Unreal City (13 page)

Arthur made a tutting noise. “I suppose I can see where you are coming from, though I lament your lack of direction,” he said, and the comment stung. He lifted his hand into the air and tilted his head backward. “Grimoire, come over here,” he commanded.

A rushing of wind came from the back of the library and a large tome flew forth. Both the front and back cover were set with a sculpture of a face, each of them identical, their eyes glowing eerily with the light that I took to be the life-force of each of the familiars. It whisked its way over Arthur’s head and landed neatly in his hands, the pages fluttering as he fingered through them. He licked his fingers every time he turned a page, something that made me bristle as the sound of his dampened finger scraped against the dry paper.

“You heard what she said. Show me, Grimoire. Send me in the right direction,” he murmured to the book, and stopped without any apparent reason at a page of his choosing. His eyes scanned the words written there.

I just couldn’t sit back and watch anymore. “Just tell me if I’m safe or not. Tell me what’s doing this. Tell me what’s happening,” I pleaded.

Arthur looked at me, his eyes scolding, like I was an impudent child acting out of line. I looked to Angus for assistance, only to see that he had disappeared, along with the presence of Aodh. Arthur tracked my gaze, and his painted-on smile broadened with real satisfaction.

“He has gone, child. His time here has run out,” Arthur said, not without a touch of delight. My hand went unconsciously to Felix’s neck and I felt his fur shiver under my touch. “I don’t think I can explain so easily the peculiar turn your life has taken. I think perhaps everyone looks for a reason when their lives are torn apart. It is natural to want something to blame. But I cannot say for certain that the reason behind your sister’s death is related to your admittance into Unreal City.”

I was downtrodden and infuriated by the answer, but I kept my face straight. I didn’t feel brave enough to test this man. “But I daresay, my girl,” he continued, “that you are in need of information far more basic than this. I fear that no one has given you the perspective that you need about this place.”

“What?” I breathed.

“Have you given it blood yet?” he asked, folding lean fingers over his knees.

I blinked at Felix, who refused to meet my gaze, then back at him. “Felix? My familiar?”

“Yes, you silly girl. I am speaking English, aren’t I? My perception hasn’t shifted that far, I hope,” Arthur said, clearly agitated. At my side, Felix was growling in that low, catlike rumble, as if he were threatening Arthur to stay quiet.

“No, no I haven’t. Does something bad happen if I do?” My voice was trembling now. Arthur leaned his head onto his hand, his white-blue eyes startling me.

“You still have a chance to break away from here, if you can. You can tempt the familiars with other things—other parts perhaps, but until you’ve given them the blood, you can still bid them leave you forever. Once they taste it, they’ll be bound to you for the rest of your life,” he said and moistened his lips, his breathing ragged.

My heart rate was skyrocketing as I tried to unpack what all of this meant. “Wait, wait. Why would I want to break away? Isn’t this place a paradise?” I could hardly contain my panic at what he might be about to reveal. Behind those cold eyes, I could see the bank of fog that was his antisocial, nearly sociopathic nature start to clear. His faux-face almost became human at that moment, as if he were remembering a flash from another life—a time of warmth and feelings of love, and the very moment it all came crashing down.

“This is a prison,” he said, lips trembling.

“But you have whatever you want, you have—” I looked around to find a word to classify this bizarre sanctuary, “full access to all the knowledge you could ever want.”

“I am trapped by my unending desire. I return here whenever possible, spending an eternity turning through pages upon pages. I could devise better ways of getting it into my head, but I choose not to. It’s just too painfully satisfying the way it is. I’ve read every book on the floors below me and I can’t stop now. Not until I reach the top. My life on the other side is a nightmare. This is my only stable reality,” he rasped, his expression desperate. “And do you know the worst thoughts that come to me now? The ones that stab me in my brief moments of clarity?”

“Wh-what?”

“This has only been in my head. I know this library isn’t limited by my own knowledge, but I’m not even sure if any of what I’ve been reading is accurate to reality. I’m too afraid to even find out. I’m not even sure how long it’s
been
since I came here—” he stopped himself abruptly and put his hand delicately over his mouth, as if he’d been acting indecently and only just realized. “I apologize, miss. It’s just... It’s been so long since anyone’s been here, so long since I’ve talked to anyone, or told anybody about this—I lost myself momentarily. Forgive me.”

I almost got up to leave at that moment, but I was greedy for more knowledge. Or maybe I just figured that I’d rather face the risk of getting trapped inside this sad, shattered man’s darkest dreams than get trapped inside my own. He regained his composure, but still cleared his throat several times.

“Listen to me carefully. They hunt the ones who are tempted the most by their offer. They wait in places where deep energy once flowed. It sustains them until they find their prey, and then they strike. The things that this world can create are wonderful, but it will forever alter your connection with the reality we were born into, and do not think for a moment that you will be able to overcome it. I have seen people make it work for them. Angus is one of the stronger ones, I think because he was so young when he first came here, it became a part of his development. But this City is not to be toyed with. Think before you give him blood, and if you can resist—if you can go forward and live your life and abandon the eternal aching remembrance of something that pushed the boundaries of sensory wonder, you will have won. But once he goes away, he will be gone for all time,” Arthur warned.

“Thank you. Thank you for telling me,” I breathed. Our eyes connected for a moment and the longer I grew used to his beautiful mask, the sicker my stomach felt. I was forgetting his true appearance. It was working.

