The Golden Spiral (12 page)

“Dante! I’m here. I came back.”

The silence stretched out, thick and oppressive. I looked around for him even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to see him. He had to be here; he’d made me a promise.

Abby? Is that really you? I must be dreaming.

It felt so good to have his voice wash over me again, I almost didn’t notice how frail and hollow it sounded. “No, I’m the one who’s dreaming. I’m getting good at it, too.” I grinned. “I made it back on my first try.”

How long has it been?

“Not long. Only two days. I told you I’d be back.”

Two days? Impossible. It’s been longer. It has to be. I’ve been counting . . .
He sounded disoriented, distracted.

“Oh, Dante,” I murmured, my heart afire with sympathy. I reached out my hand through the rippling air around me, pushing my arm in up to my elbow, hoping we could connect like we had before.

Almost immediately, I felt Dante’s ghostly hand grab mine and squeeze tight. He lifted my hand to his face; I could feel the contours of his cheek and the hard edge of his jaw. Stubble scraped along my palm as he turned to press a kiss on the
inside of my wrist. An electric tingle shivered through my arm and around to the back of my neck.

You taste like light,
he said, his voice filled with awe and longing.

The electricity I felt shot from my neck down my spine. The air that had been shimmering silver flashed gold.

Will you stay?

“For as long as I can.”

Good.
He kissed my wrist again, adding another one to the curve of my palm as he slipped my hand from his face. He didn’t let me go, but held my hand between both of his.

“Tell me what’s been happening,” I said, feeling a little breathless as his thumbs gently stroked small circles on the back of my hand. “Has anything changed where you are?”

Only Tony. He’s . . . less. And sometimes he wanders away. I have to follow him; I don’t want to lose touch with him.
Dante paused.
At least he’s stopped screaming.

“Does he know what happened? Can you talk to him?”

No. He can’t talk anymore.
Dante’s voice sounded strained.

“Why not?”

Dante paused before saying simply,
Parts of him have been disappearing.

He didn’t say anything else; I was relieved. I didn’t want to have to hear the words that would make it true. I remembered that night so long ago when Zero Hour had played at the Dungeon. I could picture Tony’s bright, quick smile. It was impossible to think it was gone. Worse to think that the rest of him would follow into darkness. I felt sick to my stomach.

“What about you? Are you okay?”

I think so. It’s hard to tell. The darkness . . . I can’t get away from it. It makes it hard to think.

The pressure on my hand increased and I felt my fingers start to go numb. “I have good news,” I said, hoping to give Dante something else to focus on. “Leo’s back.”

I didn’t know he was gone.

I heard him muttering numbers under his breath, counting.

“A lot has happened since you left.” I told him briefly about the changes I’d started to see rippling down the river. “But I think I might have started to set things right—at least with Natalie and Jason. And if Leo can help me straighten things out with Emery, I think things will be okay.”

It sounds like you’ve been busy.

I paused. “I’m worried about Valerie, though.”

What happened to her?

There was no nice way to say it, so I blurted out the words. “She cracked mentally on the bank. Now she’s in a hospital. I’m worried that she won’t get better.”

I’m so sorry, Abby. I tried—

“It’s not your fault,” I said quickly. “It happened as soon as Zo took her to the bank. There was nothing either one of us could do at that point.”

I wish I could be there to help you now.

“I’m just trying to do my best. It’ll be good when we get you out of there. Then we can be one step ahead instead of running to catch up.”

Dante was silent; I would have thought he had gone except for the constant pressure on my hand. Coldness encased me all the way to my wrist. I didn’t want to lose touch with Dante, but I wondered how much longer I could last.

I’ve been looking around—if you can call it that. There’s nothing here, Abby. No door, no light, nothing. It’s like I’ve gone blind. I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but being here is worse than being on the bank. And as long as I’m here, I can’t do anything to help. I can’t stop Zo. I can’t even stop what’s happening to Tony. It’s horrible. Death would be a mercy.

“Don’t talk like that. We’ll find a way to get you home.”

What if what is happening to Tony starts happening to me?

“It won’t. I won’t let it.”

How can you change it?

“I don’t know, but I’m here, aren’t I? We’re together—at least in a small way.” I flexed my fingers in his grasp. The coldness flowed up my arm, almost to my elbow. My teeth started to chatter and I repressed a full-body shiver. “And together we can do anything, right? Even the impossible. Even this.”

When Dante finally spoke, his voice sounded stronger, more aware and alert.
Do you know how remarkable you are, Abby?

A blush warmed my cheeks. “I’m not that special. I’m just me.”

You’re more than you think you are. You’re brave and determined. You make it easy to believe in you. Whatever happens, you have risked much to bring light to my darkness, and your courage is a gift I will never be able to repay—no matter how long I live.
Dante moved my hand in his, quickly pressing it flat against his chest, then lifting it to his mouth. He breathed a kiss over my fingertips; his lips felt like fire on my iced skin. Lowering my hand, he placed his palm over mine.
My life is in your hands. I know you will keep it safe.

My memory flashed back to Leo, standing in the wasteland of the Dungeon, offering me the same gesture.

I felt a little dizzy and light-headed, the edges of the dream starting to fray. My heart sped up; I wasn’t ready to go yet. I still had more I wanted to say, more I wanted to hear.

You’re leaving, aren’t you?
Dante said, resigned and rueful.

“I don’t want to,” I said. “But I’m not sure I have much choice. I don’t know what the rules are for this.”

