Harley Merlin 19: Persie Merlin and the Door to Nowhere
Page 22
But a question lingered, hot and spiny and horrible inside my head. If what Leviathan had said about my ability was true, then all of this was my fault. It might not have been the pixies, but I’d sure as heck done something to get this doorway open. And that doorway had sucked the missing magicals right into it, somehow. Leviathan had just flipped me out of the frying pan and into the proverbial flames of guilt.
Maybe he’s lying. Maybe it’s a game he’s playing. The strange, Irish-named place had sounded real enough, but the Door to Nowhere had a distinctly made-up, kid’s story vibe to it. And it seemed like the kind of thing that the Institute would know about, or that someone would have read in a book somewhere. They wouldn’t just build something on top of a powerful, mythical gateway… would they? That was just asking for trouble.
But a conflicting notion nagged at the back of my mind. What if he wasn’t lying? What if this doorway existed, and I’d opened it, and that was where the magicals had gone?
I decided to go with it, just in case.
“The Door to Nowhere is responsible for this. The Basanis built this Institute on sacred ground, and now the magical powers that be are pissed. I don’t know why they’ve chosen now to take their revenge, but it’s happening.”
Another slight omission of the truth. Leviathan had told me I was somehow responsible, but I didn’t think it wise to implicate myself when I was already implicated for something else. If I’d somehow opened the Door, maybe I was the only one who could get the missing people back and close it again. If not, people would keep on vanishing and the pixies would keep on getting blamed. If all the pixies were captured and people continued to disappear, Victoria’s theory would grind to a halt. But I didn’t want it to get that far—no one should have to suffer for Victoria’s stubbornness.
Victoria laughed. “That is a fairytale, Persie. An ancient legend that has no basis in reality whatsoever. Do you know how many places in Ireland claim to be the gateway to the land of Tír na nÓg? There are entire Internet pages dedicated to it. If you believe in that, I strongly urge you to avoid toadstool rings. As for the idea that the Institute is built on such a place,” she continued, opening her arms to indicate the facility, “that isn’t even mentioned in the most thorough of Internet chatrooms. I think there’s one nod to it in an old text somewhere, but that manuscript also posits the theory that Finn McCool threw a rock that turned into an island. So, I’ll let you be the judge of how reliable that source is.”
“There’s truth in legends, Ms. Jules.” Someone had told me that, my mom or Uncle Finch, or maybe Melody. Atlantis had been nothing but a legend for thousands of years, but it had been at the bottom of the ocean the whole time, as real as the surface world.
“Not this one.” Victoria walked to the door, prompting the pixie to disappear in a puff of green smoke. I prayed she hadn’t seen it wafting across my books. “Stop looking for other culprits, Persie, when the truth is staring you in the face. I know it’s hard for you to accept because these pixies are yours, but you need to come to terms with it. The simplest explanation is likely the right one. Pixies have been Purged for the first time in centuries. Fifteen people have gone missing so far.” She paused and hit me with a solemn stare. “And among them is your friend, Genie Vertis.”
After dropping that bombshell, she strode out and closed the door behind her.
Twenty-Two
Persie
Genie can’t be missing! No… no, no, no. She can’t!
An hour later, my thoughts were still leaping up and plunging low, leaving me with mental whiplash. I spun around and around in an endless vortex of panic and fury, fearing the worst—that ‘missing’ meant something else. That it meant gone, in the most final sense of the word: dead, or trapped, or hurt, or being tortured in some place I couldn’t reach her. As the terrifying possibilities kept coming, my nerves sang at fever pitch, making my skin crawl and my head hurt. I paced, I sat down, I leapt up, I paced some more. I wanted to scratch at the walls and kick down the door, just to get out and do something for my friend, in case it wasn’t too late to help her.
The cold manner in which Victoria had given me the news made me want to turn pixie and break everything in my room. Maybe if I set fire to the rug and the alarms went off, someone would come and let me out. But I had no means of starting a fire. The hunters had taken my lighter and anything remotely sharp when they’d locked me in here. And, to add insult to injury, Victoria had somehow taken my phone when I wasn’t looking, so I couldn’t have called the SDC even if she hadn’t put a block on outside communication.
Storming over to the door for the hundredth time that hour, I battered it as hard as I could. “Let me out of here! My friend’s in danger! LET ME OUT!” I heard footsteps in the hallway and a burst of cruel laughter, but nobody came to open the door. Like Einstein (or maybe someone else, no one knew for sure) said, this was the very definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
I felt insane, and hopeless.
They’re treating me like a monster. My room wasn’t a glass box, but still… There were four walls and no way out, so what was the difference? And I was stuck in here “for my own safety, and everyone else’s.” Just like in the nightmare. Only, Genie’s safety was on the line, and me being imprisoned wouldn’t do a damn thing to get her back.
If I could get her back.
I slid down the door and ended up hunched on the floor, my knees drawn up to my chin. My body shivered violently, though the radiators were on full blast. My throat tightened with each breath I tried to take, my nails raking against the wooden floor and my head careening into panic mode. If I wasn’t careful, soon enough I wouldn’t be the only one in this box. Panic led to Purges. I needed to get that on a T-shirt.
