Ghost of Doors (City of Doors)

by Jennifer Paetsch

  Wolfgang picked up a stone, and held it to Leonie so she could see. "Look. This is what I meant before. This once had more life than any of them will ever have. Look at it now." Leonie became horrified, cringed away from the stone with the look of a mother witnessing the torture of her son. Wolfgang didn't have to look at the other side to know what was there. A face. A human face, now scarred and broken with time. A face in agony. "Pick up any of them. You'll see. It's true."

  "Is it... Is it dead?" she whispered.

  Wolfgang shook his head sadly and put the stone back where he found it. "Dead or sleeping. Can't be sure."

  "Are they criminals? Being punished?"

  "Who knows? Who knows what the fae tell themselves to rationalize this suffering." He was reminded again of the stone False Markus had given him, the dark one, cold under his shirt. He took it off and held it out to Leonie, the morning light setting it on fire. “Here. You can have this.”

  Reluctant, she reached for the pendant as a kitten poises its paw before a snake. “What…is that?”

  “It’s a talisman. My f…father gave it to me.” He’d almost said too much but caught himself just in time. He was not used to telling half-truths and it didn’t sit well with him. “He said it’s to protect your soul. You might need it more than I do.” Her look of surprise prompted him to add, “I mean, I have other talismans.”

  Her expression didn’t change, but she took the stone and put it on. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  They left silently, Wolfgang helping her over the gate and back to the subway.

  ☽☉✩

  ACTUALLY, THE CHANGELING WOLFGANG SCHÄFER had nothing against his prototype. Something in his core was repulsed by the idea of a duplicate the same way that a bird is jealous of his reflection in the mirror. It was not with revenge in his heart that he operated, rather with a sense of justice. It was unjust—insulting, even—for him to have to live with a copy in the same way it was unjust for his stepfather to insist that he, a mere human, had any right to order him around at all. What lion is ruled by sheep? It degraded them both, him and his stepfather, to think that he should follow the orders of such an inferior creature. The humans’ system of rules did not affect him in the least. Their rules were nothing more than a system of checks and balances to keep monkeys from killing each other, nothing of value for a race of godlings. It was only here in Doors that the changeling Wolfgang felt truly understood, that he could reach his full potential, and he almost cried with relief over the revelation of Doors existence as it had been so long in coming. If Raphael had not come for him to show him the way to Doors, he would have definitely done something regrettable. But the glowing red door, like a purifying flame, was forever burned into his memory as a symbol of hope and triumph over adversity.

  “You didn’t attack him. Why?” Raphael asked, sitting down on the corner of the desk in the room where the doppelganger had slept, no matter how briefly. It was a tasteful old room, the antiques chosen with obvious care. “I just saw him leaving with Leonie.”

  “You could sit in the chair. Table looks like it’s worth more than you are. But I guess you’re not a guy who uses chairs. Eh? Too cool for school.” He didn’t dislike Raphael, either—after all, Raf had rescued him from a fate worse than mediocrity—but he couldn’t bring himself to respect a man who could so quickly turn his back on someone who was like a brother, someone of his own kind, his own blood, if what he'd said about his prototype was true. It made him wonder how loyal Raphael was to MOON, considering.

  But Raphael ignored the chiding. “Are you going to let him go?”

  “I didn’t know you cared so much. Especially since you brought me here to kill him,” he said, adjusting the threadbare laces on his boots, laces which had been reinforced with a bit of wire. “Is that it? You mean you want it done with.” He shook his head. “You are cold.”

  Raphael stood up, green eyes gleaming though the curtains were drawn tight. “Look, I don’t want to see him dead.”

  “Then stop me.” He held his arms out wide in invitation. “You’re at least as strong as me. You could at least cripple me.” Raphael slunk to the window curtain with the posture of a beaten dog. “No?”

  “I don’t want to see him dead,” Raf repeated, “but it’s out of my hands, now. I want to see him join us, but he would never betray his father. Now, that’s all too late. MOON wants him dead, end of story.”

  “Why? Why is this guy so important? What’d he do?”

