He eyed me as voices echoed from outside. Orange slanting rays of light shone from the west, creating long streaks over the floor, illuminating the dust particles floating through the air.
“Then you must go back,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because you still have unresolved issues, and if you ever wish to be free of your pain, then you must confront them. And you must confront him.”
I almost laughed. “That won’t happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because I never want to see him again.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it is.” My blood was starting to boil once again, and I could tell it was only a matter of time before I snapped.
“You know what I say is true. Your clients don’t heal until they’ve confronted their own pasts. Why would you be any different?”
“Because I can’t go back. Trust me on this one.”
He leaned forward. “Yes, you can. Confront your past.”
“No.”
“You refuse to go back?”
I fisted my hands. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? You have no idea how many times I’ve woken in the middle of the night, plagued by nightmares, seeing visions of goblins being cut open and experimented on. Worse, I was alone, with not a soul in the world to comfort me. A few times, I decided to go back. And then… I tried, but when I put my hand on the glass, the portal wouldn’t open.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. There’s got to be something wrong with my mirror. It must’ve been damaged when I was in Fairy World.”
“Damaged?”
“Yes.” I crossed my arms, the anger replaced with a raw emptiness that had been my constant companion lately.
“Is it possible that the practitioner is at fault, and not the mirror?”
“Doubtful.” I exhaled. “But it is a possibility.”
“Then we’re stuck at an impasse. You must return to Fairy World to be healed, yet you can’t cross because you’re damaged, and the only way to repair said damage is to return where you can’t go.”
I sniffed. “Yes. Sounds about right—typical really—for my life.”
“Olive,” he said quietly. “Don’t give up yet. With time, wounds can be healed, and one day you’ll wake up and find that you no longer remember him. You may even find that you’re happy.”
I could have lost it right there—broken down and started bawling—because I knew he was wrong. Maybe happiness existed somewhere in the great beyond. Maybe it existed for people who weren’t me. But since I’d returned from Faythander, loneliness had been plaguing me until I no longer felt like I was myself anymore.
“Dr. Hill,” I answered, “I’m fairly certain that day will never come. But, I truly do hope you are right.”
Chapter 2
Drumbeats announced the beginning of the parade. Doc Hill followed me out of my shop, and I locked it up, making sure to push the table inside and pull the front gate down, then latch it tight.
We stood alongside the path with the other festivalgoers to await the procession. Medieval-style, two-story shops lined either side of the path, and every inch in front of them was crowded with bodies, which made it hard to find anywhere to watch the parade. We navigated through the crowd until we found an open area in front of the Bratwürst Eatery and Pub.
I glanced back at the pub. As one of the only places you could go inside and take a seat, it was usually overcrowded. To see it empty made me wonder what had happened, but I didn’t argue as Doc Hill and I stood at the pub’s entrance to watch the parade.
The sound of lutes and drums mingled with the conversations surrounding us as the procession came into view.
First came the Naiads and Dryads who played the lutes and drums. Some of them wore antlers and sported hairy legs that ended in cloven hooves—they’d clearly spared no expense with their costumes. Next, a group of giants strode past, followed by horse-drawn carriages filled with dignitaries. A group of fairies passed, wearing wings and colorful clothes.
I cringed when the performers dressed as Gypsies walked by. The young girls were trained pickpockets, and while they carefully handed flowers to revelers, they used the distraction to steal whatever they could. Madame Glitter, the Gypsy “mother,” had come into my shop last week, and she passed me now. She gave me a slight smile, and while she was an attractive woman with dark hair and a thin frame, she made my skin crawl. I still wasn’t sure why she made me so uncomfortable. After the Gypsies moved on, the shop owners came next.
My mind wasn’t on the festivities. I couldn’t stop thinking of Dr. Hill’s words. Would I ever be happy again? I couldn’t go back to Faythander. I didn’t belong there. It wasn’t my world. My place was here among humans. Besides, something screwy was going on with my mirror. I hadn’t investigated it much, mainly because I had no real reason to fix it, but Doc Hill seemed convinced that I had to go back.
I couldn’t.
There had to be another way.
Shouts came from the parade route. The barbarians marched behind the shop owners. With their bone-handled weapons, fur-rimmed cloaks, and bearded faces, they reminded me too much of the man I had been trying hard to forget.
I’d been avoiding this crowd since I got here and had been doing a pretty good job of it. But now, I couldn’t seem to look away. The fellow with the red beard and protruding belly near the front looked so familiar. I could have sworn it was Brodnik—a Wult warrior I’d traveled with on my last trip through Faythander. A young guy who also wore a full beard walked next to the redhead. Rolf’s boyish face had been almost hairless when I’d seen him last. He hadn’t been able to grow a beard to save his life, so the young blond man couldn’t possibly have been him, could it?
No. It wasn’t possible. Wults didn’t cross worlds often, and they would be too busy remapping
