But it is true...we are friends.
And with that, before her whisked a simple creature, its shining scales gleaming brightly in even the faintest hint of light, as if it was scaled in stars. A fish. And then it smiled, rows and rows of tiny, angry teeth bowed into a hungry grin, piranha-like. Before Lorelei could react, recoil or show any sign of fear, it was gone, hovering only in her peripheral vision like a ghost just always out of reach.
"You're a fish?"
That is how most meat-eyes see me. Yes.
"Most?"
Some see me differently.
Lorelei considered that it was possible to see the mirror fish as several things, depending on how it moved or how much someone actually saw of it.
"How do you know so much about humans? Were you ever in their world?"
A long time ago. I would go back again. If you find a way back, you must promise to take me with you.
Lorelei got a sinking feeling unmatched by any sinking feeling she had ever had before. This creature was so swift, she could never avoid it by normal means. As quick as she was, it proved quicker every time. It had a swiftness that came from the gods, a divine messenger, or a demon. How could she escape without bringing it with her, if it really wanted to come? "But if this is your home, why do you want to leave?"
Unfinished business.
Spelled: Revenge. "Gotcha," she said. It wasn't unusual for wizards or witches to summon creatures to help them fight or perform menial chores. Maybe this fish had been called by a wizard to perform a distasteful task. Who could blame it for being angry? But there was something about the way it spoke and moved that said the wizard must have been incredibly powerful to summon a creature like this one and control it. This fish, though small, reflected a power that rivaled that of an elder fae. She didn't want to spend any more time in its presence than she needed to, but she realized this fish had probably been following her since she entered its world, and she could no more avoid it than one could avoid the air. "Well, I...I have to go," she told it. With no reply forthcoming, she turned to go and almost ran face-first into the fish, stopping barely a hair's breadth from its skeletal nose.
Promise.
She didn't want to promise. What if, by promising, this thing would come with her, and she would never be rid of it? What if it followed her out only to kill her and everyone else she knew? If she refused, she might die here, but at least everyone else would live. There was only one solution--to promise without promising. "If," she began, "it is possible for me to find my own way out, then yes, I will be sure to let you know." The fish made no sign of acknowledgment, so she shortened it, "If I get out, I promise to tell you."
Show me. Show me, not tell.
"Yes, okay. If I get out, I will show you."
Fine.
The gleam was gone. For the first time since she entered the mirror world, the gleam that she had assumed to be the sun or a reflection or a lamplight and ended up being an enchanted fish was gone. She was alone in the middle of a reflection of a shop window, her earlier problems and concerns rushing back to her like the tide upon the shore.
A familiar figure appeared before her in the mirror world. Someone was reflecting into the world, someone she knew. Her heart instantly leapt at the sight--Wolfgang. But no, it wasn't Wolfgang. The throbbing heart in her chest shrank to a small knot as she recognized the long hair, the dark boots, and the fiendish gaze as belonging to her son. He saw her in the mirror, their eyes met, and for one terrifying second she saw him smile at her. He did not look behind him as the others had for he knew who she was, knew she was trapped. The pleasure in his smile terrified her. She followed his reflection worriedly until it disappeared into an unreflective place, sure that she couldn't overtake him and now would have no chance to arrive before him and warn her husband. She cursed herself for moving so slowly, and, even though she lost him, she was certain she could find her way. Perhaps guiding her as far as he had, however unwittingly, would be his undoing. Lorelei could only hope that undoing would come soon.
Chapter 9
WHEN HIS SON RETURNED, CAME through the doors of the laboratory as if nothing had happened, Dr. Schäfer wondered if Wolfgang had lost his memory, but then he wondered how he would have managed to find his way back. "Good to see you again, son," he said, and when Wolfgang, whose eyes had been wandering among the many weapons, books, and artifacts scattered about the laboratory, rested his eyes on him, something deep in Markus’ psyche made him regret drawing attention to himself. Something primal. Because something about his son was terribly wrong. Someone—or something—else wore his skin. He dared not let on that he noticed anything amiss; such a misstep could be deadly. But at the same time, he couldn’t pretend everything was all right. The thing would know for sure that he suspected. "Are you feeling okay?" Slipping a hand inside a bookshelf as if adjusting one of the books, Markus activated a concealed panic button. In moments, the guards in the hall would come rushing into his laboratory. Or so he thought.
