by Tim Meyer
I wanted nothing more than to steal his life away from him. As he had taken Aurelia's.
Just when his pupils were starting to disappear beneath his eyelids, the camera caught the corner of my eye. It rested in Boone's hand, however, my actions had left his strength fairly weak and he lost his grip on it. I broke away from choking him and grabbed the camera. I took it with both hands, and raised it above my head, as if I were about to dunk a basketball. I brought the camera down on Boone's face in one swift motion and the impact made a sharp cracking noise, like a tree branch being snapped in half. I couldn't tell if I broke the camera or Geoffrey's nose. My guess would be the latter, considering the amount of blood that flowed from his nostrils. He made a weak attempt to free himself, but it was no use. I was stronger than him now, and in full control. I smashed the camera against his face once more. Then again. And again. I watched as gashes opened on his forehead. It didn't stop me; I felt no remorse. Again, the camera broke against his face as I slammed it down on him with all of my might. Pieces of the camera began to break off, but I didn't care about that either. I didn't plan on stopping until it was nothing but tiny bits of plastic. It cracked down the middle after the fifth or sixth time. There was so much blood puddling on his face that it began to splatter, making red freckles on my own face.
That's it, a voice said, entering my mind unexpectedly.
I stopped.
Do it, the voice said. Finish him. End his worthless, pathetic life. Be a murderer.
I turned and saw Arthur Denlax. While I was too busy pounding Boone's face in, I failed to notice that Denlax had dismounted his woolly mammoth, and stood no less than twenty feet from me.
He limped toward me, slowly. A proud grin took shape on his face.
Behind him, his slaves were eating what looked like bloody chunks of raw meat. I noticed an emaciated Johnny Anderson shoveling the meat inside his mouth as if he had never eaten before.
“Do it,” Denlax commanded, no longer speaking inside my head. “Do it, and return me to my home world, so together we can conquer.” He smirked. “All you have to do is give me the camera.”
I didn't hesitate. I took the camera—what was left of it—and offered it to him.
4
I didn't know what had come over me. All of it felt like a dream. No longer could I control my limbs. I watched myself act, unable to determine my fate. Upon this realization, a panicky feeling set in, and I felt like clawing my own eyes out, although I had no means to bring my hands to my face. I was—temporarily—a prisoner in my own body.
It was his power. I felt it coursing through me like a bad drug. It flowed and ebbed within my veins, poisoning me.
Denlax approached me, deliberately taking his time. He was old, much older than he had been within my dreams and the pictures he had invaded. He hobbled forward, resting his weight on the cane. His other hand, the claw I had once seen spreading curtains apart inside the House of Mirrors, was reaching for the camera. His face twitched in appeasement. He knew how close he was to reentering the world he had once been banished from. His razor-sharp nails closed in on the camera, when suddenly a funny feeling overtook me.
I felt freed, no longer constrained by Arthur Denlax's powers.
I slowly retracted the camera, and cradled it in my arms. He looked confused. His bushy eyebrows narrowed. I held the camera close to me, against my chest, protecting it. His eyes widened, as if he had seen the impossible. He shook his head in disgust.
Then he advanced on me, snarling like a rabid canine.
I did the only thing I could, the only thing that felt right. I took the camera to my face (although it was badly broken and pretty much useless) and pushed the little button that I had commonly referred to as “the trigger.” A blindingly-bright light, more radiant than the sun, filled the dark, cavernous world around us. For a second I thought the flash had completely blanked the world out of existence, that I was now part of some white void, forever trapped. But a second later, the white light disappeared, as quickly as it came. I remained standing, between the two fallen human beings and Arthur Denlax, who had been human once, but now had become something else entirely, something monstrous.
An Eldurond.
Arthur Denlax was on his back, as if the flash from the camera had been an uppercut to his jaw. He grumbled something in a language I was unfamiliar with. Partly confused, partly infuriated, Arthur scrambled to his feet. He snorted as he swept his foot against the reddish-brown dirt, like a bull preparing to charge.
