She would never have a dad like that.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Holly. This is going to hurt him badly,” Samantha said.
“Then don’t tell him,” Holly snapped. “Just get him here. November fourth, seven p.m.” She hung up, then collapsed across her bed and buried her face in the purple comforter. She felt so ugly inside.
…
Opening night.
Holly paced backstage, her high button shoes clacking against the floorboards. The play started in less than fifteen minutes, and she still didn’t know if her dad would be there or not. The sight of Ryan, handsome in his gray-striped suit, was a welcome distraction. He smiled at her. “You look nice.”
“Thanks.” Holly self-consciously touched the pale rose fabric of Gwendolen’s tea gown. She rather liked its puffed sleeves and flounces, but the elbow-length gloves made her fingers feel thick and clumsy. “I just hope I don’t look like a clown. Paige really glopped on the rouge.”
She’d avoided looking at her reflection. Better to trust Paige’s dubious judgment than risk having another one of her little blackouts. Shudder.
“You mean Gwendolen doesn’t moonlight as a street performer?” Ryan mimed shock.
Holly thumped his shoulder.
“You look fine. How are you doing otherwise?” Concern shone in his midnight-blue eyes.
My stomach feels like I swallowed a bowling ball, and my heart’s beating way too fast. “A little freaked out,” she admitted.
He took her hands. “Relax. You remember what to do?”
“Look at you and pretend the audience isn’t there,” Holly recited. Just standing next to him lent her a measure of calm.
“My mom’s here,” Ryan said abruptly.
“Oh? That’s great.” At least Holly hoped so.
“She’s not good with crowds,” Ryan said. “She’s going to stand along the wall near the door in case she has to slip out during the performance.”
“It’s good that she came.”
Ryan let out his breath. “Yeah. She even took her medicine today.”
“That’s great.”
Before Holly could utter any more banalities, Eleanor bustled up in a deep purple gown. Her hat looked as if it had mugged an ostrich. “Holly, your mom wants you.”
Holly picked up the bottom ruffle of her skirt so she didn’t trip and headed for the side door. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her dad had probably canceled and now she would have to—
No. She didn’t have to do anything. With a sudden sense of being lighter, Holly decided she wouldn’t call the tabloids. She opened the door.
“Guess who’s here?” Her mom had insisted on dressing up for the occasion in a silver top and flowing black pants. The man she revealed when she stepped back looked decidedly scruffier with a few days’ worth of black whiskers, and a black suit jacket over a white T-shirt and ripped jeans.
“Hey, Hollywood.” Her dad removed his sunglasses and held out his arms, smiling. “Surprise.”
Samantha hadn’t told him. Holly’s eyes pricked with tears as she hugged her father, hard. “I’m so glad you came,” she said in a choked voice. She’d been so scared he would hate her.
“My schedule cleared unexpectedly.” Her dad’s eyes twinkled. “Or rather, Samantha cleared it for me. I suspect collusion.”
Holly flushed, but her dad was just teasing.
She vowed to never, ever blackmail anyone again. Her stomach couldn’t stand it.
“You look beautiful.” Her mom squeezed her arm.
Holly rolled her eyes but felt pleased. “You’re just saying that because my pink streak’s gone.” Her hair was actually approaching its natural—i.e., boring—dark brown color.
“I’m saying it because it’s true,” her mom retorted, her jet earrings swinging.
Just then Dana hurried up in a pale green dress. “Holly, it’s five minutes until curtain. Ms. Prempeh…” She put her hand to her mouth in an overacted double take. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to your parents.”
With an inward sigh, Holly gave her the introduction she was angling for. “Dana, this is my mom and my dad, Joseph Beecher. Mom, Dad, this is Dana. She’s playing Cecily.”
“Oh my God!” Dana began to gush about how much she loved all her dad’s films. Suck-up.
Her dad’s expression glazed over.
After a few moments, Holly’s mom checked her silver watch. “The auditorium’s filling up. We should find our seats.”
