
“Mister Edwards, are you okay?”
The fox lunged from a cloud of smoke and hugged Annalise. “Thank you,” he half choked, half laughed, wiping blood from his mouth. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
Whatever accursed thing lived within her left hand had saved Mister Edwards’s life. She’d been unsure if it would help her, but she’d tried anyway. Maybe I can use my big hand against the Fate Spinner, too. Use my curse to set myself free.
A livid scream swelled through the labyrinth, shaking the walls.
“The Fate Spinner,” Mister Edwards whispered.
Annalise’s big hand seared. She clenched it tighter. “We’re getting closer.”
Mister Edwards smiled a bit sadly. “She’s getting worried.”
The clouds moved aside and undressed the moon. The labyrinth shone in bright ruby red. The dead end where the television had been rearranged itself. A small black-and-white-striped gate pushed through the charred ivy, bearing a sign that read:
The Gate of Panic.
The view past the gate was darkness. A chill froze Annalise’s blood to slush. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No good whatsoever.” Mister Edwards sniffed the gate, then peered up at Annalise, face bloodied, body weakened, fur damp. “I’ve seen a gate like this before. And if it leads to the place I think it does, I’m sorry, but you’re not going to like it.”
The sounds of snarls, yips, growls, and claws skidding on stone exploded at their backs. When Annalise swung around and faced the moonlit corridor, night wolves galloped toward them, teeth gleaming, seconds away.
Panic made Annalise fast. She threw open the gate, grabbed Mister Edwards’s paw, and crossed the threshold as four red-eyed wolves lunged into the dark after them.
Chapter 20
The Mysterious Reynard
Annalise slammed the Gate of Panic behind them. The fox toppled into her as the labyrinth sealed at their backs. Mister Edwards screamed as the four night wolves ran into the other side of the gate at full speed.
“Mister Edwards, are you okay?” It was so dark, Annalise could barely see. She got up and brushed herself off. Beyond the barred barrier, the night wolves snarled, barked, snapped, and cried.
“I’m here,” Mister Edwards said behind her. “Those—those wolves. They almost got me.” Annalise crawled toward him, following his eyes, bright as moons. “Thank you for saving me. Again.”
The poor fox looked so guilty and ashamed, Annalise wanted to hug him. When she held out her arms, he fell gratefully into them. “Of course, Mister Edwards. But I should be thanking you for accompanying me.” Annalise let him go. “You’ve helped me so much. Sometimes my panic and anxiety make me forget why I’m here. But you help me remember. And your love for Mister Amoureux reminds me of my own dream. You may not realize how important that is, but it’s essential.” Annalise stroked the four black ribbons atop her braid. “Helping you is my pleasure.”
The black fox lowered his gaze. “Thank you, Miss Meriwether. I truly hope, in the end, all your dreams come true.”
The night wolves’ howls grew softer as they slunk back into the maze.
Instantly, the skies brightened, and light increased around them. They’d landed in a circle, no bigger than Annalise’s kitchen, which opened onto four tunnels. The entrances weren’t covered by doors or gates, but rather, were blocked by elaborate mirrors. Annalise glanced at each mirror in turn. Not only did she see her dirty, singed self, but also the long strange halls of infinity staring back. Mister Edwards sniffed each entry, while Annalise studied them all.
To her left stood a mirror edged in gold. When she stepped before it, writing suddenly scrawled across the glass: 1: Everything You Cannot Have. A rising crescendo of hurt ripped through the black heart on her palm as the palace of the Spinner of Dreams appeared. Annalise instantly felt at peace until her cursed hand thrust from under her cloak and pressed to the mirror palm first. A pulse of heat shot up her arm and shocked her heart. A voice she didn’t recognize spoke through the glass, “Reynard, please, find her! I beg you, find her, and then—find me!” Annalise pulled back her hand, palm smoking and burning, and tucked it away.
Mister Edwards rushed over to her. “What happened? Did you see something . . . frightening?”
Annalise nodded, trying to squelch the heat in her big hand.
“Yes,” Mister Edwards said, grimly turning away. “I’m afraid there’s plenty more of that to come.”
