“Eleven… twelve… thirteen… fourteen… fifteen…”

Our voices make ghostly music in the emptiness behind my eyelids. They work together—mine, Luisa’s, and Sonia’s—creating a whispery backdrop to the darkness into which I will myself to fall.

And then they fall silent, privy to some cue I cannot see.

“Lia, you will let this world go. Allow yourself to fall into the blackness toward the Otherworlds.” Sonia’s voice is deep and soft before it goes quiet, and I am left to the empty world of my mind.

At first it is difficult not to think. It is difficult not to wonder when Aunt Virginia will be home, whether the servants find it strange that I am behind closed doors with my friends, and whether I shall be able to find Father.

But my mind covers this small area quickly, and soon I am left with nothing else to wonder. With nothing else to do but think of Father’s face, hear my breath, at first shallow and then ever slower and deeper. I picture the soft and fragrant world of my sea flight, the endless sky stretched smooth above me. I smell the salty air of the sea and imagine Father’s face.

All at once, there is a flash, a blinding light that leaves me not in the darkness of sleep but in blazing sunlight through which I cannot see. The sound of my heart beating is magnified, thudding insistently in the background as flashes of memory come more and more rapidly. Birchwood. The faces of Sonia and Luisa, Alice and Henry. The river, James lying by its side. And then I am let loose of the constraints of my body with a great, freeing tug, coming to consciousness flying over a wood I don’t recognize.

The ground below me is dense with trees, a thick green carpet that looks smooth and soft from the air. As I move through the sky, the smell of salt becomes stronger, the trees below me thinning until they are lost completely to a far-reaching meadow swaying with long, green grass. I hear the sea in the distance. It grows louder and louder, and soon I am over a beach of sweeping sand, an azure sea lapping at its shore.

It is here that I will myself to touch the ground, remembering Sonia’s instructions to avoid flight where possible. My feet sink into the sand. I feel the coarse roughness of it even through my boots and marvel at the sensations that seem stronger each time I travel.

I am not sure how to go about locating Father. According to Sonia, he will be looking for me, but even still it does not seem wise to stand so exposed on the beach. Especially since I cannot yet be sure that I am in the right world.

Spectral rock formations have created caves that make it impossible to see beyond the beach. I am relieved that I don’t have to worry about protecting myself in an open space, but I avoid looking too closely at the darkness beyond the mouth of the caves. I focus on the path in front of me, picking my way along the stretch of sand and stepping around stray boulders as I go.

“Well, hello, there!”

I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of the voice coming from the caves, alarmed that I have company in a place so deserted. A gentleman walks toward me, avoiding the many craggy rocks as he goes. He is young, dressed in trousers and a waistcoat. The formality of his dress is comical on the untamed stretch of beach.

“H-Hello.” I take a quick look around, wondering if there are others nearby.

The man comes closer, and I see that he is quite handsome. His hair is fair, like that of James, his face slightly tanned. He is not much older than myself, and the gleam in his eye is entirely friendly. I relax my guard just a little.

The man bows before me in mock seriousness. “Michael Ackerman, at your service, Miss. I thought I should wander the beaches all day without company, but I guess I’m in luck! To what do I owe the pleasure of such lovely company?”

“Well… Uh, Mr. Ackerman—”

“Oh, you must call me Michael. Mr. Ackerman is my father!”

“All right, then… Michael. I’m looking for someone, you see. But I’m not sure where he is and I don’t… well, I don’t know my way around as of yet.”

He nods knowingly. “I understand. You’re here for your father, aren’t you?”

I tip my head, surveying him with renewed interest. “Why… yes. Yes, I am. How did you know?”

He waves into the salty wind. “Oh, it is not difficult to know things here. You might say it’s a small world, eh?” He laughs at his joke.

“I suppose. Do you know where I might find my father, then?”

He nods with authority. “Yes, yes. Of course, I do! He sent me to find you, as a matter of fact.”

“He did?”

“Yes, indeed. Told me to look for a lovely girl of about sixteen and to bring her to him at once.” He takes hold of my arm, propelling me forward down the beach.

I pull my arm from his. “Oh, wait one moment, please! I’m not sure I should be leaving with anyone. You see—”

“Nonsense!” He takes hold of my arm, more firmly this time. “I know just who you’re looking for, and I shall take you right to him.”

But I only take a couple of steps before I see the strange shine in his eyes. It does not seem helpful anymore, but something more sinister, and I hear Sonia’s voice across the worlds.

