Beyond the Gates of Evermoore

by Krista Wolf

  “Melody!”

  “I— I don’t know,” she stammered. Her mind was clouded. Confused.

  “What’s the matter with you? And why is your hair wet?”

  She sipped the water, fighting back another yawn. Suddenly she was very tired. So sleepy and utterly exhausted, she could barely keep her eyes open.

  “We should… The house. The bedrooms…”

  She didn’t even know what she was saying. It kept eluding her.

  The bedrooms. Check the bedrooms for the egg…

  “We should check the bedrooms now,” Melody finally managed, “while everyone’s outside. This would be… a perfect time… to…”

  Her sentence trailed off. A little alarmed, she realized that Eric was now holding her up. He guided her over to the nearest chair.

  “Maybe you should lay down,” said Eric. He looked genuinely concerned. “You’re still shaken up from last night.”

  She resisted that last part. “No, no I’m not. It’s just that…”

  Another bone-cracking yawn. Melody looked down and her water glass was empty. Did she drink it? Her head was still spinning like a top. She didn’t feel any cooler.

  “Alright,” she conceded. “Maybe I’ll just close my eyes… for only a minute or two. To clear my head…”

  “Come on,” said Eric. “You’ve been running around that maze like you’re Pac-Man, being chased by ghosts and—”

  “Wait…” she said tiredly. “H—How do you know I was in the maze?”

  “I’m taking you up to your room,” Eric said, ignoring her. “You need to rest.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “No, not my room.” Her breathing was slow now, very even and deep. “I—I’ll be fine right here. This is… fine…”

  Her head lolled back against the frame of the little antique chair. She blinked and was staring up at the whitewashed ceiling of the Sun Parlor, at all the tiny knots and imperfections and scratches in the wood. Her eyelids felt like they had weights dangling from them. Weights that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds a piece.

  “I… just… need to…”

  And then she was out.

  Melody dreamed. And in her dream, she wasn’t alone.

  She was back in her room, back in the uncomfortable little bed she hadn’t slept in last night. It was pitch dark, except for the moonlight. She had no blankets, no sheets or comforter. She had no clothes on either, and yet for some reason she wasn’t cold.

  SKRIIIIIIT!

  She bolted upright, and suddenly Melody was wide awake. Her heart pounded in her chest. She listened again for the noise, struggling to hear it, hoping not to hear it again but listening for it anyway.

  But then it came, only this time it was a different noise entirely. One that was very close by. Just on the other side of her room…

  The knob to her door was rattling.

  Melody reached for the covers and came up with nothing. She looked around the room, desperate to find something — her underclothes, the ball gown, anything at all — but her little bedchamber was totally stripped bare. Even her chamberpot and wash basin were gone.

  “Eric?”

  Her voice was so loud against the silence it seemed to split the night. No answer. The little antique knob kept twisting and turning, revolving left and right. Trying to reach that point at which it would draw back the latch bolt and allow the door to open…

  “ERIC!”

  She jumped up now, alarmed, and was horrified when something on the other side of the room moved. Melody’s gaze shot over quickly, afraid to both see and not see. Relief flooded through her as she realized it was only the mirror.

  Oh my God…

  She was naked in the mirror. Naked and disheveled, her feet and legs covered in mud. But there was something different too. Something about her face…

  The knob rattled, this time hard. The whole frame of the door shook.

  Slowly, unable to look away, Melody approached the mirror. In her reflection, the left side of her face seemed somehow distorted. Sort of like in a funhouse mirror, but not quite. It was almost as if part of the mirror had melted, yet when she looked at it the glass was smooth and unwarped and unblemished.

  Your eye. Look at your eye!

  She did. In the reflection, her left eye seemed somehow bigger than her right. Darker too. Like she couldn’t find the iris… like her entire eye was all pupil, all black, with just a little bit of white left in the sclera.

  The knob rattled again, but this time she ignored it. All of her attention was focused on the mirror. Melody reached up with one hand and pulled down on her eyelid. Reached up with the other and pulled upward, too.

  Her eye grew wider, even stranger still. And now there was something inside the pupil — an image or negative image embedded against the glossy black surface. Her eye was like liquid ink. Velvety black ink with ripples that shimmered when she touched it, when she began sliding her fingernail slowly through the liquid surface…

  There was no pain, only fascination. No fear, only the thrill of impending discovery. There was something she needed to see. Something that needed to see her. Melody’s face was inches away from the mirror now. Centimeters. Her nose was touching it, all cold and dark and—

  The knob clicked. The door flew open.

  SKRIIIIIIT!

  Something scrabbled in.

  SKRIIIIIIT! SKRIIIIIIT!

  Melody couldn’t look at at it — couldn’t draw her gaze away from the mirror even if she wanted to. But the thing was coming. She could see it peripherally, a shambling, horrendous thing in a vaguely familiar form.

  It rushed straight at her, stirring a hot, fetid wind along with it. The smell of something rotten. Of something—

  Her eye yawned open, and then she saw. She saw it all. Saw everything.

  Melody’s mouth stretched wide, her throat opening in a bloodcurdling, terrifying scream…

  “MELODY!”

