Dreamfever
Page 94

I began glancing into the mirrors as I passed.
Some of the things in the mirrors glanced back, looking startled and confused. It seemed some of them could see me as clearly as I could see them.
I was going to have to make a choice, and sooner was probably wiser than later. I was beginning to think gold was the most peaceful, right, perfect color I’d ever seen. And the floor—so inviting! Warm, smooth, I could stretch out and rest my eyes a bit … gather my strength for what was certain to be an arduous journey.
First danger of the Hall of All Days: When you can live any day over again in your mind—and live it right—why leave at all? I could save my sister here. Save the world. Never know the difference after a while.
Second danger of the Hall of All Days: When anything is possible, how do you choose?
There were tropical vistas of white beaches that stretched for miles, with aqua waves so clear that coral reefs of rainbow hues shimmered through, glinting in the sun, and tiny silver fish leaped and played in the swells.
There were streets of fabulous mansions. Deserts and vast plains. There were ancient reptilian beasts in verdant valleys and postapocalyptic cities. There were underwater worlds and Silvers that opened directly onto open space, black and deep, glittering with stars. There were doorways to nebulae and even one that led straight to the event horizon of a black hole. I tried to fathom the mind that would want to go there. An immortal that had done everything else? A Fae that could never die and wanted to know what it felt like to be sucked up by one? The more I saw in the Hall of All Days, the more I understood that I understood nothing about the immortal race that had created this place.
There were mirrors that opened onto images so terrible I looked away the instant I caught a glimpse of what was going on. We’ve done some of those things. Apparently other beings on other worlds have, too. In one, a man performing a horrific experiment saw me, grinned, and lunged for me. I took off in a mad dash, heart pounding, and ran without stopping for a long, long time. Finally, I glanced behind me. I was alone. I concluded that Silver must have been one-way. Thankfully! I wondered if all the mirrors in the Hall were, or if some of them still worked both ways. If I stepped through one, could I immediately return if I didn’t like the world? From what Barrons had told me, unpredictability was the name of the game in here.
How had I gotten to the Hall? What had the stones done to rip me from the tunnel of a set of Silvers and dump me into the vortex of the entire network? Did they work as a homing beacon, and would uncovering them always bring me here?
I walked. I looked. I looked away.
Pain, pleasure, delight, torture, love, hate, laughter, despair, beauty, horror, hope, grief—all of it was available here in the Hall of All Days.
There were the surreal mirrors with Dalí-esque landscapes, so similar to his paintings that I wondered if they hadn’t been hung here and animated. There were doorways to dreamscapes so alien I couldn’t even give name to what I was seeing.
I looked into mirror after mirror, growing more uncertain by the moment. I had no idea if any of the portals actually opened into my world at all. Were they different planets? Different dimensions? Once I entered one, would I be committing to a perilous journey through an unbeatable maze?
Billions. There were billions of choices. How was I ever going to find my way home?
I walked for what felt like days. Who knows? It might have been. Time has no meaning in the Hall. Nothing does. Tiny me. Huge corridor. An occasional skeleton—the rare human one. Silence except for the sound of my boots on gold. I began to sing. I went through every song I knew, staring into Silvers. Running from some.
Then one stopped me cold in my tracks.
I stared. “Christian?” I exploded disbelievingly. His back was to me as he walked through a dark forest, but the moon in his mirror was bright, and there was no mistaking his build and walk. Those long legs in faded jeans. The dark hair pulled back in a queue. The broad shoulders and confident gait.
His head whipped around. There was a line of crimson and black tattoos down the side of his neck that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen him.
Mac? His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear him. I stepped closer.
“Is it really you?”
Apparently he could hear me. Elation and relief battled with anxiety in the gorgeous Scotsman’s eyes. He stared at me, leaned closer, looked confused, then shook his head. No, Mac. Stay wherever you are. Don’t come here. Go back.
“I don’t know how to go back.”
Where are you?
“Can’t you see?”
He shook his head. You seem to be inside a large cactus. For a moment, I thought you were here with me. How are you seeing me?
I had to make him repeat it several times. I’m not the best lip-reader. The word “cactus” threw me. I couldn’t see a single cactus in the forest. “I’m in the Hall of All Days.”
Tiger eyes flared. Don’t stay long! It messes with you.
“I kind of figured that out.” A moment ago, my pink mitt had reappeared in my hand, and I could hear the sounds of the ballpark around me. I began to jog in place. The Hall was not fooled. The mitt remained on my hand. I jogged a tight circle in front of the mirror. Glove and memory vanished.
It’s a dangerous place. I was there for a time. I had to choose a Silver. I chose badly. They are not what they seem. What they show you is not where they lead.
“Are you kidding me?” I nearly went ballistic. If I entered a tropical beach, would I end up in Nazi Germany with my highly inconvenient black hair?