by Aimee Carter
“Can you raise the dead, too?” I muttered, and Sofia clucked her tongue.
“Can you?”
I clenched my fists. “I need to see him.”
“I know, dear. That’s where we’re headed.”
I glanced at her, uncertain if she was being patronizing or evasive or both. She ignored my look and led me down the oval drive until we reached the large French double doors, which opened without any prompting from Sofia. Instead of following her inside, I stopped and stared.
The outside was nothing compared to the magnificent entrance hall. It was simple and tasteful, not at all gaudy, but it was far from ordinary.
The floor was mostly white marble, and I could see a hint of plush carpet on the other end of the hall. The walls and ceiling were made of mirrors, and they made the massive hall look larger than it already was.
But it was the floor in the center of the room that caught my attention. There was a perfect circle made of crystal, and it was by far the most incredible thing about the hall. It shimmered, colors seeming to swim together, blending and dividing as I stared. My mouth hung open, but I didn’t care—everything about it was surreal, and I could hardly believe that I was still standing in Michigan.
“Kate?”
I tore myself away and finally paid attention to Sofia. She stood a few feet ahead of me and gave me a hesitant smile.
“Sorry,” I said. I walked toward her, stepping around the crystal circle as if it were really water. For all I knew, it was. “It’s just—”
“Beautiful,” she said cheerfully, taking my arm once more and steering me past a grand spiraling staircase that led up to a part of the manor I couldn’t see. I didn’t dare try to look, not wanting to waste another minute.
“Yeah.” It was the best I could come up with, but I was otherwise speechless. Whatever I’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this.
She led me through a series of rooms, each uniquely decorated and exquisite. One room was red and gold; another was sky-blue, with murals painted on the walls. There were sitting rooms, game rooms, studies and even two libraries. It seemed impossible that these were all in the same house—and apparently only belonged to one boy who wasn’t much older than me, unless his parents lived here, too—but it never seemed to end.
Finally we turned down another hall and entered a room that had dark green walls and gold trim. The furniture seemed more worn and comfortable here than in the other rooms, and Sofia directed me toward a black leather couch.
“Sit, dear, and I’ll have someone bring you refreshments. Henry should be with you shortly.”
I sat, not wanting her to leave me alone, but I could do this. I had to. Ava’s life was at stake, and this was the only chance I’d have to make this argument. If Henry wanted to keep me here, then fine. As long as he brought Ava back, I would do anything he wanted me to do, even if it meant spending the rest of my life behind the hedges. I pushed away what James had said in the car about Ava not being my mother. That wasn’t why I was here.
But even as I thought it, I knew I was lying to myself. Wasn’t the mere possibility of Henry being able to save my mother—or somehow save me from the pain of losing her—exactly why I was here? I would do everything I could to save Ava, but she’d been dead for hours, and the entire town knew. Henry would undoubtedly want a steeper price for bringing her back a second time, and no matter what brave face I put on, the thought of staying behind these hedges for the rest of my life terrified me. I’d meant what I’d said about doing everything I could to try to bring her back, but even if that was impossible like James had said, my mother wasn’t dead yet. There was still a chance Henry could do something to save her.
I don’t know how long I sat there in silence, staring blankly at a bookcase full of leather-bound books. I went over my speech in my head, making sure everything I wanted to say was there. He had to listen to me, didn’t he? Even if he didn’t want to do it, if I talked long enough, he had to at least hear me. I had to try.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Henry standing in the doorway, holding a tray laden with food. My fingers dug into the sofa, and all of the words I’d practiced flew out of my head.
“Kate,” he said in a low, pleasant voice. Stepping inside, he set the tray on the coffee table in front of me and sat on the sofa across from me.
“H-Henry,” I said, hating myself for stuttering. “We need to talk.”
He inclined his head, as if silently giving me permission to speak. I opened and shut my mouth, not knowing what to say. While he waited, he poured us both a cup of tea. I’d never had tea in a china cup before.
“I’m sorry,” I said. My throat was dry. “For not listening to you yesterday, I mean. I wasn’t thinking, and I didn’t think you were serious. My mom’s really sick, and I just—please. I’m here. I’ll stay. I’ll do whatever you want. Just bring Ava back.”
He sipped his tea and motioned for me to take mine. I did so with shaking hands.
“She’s seventeen,” I said, my voice growing more desperate by the word. “She shouldn’t have to miss out on her whole life just because of my stupid mistake.”
“It wasn’t your mistake.” He set his cup down and focused on me. His eyes were still the same bizarre shade of moonlight, and I squirmed under the intensity of his stare. “Your friend made her choice when she decided to jump into the river and abandon you. I do not hold you accountable for your friend’s death. You shouldn’t either.”
“You don’t understand. I didn’t know that you were serious. I didn’t get it. I didn’t know she’d really die—I thought you were kidding, or…I don’t know. Not kidding, but something. I didn’t know you could do that, and now that I do—please. She doesn’t deserve to die for making a few mistakes.”
“And you do not deserve to give up half of the rest of your life for her.”