“Of course,” her dad said gratefully. He touched Holly’s shoulder. “Break a leg, kid. Nice to meet you, Dana.”
Dana didn’t take the hint, following them.
Holly would’ve been annoyed, but the sight of the milling crowd and the knowledge that soon every pair of eyes would be staring at her made her stomach pitch. She fled backstage.
Ms. Prempeh herded her over to stand beside Eleanor and the boy playing Algernon’s butler in the wings. Ryan was already onstage, waiting for the curtain to go up.
“How are you doing?” Eleanor whispered.
“I’m petrified.”
“Me, too. But I’m also jazzed, you know?”
Holly smiled weakly. She’d never felt less jazzed in her life.
And then the lights went up. Far too soon after that, Holly followed Aunt Augusta and the butler out onto the stage. She concentrated on not tripping. Feeling exposed under the hot lights, she focused on Ryan’s face and tried to ignore the murmurs from the shadowy crowd below. She managed to say both her lines, but her voice sounded faint. Her ears rang, and she felt dizzy. Then Ryan, thank God, took her elbow and led her to the sofa.
“Are you okay?” he breathed. “You’re as white as a sheet.”
“I think I’m going to faint.” Her vision narrowed to a tunnel, and the corset restricted her lungs.
Ryan tipped up her chin, his expression grim. “Relax. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Under the velvet stroke of his siren voice, the tension flowed out of her. Her shoulders dropped. Why had she been so worried? The audience wanted to have a good time. Even when someone fumbled, they didn’t care.
Ryan’s voice cast its usual spell, and the crowd laughed at all the right spots during the proposal scene, feeding the energy back to her and Ryan.
The rest of Act One passed in a blur, and the curtain came down to hearty applause.
Incredibly, Holly had enjoyed herself.
Ryan put his hands on her shoulders and studied her face. He opened his mouth, then shut it again and smiled teasingly. “You’re doing great.”
“So are you. My dad’s going to be wowed.” Holly smiled, feeling as smug as if the whole thing had been her idea.
To her surprise, Ryan shook his head. “The more I think about it, the dumber my plan seems. Your dad isn’t going to be impressed by some high school kid.”
“Just wait and see.” Everything was going to be fine. Her dad would endorse Ryan, and Ryan would do a little modeling and bank enough money that they could attend college together.
“I hope you’re right.” He gave her a tight, nervous smile. “Are you thirsty? I need some water.”
“No, thanks.”
He left. She was still dreamily contemplating the university scenario when her gaze intersected with the large dressing table mirror.
(look into the mirror)
She ought to ignore the inner voice, but curiosity stirred. After all, nothing bad could happen tonight. Everything was going to be fine…
She looked into the mirror and immediately become snared by her reflection’s eyes. Her eyes, her face, but subtly different. Fascinated, Holly stepped closer. Were her reflection’s cheekbones sharper, her chin more pointed?
(look deep)
Holly felt herself falling. The sensation jolted her out of her false sense of serenity. Panic surged through her veins and shredded Ryan’s velvet suggestion. Everything was not going to be fine.
Darkness shrouded h
er vision, but this time she fought for consciousness, for possession of her own body.
Get out! Holly shouted inside her mind.
She almost dislodged the intruder. For a second, she saw out of her own eyes, and then someone thought, (I must save Gideon) and shoved Holly into darkness, trapping her outside her own body.
…
Leah used all her will to push her Water self aside. She refused to feel guilty. “I must save Gideon.”
Turning away from the mirror, Leah found herself in a dim space with other young people. Black velvet curtains walled off one side of the strange room. Nimue wasn’t there, so Leah opened a side door. Her eyes widened. The raised platform she stood on was a room inside a larger room—larger even than the Great Hall. In the dimness she made out rows of people sitting in chairs. How could she possibly find anyone in such a crowd?
Leah paged through Holly’s memories, relaxing when she relived Ryan saying his mother would stand by the back door. Yes, there she was.