  A spike of terror split her soul, causing levels of fear she couldn’t ever have imagined. Even now it continued to grip her. Continued to squeeze its cold fist around her heart…

  “MELODY WAKE UP!”

  Her eyes blinked open while she was still screaming. A hand shot over her mouth. Her own hand.

  “Melody it’s OKAY! It’s just a dream!” Eric was at the edge of the bed, shaking her. “Stop, please. Just stop—”

  She jumped out of her bed, landing on cold, numb feet. In seconds she was at the mirror. Staring… searching…

  Her eye was fine. Both eyes.

  “Melody what the—”

  “WHY?” she screamed at Eric. “Why did you put me back in my room!”

  He was stunned by her reaction. Staring her up and down.

  “You were falling asleep on your feet! I… I just thought you needed—”

  “I told you not to,” she snapped. “I told you to leave me right where I was!”

  She put her hand to her chest. Her heart was still pounding. Melody glanced over at her bed, then turned quickly away. She knew it was silly, but for some reason it bothered her to even look at it.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Really, I am. I— I didn’t know…”

  He opened his arms and she went to him, still shivering. The heat and strength of his body was reassuring. The dream faded as she allowed him to hold her, stroking her hair.

  “How long was I asleep?”

  Eric didn’t answer. Instead he held her against his chest, rubbing her on the back, soothing her with his slow, rhythmic breathing. Melody noticed the sky was darker — much darker than before. It was almost night.

  She pushed abruptly away from him and stood up straight.

  “What the—”

  “It’s almost supper,” said Eric.

  “Supper?” Her voice was frantic. She couldn’t spend another night here! How could it already be evening again? Could she really have slept that long?

  The window of opportunity is small and n
arrow…

  Xiomara’s voice, warning her before she even got started.

  And rapidly closing…

  “We have to find the egg!” Melody cried, rubbing her eyes. “Tonight, Eric! Right now!”

  “Okay, okay, calm down,” Eric told her. “We don’t even know wh—”

  “Lady Neveux. She has it.”

  A glimmer of light passed through Eric’s eyes, like the flash of headlamps from some passing car.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how do you know that?” he went on. “Who told you th—”

  “I just know.”

  Her companion scratched his chin for a moment, staring down at his feet. When he looked up at her again, he seemed determined.

  “Tonight then,” he said. “The Lady should be at dinner with us. If the egg’s not with her, we go looking for it immediately afterward.”

  “Come hell or high water,” Melody agreed.

  Eric looked back at her solemnly. He held up his hand in some kind of promise or Boy Scout’s salute.

  “Come hell or high water.”

  16

  Supper was exactly the same as it was last night… only it wasn’t.

  The first thing Melody noticed was that everything was off. Off in ways that didn’t occur to her immediately, but as the night progressed she began to see them. The further she opened her eyes, the more she saw. And the more she saw, the more it alarmed her.

  They filed into the dining hall, plopping into the same seats they’d taken the night before. The room was lit by candles again, the other guests still dressed up in their eighteenth century costumes and outfits as if they’d never get sick of their little daily charade. Melody wondered if they actually paid to be here, or maybe were paid to be here… some sort of bizarre throwback roleplay fantasy that only the very rich and very eccentric could ever afford.

  It would certainly explain their lackluster performance tonight.

  Lurch took his seat at the opposite end of the table, looking glum and silent and eerie. Anabelle sat across from her again, only this time without her daughter. Her face was ashen, her entire expression forlorn. In fact, the more she looked around…

  “Everyone here is so miserable,” she whispered to Eric. “Why aren’t these people happy? Do they work here? It’s almost like they have to—”

  She stopped dead as the man they were calling Colonel Mustard limped into view. He wore the same coat as last night, only now it looked dull and washed out instead of fresh and crisp. The gilt on his buttons was no longer shiny. The epaulets on his shoulders, frayed.

  But then Melody saw the wooden crutch. And beyond that…

  “Oh my God! What happened to your leg?!”

  The Colonel glanced up at her, but only for a split second. In that short span of time, he shot Melody a scathing look.

  The Colonel’s leg was missing below the knee!

  How is that even possible?

  She didn’t know. Couldn’t know.

  It wasn’t like that yesterday… was it?

  She paused to think about it for a moment. The Colonel’s legs had spent most of the night under the table, hadn’t they? It wasn’t like she was looking at them. She supposed that much was true…

  But no, wait! Then he’d danced! He’d danced his way out of the dining hall, and by then he’d had two legs, right? Melody closed her eyes. Tried to remember. Yes, she knew he did! Knew it as well as she knew her own two legs….

  “H—How did… How did you…”

  The Colonel sat down with the help of the head of the table, who was apparently back yet again. The middle-aged man seemed even older, if not wiser, but his voice was the same as he raised his glass high.

  “The Lady of the House will not be joining us tonight,” he said glumly. “She is unfortunately unwell, but sends her best regards.”

  Melody’s mouth dropped open. She wasn’t sure if she was more pissed at missing Lady Neveux again, or more shocked by the man’s repeat performance.