Why isn’t anyone rebelling against this? I leaned my head back against the solid door, tapping my fingers against my knees and trying to distract the panic attack. If there were fifteen people missing, how come there weren’t parents swarming this place? Maybe not enough days had gone by for parents to be worried about not hearing from their children, since everyone was an adult here. Plus, since Victoria had blocked phone signals from getting out in case someone attempted to make this an external problem, it wasn’t like authorities could be informed on the sly. She’d been so insistent about keeping it within these walls, and it looked like she was getting her wish. But that seemed so underhanded. Perhaps the truth was simpler—that, even if they could call out, everyone here was more afraid of Victoria than they were of whatever was taking the magicals.
I’m not doing so well, Genie. I scrunched up my eyes and remembered everything she’d taught me. I pictured us on the bench, just before seeing those curious orbs of light for the first time. What had she told me to do? That’s right… deep breaths, focus on textures, root yourself in reality. I pretended she was there with me, inhaling for five, holding for five, exhaling for five. I went through the motions with my eyes closed. The first few breathing patterns were difficult, my lungs not quite filling, and a drowning sensation made my head throb during every hold. But, somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it was only the panic attack talking. It was all in my head.
A sound, like a rush of air, made my eyes open. The pixie with the walnut shell hat puffed back into existence, right where he’d cussed out Victoria on my bookshelf. He grinned at me, making a mockery out of my panic attack by flopping about between the books, gasping dramatically and beating on his small chest. An involuntary burst of laughter shot out of me, startling the pixie. He stared at me as though I were a crazy woman, before deciding to join me in a fit of hysterics. He cackled, I cackled, until the room filled with wheezing, manic laughter.
Miraculously, it seemed to stop the panic attack in its tracks. The drowning sensation ebbed, though I still felt breathless from the laughing. The shivers subsided, my throat relaxed, and the anxiety drained from my body, slowly but surely. Sunlight dappled my desk, and through t
he window I saw an azure sky with a few wisps of cloud drifting by. Thanks to the pixie’s intervention, everything suddenly seemed brighter, outside and in. Happiness swelled in my chest and flowed through my limbs until I was so full of euphoria that I felt like I could’ve broken down the door like a superhero.
Gathering all of my newfound elation into my muscles, I jumped to my feet and yanked on the door handle with all my might. I tugged and tugged, refusing to give up, while the pixie mimed my actions, grunting and pounding on a book like a gorilla. He didn’t make me look nearly as heroic as I’d have hoped. To my shock, as I braced my foot against the wood and heaved harder than ever before, the door swung wide, sending me flying. With a yelp, the pixie puffed back into greenish smoke, and I hit the hard floor with a thud, seeing stars.
“Ow,” I muttered, in disbelief that I’d managed to break open the door.
“Goodness, I’m so sorry!” A figure leaned over me, helping me into sitting position. “I didn’t think you’d be behind the door.” It was Nathan, crouching in front of me.
I blinked in confusion as the door closed behind him. “What are you doing here?” I asked, realizing with embarrassment that I hadn’t opened the door at all—I’d just been in the way as Nathan had pushed it open from the outside. And I already had the headache to prove it.
“I snuck past the guards stationed in the corridor.” He offered me his hand, pulling me to my feet. I swayed for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass. “I heard what happened and knew I had to see you. Locking you up like this is nonsensical at best, cruel at worst. But... there’s something I have to tell you.”
I sighed. “That Genie’s missing?”
“Ah, so you were told, at least.” He looked as worried as I felt, his mouth twisted into a grimace. “Whatever is taking these people, it has escalated rapidly. If we don’t find out who or what is doing it soon, the whole population of the Institute might vanish.”
My stomach plummeted. “You think it’s that serious?”
“I do, Persie. I realize it sounds extreme, but Victoria and the hunters aren’t willing to listen to other options, and that gives me very real concerns for the future of this place.” He adjusted his glasses. “I’ve tried to warn them that they may be leading us down the garden path, but their pride and stubbornness is clouding their judgment.”
I breathed a sigh of half-relief, half-terror. “You’re probably the only person in this place who agrees with me.”
“The one thing I know for certain is that the missing people were taken by the same thing.” He produced a strange-looking magnifying glass from his pocket, with a crimson lens that shone with flecks of black and gold in the sunlight. “Do you know what this is?”
I shook my head.
“The lens is made of specterglass, which allows the naked eye to see the residual trails of spirits or ancient creatures who have lived long enough to make that sort of mark in Chaos. I dug it out of my personal collection because I hoped it might reveal the pixie trails, what with them being formerly extinct and all.”
He weighed the tool in his hands. “Now, the trails don’t last long, but I have noticed a distinct recurrence—pale, milky-white streaks along the walls and ceilings. They disappear after a minute or so, but I’ve managed to spot several. I also shone the glass on that she-pixie you brought to the Repository, but I couldn’t see anything other than a few tiny, glittery red specks.”
“Have you told Victoria?” I pressed. This specterglass opened up brand-new possibilities, and this was exactly the kind of evidence the head huntswoman needed to see, since she obviously needed proof.