Before he could, I had the camera to my face again, pulling the trigger without hesitation.
Once again, light filled my vision, and when it was gone, Arthur Denlax was rolling backwards on the uneven terrain. He was screaming, either out of pain or pure frustration. His slaves, who had finished their macabre meals, also started protesting the camera's power. They moaned as if they had been informed a loved one croaked. The enormous mammoth howled like a werewolf beneath the full moon.
One thing became increasingly evident; I had overstayed my welcome in this world.
5
The screeching cries of Denlax's little soldiers faded as I moved closer to Aurelia's lifeless body. I bent down next to her, not looking over my shoulder to see what the unworldly creatures of this realm were up to. If I had, I would have seen Arthur Denlax rising to his feet, ready to make another attempt at escaping his vast prison. Instead, I looked down at Aurelia Anderson, who appeared to have passed on from this world and all others. Air had vacated her lungs. The blood that flowed from the knife wound had pretty much congealed, and turned burgundy. I turned to Boone briefly, just to stare at his near-lifeless body one last time. He was in bad shape, taking in short breaths, minutes away from exhaling his last. I was not concerned with him any longer. It was Aurelia's body I wished to bring back home, and give her the proper funeral she deserved.
I pulled the knife out of her back. More blood seeped from the dark cavity the knife had created. The flowing red mess made me think of my hometown, and the stories that contributed to its title. I rested the knife on the gravel, then scooped Aurelia into my arms, juggling the camera in my hands simultaneously. I turned back to the chaos, taking in one final glimpse of the alien world, watching as Denlax's servants shared their master's frustration.
I looked at Arthur Denlax, as he stood before me, snarling. He threw his head back, facing the darkened sky. He barked at the heavens, a loud, deafening noise that filled the world like thunderclap. Simultaneously, tiny bursts of lightning crackled in the slate sky. Bolts of light danced on the horizon, far past the woolly beast, who cried scornfully.
Then I turned toward the doorway, a single mirror which stood in the middle of that foreign wasteland.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The cold, frigid feeling in my bones stuck with me as my body attempted to adjust to my native world. I stumbled exiting the mirror, falling to my knees with Aurelia still in my arms. Her eyes were closed, no life behind them anymore. I started to cry, tears rolling down my face uncontrollably. Like two waterfalls, my eyes gushed. I made noises I never knew a grown man could make. It felt like something inside me had broken, something irreparable.
I was able to recompose myself a minute later. I was far from tranquil thoughts, very far from them, but I knew I had to be strong for a little while longer. Just so I could finish what I had come here to do. There would be time to mourn later. Like Arthur Denlax, I'd have the rest of my miserable existence to mourn.
I heard footsteps outside the doorway. A shadow presented itself on the hallway wall.
“Ritchie?” I heard Little Chris say. Then I heard a mirror break, shards of glass scattering across the wooden steps. Then another, achieving the same results. One more mirror broke before Little Chris emerged in the hallway at the opposite end of the corridor. He made his way down the corridor, swinging his baseball bat, shattering every mirror that lay to his left and right. The ones on the ceiling required him to hold the bat vertically
, and jump up. Glass rained on him, but he didn't seem to care.
I got to my feet, still holding Aurelia and gripping what was left of the camera. I walked toward the doorway. I called out for Little Chris, but he didn't answer. It was as if the doorway that led into the corridor had some invisible barrier between the two rooms. I continued to walk toward it, as Little Chris continued with his rampage. He acted like a viking in the midst of some great battle, swinging the bat as if it were a sword and the mirrors were his bitter enemies.
I passed through the invisible barrier and once again the white light filled my eyes, much like the camera's flash had when I used it against Arthur Denlax. A second later, I was on the other side of the door, standing before Little Chris, who had just finished shattering one of the few remaining mirrors.
He jumped, as my sudden appearance spooked him.