  “I don’t know,” Raf admitted. “I wasn’t told. My job now is to report on you, make sure you’re doing what MOON wants.”

  “So then, why me? This place is full of creatures just dying to kill something. Why look for me in the human world? Why send me to kill him?”

  “Don’t read so much into it. I’m always recruiting people for MOON. Someone probably wanted to recruit you before SUN did through Wolfgang and your real mom. I think they just want to see an example of loyalty to MOON. And you have killed before.”

  “That’s what everyone says.” He didn’t like the way his scraggly hair kept falling in his face. He pushed it back behind an ear one more time. “But it wasn’t my fault. It was self defense.” A bird outside cawed, cried, and he pretended to look out the window at it even though the curtains were drawn. “I’m not an assassin.”

  “You could be. And you will be, if you let MOON train you.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said. He pulled a black, stretchy band out of his pocket and held it in his teeth, then pulled his fingers through his hair and tied it back.

  “You could have killed him while he was sleeping,” Raf said.

  “If I’d have done that, I’d have been murdered by that blonde. She was watching him all night.”

  “I could have helped you out if you wanted.”

  He hoped his expression showed how tasteless he thought that was. “Murder your brother?”

  “No. Keep Marie occupied.”

  “Well, yeah, that’s something I wouldn’t mind doing myself.” An idea occurred to him. “Why don’t we try that? I pretend to be her lover, and you kill him?”

  “They’re not lovers,” Raphael said. “And she would know right away you weren’t him. Your problem is, you’ve been raised by humans, and you think like them.”

  That was too much to take from this backstabber. Lunging at the vampire, he used sheer rage to slam him through the window, shattering its glass behind the thick curtain. “I am NOTHING like those pigs,” he spat through gritted teeth. “NOTHING.” The clatter of broken glass like the patter of rain tinkled as he let the vampire go and bits of glass fell down behind the curtain to the windowsill.

  “It wasn’t an insult,” Raphael wheezed, clutching the back of the antique chair for support and struggling to get his voice back—he had been shoved by the throat. “I was human once.”

  “I was NEVER human once,” the doppelganger roared. “I am fae. This place is my home, my birthright. You will always be an outsider here, not me. YOU.” He pulled back the curtains and the bright, morning sunlight spilled into the tasteful suite like a flood of shining water. Raphael screamed.

  The vampire crumpled to the carpet, his skin burning with an unseen fire while he rocked in agony.

  “As pitiful as you are, I still need your help.” The curtain shut, the vampire had a moment to recover. “I’m going to tell you something that may come as a shock to you. That guy in Wolfgang’s father’s lab. He’s not his father.”

  “Wh…wait, what? Markus?” Raphael blinked and climbed up the old teak chair, one hand at a time, like a ladder, until he could stand. “Markus Schäfer?”

  “Yeah. The scientist. That’s not really him. That’s an impostor.”

  Raphael looked as if he had a thousand questions to ask all fighting to come out at once. Finally, he chose one. “How do you know this?” he asked.

  The doppelganger rolled his eyes. “He told me.”

  “Markus did?”

 
; “Well, whoever that guy is, yeah.”

  The next logical question took its turn. “Why would he do that?”

  “I paid him a visit. And it just kind of slipped out.”

  At that, the vampire found his strength. He sprang at the changeling with the agility of a cat and, after slipping a blade from his boot, threatened him at knife point. “If you hurt him, I swear I’ll—”

  “You’ll what? Killing his son is okay, though?” He shirked Raphael off and let his words strike a blow for him, a psychological one. “You think killing his son is not going to hurt him at all? Please. Don’t give me this shit like you care. You’re the worst friend anybody could have.” The words seemed to have an effect. Raphael backed off, returning the knife to its secret place on his person. “Anyway, that guy is a better fighter than you are. If he taught you anything growing up, then you forgot all of it, let me tell you. But no way is he human. He’s much too strong.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  “He’s fine. I think. Why don’t you go find out for yourself if you’re so concerned?”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “Then come along. I’ll be taking his place.”