"Dad," the impostor said, and reached out to hold him with one arm, to pull him close, which he did. "How could anything not be okay when I am here, with you?"
Markus had made the mistake of letting the thing get too close and now there was no backing out. It would come to blows, possibly ending with one or both of them dead. He had lived so long in Doors. Who would have thought that one small mistake could result in death? It was like finding the towline tangled around your foot as the pulley screeched alive. In an instant, he weighed the benefits of attacking now, attacking first as best as he could, and assessed what he could say or do as a distraction. He was about to ask Wolfgang if he’d found the Hindernis, then thought better of it. That could be the cue the thing was waiting for to make itself known and would prompt it to act. A bad smell came off the thing as it held him fast in a grip too tight to be loving, the smell of long time spent traveling and little time spent washing. Long, greasy hair draped over one arm. "I didn’t expect you back so soon."
"Why wouldn’t I come back? A boy needs his father." The thing in Wolfgang’s skin kissed him on the top of the head. The thing wasn’t ready to kill him yet. It was waiting for something. But what? "And I am in no way a man. But you noticed that, didn’t you?"
Oh, my son. What did you meet in that wood?
"Except for one small problem," the thing continued. "You’re not really my father."
Surprised, the man pretending to be Markus Schäfer took a shaking hand and used it to push up his eyeglasses by the bridge. What did the thing know? Nothing, probably. It was just his own insecurities haunting him. The thing just meant that he wasn't his father, wanted to hint that he wasn't really Wolfgang. He decided to use the safest response he knew, the non-response that he fell back on when he had to buy himself time: "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Sure you do," the thing said between hugs that became tighter and less comfortable each time. The false Markus felt sure the thing would have broken his back had he not been as strong as he was. Even the thing seemed a little surprised at that, that he had not cried out in pain. "Look into my eyes. What do you see?" False Markus looked up. Something unholy gleamed in the ice of his pale blue eyes.
"Myself," he said, realizing that the thing had changed when he saw his own eyes staring back at himself. "You’re a changeling aren’t you?" No skinwalker could shift that fast. He had to be a changeling. So, who was he really?
Now the thing who looked identical to the false Markus Schäfer said, "Yes. Clever, Herr Doktor Schäfer. You must know a lot about monsters, but I guess that’s your job. I’m a changeling. And I am here to take your place because I expect your son will come by."
"You're too late," the first false Markus said. "He's not coming back."
"Why not?"
"He’s going to the human world."
The thing shook his head. "That's what you think."
"How do you know?"
"I’ll keep that to myself, if you don’t mind." His
smile was angry, evil, more like a baring of teeth than a smile.
"Tell me. What do you have to worry about? Aren’t you your own man? Who are you afraid of?"
"I’m not afraid of anything."
"Then tell me. Why are you here? Who are you working for?" Even though this thing appeared proud, he apparently had his secrets to keep, even though False Markus could probably guess who brought him here: MOON. Doubting that he would get anywhere this way, he resorted to bribery. "I’ll pay you. You can have anything you want. Take any weapon here you like. Bring it to your boss, or whoever or whatever you work for. Just please, don’t hurt my son."
"It doesn’t work like that, Herr Doktor. I WANT to kill him. And no amount of money or begging will change that."
False Markus continued to talk, hoping to buy himself time or that this thing would trip up and tell him something useful. "But why?"
"Because…" the thing said, changing back into a perfect copy of Wolfgang, "He’s me. There can be only one me."
"Oh my God," False Markus stammered. "It’s you. You’re my wife’s child."