“Holy shit!” he yelled, preparing to swing the bat at me.
“It's me!” I shouted hastily.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he said, catching his breath. “You almost got knocked the fuck out.” His demeanor changed from relieved to frightful, when he noticed Aurelia was not moving in my arms. He looked at me, and noticed the somber tone on my face, the glistening tears on my face. “Is she...?”
I nodded. “You know what to do? You know how to finish it? Close the portal forever?” I asked.
Little Chris looked to his wooden buddy.
“I have a pretty good idea,” he said, gritting his teeth.
2
I ran down the steps, not paying attention to the broken glass that crunched beneath my feet. The living room was more or less the same. Broken mirrors were everywhere. I would have taken the time to admire Chris's handiwork, but I wanted out of the House of Mirrors as quickly as I could. This house had become a sickness, and the only cure was to be far, far away from it.
I busted through the front door and trotted down the steps. I realized that we had taken Chris's car, and I did not have the keys. A part of me actually believed there was still time to save her, if only I could get her to a hospital, as if they could perform some sort of magical spell on her, and bring her back to life. I realized, while standing in the middle of the dirt lot, that she was gone, and I would never know if we were truly meant for each other.
I dropped to my knees, and screamed out into the wilderness around me. In response, birds fluttered from their nests. Woodland creatures scurried about. Earthworms slithered beneath the earth. Bees continued on with their Spring pilgrimages. A mother raccoon fed her babies. There were tons of life in the forest that day, but Aurelia was not among them. I wish I could have saved her. I wish there was something I could have done to—
“I knew you could do it,” a familiar voice said, from the edge of the forest, toward the path that led to the highway. “I had so much faith in you.”
I looked up and saw Sheldon Daniels, my boss, editor of The Treebound Tribune, and someone I thought very little of from the beginning.
3
“You,” I muttered.
“Me,” he replied. “I must admit, never did I think my good friend Arthur would get this close to breaking out of his little prison. But, alas, he didn't. And I guess I have you to thank.”
“You're name isn't really Sheldon Daniels, is it?” I asked.
“Oh, I have many names, many faces. Sheldon Daniels is just simply one of them.”
“Is Quincy Black one of them too?”
“Aye. That one's my favorite,” he said, grinning. “I've been keeping an eye on that camera over the years—well, your years are different then my years—and never did I think Denlax would get so close to it. He's growing stronger. The longer he sits, rotting away in that dismal world, he actually becomes stronger. I didn't think it was possible.”
“Why don't you just kill him?”
Sheldon laughed. “It's very difficult to kill what Arthur has become.”
“An Eldurond,” I stated.
“Yes, well, you say that word like you know what it means. But I doubt you have any true idea.”
“Some sort of wizard. Very powerful.”
“Yes, something like it. Your kind calls it wizards or witches, but every universe, every world, has different titles for it. In any case, it shouldn't really matter to you any longer. The camera is yours, Richard Naughton. I assume you know what you must do with it.”
“Destroy it.”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” his voice thundered, as if he were God yelling from Heaven. “The camera isn't just a key that unlocks the door to where I sent Arthur Denlax so many years ago.” The smile returned to his face, stretching from ear to ear, splitting his face in half. “It is the very thing that is keeping him there. If you were to destroy it, more specifically, if you were to destroy the lens, Arthur Denlax would be free to reenter his home world.”
I thought about this for a moment. Twice the camera had been close to death, at least while it was under my protection. I thought about Marty Olberstad and the night he stomped it into pieces. It was miraculous that the lens had not cracked then. My mind drifted to when I was smashing it against Boone's face. Suddenly, it made sense why Denlax wanted me to continue with the beating. He was hoping the lens would break before Boone's face did.
“Oh, Christ,” I said.
“Yes. So you can see how imperative it is that this camera must never be found again. If Arthur is able to escape from his confinement then—let's just say it would be most unfortunate for the both of us.”