The mirror to the right, framed in glittering black, read: 2: Demons at Your Heels. When Annalise stood before it, the autumnal scent of Carriwitchet wafted through the glass—of death, rot, cemeteries, yesterdays gone by. Nightingale and Bowie materialized, crying over their parents’ graves. “Bring them back,” Nightingale cried, facing Annalise. “You killed them. But if you come through the mirror, you can bring them back.” Bowie placed his palms flat to the glass. “Please, Annalise. This is the right way. Don’t trust . . . lead . . . dreams.” His voice was breaking up, turning to static. “. . . Don’t . . . t . . . the f . . .” His voice cut out.
Annalise’s cursed hand flared in agony and punched the mirror, wanting to shatter their reflections. She backed away, restraining her hand and shaking her head. “I’m so sorry—I can’t help you.” Annalise wasn’t sure if what she was seeing was real or a trick of the labyrinth. With Mister Edwards’s growing uncertainty about which way to go, and without the book Muse had given her, how was she supposed to know what to believe or what to do?
The third entrance, edged in a black-and-red frame resembling reptilian scales, read: 3: There Be Dragons. The primitive screams of animals in battle drifted outward. Next came the slashing of talons and gnashing of teeth, followed by the stench of charred meat. Annalise approached the third mirror with caution. When she stood before it, her cursed hand stopped hurting and smoking immediately. It gave a familiar zing and pulled her forward as the Fate Spinner’s red palace materialized in the glass. A white cat appeared on the other side of the mirror. Muse. He tipped his hat and winked at Annalise. When she waved back, Muse and the palace blinked from sight. In their place, an image of a golden dagger appeared for a snap, before it vanished too.
She thought back to the trees that spoke of legendary beasts and magical rewards. What if the dagger was one of the things she needed to find to help her to the end?
Mister Edwards paced in front of the fourth and final entrance. The oval mirror bore a frame carved from bone and read: 4: The Spinner of Fear. Again, Annalise’s big hand whipped into a fury. A reflection of the labyrinth soon rose in the glass. Her mom and dad ran through the corridors, calling her name while giant white spiders the size of cars chased after them. “Annalise, where are you?” they cried. “We can’t find you!” Their voices grew louder and louder as she gulped her breaths by fours.
Were these visions real? Or an illusion of the labyrinth?
What was she to believe?
Annalise observed the black fox, standing tra
nsfixed, fidgeting with his tail before the Spinner of Fear. “Mister Edwards,” her voice shook. “What do you see in there?”
Mister Edwards gave the mirror a wide berth. “That path holds the vile and deadly monster I could smell long before we arrived. Luckily, we don’t have to go that way.” He motioned to the mirror of dragons. This mirror leads to path three, which leads to the end, I’m almost sure of it.” He finally faced Annalise. “The scent of the the dragon Mister Amoureux and I battled is behind there as well. We were almost to Dreamland when we found it. But,” he continued, a new level of horror on his face, “the Fate Spinner got to us first.”
Caw-caw-caw-CAW!
Before Annalise could comment on her friend battling a dragon, Mister Edwards drifted back to the first mirror and mumbled under his breath, “If this way is wrong, why do I smell him so strongly through here?”
Suddenly, the stranger Annalise had heard crying out from the first mirror echoed through her mind: “Reynard, please, find her!”
Everything grew quiet. Annalise swore, in the sudden hush, that her big hand whispered, “Ask his given name.”
A shock of static crackled through her dark mark.
Her cursed hand had spoken.
“What is it, Miss Meriwether?” Mister Edwards backed away from the first mirror, breathing fast.
Annalise clenched her cursed fist at her side—four times. “Mister Edwards? What is your given name?”
The fox’s tail swished. He answered guarded and slow. “My first name is Reynard. Why do you ask?”
Reynard.
“Miss Meriwether,” he asked quicker, desperately. “Did you hear something in one of the mirrors? It might be important!”
Annalise swallowed the burning pit in her throat. “I heard someone calling your name through the first mirror.”
Tears fringed the fox’s eyes. He hurried back to the mirror of Everything You Cannot Have and placed his ear to the glass. “You heard Mister Amoureux?” He laughed. “He is here!” He hugged Annalise tightly. “Nobody else calls me Reynard. But . . .” His joy slipped into worry. “We’re supposed to take the mirror of dragons. That’s the way to the end.”
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