by Lisa Mangum
“Abby—” he started.
“I remember the rules,” I said quietly. “Do what I have to do. Change what needs to be changed.”
“Come back when you can,” he finished.
“I will always come home to you,” I promised. I gave him one last kiss and then stepped off the stone into the river.
“Abby!” Leo called, panicked. “What are you doing?”
“What I have to,” I called back. “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”
The water was already past my ankles, past my calves, and inching toward my knees. My teeth started to chatter. I hadn’t expected the water to be so cold. I would have to hurry.
I counted my steps to the door. One.
The electric blue aura crackled like broken ice around my legs. Two.
Numbness crept up my body, my fingers and toes the first to succumb to the unbearable cold. Three.
I could hear voices now along with the images swirling all around me. They sounded like my family—Mom, Dad, Hannah. They sounded close enough to touch. Four.
Music slowly enveloped me in a crescendo of sound. Five.
I was at the door. The water pushed against my knees, almost toppling me where I stood. I grabbed hold of the freestanding frame with hands that felt two sizes too big for my body. Struggling to keep my balance, I ran my fingers over the carved images on the door.
When I found the center point of the door, the spot where the two halves of the hourglass met in its timeless kiss, I placed my palm against the wood and pushed.
The door swung open on its silent hinge, revealing a yawning, gaping hole of darkness.
The river poured into the void.
I clung to the door frame as the churning, frothing water bubbling with images and sound funneled past me, threatening to wash me away with it as it flowed along the channel heading for its eventual destination: the bank.
The music in my head was loud and brassy. I couldn’t hear myself think for the constant chimes that rang like church bells all around me.
I clung to the doorway as the level of the water slowly lowered from my knees, to my calves, to my ankles. The river swirled into the darkness of the door until finally there were only a few puddles of water still lingering in the crevices and holes of the basement floor.
I had no real way of knowing if my plan had worked, but I suspected it had. No new water was bubbling up from the cracked floor. The images were fading along with the voices. Even the music was settling down to silence again.
I almost dared to breathe again.
And then I remembered. My job wasn’t finished. I had come to the Dungeon with one purpose in mind: to walk my own path through the time machine. I set one foot on the threshold of the door—and paused.
Turning around, I took one last look at Dante, standing as tall as an angel on the white-and-gold marble block, his body taut with tension, his face turned toward me even though he couldn’t see me.
Leo climbed down off the cabinet and rushed to my side. “Are you all right, Abby?” he asked.
“It worked,” I said with a grin. The numbness in my fingers and toes was fading, but slowly. “It really worked.”
“Of course it did,” Leo said. “It was a brilliant plan. Dangerous, but brilliant.”
My grin faded. I couldn’t make my eyes leave Dante’s face. “I’m still going through the door, Leo. I have to. For Dante. For my family.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
“Will he be all right?” I asked, glad that Leo knew what I meant and didn’t make me ask the terrible question that hung in the space between us: Is he blind?
“He will be fine,” Leo assured me. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Take care of him for me, okay?” I asked, placing my hand on his arm.
“Like he was my own brother,” he said with a wry smile.
I laughed. “You’d better.”
“Go,” Leo said gently, his eyes both bright and sad. “And don’t worry—you’ll see Dante again soon enough.”
I nodded, my heart taking hope in Leo’s promise.
I lifted up on my toes, my hand clutching the door frame for balance, and called out to Dante, “I love you—always and forever!”
Dante raised his hand at the sound of my voice. “Abby!” he called out. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
Turning back to the door, I smiled one last time at Leo and then faced the unbroken black void in front of me.
I crossed the threshold in two steady steps.
I stood for a moment simply listening to my breathing, counting the beats of my heart. I thought about nautilus shells, and about stars that gleamed golden in the sky, and about travelers through time. I thought about angels who were trapped in stone and angels who wore gold chains around their wrists. I thought about spirals that needed to be closed into circles.
The music, which I thought had gone, returned in a series of beautiful notes lifting up in a rising scale.