Focusing on Nimue, Leah made her way down the stairs and across the room. The crowd laughed once, startling her, but their attention remained on the play.
As she got closer, Leah frowned. Nimue might wear Qeturah’s face, but they looked alarmingly different. Qeturah was always thinking, and it showed in her eyes. This woman seemed lost.
Leah had braced herself to get Nimue to a mirror by fair means or foul, but now she chose a simpler method.
“Come with me. Your son needs you.” It was almost true. Gideon was her son’s otherself, and he needed her to lift the curse.
“But he’s onstage.” Nimue sounded uncertain.
“Come here.” Leah led Nimue back to the platform and down a short hallway to a restroom, where Holly’s memories said there would be a mirror.
“I’m not going in there.” Nimue balked.
“I have to talk to you in private. It’s important,” Leah coaxed. She pushed open the strange swinging door and tugged Nimue inside. With relief, Leah spotted a row of four mirrors with basins in front.
“What’s wrong with Ryan?” Nimue looked pale and frightened. When her gaze fell on the mirrors, she stopped dead. “No. No, I won’t look!” She covered her eyes, but Leah forced her hands away.
“For Gideon’s sake,” Leah said, her throat tight. She felt like a bully. “You have to look.” She averted her own eyes, afraid she would affect Qeturah’s attempt to Call her otherself.
Suddenly Nimue stopped fighting, snared. Good. Qeturah must have succeeded in slipping into her mind.
Nimue wet her finger in her mouth and reached toward the mirror.
Leah gasped. Instead of showing Qeturah’s image, the surface of the mirror seethed, as if full of black smoke. Nimue whimpered.
Leah hesitated. What should she do?
Nimue touched the mirror. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
Leah stared as a bloody hand pushed its way out of the smoke. In a flash of red light, Qeturah stepped through the mirror. Passing from Fire to Water in flesh.
A high-pitched squeal assaulted Leah’s ears.
Qeturah raised her hand, and her otherself collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
“What are you doing?” Leah gasped. “You told me it wasn’t possible to—”
“It’s possible, just very dangerous,” Qeturah said briskly. “You can hear that the two worlds are out of harmony.”
The high-pitched squeal had eased, but Leah knew instinctively what Qeturah meant, a dissonance more sensed than heard.
“Your presence makes it even more so.” Qeturah flicked her hand. “Find another mirror and return to your body. I won’t be more than a few hours.”
Qeturah was the duchess, and she’d given a clear order, but Leah hesitated. She felt off balance, as if Qeturah had tricked her somehow. “And then will Gideon’s curse be broken?” She needed the reassurance.
“Yes,” Qeturah said. “In time. You’ve saved him, Leah.” She kissed Leah’s forehead. “You’ve done well. Now go!”
Chapter Sixteen
Murky Gray
Where was she? Holly strained to see, but a murky gray haze obscured everything.
Off in the fog, she heard hollow, echoing footsteps.
As she followed the sounds, she realized her feet weren’t touching the floor. Did she even have feet? She hung in limbo—
Her mind started to white out.
No. Holly wrestled down the panic clawing inside her. This must be what had happened the other times her body was taken over. Her mind had shut down, unable to cope, until the intruder left.
This time she would fight, and that meant staying in this ghostly limbo.
At least she could still hear and see a little. Did the gray fog seem lighter off to her left? Holly walked/floated in that direction. After a moment, the light increased. Disturbingly, red tinted the haze, like blood spilled into water.
In the distance, a door rattled. She paused but couldn’t judge the direction, so she resumed journeying toward the light.
She reached a wall like hardened white smoke. She could see red-tinted daylight on the other side, and her body became more distinct. Pressing her phantom hands against the boundary, she felt resistance but not a solid barrier. When she kept pushing, her hands went cold to the wrist, as if, instead of breaking through, she’d slipped between its molecules.
Holly pressed her face to the boundary, straining to see. There. That dark shape. That was her real body.