Wolfgang’s doppelganger nodded. “I sure am. Everyone forgot about me, I guess. Didn’t think I’d come back home.” He tsk-tsked and moved away, seemingly confident that he would have the upper hand in this fight. Little did he know that this Markus Schäfer was not the human everyone thought he was.
But False Markus couldn’t kill him—this was Lorelei’s boy. What would she say? How would she feel knowing that he'd killed her baby? He would have to subdue him until he could figure out what to do with him. Using a sweeping move he had taught Wolfgang when he was just a boy, False Markus flipped him as hard as he could, meaning to throw him onto his back. But this Wolfgang recovered quicker than False Markus thought possible, righted himself and sprung up onto the bookshelves bolted to the walls on three sides of the room. Laughing, the changeling slipped his foot onto the ladder that rolled along the bookshelves and, with a push, slipped away. “You’re stronger than I thought. Human? Not likely.” He swung slightly, his coat a dark, tattered flag on the rail of the ladder, a pirate mast, his leering face the skull and crossbones. “And yet, that boy I fought yesterday was definitely human. So what does that mean, then?” The changeling’s face became alive as an idea burst into his thoughts. “Wait…you're really NOT his father, are you?” He laughed hard at that. “Oh…wow. And he doesn’t know, does he?”
False Markus glared. He had been able to keep the secret so long mainly because he'd never had to fight before. Where were the guards? He had pressed the panic button a long ten minutes ago. There should have been a pair stationed just outside of his door. He couldn’t believe this punk was capable of taking out two fully grown fae no matter what the type. Something was wrong.
“Well, I know one thing for sure," the false Wolfgang said. "I guess I don’t have to hold back.”
From his vantage point on the bookshelves, the young changeling sprang onto his prey, delivering two swift blows before retreating to the ladder on the bookshelves, a decidedly advantageous perch. False Markus knew he couldn’t handle another attack like that one. This changeling was in his prime, and he, though not wholly human, was still human enough to age. He had to carry out his plan now or never, but the weapon could only be fired once. He had to be sure. However, the changeling attacked so quickly and then retreated so fast again that he wasn’t sure he could react in time. It had to be almost point-blank to be certain it would not miss, but before he suffered another blow—before his spine was broken, or before he got knocked out.
Lunging for the weapon, False Markus saw his fingers about to close on its shaft when another set of hands beat him to it. Backing away, he looked up into the face of his son and not his son, this soulless creature who embodied the worst traits of changelings, chaos and cruelty. “Another one of these guns. I know what this does. Watch!”
He held it the wrong way, and shot himself, disappearing into the nearest reflective surface, a glossy black tabletop designed for chemical experimentation. False Markus could barely read the obscenities on the lips of the changeling trapped in the tabletop, so white hot was the monster’s rage. The discharged weapon clattered unnoticed to the floor while he watched his captive in disbelief, then in relief, and finally triumph. “Couldn’t have happened more perfectly if I had planned it,” he murmured to himself, his spoken thoughts making his victory seem more real. Triumph turned to horror, however, as inside the mirror and just behind the changeling, he saw a familiar figure waving, frantic for his attention, then struggling to back away. He even turned around, just to make sure she wasn’t actually behind him, but of course she wasn’t. She was trapped inside the mirror with the furious changeling: His wife, Lorelei.
False Markus helplessly watched as the monster in the shape of his son, having followed his gaze, turned around and assaulted her, grabbing her hair and winding it up around his hand. He drew her face to his, his evil smile returning, and looked out of the mirror with the promise of torture in his eyes.