Nathan nodded sadly. “I did, and she told me it wasn’t reliable. She explained that there are countless ghosts inside the Institute—spirits of dead hunters and warriors from the old castle that was here before. She reasoned that the white trails came from them, and it would only be a valid abduction theory if we had a poltergeist. Which, of course, we don’t, or they would’ve made themselves known long before now.”
“And a poltergeist would’ve made a lot more mess,” I added. My Uncle Finch had told me all about his run-in with Ponce de León during his search for the Fountain of Youth.
“So, circling back to the main question here—what’s doing this? It has to be something vaguely spiritual, or the specterglass wouldn’t have picked it up.” Nathan slipped the item back into his pocket. The poor guy looked exhausted.
I fixed him with a stern gaze, about to reveal the secret of the Door to Nowhere. Before I could say a word, however, the pixie burst back out into existence, apparently realizing it was safe. Everything I’d wanted to say melted off my tongue at the sight of him. Maybe we didn’t have to bandy theories about anymore. Nathan spotted the pixie at the same time I did and turned very slowly toward me, as if the slightest sudden movement might spook the little monster.
“I’ve got an idea,” he whispered.
“What if I try to talk to him?” I prompted.
He smiled. “Great minds think alike.”
“He showed up before, but I think you frightened him when you came in. If he’s hanging around, there must be a reason, and I don’t think it stops at mocking the heck out of me.”
I glanced back at the pixie, trying to think of the best way to approach him. After what the Institute had put his people through, he had no reason to trust me. But I had brought him and the other pixies into being, and he had laughed with me, so maybe that earned me some brownie points.
Nathan frowned. “He? Not to be rude, but how can you tell?”
“He’s bulkier than the she-pixie, and his coloring is different,” I replied, taking a step toward the bookshelf. Carefully, I put out my hand. “Do you understand me?”
The pixie eyed me curiously, before giving a loud trill and a nod of his head. Fluttering his navy wings, he floated down from the bookshelf and landed on my shoulder, ignoring my hand completely. It was a little more in-my-face than I’d have preferred, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Folding his arms across his frog-like chest, he marched up and down the length of my arm, chattering furiously and growling every few seconds. I had no clue what he was trying to say, but I guessed he was peeved.
“Can we rein it in for a second?” I asked. “I’ve got some questions for you.”
The pixie stopped abruptly. Whirling around, he half-leapt, half-flew up to my face and pushed down on the flat of my nose, like a person might do to a dog that wasn’t paying attention. Squeaking and babbling, he flailed his free hand wildly. I didn’t speak his language, but I understood perfectly: he’d talk on his own terms, and he’d answer how he damn well pleased.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Up close, his black eyes were kind of threatening. “Please, if it’s not too much trouble, would you answer some of my questions? I want to help you. I want to stop the hunters from trying to catch you.”
The pixie muttered under his breath and stepped away, dropping to sit on my shoulder and swing his tiny legs. He made a grumbling sound of affirmation and flicked his wrist, which I guessed meant “Go ahead, idiot.” I wanted to laugh, but I imagined he wouldn’t take kindly to that. Polite caution seemed to be the best way forward.
“You heard what the head huntswoman said earlier, didn’t you?” I said.
The pixie erupted into another tiny barrage of rage, punching the air and kicking out his legs. His pulsating spots turned bright red—a warning sign, and I totally understood where he was coming from. If I had pulsating spots, they’d be flashing furious, fire engine red right now.
I chuckled. “So, I take it that means you pixies are definitely not responsible, then?”
The pixie shot me a withering look and rolled his eyes. He pressed his hand to his chest, as he had done earlier, and the spots turned a shade of warm pink. The color wasn’t as easy to decipher as red or blue, but it made me feel strangely comforted, as though I was… loved.
“You want to be friendly?” I offered.
“Do you know where the missing magicals might be?” I asked, before he could start sashaying again. I realized I was smiling… because of him. Aside from Leviathan, I’d never been able to hold a conversation with a Purge beast. Sure, this might not have been a simple back and forth, but he understood me, and I understood him. Mostly. It felt as though some kind of bridge had been crossed, bringing me a little bit closer to understanding the nature of monsters. At least, these ones. And the most ironic part was that I hadn’t intended to get to know them. Before I’d come to the Institute, my goal had been control, but I was beginning to think I’d misunderstood what “control” could mean.
The pixie took off his walnut shell hat and scratched his head. Then, very decisively, he shook his head. My heart sank, only to leap again when the pixie held up his index finger. He pointed at himself then swooshed his arms in a circle, chattering the whole time.
“You think other pixies might know?” I prompted.
He grinned and nodded.
Thrilled to have a potential lead, I pressed on, lowering my voice so Nathan couldn’t hear. “Could it have something to do with the Door to Nowhere?”
A dark expression drifted across the pixie’s face. He lifted a finger to his lips and hovered terrifyingly close to my face, wings fluttering. Almost nose to nose, he lurched at me with spread arms and unleashed an almighty shriek that nearly made me crap my pants. He collapsed back onto my shoulder a second later, cackling to himself.