Second Door to the Right

by Nikki Hyson

  It was the last thing she wanted.

  “Don’t go.” Lily put out a hand, griping whatever it grazed. Fingers closing around the sleeve of his coat, she pulled him back to the chair with only a little effort. “Don’t go. Please.” Tears wet on her cheeks. “What am I to do with all of this?”

  “Nothing.” James sat. Taking both her hands, he erased the distance until her gaze filled with him alone. “Absolutely nothing, Lily. I never wanted to hurt you. I never even wanted a friend. Cris is the closest thing I have, and his motives are unreliable at best. It’s just the more I knew you—”

  Rocking forward, her forehead rested against his shoulder. “Shut up.” More than anything she longed to be held. To be told her entire world hadn’t just flipped upside down and inside out.

  If only it existed as an option, but she knew there was more. She felt it in the iron resolve hardening muscles under her touch. If he didn’t say it now, he never would. She’d hear him to the end. Anything he had to say. “Tell me the rest.”

  “You’ve written him into your novel, haven’t you?”

  Anything but that. Lily flinched, trying to rise. “Don’t,” she warned.

  James held her fast.

  Laying his bearded cheek against her hair, he spoke the words quickly, as if they were a bandage to be ripped off. “For his sake and yours, hear me through till the end, Lily. Stephan visits you while you write. He isn’t a ghost or a spirit, but a copy of the man you loved.”

  No noise. No breath. She’d frozen at his words and didn’t know if she’d ever thaw again.

  “Wait. Listen for just a moment longer. Sometimes a writer will pull from life itself, creating a character that is the best bits of the one they love. When that happens they are more than just a paper soul. They are a copy of the original with all of the loves, hates and memories the writer chooses to give them. Stephan is one of these, walking shadows, neither alive nor dead. He stays with you, will be with you, because you are all he knows.”

  She couldn’t bear the touch of his words. So Lily shunned the touch of his skin. Jerking shakily to her feet, she wanted only to get away from the sound of his voice, but she couldn’t. Not just yet. The ottoman safely between them, she glanced back for answers. “How can you know this?”

  “Because I’m one too. Once upon a time I lived a flesh and blood life. Mortal like you. Afterwards, I followed Barrie into every writing nook he every haunted. Only when he died did I slip into my pages and lose myself there. Only then did I truly become Hook.”

  “Why are you telling me this? I’d almost learned how to let him go. Why?”

  “Moriarty will use him. He’ll make him an Oracle if he can.”

  Lily shook her head. “What are you saying? What are you asking me to do?”

  “You need to destroy everything you’ve written about him. It’s the only way to keep you both safe.”

  “I can’t do that. I can’t kill him twice.”

  “You’ve read Moriarty’s story. He takes what he wants. Lily, he’ll murder you—”

  “—Stop! Please—”

  “—Stephan will never be gone so long as you hold him in your heart.” James lifted a hand, filling the space between them. “Destroying the stories won’t change that.” Palm open, fingers twitching, begging, “Please, listen to me.”

  Lily, matching his desperation with determination, ordered him away. “James, you need to go.”

  His mouth opened, shut, and opened again. Words, fear riddled and anguish filled, spat from between his lips. “He’ll make me kill you, Lily.” They fell to the ground between their feet and stayed there, staining all the moments shared during the past two weeks.

  Lily couldn’t help but stare. Who is this man? Pity stirred. Your friend. You promised. But it couldn’t overcome all she now knew.

  At last, shaking her head, she whispered, “Get out.”

  30

  Step heavy, heart pounding, James left Lily’s building behind. He knew his destination. Tonight’s heartache wasn’t over yet. He had to see his Anne. If only for a moment.

  The sentry gave a quizzical look when he entered the Guild. “Were we expecting you? Were you to give a report?”