“What have I done?!” He had to free them. He didn’t know how she had gotten trapped in the mirror, except now he had no choice but to free them both. He had little doubt that this Wolfgang would kill her, his own mother, in there. He was a monster in every sense of the word. Struggling to keep a cool head, False Markus ran to the back of his lab, to a series of locked cabinets which housed multiple projects in various stages of completion. His memory jogged after some searching—he’d used one in a test only a couple of weeks ago. Moments later, gun in hand, he returned to the table to release its prisoners and found in its murky depths two Loreleis: One conscious and the other not. Anger made his blood race, and no sooner had he pulled the trigger than a white light enveloped the table. Before him were two Loreleis, one of them sprawled out, unmoving, and the other standing, but both of them alive. “Monster,” False Markus said, and, dropping the gun, knelt to stroke the cheek of the unconscious Lorelei. Before he could react, he felt a sharp pain dive deep between his ribs. It was, of course, a trick. The Lorelei he had chosen to stroke changed back into his null form while the real Lorelei screamed.
False Markus fell backward awkwardly and was caught by his wife, who had knelt beside him. Wolfgang's doppelganger stood and watched them a moment. “I guess I’ll have to kill you both if I am to trick that other me, won’t I?” he said.
“Don’t care what you do to me,” False Markus warned while coughing up blood, “Don’t you dare hurt your mother.”
“It’s not like I want to,” he said, “but you’ve left me no choice. You’ve freed her. This is all your fault.” His upper lip curled in wolf-like disdain as he looked down on them. “Tell me, what would you do in my place?”
“Kill myself,” False Markus said.
“Funny.” A noise in the hall beyond distracted him. Cautiously, Wolfgang’s doppelganger snuck up to the double doors on one side of the room, opened one and peeked through. False Markus was barely able to catch sight of a white lab coat as the doppelganger changed shape and left for the hall, but he didn’t have to think hard to guess who he was impersonating this time.
Turning his eye weakly to Lorelei, he begged, “You have to stop him.”
“I can’t leave you.”
“You have to. Please. Get help.”
“What if you—what if you die while I’m gone?”
“Then I’ll say good-bye now.” He leaned up to meet her lips and kissed her good-bye. “Now go. I’ll try to be here when you get back.”
Wordlessly, she left, disappearing against the bookshelves, the door opening softly on its own the only sign that she had gone.
Chapter 10
THE WOOD AND THE NIGHT stretched out before them like a miniature universe streaked with stars, rushing past even as they stood still. They were the middle point and everything spun around them. If there was a way out, they were unable to find it as every step kept them in the middle, and everything revolved around them to put them there.
"This is just great,” Marie complained.
“Well, if we go too far one way, won’t the Hindernis push us back in?”
“Probably, but that doesn’t mean we’ll get anywhere.” Marie dug a boot against a stone under her heel in frustration. “We might just bump along the edge until we starve to death.”
Wolfgang looked up. It always seemed natural to him that an answer could be found in the stars. The fog parted somewhere along the treetops and let in the light of the sky, but in the Hindernis everything beyond a certain distance blurred. One needed a special perspective to see beyond.
“What the—” Marie didn’t finish. Instead she held up the stone she had kicked free. Wolfgang looked at it, suspended like a fish out of water dangling in Marie’s gloved fingers. With her other hand, Marie pointed down. Light spilled out of the hole she had made, so brightly that Wolfgang wondered why he hadn’t noticed it first. He began pulling rocks away from the earth, and saw that they stood in a ring of larger stones that they would not be able to move—polished dark stones sunk deep below the surface of mulch and leaves. His father had not left him without a way out. He had lured him to the middle of some ancient door, and Wolfgang lamented that it might lead to the human world, the place he longed to go to but now didn’t dare, now that he wanted to go back to Doors and find an answer to the question of his father’s fate. “Do you think this goes to the human world?” he asked Marie.
“Doubt it,” she answered with a bitter chuckle. “That door is probably inside of a dragon or something. You have to get eaten alive to pass through.”
Wolfgang considered this and figured she might be right, especially since, the more stones they cleared, the more familiar the light inside the hole became. When the hole grew large enough for him to enter, he recognized the scene around the familiar lamp post that stood outside his family's apartment house on Wetterseestraße and accepted that it led back to Doors as he had wished. Perhaps it had changed because he wished it to. When he suggested this to Marie, she looked off into the distance where his father had disappeared.
Ghost of Doors (City of Doors) Page 10