I sighed, so frustrated that I was close to tears. What did he want from me? “You’re right, I don’t want to stay here. This place terrifies me. You terrify me. I don’t know what you are or what this place is, and the last thing I want to do is spend the rest of my life here. Maybe Ava wasn’t the greatest to me at first, but she’s my friend now. She didn’t deserve to die, and her death—it’s my fault. It should have been me, not her, and I can’t live with that. I can’t look at myself in the mirror every day knowing it’s my fault that her family has to go through the pain of losing her just like—” I stopped. Just like I was going through the pain of losing my mother. “I can’t. So if it means Ava comes back, then I’ll stay here for as long as you want, I promise. Please.”
It wasn’t exactly the speech I’d planned, but it was close enough. By the time I was through, there were tears in my eyes, and I gripped the teacup so tightly that it was a minor miracle it didn’t break.
In front of me Henry was silent, staring into his own cup of tea. I didn’t have the faintest idea what he was thinking, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. All that mattered was that he agreed.
“You would willingly give up six months a year for the rest of your life in order to save your friend, even after what she did to you?” There was a note of incredulity in his tone.
“What she did doesn’t deserve a death sentence,” I said. “There are a lot of people out there who loved her, and they shouldn’t have to hurt like that because of me.” And maybe knowing I’d saved her would help me hurt a little less, too.
He drummed his fingers against the armrest of the sofa, his eyes on me once again. “Kate, I do not invite just anyone into my home. Do you understand why I offered this to you?”
Because he was crazy? I shook my head.
“Because even though she had abandoned you, instead of feeling spiteful or allowing her to die, you did everything within your power—including face one of your greatest fears—to save her.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. “Wouldn’t anyone?”
“No.” His smile was weary. “Very few would even consider it. You are ra
re, and you intrigue me. When you declined my offer yesterday, I thought perhaps I was wrong, but by coming here today, you have only proved yourself even more worthy and capable than I could have imagined.”
I blinked, alarmed. “Worthy and capable of what?”
He ignored my question. “I will make my offer only once more. In return, I cannot give you your friend’s life back. She is gone, and I am afraid that if I returned her to her body now, she would be something unnatural, and she would never find happiness. But I promise you that as she is now, she is content.”
My chest felt hollow. “So it’s all for nothing then?”
“No.” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I cannot undo what has already been done, but I can prevent.”
“Prevent what?”
He stared at me, and with a rush of hope, I understood. I thought I would be the one to bring it up, but he’d done it for me.
He could stop my mother from dying.
“You—you can really do that?”
He hesitated. “Yes, I can. I cannot heal your mother, but I can keep her alive until you are ready to say goodbye. I can give you the chance to spend more time with her, and when you are ready, I will make sure it is peaceful.”
His words settled over me, enveloping me in a strange warmth. “How?” I whispered.
He shook his head. “Don’t worry yourself about that. If you agree, you have my word that I will uphold my end of our deal.”
I’d always thought I’d get to say goodbye to my mother. None of the scenarios I’d played out in my head involved her falling into a coma and slipping away without me getting to tell her I loved her one last time, and now…
“Okay,” I said softly. “You—you keep her alive. She has a really aggressive kind of cancer, so it might—it might be difficult.” Suddenly it was hard to see with the way my eyes were swimming in tears. “But she won’t be in any pain, right? I just—I want to be able to say goodbye.”
“She won’t be in any pain, I will make sure of it.” He smiled sadly. “Is there anything else you would like? You are giving up much more than I am, and I want you to be certain.”
I swallowed. “You can’t keep her alive? You can’t—you can’t heal her?”
“I am sorry,” he said. “But goodbyes aren’t forever. The love you have for your mother isn’t the sort that death can breach.”
I ducked my head and stared into my tea, not wanting him to see me fall apart. “I don’t know who I am without her.”
“Then you will have a chance to find out before she goes.” Henry set down his cup. “And when you say your goodbyes, she will have peace of mind knowing you will be all right.”
I nodded, my throat too tight for me to speak. For her then, too. She wanted me to be all right, and that wasn’t something I could promise her yet. But the chance to have one more conversation, to tell her I loved her one last time, and the glimmer of hope that I would be able to look her in the eye and promise her I would be okay so she could let go without worry or guilt—it was worth it.
“Then it is done,” said Henry gently. “You will be my guest for the winter. Sofia will escort you to your room, and nothing will be asked of you until tomorrow.”
Again I nodded. This was it then—I was trapped. This would be my home for the next six months. Suddenly the room seemed much smaller than it had before. “Henry?” I said with a squeak.
“Yes?”
“Did Sofia know this was going to happen?”
Henry eyed me for several seconds, as if trying to decide whether or not I would believe him. “We’ve been watching you, yes.”
I didn’t dare ask who we were. “What is this place?”
He looked amused. “Have you not figured it out already?”
I felt my cheeks color. At least there was some blood left in my head, which meant I had a chance at standing without passing out. “I’ve been a little busy thinking about other stuff.”
Getting to his feet, Henry offered me his hand. I didn’t take it, but it didn’t seem to bother him. “It goes by many names. Elysium, Annwn, Paradise—some even call it the Garden of Eden.”