  “Not feeling well.” A risky excuse to give. “I’d like to see The Oracle.” It guaranteed him an audience, but also seemed likely to raise alarms. He wouldn’t be surprised to find Hyde and a half dozen guards waiting for him when he exited. In fact, his hastily formed plan counted on it. Ash couldn’t harm Lily.

  The sentry considered his statement for only three moments. Nodding permission, he said, “Alright.” New to his post, he’d been there just long enough to see James come and go with Cris. That, coupled with James’ calm control of the moment, seemed enough. “Go on.”

  James, touching finger to brow, entered the labyrinth of passages. It never occurred to him, after only a few visits to her chamber, he might get lost. He would find her. He’d always find her.

  Miraculously, on his journey to the heart of the Guild, he passed no one. Less than five minutes later, he reached her chamber and knocked.

  She didn’t make him wait. Anne opened the door, pulling him into her arms. “I wondered if you’d come back. If it would be like the last time.”

  James’ heart nearly stopped. The last time. He couldn’t end it as he had the last time. Holding her tighter, until they were nearly one, he stopped thinking. “I’m so sorry.” Drawing her into the center of her world, he let the memories come. “For everything.”

  Anne’s soft gasp told him all he needed to know. She could see the life flooding through his mind. James didn’t look up. He didn’t need to.

  One moment after another, their life together played out across the surrounding mirrors. Tentative and shy beginnings, passionate interludes, the possibilities of a forever life. The shattering end. By the time Anne left his side in the mirror world, she stood weeping in his arms.

  “I don’t believe you.” She twisted away, shutting her face from memories she’d never own. “There is kindness in your eyes. More so than any other here. You wouldn’t…” She pressed her face hard into his chest muffling the words; forcing him to lean close. “Why would you do that?”

  “I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to have a life without the stain of being a bastard’s wife.”

  “As if there could have been a life without you.” She shook her head. “Idiot. Where did you go after I left?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  Anne looked back at the mirrors again, arms still tight about his waist. “Tell me,” she whispered. The image within the glass swirled hazily, James fighting to keep some things hidden. “Show me,” she insisted.

  “My love, it doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me.”

  “Anne, please.” Regret stabbed between his ribs, forcing a quick inhale. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “It’s still true.” He pressed his cheek to hers, mouth almost touching her ear. “I made a vow once to love you always. Then I consciously broke your heart. I’m going to swear another oath now. Whatever it costs. You will not die here. You will have a life besides this. I give my word. You will be happy. Whatever it takes.”

  “Don’t make promises I can’t live with.”

  “You’ll be alright.” He thumbed a tear from her cheek. “I know you will.”

  Anne’s mouth moved to protest, but this was his last moment with her. He wanted only love, not words, between them. Tenderly James cupped her face between both hands, tilting it up until their lips touched. It was just as he knew it would be, the soft moistness of her mouth as it moved with his. She didn’t fight. She didn’t say a word. She took a step closer.

  The kiss lingered on. Sealing them over into a single heartbeat, throbbing in one accord. Stopping time.

  “I have to go,” he said finally, breaking free with regret. “My hour is gone.”

  “Please, James. Don’t do an
ything foolish.” She hugged him fiercely as if she’d never let go. Then released him with equal vigor. “I can bear this,” she said, fingers flicking out to encompass her prison. “I can’t bear you leaving again.”

  “Something foolish is what cursed us both to this life. It may take something exceedingly more so to get you out.” Fingers still twined, James stepped back. One last moment ticked by. Gazes locked, he took the final step. Her hand fell with a soft slap against her thigh, echoing across the emptiness. The gulf between them widened.

  Cris stepped from the shadows outside the building, waiting until three blocks slipped behind them before offering a long, sideways look. “So? Does she remember?”

  “I don’t think she ever will. She feels. That’s different.”

  “Did you show her your ending? Hers?”

  “She saw herself walk away from me after I said goodbye.”

  “No. Did you tell her you tried to come back?”

  James continued forward without a glance.