  The vampire shook his head in disbelief. Attempting to have the last laugh, Raphael mocked him with a parting thought as the doppelganger made to leave. “Sure you will. About the lab, no way will you get in there. That place is as impenetrable as a woman’s heart.”

  Ah, if only he could gloat. But the changeling had his secrets to keep, and he wasn’t about to risk everything just to put this worm in his place. The urge to humiliate him even more than he already had was overwhelming, but he had to learn how to let go. “Let that be my problem,” he said.

  Chapter 14

  THERE WAS MORE THAN ONE entrance to SUN HQ, and several of them secret, so that there was always a way in and an escape route no matter where a member was in the city. Wolfgang and Leonie caught up with Marie and Pilgrim downtown and together made their way. He knew he had promised Leonie something to eat but he didn’t want to stop now and was relieved when Marie produced a couple of Bockwürste and two rolls for them to share. They followed alongside the subway tracks until they reached a barely noticeable door beside a large metal plate riveted to the wall amid the cracking cement of the tunnel, the door Wolfgang normally used to get to his father’s lab. Inside the door was a hall with the same emergency light fixtures as the subway tunnel making strips of light on the walls high up where each one hung and doing little to illuminate the rest of the hall. Built from concrete and metal grates, dark and eerie like some kind of spaceship docking bay, the hallway made wide turns as it descended further beneath the city, leading to a series of metal doors which Wolfgang knew from experience were locked. Finding the correct one, he slipped a rusty key into the keyhole and turned the lock, nudging the old handle at the same time so that the lock would turn more easily and held the door open for Marie and Leonie to enter. Everything was exactly as he and his father had left it, all the secretly placed powder and markings that, smudged, would warn of an intruder had been left undisturbed. No one else had come this way.

  He expected to be met by security but there was no one to greet him in the adjoining hall, just as stark and cold in an industrial way as the one they had come from. More cold, rectangular lights that did nothing to illuminate the darkness below; more cold concrete and wire that did little more than keep the dirt above from crashing down. Dank and musty, the air felt as if it hadn’t moved in ages and was slowly becoming a living thing, a solid cluster of mold. “What kind of a laboratory is this?” whispered Leonie. Tense beneath her glasses, her eyes spoke of the fact that she still hadn’t total trust in Wolfgang and his friends. She backed up against the door she had just come through, perhaps drawing comfort in having something at her back while dreading what was to come in the room at the far end of the hall.

  “It’s a weapons lab,” Wolfgang said just as quietly. “My father makes weapons for SUN. It’s his private lab.”

  They rounded the corner and were surprised to find no one: No guards, no seeing eyes, nothing. He saw nothing and no one observing the outside of his father’s lab and he took that as a bad sign. Just long, dark hallways continuing on and branching off, deep within the city’s underground. Jogging up to the double doors that led to the lab, Wolfgang anxiously tried them and was surprised that they gave though he backed off quickly and did not push all the way through. He didn’t like the fact that the lab was not locked. It was worse than missing guards. He turned to his friends, saw that the changeling was quite shocked by this and that even the girl had a sense that something was amiss. Pilgrim snorted softly, his ears flicking, straining to hear any sound. Studying Leonie, Wolfgang saw easily how fragile she was, and it reminded him of the man pretending to be his father, aging and tired, and just how vulnerable they all were, Wolfgang included. He considered searching for someone, anyone, from security then. But if his doppelganger were still inside, waiting for help might give him enough time to sneak away.

  Oddly, Marie stared down the hall as if she could see through the door, her aqua eyes fixed like the eyes of a statue, unblinking and unmoving. Of course, Wolfgang didn’t really think that she could see anything, but then again, he wasn’t so sure. She waited for something, some movement, he reasoned. When nothing happened after long moments, she turned almost the same fixed attention as she had on the door to Wolfgang. “Don’t go in alone,” Marie said. “What if your doppelganger is in there?”

  “He can’t be,” Wolfgang answered. “He couldn’t get in. Security would stop him.”

