by Blair Drake
OMG. More questions. Even fewer answers.
She stared up at the ceiling and frowned. “How about we go to the roof where the darkness found us in the first place?”
The voice slammed into her head. “Don’t.”
But she was already on her feet, heading for the stairwell. “I have to,” she yelled. “Don’t you understand? Something is so very wrong about being here, knowing everybody else is doing their own thing, and I’m stuck in a flat universe with no interaction with anyone.”
“What makes you think the roof will help?”
“What makes you think the roof will hurt?” she countered. She raced toward the stairs that would take her up. And, with Gideon once again perched against her chest and leaning over her shoulder, she climbed the stairs.
They went through the headmaster’s office the last time, but she knew this particular doorway would still bring her up to the same space. At the top of the stairs, she walked a few feet toward the big door, reaching out a hand. But it was locked. She searched for a bolt, but there was none. She kept turning the handle, but it wouldn’t open.
“Is this part of the quest?” she asked. “How does this have anything to do with the flat dimensional world I’m living in?”
“It doesn’t,” said the voice in a low whisper. “We don’t know what this is. You must be careful.”
Slowly, she let the handle drop from her fingers, and the latch popped open, the door gently swinging outward.
Chapter 10
She took a deep breath and gave the door a gentle nudge with her hand to open it wider. After a quick glance, she tightened her arms around Gideon and stepped onto the roof, getting her first look at where she disappeared from, where it all started. That whole nightmare swirled through her mind, making her heart race and her palms sweaty.
Initially, the roof appeared empty. She could feel some of the tension slip off her back. Even Gideon appeared more relaxed, but he remained quiet. Then she heard a noise around the corner. Her throat tightened. She stepped forward and slowly peered around the edge of the stone wall. And yet nothing was there. Out of her peripheral vision once again, an image flashed—faint, indistinct, then sharper—and a guy’s face materialized but disappeared. She frowned.
“Hello?” she whispered.
But there was no answer.
She didn’t recognize the guy’s features, and it was so hard to see in this odd light, so she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t another of her classmates. It was probably somebody else caught in this weird warp. Whatever happened on this rooftop must have affected them all. Whether she was in a 2-D or 3-D world, she saw no students here, other than the short-lived ghostlike version of that one guy. She had to admit she hoped that, when she made it here to the roof, she would see someone—or something—she’d seen before in real life.
There didn’t appear to be anybody she could access from this dimension. No, that wasn’t true. Somehow, she’d managed to get Gideon to cross over with just a heartfelt thought. And she’d brought him from the 3-D world into the 2-D, instead of putting herself back into her 3-D world from this 2-D version.
Feeling slightly better when she realized the roof was completely empty and the ominous black cloud wasn’t sitting here waiting for her, the fear and panic inside her started to calm down. Gideon reached out with a paw to touch her cheek. She smiled at that.
She wandered the top deck, looking out over the stone wall, amazed at the beauty and yet worried about the absolute stillness of the world in front of her. It was like somebody had taken a snapshot of everything she’d seen before and froze it. There was no wind making anything blow or bend; there was not one bird in the sky. Other than Winter, Gideon, the ghost guy, and herself, the only thing she’d seen which managed to move in all this time was the cloud of darkness.
It still sat just at the edge of the property…waiting. Instantly, her mind stopped and said, “No, that’s not true. It doesn’t have to be a malignant entity, an ever-present threat, but it felt like it.”
The icy world appeared closer to the 3-D world than any place she’d been to since. And yet every step farther away was much less of a physical existence. Maybe that made sense since the icy world was her entrance portal from her 3-D world to this 2-D version. Maybe things were closest to the 3-D world from that icy spot. She had already figured out that might be the way to get her home, but she couldn’t stay in that icy world for very long. It was just that much colder and so very raw and incredibly inhospitable—look at Winter. He’d come with her just to get away from that.
She had to figure this out.
She could hop back to the ice field portal, but when she made it back to the ice field the second time, it hadn’t taken her home. Maybe she still had lessons to learn before she could return to her 3-D school. As she stared out at the oddly silent world around her, she realized just how detached it looked, how untouchable, as if she could never be a part of it. It was as if she distanced herself from the world, or it was distanced from her. And yet, in a way, that’s how she felt at her school too. Moodily, she wondered if there was a connection. She herself was originally an outsider at her school before becoming so damn close to Luke, then completely out in the cold once he graduated. Did anybody else realize just how isolated she felt at school without Luke? She knew Hettie did, but did anybody else?
What was her lesson in all of this? Was it to be alone? Was it not to be or feel alone? Was she supposed to feel connected? To be alone or to be connected, yet to be okay with that? She shoved her fist into her pocket, shifting the now-purring Gideon on her shoulder, and pondered why it would matter if she was connected or not.