“I fear I cannot tell you anything about the strange events that have befallen you and though I doubt that—” he stopped and his eyebrows lifted as if something had just occurred to him. “Wait...I wonder.” Arthur snapped his fingers and Grimoire lifted upward. “Take me back to my three last memories of Charles Poe,” he commanded his familiar. His eyes glazed as he stared at the pages of the book, the muscles in his face growing lax. Grimoire’s pages continued to blow by like an endless flipbook and he stayed in that state for some time. I wondered if I shouldn’t just get up and leave while he was still hypnotized, but remained fidgeting in my seat until he came back.

“What happened?” I asked him when he finally blinked.

“I was only just revisiting a few memories to confirm something,” he told me, “and my guess was correct. Another one of the Cunning Folk, a man called Charles Poe, inhabitant of the eighth garden, mentioned something similar to your circumstances the last time he came here. He came to me in a panic, saying people were dying around him, that he felt something was chasing him—but I wouldn’t take anything he says too seriously. He’s deeply disturbed. Insane.”

I remembered that name from earlier—Poe. Angus had warned me to stay away from his garden at all costs, and now I supposed I knew why. No matter how you looked at it, wandering through the violent manifestation of a broken mind would be dangerous. I wanted desperately to know what was happening around me—whether I was in danger of losing my life or if the reason my sister had been robbed of hers had been more than a random act of depravity. However, as I sat there intimidated by this husk of a man, I searched inward for the line where courage ended and recklessness began.

“I think I can use that. You’ve done me a favor, Arthur. You have my thanks,” I told him, standing up.

A look of sorrow crossed his face and he jumped to his feet. “Going so soon?” he asked, taking my arm and gently tugging me back down. I resisted him.

“Y-yeah, I’ve got stuff to do. Sorry,” I shrugged, and his face sagged.

“Please, miss, won’t you join me for a while longer? I’d like to talk with you more, just a little conversation. I—I can create something wonderful for you, a warm drink, perhaps? A lovely view of the ocean for us to watch? I’d so love to tell you about all the marvelous things I’ve learned in my time here in the library. I think you might be interested. You might even find them
helpful
,” he entreated. If he hadn’t frightened me, I would have found him pathetic.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve really got to go.”

“But you
will
come back soon, won’t you? You will come visit again?” he clutched at his chest, not bothering to hide his willfulness. The look in his eyes almost broke my heart.

“I will. If I decide to come back to this City at all, that is,” I told him firmly, and I wanted to mean it. “Thank you again.”

He called goodbyes after me for as long as he could.

AS WE EXITED
the tower and walked into the grey courtyard outside, I found it hard to speak to Felix.

“How come you never told me any of that stuff before? About the blood?” I asked at last, and he smiled back unflinchingly.

“You never
asked
,” he said, much as a child would answer the same question. “I can’t tell you anything unless you ask.”

“Right,” I snapped. I was pretty sure he had already proven he possessed enough liberty to bend that rule and warn me. Sensing his stubbornness, I gave up and decided to take us home, but my thoughts would not become reality. Then I remembered I had no power in other people’s gardens.

“So how do I get out of here without disturbing the others if I can’t fly?”

“You can only run. Or I can run for you,” he offered. When I cocked my head, nonplussed, he grew still and a look of concentration came over his face. At once he grew in size, stretching taller, but retaining almost the same girth. As his legs began to grow freakishly long and skinny, he prompted me to climb atop his back before he became too tall for me to reach.

I did, gripping his cylindrical midsection, no wider than a foot across, as we rose higher into the air. His head was so far away from me he had to bend backward to inform me we were about to move. I curled my arms and legs around him, feeling his stretched spine bump and jostle me as we set into motion, his feet nearly a hundred feet below.

To watch him move was like something out of the most surreal of dreams, but I was more concerned with not falling off. Felix’s speed increased with every step, and within a minute we were tearing through the gardens at a pace that would’ve made my eyes stream in reality. In the middle of our jaunt, I was surprised to encounter another man, grizzled and wearing a long coat, riding in the opposite direction. Our eyes met and in the second I got to look at him, I saw he rode a familiar that looked like a filthy old kelpie. He shot past us as the horse-like spirit pierced through the air and disappeared.

Within minutes we were back in my garden. The feeling of all-powerfulness returned to me and I was comforted. Felix collapsed back to his normal length with a popping and snapping of his bones and a mad rolling of his eyes. I wasn’t sure if he was in pain or not, and frankly I was a little too put-off to ask.

Back to his normal size, he looked to me for direction. “Now what shall we do, Sarah? Should we play like we did before? We could explore underground caverns, or swim under the ocean until we find the very bottom, or perhaps catch fireflies, or—”

“No…this time I want to try something a little different.” Now that the moment was here, I felt stiff, trying to remember why I’d wanted this at all. It would just bring back all the terrible feelings, rip them through the wound that I’d been trying my best to sew shut every day. But the desire to see her again—to talk to her, even if it wasn’t really her—I couldn’t resist the temptation. A photo of her wasn’t enough. My memories weren’t enough. A huge part of my life had been torn away from me, and it wasn’t fair. And why should I even try to play fair with a fate that was this cruel? I took a breath and prepared to summon her from the Earth.