Some will seek to help you, others to make simple mischief, and still others to do real harm.

“Now listen here.” I move to pull my arm from his grasp. “I do appreciate your help. Truly. But I think I’ll stay here a moment. Surely my father will find me, if only I stay in one place for a bit.”

His grip tightens, and I wince as his fingers dig painfully into the soft flesh of my upper arm. “No, no. I don’t think so.” His voice has changed. It is harder now. And something less than friendly. “We have another engagement, you see, one—”

But he does not have time to finish. All at once, a boy of perhaps Henry’s age is standing in front of us wearing a strange shirt without buttons and short britches that reveal his scratched legs. His face is smudged with dirt.

“Time to shove off, now, chap,” the boy says.

“Now, now, little man. You’d do well not to concern yourself with matters beyond your years. Run along.” Michael Ackerman pulls me a step farther before the boy steps in his path.

“I’m not gonna tell you again. Let her go. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

It is strange to hear the threat come from so small a boy, but looking into his steely eyes I feel quite sure he means it.

“Listen here.” Michael Ackerman draws himself straighter and taller. “I don’t think you know who you’re messing with, you understand what I’m saying? The girl is supposed to be detained.”

The boy shakes his head with resignation. “I tried. I tried to tell you.” He looks at me. “Didn’t I try to tell him?”

“I… I suppose—”

My words are cut off when the boy raises his hand and says something in a language I don’t recognize. At first the air around us falls strangely silent. Even the waves breaking against the shore seem to be soundless, as though the energy of the elements has been silenced by the boy’s incantation. Then, all at once, the ground begins to shake. There is a moment—a split second, really—when we exchange hurried glances, the boy’s unexplainably satisfied and Michael Ackerman’s both knowing and afraid. I don’t understand why his hand on my arm releases its grip until I look down and see the ground opening up beneath him. The sand parts seamlessly underneath his feet until he sinks, swallowed bit by terrified bit, into the ground. It all happens in an instant, and when I blink, Michael Ackerman is gone, the sand as smooth as if he were never there at all, the waves resuming their hypnotic rhythm.

I turn to the boy. “But… What… Where… What have you done with him?”

He sighs. “C’mon, now! Don’t be upset. I gave him plenty of warning, and you saw how easy he went down. Besides, he was gonna take you to the Lost Souls.” His speech is strange and loose, without care for manners or proper grammar.

I take a step back. I don’t have time to question his bizarre display of magic, which, cruel as it may seem, has just saved me. My concerns are more personal and far more pressing. “And how do I know you’re any better? Perhaps you will take me to the Souls as well. After all, you’re here in the Otherworlds just as they are.”

“Yeah, but I’m not one of them. I’m only here because I haven’t crossed over yet.”

I narrow my eyes at him as if it will help me determine his honesty. “And why is that?”

“I don’t know, but there are lots of spirits here like me. Sometimes we stay by choice, and sometimes we just… stay.” He shrugs. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about me taking you to the Souls.” He leans in, lowering his voice and looking around as if for eavesdroppers. “Thomas—er, your father—has been looking after me, see? Protecting me from all kinds of weird things. This place?” He looks skyward, affecting a low whistle. “It’s crazy. Anyway, Thomas asked me to look for you. Thomas and your mother.”

It is the boy’s familiar use of my father’s name together with mention of my mother that makes me believe him. “You’ve seen my mother? Here?”

He nods. “Of course. They’re together! What did you expect? She’s pretty, you know.” He blushes. “A bit like you in the eyes.”

I have to swallow the excitement that rises in my throat. “Can you help me? Can you take me to them?”

He presses his lips together, looking skyward and then along the beach, before leaning in, his voice low. “I can’t help you, in so many words. The punishment for doing so would be…” He shudders. “Well, it would be bad, okay? But I can… direct you a bit, and if someone should happen to notify your father that you’re here, wandering the Otherworlds in search of him, well… who’s to know, if we keep it quiet?”

“Listen, I would greatly appreciate your help. I don’t have a lot of time, and it is imperative that I find… you know.” His paranoia becomes my own, and I lower my voice and look around before continuing. “How do you suggest I proceed?”

He leans in, lowering his voice to a whisper and touching my arm with fingers I feel only as the whisper of a breeze. “You have to think only of him. Don’t even bother thinking of a place. You can’t know where he is. Not really. But he will try and find you. Just not here.”

I still fear listening to this boy with his strange speech and stranger attire. Suppose it is a trick? Then again, suppose it isn’t? Suppose he is trying to help?