Why would it matter if she felt alone? What was wrong with being alone versus being connected? Did it have anything to do with the darkness always waiting for her to screw up? At least it felt like it was. Maybe, just maybe, her ability to create these portals, to travel this way, was easier if she had somebody in the 3-D world to help her. If they were connected to her, would that make it easier to cross over?
Could she use portals in the 3-D world? She presumed she could. but there was no proof. Still, that would be cool. Yet, if everything was different over there, maybe she needed to work with someone in the 3-D world in order to achieve the same results. Maybe she needed a non-furry someone this time, considering she already managed to bring Gideon over. He was still draped on her shoulder, showing no sign of wanting to go anywhere, purring louder now, totally content just to be with her.
But how had that transfer worked? Did she even have anything to do with it? He was here and had no reason to be other than her being here at the same time—same for Winter.
Something here was important for her to grasp, but what was it? Maybe it was acknowledging how she was always alone. She thought back to the time she’d spent with Luke and how connected, how special it felt. She remembered how the world looked rosier and the sun shone more, how she hadn’t felt ostracized by everyone. The minute he was gone, it was like him walking away from her underlined all the problems she’d avoided and compounded them, so she ended up being even more isolated. Not by choice…
“Okay, so that wasn’t quite true. Because it had been by my choice,” she murmured to herself.
“About time,” said the voice in her head, humor threading through its voice.
Delighted to hear it again, she lifted her gaze to stare at the frozen horizon. “So I am on the right track?”
“You’re close. Very close.”
Instantly, she straightened her back and squared her shoulders. Inside she was beaming. “Good. I figured it had to do with something like that. I just have to figure out the rest.” She was fishing for more help, although why she bothered she didn’t know. They hadn’t volunteered any real information yet.
When there was no answer, she added, “Do I need somebody at my side all the time in the normal world?”
No answer.
She tried again. “I don’t mean, like, having to al
ways be with somebody, but like a partner, someone who can help me do what I’m doing?”
“There is strength in numbers.”
Was that all the voice would say?
But it was enough to give her food for thought. Strength in numbers could mean a lot of things. It made sense. If they all had abilities like she had and combined them, they would be a powerful group. “Does everybody in the school have abilities?”
“No.”
That surprised her. She figured that was at least one of the answers. “Then why do I?”
“That’s part of your lesson,” the voice said quietly. “There are layers to every question and layers to every lesson. Just as you peel away one, you’ll find more inside.”
And without another word the voice disappeared again. This time there was a definite masculine overtone to it. She didn’t know if that was something that changed at a whim or if it had something to do with the identity of each speaker. It was so hard to know.
Yet she was on the brink of a critical understanding here. But it remained like a whisper on the edge of her mind, with the final puzzle pieces just beyond her.
She stared at the roof with new eyes, Gideon’s purring in her ears. Had this location been a specific choice for everyone to jump from? Was it a special portal in itself? She stepped to the center of the roof, taking up the same position where she stood before she was pushed out. She looked around, wondering if she could pick up any energy from here. If it was a portal, maybe she had an affinity to it.
It took a moment, but finally little whispers of things came through, and she realized it was bits and pieces of the other students’ thoughts. Terror, the chief emotion, permeating the space. The thoughts were there, but the emotions appeared to be stronger. That kind of made sense. She had certainly read and listened to various speakers on supernatural subjects, and she understood connections to emotions were often easier because people telegraphed their emotions far more strongly than they did their rational thoughts.
She didn’t know what to do to help the others now, after the fact, but feeling and hearing their fear resonated deep inside her. Could she help any of them? Could she portal to where they were? What was the story with that guy she kept catching glimpses of? Could she portal to where he was and help him?
And maybe, in so doing, she could help herself? Surely that would fall under the heading of her lesson on being alone. Working as a team was easier in some ways. Each had to pull their own weight and be willing to compromise for it to work smoothly though.
She hated group or team projects for that reason. Too often she ended up doing the bulk of the work just to make sure it was handed in on time.
But there was power in a group. If coordinated, it was possible to accomplish a lot in a short time frame. It stood to reason that, if she had somebody helping her, she could get home easier. And, when she was back, she could help the others—particularly Annalise. Fear constantly sat at the edge of her consciousness as she contemplated the fate of the much younger girl. Annalise would need help, and Melissa wanted to be there for her friend.
There had to be a way for Melissa to get the information Annalise needed to her.
That should be here at the school. Where else did we learn stuff? That’s what Melissa was here for—to learn
Did the school have books on portals? And, if so, where would they be? She’d spent hundreds of hours in the library and hadn’t seen anything so fascinating. She’d have definitely read those if so.
What about Hettie’s office? Would she have any? Would the headmaster? It made sense her office and the headmaster’s office would be the best options to start looking. Melissa bolted toward the door, Gideon clutched tight in her arms, and raced down the stairs.
