Cole
Lyon to London, then to Dallas, on to Savannah, if not for the first class seating that set me back seven grand, my legs would have permanent pretzel bends.
I lift the shade and stare out the plane window though there’s nothing to see. My hands fist on my lap as I stretch again. Fatigue covers me like an itchy, woolen blanket. Instead of making me sleepy, I’m tense and restless.
Head crammed with scenarios for when I reach South Carolina, I practice my speech asking Maddox for help. Picture Raven in my mind over and over as I ask her how she’s been; gauge her reaction to seeing me again. I’ve missed her, but does she feel the same? I used to be confident with the girls at school. Flirting was easy then, snogging at parties … and the rest. Then, four years of my life were erased.
I rub my dry, tired eyes. Everything’s changed. Raven means more to me, has done more for me, than I can ever repay. One day, I vow to show her my thanks.
Cole …
Rosamond? How is this happening here, at thirty thousand feet? Maybe it doesn’t matter.
Come to me, Cole …
Somehow, I don’t think I have a choice, though I hope this visit to Rosamond won’t cause a first class scene that ends with me getting cuffed by the air marshal. The cabin spins. Seats, floor, windows, even the little, blue-haired lady sleeping in the seat next to me smears as I’m sucked into a timeless vacuum.
I brace for the weightlessness that’s always present in The Void, but it doesn’t happen. Rosamond glides toward me. Curiosity, compassion, lust, fear, countless emotions fill me as she draws near. Her hypnotic eyes lock with mine as she hovers before me in her gauzy white gown.
I can’t imagine what this ethereal creature did to earn imprisonment. Not too long ago her circumstance was mine. Claustrophobia threatens to unravel me as I contemplate getting stuck in here again. No matter how much I’d like to help her, I can’t go back.
Below her knees, there’s nothing but air. She floats more than walks, the way I did when I was a prisoner here. Moonlight leaks though the small window in the stone tower, her hair shimmering in the soft glow. Silver eyes remain riveted on me. The hold is strong, as though I’m iron and she’s magnetized.
She reaches for me, but halfway between us her hand stalls.
I make up the distance, my fingers gently wrapping her wrist. I expect to pass right though her ghostly form, yet my jaw drops as solid flesh stops my momentum. Her eyes widen at our contact. She’s substantive, skin like cool silk. Below us, her feet materialize from nothing.
Rosamond’s brow creases, confusion contorting her flawless features.
I withdraw my hand and her feet disappear. Lightening quick, she grips my hand and her legs form beneath her again. Dainty white feet stand firmly on the ground. Bare toes grip the floor for balance. The action seems so innocent and unaware, and completely adorable. She’s whole and corporeal at my touch, but as soon as she releases me, everything below the knee disappears again.
“What’s going on?” Rosamond asks.
Good question.
“Who are you, Cole? Why is this happening?”
I’d hoped she knew, and said as much. “How do you know my name? How did you find me?”
“I saw you.” She glances over her shoulder at an ornate mirror on the wall. Two spots of color rise on her cheeks. “Through there, in the magician’s looking glass.”
Pan. The magician. Man. Monster. The one we feared above any other. Master and keeper of The Void’s labyrinth.
She raises her hand and pauses, as if she wants to touch me and changed her mind. I wish she would change it again. “I used to see other places through it, other worlds. Your photograph hung on a wall across from my mirror for a time.” She stares at the floor where her feet would be if she had any. “Pan’s idea of a joke, I think, torturing me with a picture of a handsome boy. You were the symbol for a relationship I can never have.”
However shallow, my mind replays the part where she calls me handsome. I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid my voice will crack anyway, so I don’t respond.
“Your photo was moved after a time. I was blind to you, and that left me lonelier than ever. The whole point, I guess. I see the outside world through there, but so does he. There’s a network of mirrors connected to this one. He’s always watching.”
Icy cold and foreboding, a shudder runs though me at the thought of him spying on her or anyone else. Somewhere, the sound of water trickles over hard stone. I wonder, and not for the first time, what part of the labyrinth she’s hidden in. “Rosamond, how do you reach me? How is it we’re talking?”
Pale lashes fan her cheeks as she looks away. “I don’t know.”
She’s been through so much, and still going through it, a mystery that needs solving. Her accent is American, possibly from the southern states, yet more formal than Rae’s. Maybe she hasn’t been here that long, but who took her picture?
She leans forward. “Can you get me out?”
Her question launches ten more in my head. They zing through gray matter like arrows, embedding themselves in a flurry of conflicting thoughts. “How long have you been a prisoner, Rosamond?”
“I … a year, maybe more? I’m not sure.”
Her gaze darts over my face, and I think she’s waiting for me to respond, but what do I say? Releasing someone is complicated for more than one reason. If she’s been here too long, she’ll die outside these walls. Somehow, I don’t think hearing that will help her anxiety level, so I say the only thing I can.
“I’m sorry you’re here.” Her little hands clasp like she’ll pray. I have the strangest urge to gather her into my arms and hold her against me. The temptation’s strong enough that I cross my arms and tamp the impulse down. With a baseball bat. “Try not to worry. I’ll figure something out.
Pressure builds around us as the walls start to blur.
“Looks like times up.”
Rosamond lifts her face and smiles. “So, I’ll just wait here then?”
The fact she has enough fight left to joke about her situation loosens something in my throat. I cough as the room swirls. Her eyes soften with something like longing. I wonder how long it’s been since she had someone to talk to, since anyone touched her?
“I’ll try. I promise.” The turret disintegrates. My head snaps back against the cushioned seat of the airplane. I can just make out the soft edges of platinum hair as she fades from view. The old woman in the seat next to me rematerializes in Rosamond’s place. “I’ll try.”
Thank you, Cole.