  “Like they stopped us? SUN doesn’t have many members left anymore. What if simply no one stopped him?” It was true. SUN HQ became more and more deserted with each passing day.

  "He wouldn't have come the way we did. He would have gone through the front door."

  "How do you know that? What if someone is helping him?"

  Like Johnny, Wolfgang thought. Would Johnny help his twin? Maybe accidentally, thinking he was Wolfgang, or on purpose, wanting Wolfgang dead. He shuddered involuntarily and rubbed his arms, pretending it was from the cold. “He would have to fight my dad. Dad wouldn’t be fooled.”

  Marie’s eyes rolled upward to the ceiling with an annoyance that she didn’t even try to disguise. “It’s not that hard. I pretend to be you all the time.”

  Wolfgang was more than a little surprised at that. “Really?”

  She shrugged. “You’ve seen me do it.”

  She was right. She did it often to confuse people who were attacking him, and it happened so fast, they never seemed to have enough time to realize their mistake. She didn’t have a soul, sure, but that wasn’t evident at first—at least, it didn’t seem to matter. Wolfgang didn’t know what his soul looked like of course, but he figured it wasn’t something immediately noticeable and instead something that monsters could feel out, the way that Wolfgang could see through some glamours if he really concentrated. “Right. Then you three wait here. But I’m going to get some answers.”

  Wolfgang pushed the big double doors and went inside.

  The laboratory felt unusually cold. Throughout the course of a day, his father was usually so active working and developing his technologies that the room, in spite of its vast size, became quite warm, but today it felt icy, abandoned, dead. Wolfgang swallowed hard and strode in, more than a little worried at what he might find. He plunged himself into the large, wide room with no windows and nothing but stone walls and tables all around, black-surfaced tables that gleamed with the lights that hung overhead like little pools on stilts. "Stop!" barked a voice across the dark laboratory. "Who are you? Where are you going?"

  Wolfgang searched for the source of the voice, and, finding none, assumed he was being watched. "I'm looking for my father," he said.

  "Like I said," the voice barked authoritatively, "Who are you? Answer me or I promise you, it won't be pretty." A quiet clicking grew louder and louder. Almost like a clo
ck, but it sped up instead of being constant. The clicking grew steadily nearer and Wolfgang realized that the source would soon appear in front of him. He drew out the small knife his father gave him and held it threateningly aloft. A tiny dog click-clacked on tiny claws to stand before him. Its long-flowing hair held a myriad of reds, scarlet to amber, and it shimmered like bright fish scales at twilight in the dim light of the lab. Two little gold-capped fangs protruded from his underbite, and his dark eyes reflected gold, masking their true color. Wolfgang forgot his purpose for a moment and thought about rifling through his pockets for a biscuit. There was a feeling of peace from the little thing, and it was all he could do to resist the urge to pat its head. "This is the last time," the tiny dog spoke. "Tell me who you are or you're gonna feel it." The dog's hair began to blow by an unseen wind that spun hot and wide, hurricane-like from beneath his feet, if hurricanes were made of fire. Wolfgang could see a hot spot forming underneath the tiny dog, like a well of power, burning red like the eye of a storm at his tiny, clawed feet.

  "Wolfgang," he said finally. "My name is Wolfgang. My father was—is—Markus Schäfer, a scientist for SUN."

  The tiny dog cocked an ear. "Was or is?"

  "Is," Wolfgang clarified. "Been a long night for me."

  "Tell me about it," the tiny dog said. "I've had to work double shifts two days in a row. Some people always seem to call in sick, if you know what I mean," he said. The tiny ring of fire below the hellish Yorkshire terrier died down to a warm glow as he spoke. "And how can a unicorn be sick, anyway? Don't they cure sickness or something?"

  "I...don't know," Wolfgang replied after giving more thought to the idea than he would have liked.

  "Anyway, your dad—I think I heard of him. You got anything to prove you are who you say you are?"

  He took out his father's Ausweis, the one he'd found in the woods, and handed it to the dog. The little animal took it in his teeth. "Wha' 'm I s'posed t' do wif dis?" he asked, not without spitting.