I do. Do what you have to do. Change what needs to be changed. Come back when you can,
he said.

And then I woke up, thrown back to awareness like a rock through a window.

I sat upright and opened my eyes all in one motion. I rubbed my hands over my arms, afraid I would see the black shadow of frostbite on my skin, but instead, there was the faintest tinge of gold on my fingertips, as though I’d touched something covered with paper-thin gold leaf, or caught a falling star.

Yes, our conversation had been brief, but we’d had one. I’d made it to the dream-side of the bank without dreaming. And Dante wasn’t lost to me yet.

No matter how you looked at it, I counted that as a victory.

I grabbed a notebook from my desk and wrote down everything I could remember about how I was able to reach Dante and what we had talked about. For good measure, I wrote down Valerie’s story of the Pirate King and the River Policeman. As I read over the accounts a second time, I noticed again the similarities, the places where reality and dream and story touched and overlapped.

The River Policeman in Valerie’s story had been blinded, cast into darkness. Those were the same words Dante had used about himself. I doubted it was a coincidence. It was clear that Valerie not only still had ties to Zo—he had come to visit her, a thought that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up—but she also had access to the world of the bank and river.

Do what you have to do.

I knew what I needed to do, though the thought filled me with dread.

I had to visit Valerie again.

Chapter

8

Dr. Blair was not happy to see me first thing Monday morning. She held out her hand silently for my phone; I had known better than to wear my watch this time.

“I was not aware that Dr. Hamilton had approved another visit for you.”

“He hasn’t,” I admitted. “But I really need to see Valerie right away. Please.”

“Valerie has been a . . . difficult guest since your last visit.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to exude an aura of peace, but obviously failing since Dr. Blair frowned and made a “humph” sound.

“It’s against policy to allow visitors without a note.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Dr. Blair turned my phone over and over in her hands. I noticed she had painted her fingernails a baby-pink hue, though the shade was almost the same color as her flesh and the effect was just this side of creepy.

“Do you think this is funny?” she asked abruptly, setting my phone down on her desk. “Did the two of you plan this during your last visit? This is a hospital. We do not welcome pranks here.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn’t a joke.”

“Valerie knew you were coming today. She told me this morning what time you would be arriving. She even drew a picture and
ordered
me to give it to you. She’ll be impossible if I
don’t
give it to you, so . . . here.” Dr. Blair’s lips twisted in a frown as she handed me a sheet of white paper.

A bright yellow sun filled one corner, the fat rays pointing out in ruler-straight lines. A brown scribble bisected the paper, and standing on the uneven horizon was a black stick figure with brown hair and a large, toothy grin. The figure wore a blue shirt and shorts. The word
Abby
hovered around the figure’s head with an arrow pointing at its body.

We both looked down at my dark blue shirt, and I brushed self-consciously at the unraveling hem of my shorts. “I haven’t seen her or spoken to her since Saturday. I swear.”

“Then how do you explain that?” Dr. Blair pointed to the picture in my hand. “And what does the note mean?”

An additional message was written in a small, cramped hand in the corner: “The bearer of this letter has acted under my orders and for the good of the State.” Valerie had signed her name, complete with her trademark heart over the “i.”

“I don’t know. It probably doesn’t mean anything,” I lied. I recognized the wording from
The Three Musketeers.
That had been us, once—me, Natalie, and Valerie. Not so much anymore.

I knew that trying to explain anything to Dr. Blair would take too long, time I didn’t have. “I really need to talk to my friend. Could I please see her? Just ten minutes. Please?”

After a long moment, Dr. Blair finally pushed my phone into her desk drawer and locked it with one of the small keys on her key ring. “You may have ten minutes with her.”

I folded the picture of me and slipped it into my purse before falling into step behind Dr. Blair. I suspected I might need longer than ten minutes with Valerie to get the answers to my many questions, but I knew Dr. Blair could easily have turned me away, denying me any time at all. I would take what I could get and be happy about it. I had only a few minutes, so I’d need to use them wisely. I might only have the chance to ask Valerie one question—which one should it be?

Instead of leading me up the stairs to Valerie’s room, Dr. Blair turned left and walked toward a small room tucked away at the far end of the hallway.

“Valerie is in a heightened state of anxiety at the moment, so may I remind you to stay calm. Do not aggravate her or upset her in any way. I would hate to have to revoke your visiting privileges.”

“I’ll be careful,” I said.

Dr. Blair weighed me with her gaze, then
humphed
again before opening the door for me.

I stepped inside and looked around in surprise. The small room was actually a brightly lit conservatory, filled with an array of startlingly green plants. The windows were still scored with protective diamond panels, but the sunlight pouring in was warm and golden. The sound of an unseen waterfall
gurgled nearby. A small bird chirped.

The door closed and locked behind me. I walked around a large potted plant. The leaves brushed against my arm and I jerked away at their cold touch. Hesitantly, I rubbed a leaf between my fingers. It felt waxy and slick. The whole plant was plastic; all the plants were plastic.

Following the sound of the water, I moved deeper into the room. I found Valerie sitting on the edge of a wide stone fountain. Instead of the traditional carvings of flowers or animals or people, this fountain was a basic gray pillar rising up from a curved basin. Dressed in her standard white bathrobe over a T-shirt and sweats, Valerie leaned over to trail her fingers in the basin. Her hand came up dry, and I realized there wasn’t any water in the fountain, just the sound of running water.

Was anything in this place real?