He smiled as if he’d told a clever little joke. I didn’t get it, and my confusion must have shown, because he continued without me asking.
“This is the gate between the living and the dead,” he said. “You are still living. The others on the grounds died a very long time ago.”
A chill ran through me. “And you?”
“Me?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I rule the dead. I am not one of them.”
CHAPTER 7
THE IMPOSSIBLE
My rooms were surprisingly comfortable. Unlike the rest of the house, they didn’t seem to be too preoccupied with making sure everyone walking through them knew they were part of a very rich and powerful household. Instead my suite was relatively modest, the only real luxury being the bed, which was huge and canopied and exactly the sort I’d always dreamed of having. Part of me wondered if Henry had known that, too.
Everyone seemed to know I was there, as if I were someone famous. I heard whispers and giggles every now and then from the other side of my door, and whenever I looked out the huge bay window, I could see some of the grounds workers staring up at me, like they knew I was watching them. I didn’t like being a topic of gossip, but there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it except close the curtains and bury my head in a pile of pillows.
The day passed quickly, and it wasn’t long before Sofia brought me dinner. I was still annoyed that she hadn’t warned me she was part of this earlier, so I muttered my thanks without looking at her and refused to answer any of her questions. How I was doing wasn’t exactly a secret anyway.
After she left, I picked at the food, too worried about what was going to happen in the morning to eat. While I wasn’t confined to my room, there wasn’t much else for me to do, at least not now, not when I knew how easy it would be for me to get lost.
But no matter how nice the room was or how kind the staff was or how good the food tasted, the fact remained that I was essentially a prisoner. I thought of James and wondered how long he’d waited at the gate and whether or not he’d gone to see my mother afterward. Six months seemed to stretch on forever in front of me, the end nowhere in sight—would he keep his promise? Would he be there when this was over, or would he have moved on? Deep inside, I knew he would be there. I didn’t deserve a friend like him.
But would my mother still be there at the end, too? Would Henry keep his promise? Was he even capable of it? I wanted to believe him, to believe that that sort of thing was possible—because if he really could keep her alive, then maybe I’d never have to say goodbye, not until it was my time to die, too. Or maybe he’d be able to keep her alive long enough for them to find a cure.
I couldn’t save Ava, but there was still hope for my mother, and no matter what it cost me, it would be worth it.
I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in Eden Manor anymore. Instead I was lying on a blanket in the middle of Central Park and staring up at a cloudless summer sky, the heat of the sun on my face.
I sat up, confused, and looked around. There was a picnic basket next to me, and other people were scattered around the grass enjoying themselves. Sheep Meadow. It was my favorite spot in the entire park, within view of the lake, but far enough away from the worst of the tourist traps that it didn’t feel gimmicky. My mother and I hadn’t been able to come here in years. I started to stand, determined to figure out what was going on, when my mouth dropped open.
My mother, looking as healthy as she had ten years ago, long before the cancer set in, walked up the gentle slope, wearing a long flowing skirt and peasant blouse I hadn’t seen her in since she grew too thin to wear it.
“Mom?”
She smiled—a real smile, not a sickly smile or the smile she put on when she was trying to hide how much pain she was in. “Hello, sweetheart.” She sat next to m
e and kissed my cheek.
I was still for a moment, too stunned to move, but when it finally sank in that she was here, healthy and glowing and my mother again, I threw my arms around her, hugging her tightly and inhaling her familiar scent. Apples and freesia. She was no longer frail, and she wrapped her arms around me with equal strength.
“What’s going on?” I said, struggling to keep my eyes dry.
“We’re having a picnic.” She released me and began to unpack the basket. It was full of my favorite foods from when I’d been a child—peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches, sliced tangerines, macaroni and cheese packed in plastic containers, and enough chocolate pudding to serve a small army. Best of all, she pulled out a box of baklava, just the way she always made it. I watched in amazement, wondering what I’d done to deserve such an amazing dream, even though it felt too real to be one. I could sense each blade of grass underneath my hands, and the warm breeze brushed the ends of my hair against my bare arms. It was like we were actually here.
And then a thought wormed its way through my mind, and I looked at her suspiciously. “Did Henry bring you here?”
Her smile widened. “He’s lovely, isn’t he?”
I gulped a lungful of air, and all the bad thoughts I’d ever had about Henry flew out of my head. He kept his promise. More than that, he could really do it. “Is this a dream then? Or is it—is it real?”
She gave me a container of macaroni, along with a look that only my mother could pull off. “Is there some rule I don’t know about that means it can’t be both?”
A sense of irrational hope filled me. “Is he really what he says he is?”
“And what would that be?” she said, unwrapping a sandwich.
I blurted out everything that had happened since we arrived in Eden. Seeing Henry after nearly crashing into an imaginary cow—the night by the river and how he’d seemingly resurrected Ava—the deal I’d made, and the way James had tried to stop me from taking it—the visit from Henry, and Ava dying the next day—my decision to go to Eden Manor to try to save her, and finally the deal I’d made with Henry that had gotten me this. Suddenly staying with him for six months didn’t seem nearly as bad, not if I got to see my mother every night.