“When you need to come back in, knock on the wall three times. Got it?” Jim asked between bloody coughs.
I nodded.
Then I pushed through the open door.
“Good luck,” I heard him call from inside.
I rounded my hands into fists and nodded once more.
I’d need it. No – who was I kidding? I’d need more than good luck – I’d need a miracle.
Chapter 9
The door remained open for several seconds. Long enough that I could turn and shoot Jim one last look.
Then there was a wave of crackling energy, and the door turned back into a wall.
Shit.
Now this was real.
I turned on my foot to survey the corridor. It was long and open, with windows on both sides. Which was impossible, unless this fancy mansion was little more than a corridor, that was.
I kept my eyes open as wide as they could manage as I finally shifted forward.
There was tasteful, expensive art on the walls and arrayed on plinths and occasional tables. They weren’t from a specific era, but from all throughout history. There were tribal masks carved from stone that looked as though they were over a millennium old. There were oil paintings from several hundred years ago interspersed with chunks of what looked like cave wall covered in rock paintings.
… Just how old was the Lonely King?
If the art wasn’t enough, there was a definite sense of power in the corridor. It wasn’t like it was lurking behind the pot plants or something. It was everywhere. Walking down this corridor very much felt like taking a trip into antiquity.
Though it was an intriguing feeling and got me questioning whether I had a chance in hell against the Lonely King, it couldn’t distract me. Nothing could distract me anymore.
Tears started to wash down my cheeks as I finally surrendered to the hollow feeling that had been welling in the center of my chest.
Max….
Max was gone.
Even as I thought that, something in me pushed back. No, it said, we’d know if Max had died.
I couldn’t stop the tears as they continued to wash down my face, cutting cold paths down my cheeks and dribbling along my jaw.
If Jim’s life didn’t depend on me, I would have stopped, fallen to my knees, and balled.
But I pushed on. I pushed on, because that voice kept repeating that Max couldn’t be dead. That I would know if he’d died, because I would have died with him. Which was a ridiculously romantic thought. It wasn’t as if I was Juliet and he was my Romeo. My existence didn’t depend on the rude Scottish Fairy. It wasn’t as if our souls were tied together, and severing one would cut the other too.
I knew that, and yet I couldn’t go against the feeling swelling within my chest.
I continued down the corridor until I found several branching doors and staircases. There could be no doubt whatsoever that this building was magical. It felt like I was stuck in a constantly moving, dynamic map with corridors and doors and staircases growing around me like new roots of a tree. Perhaps that was the Lonely King’s intention, and it was further insurance should I escape that room.
I twisted my head to the side as I reached another branching staircase. As I locked a hand on the carved wooden banister and craned my neck, I tried to follow where it led. But that was the problem, it appeared to lead to multiple places. One second after another, the staircase morphed, at first leading to a level above then in the blink of an eye leading someplace else. There was now such a sinking feeling in my stomach it felt as if I’d swallowed an anvil.
So much for finding some way to break Jim out of his cage – I doubted I’d ever make my way back to the room at this stage.
With nothing else to try, I swallowed my courage and pushed down the staircase. As soon as my shoe struck the first step, it changed direction, suddenly leading to the left and up.
I tried to jerk back, tried to jump to the level I’d just left – but I wasn’t quick enough.
The staircase grew away from me.
I stifled a scream as terror blasted through me.
As the staircase grew, it felt like I was riding a bucking bull. I jerked to the left, wrapped a stiff arm around the banister, and held on for dear life.
The sound of growing steps and cracking wood split around me as if I were inside a great tree trunk bowing to a violent wind.
With one last ear-splitting creak, the stairs reached their destination. I lurched forward as if I’d been on a sinking ship, and threw myself onto the relative safety of the level above.
I lay there for several seconds, giving the floor a chance to suddenly buck like a wild wave. When it didn’t, I finally pushed up.
I jerked my head to the side and stared at the staircase behind me. It almost looked normal.
“Christ,” I spat to myself as I pushed to my feet.
It was getting easier – to ignore the pain and walk, at least. I still couldn’t call on my magic, though. A few times I’d experimentally tried to follow those fireflies, but I couldn’t find them. They’d been haunting me for the past several months, always flitting at the edge of my consciousness. But now they were gone.
… Which was a blessing, right? Sure, without them I didn’t have an easy way to get out of this situation. But nor would they control my every movement and trap me in the future.
Warily, I continued along the new corridor. As I continued along, I expected