“So why don't you hide it? Hide it in another universe where he can never find it. Or so he can't use anyone from this world to find it. That's what he was doing with Boone, right? Lester too? He was using them, communicating with them somehow.”
He stepped forward, reaching for the camera. I handed it to him and he held it, only for a few seconds. The camera hissed; within seconds I realized it wasn't the camera hissing, but Black's skin. The flesh on his fingertips sizzled, began to melt away. Black placed the camera on the ground, but not before the picture-capturing device had done some serious damage to his hands. His skin looked like melted cheese, gooey and stringy. After wincing away the pain, Black quickly calmed himself.
“As I said, Arthur has become something that I could only fathom. If he were to be released...” Black became lost in his own thoughts. “Well, let's not think about that, shall we?”
I looked down at Aurelia's lifeless body one more time. I wanted to cry, but I stayed strong.
“Rather unfortunate casualty. Collateral damage, you could say,” Black said.
I looked at him contemptuously.
“You can bring her back.”
“Oh, can I?” He stared at me, narrowing his eyes. “What makes you so sure?”
“You can pass between worlds. You can keep people from doing the same. You mean to tell me you can't bring back the dead?” I asked. I wasn't sure if he could or not, but it was worth a shot. Black was a creature of magic, and Aurelia was in need of some.
“Sure,” he said. “But it's going to cost you. To give life takes a great amount of energy; energy I'm not usually inclined to waste, unless...”
“Unless?”
“Unless you were to give me something.”
“Like what?”
I knew where he was going before he got there.
“I'll give you ten years,” Black said. “Ten years with your little love muffin here. Then I come for you. And you—just like Arthur would have been—will become a soldier in a very big, very important army.”
4
Quincy Black held the visage of a trashy salesperson, a shit-eating grin molded into the lower half of his face. I looked from him, to Aurelia, and back to him again. Could I do it? Could I really give myself to this... monster? Be enslaved by him? All I needed to do was look at Arthur Denlax to determine the alternative. I could join him among the ranks of the defiant.
However, I did not want to become like him. I didn't want to join Black's army eith
er. All I wanted was Aurelia back.
As powerful as Black was, I knew one thing; whatever Arthur Denlax had become frightened him. It seemed as if maybe Denlax had surpassed Black's power, although limited to that one realm. Black would never openly admit this, but if he considered Denlax's possible escape unfortunate, then it spooked him.
So, I had a plan. Not a great one, but a plan nonetheless.
I stood up, collecting the camera into my hands once again. Some of the creature who called himself Quincy Black's skin remained fused to it. It hung like cheese on a sandwich if nuked in the microwave for too long. I did my best not to touch it. As I rose to my feet, I noticed an uneasy look had crossed Black's face.
“What are you doing?”
“Save her. Bring her back,” I commanded.
“You are in no position to tell me what to do,” Black snorted.
“Actually, I am,” I said. I held the camera high above my head, much like I had when I smashed it against Boone's face. “If you don't bring her back, I'll smash it to pieces. I'll break the lens, I swear to God.”
“HOW DARE YOU!” Black's voice boomed throughout the forest. The surrounding trees wavered at the sound of his voice. Something in his face changed. His face suddenly grew old, jagged and worn. The wrinkles in his face twisted. His eyes became red, dark like the blood which had stained Aurelia's clothes. Black had changed into the thing that hid beneath his human exoskeleton. “YOU THINK YOU CAN THREATEN ME? ME, TRAVELER OF WORLDS, EATER OF DREAMS, SERVANT OF THE GREAT VERSE! KING OF THE ELDURONDS! I AM MORE POWERFUL THAN ANYTHING YOU CAN IMAGINE! YOU, FEEBLE HUMAN, SHOULD BOW DOWN BEFORE ME, KISS MY FEET, THE FEET OF A GOD! GO AHEAD, SHOWER MY HUMAN APPENDAGES WITH KISSES! I COMMAND THEE!”
