The footpaths snaked through the fields, between mauve grasses and plum-tinted palmetto trees, and then, as the horses clomped up a low embankment, Sami was startled by the ocean waves coming into view. These weren’t the usual Caribbean-blue currents of home. These ocean swells rose in the air in curtains of sea spume. They splashed and twisted slowly, more like veils than water. And the water was yellow. Sea yellow. Canary, daffodil, starlight yellow. The clearest color of sunshine. “Oh, just wow,” she breathed.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Natala said, then smiled. “She used to be even brighter—the Silverworld sea—not so long ago. Before Nixie.”
Gazing out at the waves, Sami realized she really, really missed home.
Florida.
She’d never really considered its beauty before now. She hadn’t appreciated it…until it was gone. Suddenly she felt she’d give anything for a glimpse of her mother or the sound of Teta’s voice, and these things were wrapped up in the vanilla smell of the ylang-ylang tree and the bobbing ibis birds that grazed the neighborhood lawns.
“I want to go home,” she mumbled, then looked hopefully at the Flickers. “Can I pretty soon?”
“You will,” Dorsom promised. “I think.”
“Soon, soon,” Natala added. “Probably.”
“Probably?” Sami cried. “You’re not sure?”
“Almost sure,” Dorsom said quickly. “We’ve never actually had a situation quite like this before.”
“But pretty soon, I’m certain,” Natala said. “No need to rush back, right?”
“I feel like—like I’m trying not to panic—but I can’t even tell how long I’ve been here already. And my mom’s going to freak when she realizes I’m not in my room.”
“Your family won’t have noticed your absence—not for a while yet,” Natala said. “We move at accelerated speeds, compared to those of the Actual World.”
“A Silverworld week fits into an Actual World hour.” Dorsom straightened the reins. “Which is why people in the Actual World don’t see us. When Actuals look into the Silverskinned, they see reflections, flashes, just blurs of brightness. Actuals only seem to see their own images, floating on light. But the light is us—the Flickers!”
“We’ve passed the morning.” Natala pointed to the sun. “But in your World, hardly a minute’s gone by.”
They were trying to reassure her, Sami knew, or distract her, but somehow the thought of even time being different in this place made her feel even farther from home than ever.
The horses entered a small beachside village. It had sandy walkways, one blue cobblestone street down the center, and an assortment of squat buildings with shutters and window gardens washed in glimmering tints of amethyst. Dorsom and Natala hopped down and tied their horses in front of a lopsided little hut that looked familiar to Sami. It bore a small hand-painted sign over the door that said SILVERWORLD REBALANCING AND SECURITY.
“Thus far thus good,” Natala said. “We’ve arrived!”
Dorsom helped Sami down; his expression was serious. “We may not be staying long.”
“We’re at…the pier. I think,” Sami said slowly. “Back in my world, I mean. This is the old bait and tackle shop, isn’t it? They sell frozen shrimp here….” Sami smiled at the memory. Sometimes she and Tony got out their father’s battered fishing poles, bought a bucket of bait and a few frozen candy bars, and dangled their feet off the pier.
“Not in Silverworld,” Natala told her. “This is our office, and welcome.”
Dorsom rattled a big bunch of iron keys. Abruptly, he stopped and said, “I smell fear.” He squinted at the door a moment, then pushed it open with a squeak. Shadow soldiers. You two wait here. His thought was grim.
Standing behind Dorsom in the doorway, blinking, Sami could see wooden desks and filing cabinets with all their drawers yanked out, papers spilled everywhere. A big metal typewriter lay overturned on the floor. There was a toppled silver tray, an overturned Bedouin teapot, and smashed tea glasses. A ceiling fan with blades of woven palm fronds rotated lazily over the scene. Either the Flickers were horribly messy or their place had been ransacked.
They’ve gone. For the moment. Dorsom gestured for Sami and Natala to enter. There was a distinctive smell in the air—not unpleasant, but odd—a bit like the air just before a thunderstorm, heavy and briny and salty, as if the sea had just washed through the place. She touched a wooden cabinet that had been emptied of books. They were scattered in a heap, their splayed leather covers inscribed with symbols, much like her teta’s spell book. She picked one up and ran her hand over its soft cover. Somebody really doesn’t like you guys, she thought.
We’re rebalancing agents. Natala’s response startled Sami, who’d forgotten to watch her thoughts. Natala scooped up ledgers and papers from the floor and stacked them on the desk. “We have enemies.”
“Apparently, the Nixie’s creatures have just paid us a visit.” Dorsom began plucking up a toppled pile of papers. “They don’t usually bother with this much destruction. They’re too busying recruiting Shadows and stealing Flickers and casting their cold length.”
Their abilities are growing, Natala thought. Deepening.
“Their determination surely is,” Dorsom added. “Truly they want you, Sami.”
“Me?” She glanced over her shoulder. “But I don’t have anything to do with this world—I don’t even want to be here. What do they want from me?”
“Their queen is drawn to anything powerful—and threatening.” Dorsom shook his head. “They might still be near. We need to take you to the Director.”
Just then a low, resonating whistle filled the air and the Flickers froze in place. It was an eerie tone, more of a vibration than an actual sound. Sami felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “What was that?”