  Cris, latching onto James’ sleeve, brought them both to a stop. “Did you tell her they stopped you?”

  “How much do you know?”

  A smile flickered humorlessly at the corner of Cris’ mouth. “A bit.”

  “I didn’t tell her I made a fortune under my own name. Or that I came back the day after she buried her husband.” Flinching away, James freed his sleeve. “I didn’t tell her I died that night.”

  “You should have.”

  “Should I have told her what her husband’s last gift cost her?” Anguish lanced over James’ face, mouth working hard to not betray him with a trembling beat. “Should I have told her she died in childbirth six months after Barrie laid me to rest?” He waited the barest of breaths. Shaking his head with a hollow, “No?” Turning from Cris he added, “I didn’t think so.”

  “James, wait.”

  Hand half raised, he tossed back, “See you at the loft.”

  “What are you going to do? Damn it. James.”

  James paused his flight only long enough to bite out a clipped, “What?”

  “What are you planning? What about Lily?”

  Eyes narrowing suspiciously, he said, “I thought you didn’t care.” Why can’t I be sure of you, my friend? “Thought you looked out for yourself.”

  Silence settled unnaturally between them.

  James waited a breath longer. “Leave it, Cris,” he said, stalking away. Cris didn’t follow. Didn’t try to call him back. At the moment, James felt only gratitude.

  31

  Lily drank deeply from her third cup of coffee, setting it down just as the waitress glided near. Sleep couldn’t touch her tonight, caffeine or no, so she might as well enjoy the warmth of it.

  “Refill, Love?” The waitress tipped the decanter towards the white diner mug and held it, waiting for Lily’s nod. It wasn’t long in coming.

  Claiming the empty plate before the last drop settled, she asked, “Another slice?”

  It would be her second, but who really counted such things. Lily nodded again. “Please.”

  “Rhubarb? A la mode?”

  “If it isn’t broke…”

  The waitress smiled, face lighting with sympathy and kindness. “Coming right up.”

  Lily watched her circle the room, topping off the cups of the only other two people there. She then vanished into the kitchen.

  Lily’s gaze traveled the room, taking in spotless tables, gleaming white tile floor, and everything else between. Simply decorated, a few paintings of wildflowers added a splash of color to the buttercream walls. Overall, the place had a good vibe. How have I never been here before?

  Her thoughts shifted, drawing her into those last moments with James. The ones after she’d fled to the kitchen, her back to him, waiting for him to go. Knowing she could outlast him.

  But he didn’t go without a final request:

  An assassin’s footfall and his journal came into view. He set it gently on the counter beside her. She looked at it, and only it.

  “I’m sorry, Lily,” he said. “Now you know the man I am. Please, one day, read this. I’d like you to know the man I was. I’d like someone to remember my Anne.” Silence followed his request, punctuated only by the quiet click of her door shutting.

  Movement caught the corner of her eye; someone passing by on the pavement outside the cafe. Lily didn’t need to turn her head to know who’d cast the shadow. Cris, making his fourth pass, mouth still set in a grim line. She hadn’t a clue what’d put him on edge. Really, she didn’t care. They should be wondering what’s put me on edge.

  Her heart barely whispered her friend’s name, lips forming, “Oh, Ian.” The ache throbbed. “Why?”

  She’d known, hadn’t she? Shouldn’t she have known? I’m a writer for crying out loud. She should have seen the trail of breadcrumbs long before she reached the gingerbread cottage. Long before she’d ever met James. “Father. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Every word, every character ever written by her hand, pressed forward against the backs of her eyes. They’d always lived and breathed for her, but she’d no idea how real it had been for them. “Stephan.”

  The slice of rhubarb with two scoops of vanilla slid under her lowered gaze. “Here ya are. Anything else?”

  “No thank you. It’s perfect.”

  The waitress faded into the background.

  Lily continued to stare at her pie.

  James’ journal intruded, prodding through the well-lined coat pocket. His words nudged. You need to destroy everything you’ve written about Stephan. It’s the only way to keep you both safe.