She stepped into Headmaster Auster’s office and looked around. On that fateful day, the darkness entered here first. She frowned. How had it gotten in? Several big windows were to the side. Were they open that day? Or did the cloud slip through the crevices? She walked over to stare at the view and realized the darkness still sat just out of reach, held back by that invisible dimensional wall keeping her safe—for now—on the 2-D side. And she realized just how much she was starting to appreciate the fact she and the black cloud were here in 2-D land and not together in her 3-D world. And with that, she could feel almost a clear onion skin of tension easing off her shoulders.
She shifted as if aligning to a new sense of identity. This was a good thing.
With the door to the office closed, she placed Gideon on the floor to wander around. “Gideon, if you find anything I should know about, let me know.”
He shot her a look, as if to say he would.
She didn’t know what that meant, but she had to focus on what she could find herself.
Turning her attention to Headmaster Auster’s desk, she tried to search the drawers, but they were locked. No matter what she did—asked, cried, pounded, or kicked—they wouldn’t open. That’s when she realized no keyholes were evident to even reveal locks existed on these drawers. So, if not locked through normal means, it must be locked through unusual means...like magic. Which made sense—now.
Of course, Melissa was curious to see what was inside, but it was beyond her at the moment.
She turned her attention to the bookshelves lining the wall behind the desk. She saw several of the books earlier, but now the titles were completely different. Her heart leaped in shock as she read them: Witchcraft, Alternate Worlds, Dimensional Travels, Time Travel, and Chameleons. The list of book titles went on.
“Oh my…were they always here? Why couldn’t I see them before?”
Of course they were, but they’d been masked by whatever dimensional cloud the headmaster put over them. She laughed at that. “Listen to me. I’m making shit up here, but it sounds good.”
And it sounded reasonable. The headmaster had to stop everyone from seeing these titles or the questions and/or requests to read them would be endless. Of course, maybe it had nothing to do with the headmaster. Maybe it was entirely because she was in this dimension she could see the titles. She shook her head. “If that’s the case, what else does this dimension do for me?”
She turned her gaze to another row of books and found one on the truth about the Salem Witch Trials. As much as her fingers itched to grab it, sit down, and read it, she needed to find something more relevant to her current problem. She continued to study the titles, running her fingers along each volume as she read the titles out loud. Finally, she came to a title on portals.
She frowned and pulled it free. A little bit of dust lifted free with the movement. She laid the book on the desk and sat down in the headmaster’s big chair then yelped, bouncing to her feet. She spun around, in shock. It was almost as if she sat on somebody’s lap.
Unnerved, she backed away with the volume against her chest and stared at what appeared to be an empty chair. But was it empty? Or could she just not see the 3-D world version?
Maybe somebody was really there. Did that mean maybe students were in the hallways too?
Considering where she was, if somebody was in that chair, it would most likely be the headmaster. She reached out a hand, guessing where his shoulder might be, and tried to place her hand there. In her mind, she whispered, Headmaster, is that you?
A deep rumble came from the vicinity of the chair, but it wasn’t clear enough for her to understand what was said. She tried again, only out loud this time. “It’s me, Melissa. I have Gideon. Can you help me?”
Another rumble came—shorter, harder, very much like the headmaster’s tone of voice, but once again indecipherable.
“Voices in my head, can you help me communicate with the headmaster?”
“No.”
“Damn it, why not? He’s here. I know I can’t see him, but I can…sense him. I tried to talk with him, but I’m just getting a rumble, as if I’m talking to him on a different radio station.”
“Then tune it in properly,” said the voice in exasperation.
She frowned. “Can I?”
The silence in the air had the heavy feel of disgust about it, as if she’d asked a stupid question, and it was that air, that note, which told her this was somebody else other than the person she normally spoke with.
All she needed to do now was to fine-tune this experience, and she could communicate with more than just one person—maybe.
If she could do that with the headmaster, then…
Instantly she closed her eyes and mentally saw a radio console on the dash of a car. She turned the knob, trying to tune into the station so she could hear better. Her fingers automatically turned up the volume too. “Headmaster, can you hear me now?”
Again, static filled the center of the room.
She frowned and tweaked it again. “Headmaster, can you hear me now?”
Amid the white noise, she thought she heard the word yes.
“I’m trying to fine-tune the radio waves, if that’s what you want to call it, so I can hear you. I thought I heard the word yes.”
This time the voice was faint, like coming from a far distance. It probably was, but, at this dimensional divide, time and distance really had no play in it. She turned the knob ever-so-slightly again.
“You’re doing well,” Headmaster Auster said.
Her jaw dropped at the compliment. He rarely handed those out. Still, she’d reached him. “I’m doing well? I’m stuck here in the school, in this 2-D world with Gideon, and that dark energy is sitting at the edge of my world, as if waiting for me to screw up.”
She pulled out her talisman, her school pin, to show the headmaster—even though nobody was in front of her, but she aimed at where she thought he would be on the chair. “And the lights on my school pin are more than two-thirds gone now.” She paused for a long moment and then cried out, “So how can you say, I’m doing well?”