I gathered my courage and held Dante’s love like a diamond close to my heart. I stepped forward, ready to face the past that would become my future.
The door closed behind me, and then all was darkness.
Acknowledgments
When I sat down to write this book, I thought, No sweat. I’ve done this once before. I can do it again.
Well, I should have known better. After all, no two books are the same—not in reading them, and not in writing them. I quickly learned that the methods and strategies that worked so well for me in Hourglass Door didn’t work at all for Golden Spiral. It was its own book and it wasn’t shy about letting me know who was boss this time around. (Hint: It wasn’t me.)
So I’d like to take this opportunity to thank those people who were slaving away with me while this book took shape.
My family, who understood when I had to bail on yet another Sunday dinner and who never sighed or rolled their eyes (at least that I saw) when I wouldn’t stop talking about my book.
A very special thanks goes to my brother, Dennis, who gave me a crash course in darkroom development one afternoon. Any technical details about the process I got wrong are clearly my fault and not his.
Thanks to my friends, fans, and fellow authors, whose
constant messages of support and enthusiasm via e-mail, Facebook, and in person did not go unnoticed.
Once again, my writing group rose to the occasion and read huge chunks of this book despite a tight deadline and still managed to give me valuable, useful, and indispensable advice. So thank you, Tony, Heidi, Crystal, Pam, Mary, and Kristen. You guys are the best!
Thanks to the team at Shadow Mountain—Chris Schoebinger, Emily Watts, Tonya Facemyer, and Richard Erickson, to name only a few—who care for me like family
and who are always in my corner, looking out for me and my books.
Last, but never least, I must thank the love of my life, Tracy, for countless instances of making dinner, doing dishes, and running errands so I could stay chained to my laptop and find the words I needed to tell this story. There are no words, however, to express my deepest love and appreciation for his endless encouragement and support. I could not have done this without him.
Aside from learning to bend my will to the demands of the muse and working under her unrelenting whip of deadlines, I learned two very important lessons about writing:
First, write wherever you are. In addition to writing at home, I wrote sections of this book at the Spanish Fork Library, the Whitmore Library, in the waiting room of Presley Orthodontics and Family Cosmetic Dentistry, and on my daily commute on the UTA TRAX train.
Second, find inspiration wherever you can. One night I dreamed my friend James Dashner and Hannah Montana were doing the “Thriller” dance, complete with the zombie moves and the makeup. That dream saved the ending of this book. It’s probably best if you don’t ask too many questions. Trust me on that one.
Reading Guide
1. Was it a surprise to discover that the prologue was writ
ten from Zo’s point of view? Did seeing the story through Zo’s eyes change how you viewed V, Tony, or Dante? How did you feel about Zo’s perception of his relationship with Abby?
2. Valerie tells Abby several stories of the Pirate King and the River Policeman. Why is it sometimes easier to speak the truth in the guise of a story? What stories have resonated with truth to you?
3. In The Golden Spiral, Abby learns more about photography and developing film in a darkroom and suspects she may have found a new way to express herself. What activities or hobbies do you enjoy that provide an outlet for your creative expression? What new activities have you always wanted to try?
4. At one point in the story, Abby realizes that Zo is working to isolate her from her friends and family. Why is it so important to have a support system around you during difficult times? Who helps you when times are tough?
5. V’s loyalty is often in question during the course of the novel. Did you trust him? Did you suspect he was hiding something? Did he deserve his fate?
6. Zo asks Abby if there is a memory she would like to forget. Do you have memories you would rather forget? What events or feelings in your life do you want to remember forever?
7. Dante tells Abby the story of how he met Leonardo da Vinci and that da Vinci wanted an apprentice who could “leave the world a more beautiful place than he found it.” In what ways have you left your mark on the world? Where do you find beauty in the world?
8. Dante and Abby are both striving to build a relationship that allows them to be their best selves with each other. What characteristics are important to you in your relationships? How would you describe the ideal relationship?
9. The book touches on the importance of making choices of your own free will, of shaping your own destiny and future. Are there choices you have made that have changed the course of your life?
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Acknowledgments
Reading Guide