Holly pushed in one leg, then took a deep breath and did the same with her head. As she inhaled, she realized her ghost body hadn’t been breathing all this time—which freaked her out. Claustrophobia struck as her head became fully encased in the cold gel.
Just…a little…farther.
Her body came into focus, kneeling on the floor. Holly recognized her own face, but a sense of wrongness jarred her. Her dress wasn’t right…her hair hung to midback, too long…her cheeks, too thin.
Similarly, the floor was yellow stone, the chamber beyond full of mirrors, and the sky peeking through the window was red.
OMG. She was looking into another world, one that lay on the other side of the mirror. That wasn’t her body, but her mirror twin, an other self.
Panicked, Holly reversed directions. She flailed and struggled in the cold gel like a fly trapped in amber, horror mounting.
Desperate, she threw her whole weight backward and popped free. She bent over, gasping in unneeded breaths.
Okay. Okay. That had been a dead end. Forget about the other world; she needed to find her own world. But how could she locate it in this awful murk?
Holly stood absolutely still and listened. After a moment, she heard the murmur of voices. She turned left.
The murk closed in, and with every step, her ghost body lost cohesion.
She heard the voice again: “Come here.”
Holly zeroed in on the voice but hesitated, unsure what to do next.
“I’m not going in there.”
Crap, that was Nimue’s voice, protesting.
“I have to talk to you in private. It’s important,” Holly’s otherself said.
That’s not me—don’t listen to her.
But Holly could hear two sets of footsteps now. Suddenly a window opened up in the murk. Holly could see again but not from her own eyes. After a second of disorientation, she realized she was looking out of one of the mirrors over the row of sinks in the girls’ bathroom. She could see both Nimue and her own body.
“What’s wrong with Ryan?” Nimue asked, frightened. Her eyes darted left and right. Her yellow blouse hung untucked.
Nimue knew mirrors were dangerous. She might listen. “Over here!” Holly called. “Help!” But the words emerged as a whisper because she had no throat.
And then it was too late.
Nimue stared at the mirror next to Holly’s. “No. No, I won’t look!” She covered her eyes with her hands, but Holly’s otherself pulled them away.
“For G
ideon’s sake,” her otherself said. “You have to look.”
Nimue stopped fighting. She licked her finger then reached out toward the mirror, whimpering.
A flash of red light, and then a hand pushed through the glass, slipping between molecules as Holly had done. A woman stepped into the sink. Holly could only see the back of her head, her dark hair, and an old-fashioned black dress as she climbed down. She looked like a fairy-tale witch.
A strange sound filled the air, a dissonance, like two tuning forks on clashing frequencies.
The witch raised her hand, and Nimue collapsed, unconscious. Her head thudded on the blue tile.
“What are you doing?” Holly’s otherself asked. “You told me it wasn’t possible to—”
“It is possible, just very dangerous. You can hear that the two worlds are out of harmony,” the witch said briskly, still with her back to Holly. “Your presence makes it even more so.” She flicked her hand. “Find another mirror and return to your body. I won’t be more than a few hours.”
“And then will Gideon’s curse be broken?” Holly’s otherself asked timidly.
The witch hesitated. “Yes. In time. You’ve saved him, Leah.” She kissed her forehead. “You’ve done well. Now go!”
Leah bobbed a curtsy then left. As the door to the bathroom swung shut behind her, the light dwindled.
The last thing Holly saw before the murk closed in was the witch pulling a dagger out of her bodice.
Desperate to help Nimue, Holly chased the sound of footsteps through the fog.
She heard Eleanor’s voice: “Holly! Where have you been? You’re due back onstage!”
“I need to find a mirror—” Holly’s otherself started.
Finally!
“Your hair’s fine,” Eleanor said impatiently. More footsteps, in a stair-like rhythm.
“But—”
“I don’t care if you have stage fright, you’re going onstage now,” Eleanor said in a surprisingly fierce tone.
Through Fire & Sea Page 17