I have no choice, I decide. I shall have to trust that he means to help. Otherwise I shall be a gray-haired old woman, still standing on the beach in one world and lying on a leather sofa in another.

“So I shall have to travel to another world, then?”

He nods. “I’m afraid so. But trust me on this; if you just think of Thomas and nothing else, he’ll find you. He’s been trying to reach you for a long time.”

He turns as a breeze blows off the ocean, bringing a chill to the air that makes me cross my arms and look to the water. The wind dies all at once, the suddenness of it reminding me that I am not in my own world.

When I look back the boy is gone. I am once again alone on the deserted beach. I look around to be sure, but there can be no doubt. The boy has vanished as if I never saw him at all. I hurry to a slab of rock near the lapping shore, arranging my skirts haphazardly about my legs. I am eager to find my father and get back to Birchwood, back to the world I know. Closing my eyes, I think of my father and begin counting, the numbers a prayer on the breeze off the water.

“One… two… three… four…”

I am off the ground but not flying. Not exactly. Instead, I am caught in a black vortex, pulled in every direction. This is not the swift and effortless journey from world to world, but a churning sea that makes me feel as if I cannot breathe. The panic that rises within me is instinctual. I wonder if the man I met on the beach has told the Souls of my presence in the Otherworlds, if they will try to take me to the Void.

In an instant, my feet touch the ground. I did not realize my eyes were closed until I open them to the world around me. It is almost colorless, ice reaching as far as the eye can see. The sky is white, stretching above and beyond, making it difficult to see where the ice beneath my feet ends and the bleached sky above begins.

Instinct tells me to run, to leave this world as swiftly as possible, to try to find my father in another, but I decide to wait, to give Father the time to find me if he is, in fact, searching for me here. Though there is nowhere to go, I don’t like the feeling of standing exposed on the ice. I shuffle forward until a low, echoing call catches my attention. I stop, listening.

It is a voice, muffled and coming from a distance. Holding very still, I try to make out the words but cannot, so I make my way toward the sound. There are no landmarks by which to gauge my progress. But I know I am approaching someone, because the voice grows louder. It is the strangest sensation, to hear the voice grow nearer and nearer though there is not a thing in sight—not a building or tree or cave. Nothing.

As I grow closer to the source of the voice, I feel certain it is calling out as if in need of help. I walk faster, though it is awkward across the treacherous ground, and I am uncertain of the kind of help I could provide. The voice is very near now, and I stop, looking around for the source of it before shuffling forward once again, feeling as I am playing the childhood game “Hot or Cold.” I know the boy on the beach would tell me to be silent and wait for Father, but it is impossible to stand so near the moaning without inquiring after the person making the noise.

“Hello? Is someone there? Are you all right?” I feel silly, shouting into the emptiness.

The moaning stops, but only for a moment. It resumes soon enough, and now, at last, I make out some of the words. “Help… Help me… Please.” It sounds like a woman.

I look around, trying to figure where the person might be calling from. “Hello? Where are you?”

“Help… me.” The voice is at my elbow, almost on top of me. “Please… save… me.”

This time there can be no doubt. The voice is not at my elbow, but under my feet. I bring my gaze to the ice, slipping as I see the figure frozen beneath it. I stifle a scream, the sudden movement causing me to slip, arms and legs flailing as I fall. I scramble on hands and knees, slipping and sliding to get away from the person entombed in the ice directly under me, though there is no reason why I should be afraid of her. The face is colorless, but perfectly preserved within the ice. Even her hair is frozen, stretched out in the ice behind her.

When she speaks, her lips move almost imperceptibly. “Help me. They… are… coming.”

I am overcome with both terror and pity. I want to help, but truth be told, my desire to help wars with a powerful urge to flee, to run as far as possible from the gruesome image. My mind pages through the possibilities and comes to a quick conclusion; there is no time to help. If I am to find Father and locate the list, I must steer clear of the Souls. It will not do to stay in one place for long, particularly a place as frightening and dangerous as this one.

As I scramble to stand, the voice of the woman beneath me becomes the voices of many, all moaning, their voices stretching into the air around me, grasping and tugging until I feel as if their icy hands pull me toward the ice.

“Help… us… Lost… Die… Please… Release us… Child…” The voices morph together, warped, insinuating themselves into my mind until I hold my hands over my ears as I stand, gasping for breath, immobilized by fear and horror.

I remember my last thought as I left the beach. And I know I am in the Void.