  Lifting her eyes to the seat opposite. Are you there? She imagined Stephan sitting before her. Do you know what he wants me to do? Do you know what he’s saying?

  If Stephan sat there, he didn’t answer. Only James passionate plea blew across her soul.

  He’ll make me kill you, Lily.

  A flicker of warmth ignited deep in her belly; emotion rising that didn’t exist with head bowed to paper. Her fingers cradled the coffee cup, frown deepening her solitude’s silence. It was the only time she allowed herself a taste of the rage, to acknowledge its existence.

  Never before her parents. Never before friends and co-workers. Never in the pages of her pristine little world. Anger gripped tight, serpentine coils squeezing Lily’s chest. Her knuckles went white against the porcelain mug.

  A shadow passed over her shoulder, casting bits of dark across the table’s surface. A throat cleared softly, ripping through the hesitation that made four trips past her window necessary. “May I sit?”

  Lily didn’t look up. “Why not?”

  Cris claimed the chair opposite.

  Both fell silent.

  Both waited.

  The waitress joined them in moments, cup ready, and decanter half-tipped before he nodded. “Never see you this time of night,” she added on top of the fill.

  “Never supposed you’d be here.”

  “Not normally. Pulling a double. Want anything besides the coffee?”

  Cris, flicking a finger towards Lily’s pie, “That looks good. Any apple?”

  “Sure. Just a minute.” She left, both of them watching her go rather than face each other.

  The waitress paused, for just a moment, by the middle-aged busboy clearing a table, hand touching his shoulder in a casual gesture of friendship. Words exchanged softly between them, before she moved on to Lily’s table.

  The plate barely landed before her weight shifted away.

  Cris’ voice stayed her step, for a moment. “He working out?”

  Lily caught the look.

  “Not your concern, but yes,” the waitress said briefly, then left.

  Cris picked up his fork and took a bite, as if the rebuke hadn’t touched him. Perhaps it hadn’t. Lily watched his attention flick outside. Something worried him. Someone?

  “What do you want, Cris?”

  He took a second bite, glanced outside, then swal
lowed. “What did James tell you?” he asked, pushing a smaller bit of crust through some of the already melting ice cream. Another bite. Another pause. Waiting.

  Lily held her peace, questions bubbling with disbelief. How can you be him? My Edmond Dantes? He’d never—

  Lifting his gaze, as if to meet hers squarely, his focus shifted again. Studying the pavement just to the left of her shoulder, he repeated casually, “What did James tell you?”

  She saw the glance. “Shouldn’t be talking to me,” she countered. “Or shouldn’t be here?”

  “Does it matter? What did he say about us?”

  “A lot of things, and not nearly enough. Why? Worried?”

  Cris took the last bite slowly, studying her as he chewed. Pushing the plate aside, he licked a small trace of apple from his thumb. “You’re not afraid,” he stated with a touch of wonder. “You’re angry.”

  “One has nothing to do with the other.” For a second and last time she asked, “What do you want, Cris?”

  “Did he tell you he had a life before Hook? A normal, mortal life?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then there is something you should know. Something he won’t have told you, because he doesn’t know. Something that makes you both interesting to the Professor.” Cris stopped, something very like pity flickering in the gaze lingering on her.

  Lily understood his hesitation, and almost laughed. He wants my permission to destroy what’s left of my world. How much deeper can this rabbit hole go?

  She looked at Cris, but saw only Ian Monrow. Anger sizzled hotly, tended to submission by the hand of reason. She needed to know all she could if she was to— What? What can I possibly do?

  Anger fizzled with the inner admission, as it had before. What could she do about her father’s slipping mental state? What could she do about her mother’s emotional worry? What could she have done to save Stephan? Hidden behind a pleasant smile and lying eyes, it always came down to Stephan. Defeat burned like a small sun in the pit of her stomach.