  “This isn’t right,” she told Eric. “Maybe she’s avoiding us. Maybe she knows we want—”

  “Shhh…”

  Eric shushed her as the food was brought out. There was much less of it than before. The platters were no longer silver, either. They were made of wood.

  “What’s going on?” she asked the young man sitting next to her. “What’s with—”

  That’s when she noticed him: Lucus. He’d been seated at the table the whole time, down near the far end. He was staring at Eric. Even worse, Eric was staring back.

  “Why is the blacksmith here?” Eric asked in a low, almost ominous tone. “Why isn’t he back at the carriage house?”

  It took a moment for Melody to realize he wasn’t talking to her. He was asking the middle-aged man — the one at the head of the table. But the man was ignoring him. Ignoring him while spooning out a big ladle of soup.

  Minutes passed. Eventually the two of them broke eye contact. Eric ate ravenously, from many different plates, but she could tell the food wasn’t as good as it was the night before. Melody on the other hand, hardly touched anything. She was too busy scanning the guests, listening to them talk. Trying to figure out if any of them knew anything, or might unintentionally reveal something important to her.

  The Colonel was arguing with the banker now. The two became embroiled in some bitter debate that ended when the banker threw down his napkin and left early. Melody noticed as he left that his suit wasn’t nearly as fancy this time around. In fact—

  “This is all wrong,” she told Eric. “For some reason they changed it.”

  “Changed what?” her companion asked around a mouthful of dry potatoes.

  “They changed everything,” she said. “All of it. Just look around.”

  Eric didn’t appear to be in the mood for looking around. He kept eating.

  “See the fork you’re using?” Melody pointed. “That fork was silver yesterday. Real silverware with china plates. Today all the utensils are iron, and the plates are ceramic. Even the silken napkins are gone.”

  Her companion shrugged. At the opposite end of the table however, Lucus looked on. Watching. Listening.

  “The wine definitely isn’t as good,” Melody went on. “It’s watered down. And all the finer finishes are gone. Look at the walls. Half the paintings are missing, like they were sold off.”

  Eric picked at his vegetables. There were a lot of vegetables, now that she thought about it. There was hardly any meat on the table at all.

  “Doesn’t this all seem strange to you?” she asked.

  “This whole place is strange,” shrugged Eric. “Why are you surprised?”

  “Because these aren’t just inconsistencies,” Melody said. “They’re intentionally different.” She nodded in the direction of the Colonel. “Look at this guy. He’s missing his leg Eric! His leg! And his uniform is different. He’s got two more medals pinned to his chest than he did yesterday.”

  Eric looked unsure of what to do. He dropped his fork.

  “How do you know all this stuff?” he pleaded with her. “I mean, how do you see it?”

  “I look,” Melody snorted. “Just like you should be looking. Hell, you and I should both be looking. For the you-know-what…”

  Her voice trailed off. Other people were watching them now, taking their conversation almost as an argument. Melody lowered her voice, glad she’d stopped short of mentioning the egg.

  “Listen,” she hissed after a while. “We don’t have much time. Tonight’s the night. This is it for us, if we’re ever going to—”

  He spun around to face her, taking her hands in his. Melody looked up apprehensively, but Eric’s face had softened.

  “Alright, I get it,” he said. “You want to search the bedrooms.”

  She nodded almost imperceptibly, shifting her eyes left and right. He was talking just a little too loudly for her tastes.

  “Fine” Eric said. “Slip out of here
. I’ll wait a few minutes and be right behind you.”

  Melody rose, finally grateful to be doing something. Lucus’s eyes followed her as she did. He was the only one at the table who seemed to even notice her. Even so, it was somehow reassuring just knowing he was there.

  She exited into the hallway, hoping he might follow. She wanted to talk to him some more. The blacksmith seemed somehow different from the rest of the guests. More concrete, more real. Less ‘checked out’ in ways that—

  The sound of footfalls from the opposite direction ushered her toward the stairs. Melody took them two at a time, holding her dress up as she went, then ducked into an alcove at the top of the landing. Someone passed through the foyer, but she couldn’t see who. Once the sun went down, the whole manor was just too dimly lit.

  No wonder why everyone goes to bed so early, she thought. This place is gloomy at night.

  She took the opposite hallway from the one where their own rooms were located. It was as good a place to start as any. The first two doors were locked, but the third opened into a small bedchamber with three separate beds pushed into the corners. Two of them were covered in mosquito netting.

  Melody stepped inside. Instantly her nose wrinkled from some kind of sour, acrid smell.

  “It smells like sweat and old socks,” she whispered to herself. It was an old trick she’d used as a child; talking to herself to calm her nerves. “The air practically tastes like it!”

  She searched the room quickly and efficiently, being careful not to touch the bedding itself. The linens were dirty, and stained with colors that made her look away. The drawers of the single dresser had nothing in them. The chamberpot was also thankfully empty.

  Creeping quietly, she made her way to the next room. And the next after that. The third room had an unlocked trunk that provided a few moments of excitement for her. Inside however, she found only clothes and belts and shoes. All period. All worn down and well-used, almost to the point of failure.

  Eventually she heard noises from downstairs. Dinner was breaking up. Eric would sneak up here and join her when he could, and that would help things along. But for now…