“But they’re my details,” I said, standing up and brushing myself off. Jason’s body echoed my movements, still smiling sweetly at me. “That’s not the same as the real Jason. I loved him partly because he was always surprising me. He’d never surprise me again if I made him up. Besides, the real Jason would still be dead.”
[You wouldn’t have to remember that fact,] said the creature.
“What do you mean?”
[I could wipe your memories. Put you back where you were before Jason died. Take you far away from this place, set you up as a family. You’d remember only life and love, and you’d be together.]
While the creature was talking, Jason’s body had moved along beside me and put an arm around me. Meanwhile, the creature played out his offer using that damned mirror. Jason’s body held me while I watched the creature’s promises play out in front of us. I felt like I was in a bizarre, supernatural version of The Price Is Right.
In the mirror, Jane sat at a small table on the verandah of a log cabin. Interestingly, it looked mighty similar to Anyan’s. Jason soon joined her, carrying a big platter of something. He sat it down in front of Jane, calling into the house as he did so. Two little girls, one dark and one light, came carrying their own smaller plates out to join their parents. They all sat down together, Jason eating off Jane’s plate as he almost always had in life, while the four talked animatedly, if silently.
In my heart of hearts, if I was honest, I knew I would have given anything for that picture to have been a reality.
But instead I shook my head, stepping away from the warm, strong arm of Jason’s body.
“It’s not real,” I said. “And it can’t be real. I would have loved for that to have come true, but it didn’t. Jason died, and I’m a different person now.” Almost as if to prove my point, the figures wavered and then disappeared, leaving only the replica of Anyan’s cabin sitting alone in the mirror.
[But it could be real. I can make it real, for you,] came that seductive whisper.
“Only by destroying me,” I said, almost sadly. “I’m not that Jane anymore. And, to be honest, I don’t know if I’d want to be her. She was sweet, but she wasn’t able to cope with things. I like being who I’ve become,” I said, realizing that fact for myself only as I said it for the first time.
I really do like who I’ve become, I thought, much to my evident surprise.
“And again,” I said quickly, before the creature could up his ante any more, “I don’t get to choose my happiness over others’ lives. That’s not my right. Nothing you can offer me will change that fact.”
First, Jason disappeared. For all my brave words, my heart wrenched at the sight of him fading away. Then, the mirror disappeared from above the creature’s enormous sucker, and its tentacle slithered away. Finally, all the tentacles began slithering. Left and right they went, untangling themselves to reveal another door in the opposite wall.
This door was black, not white, and it was carved with all sorts of Alfar symbols.
Exit all hope, ye who enter here, I conjectured upon their translation. They stayed shut as I neared, and I had to push my way through them. They were heavy, but I managed to push them open by putting all my weight into it.
Call that service? I griped, mentally, only to come to a halt as soon as I’d crossed the threshold.
For I’d come face to cornea with one enormous fucking eyeball.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The eye blinked at me. I blinked back.
Like my own, the eye was jet black. Unlike my own round orb, however, this one was more a horizontal slit—like an enormous subtraction sign. And it was huge: The eye itself, along with the round, slightly protruding socket in which it was housed, was larger than the entire length of my body. The skin around the socket was green-gray, but then it flashed orange, and then brown.
Like a chameleon, I thought as it blinked at me again, and I blinked back. Or an enormous octopus.
[Come around, Jane,] said that warm, sonorous voice in my mind. [Come around and see my home.]
I sidled past the eye, which watched my progress. Only then did I realize it had been moved around in its socket, and that I’d come in through some sort of side entrance.
Once I’d moved around in front of it, I peered around the room. It had once been white marble, like the others I’d just been in, but it was now streaked with algae, lime, salt, and sand. Partially that was because there was a lot more water here than there had been. Water ran down the rock walls, like natural fountains, spilling into pools here and there, or dripping out onto the floor. All that water made it look a lot more like a natural cave than those other overly white spaces had. Similar to that last room, however, this one also had tentacles piled around, here and there. They pulsed and twitched occasionally, but were otherwise still.
Also like those other rooms, this one heaved with power. Yet the power was slightly different, somehow. The other rooms had been Alfar, laced with something else… Here, I just felt that “something else.” It felt a little like Terk’s brownie magic, or Nell’s power when she tapped into the old magics, but more concentrated. More like Blondie’s power, actually, but still not exactly that.
[It’s the wild magic,] the voice said. [Older than old, it’s the first magic. Tapping into the elements themselves, not just the elements’ radiated force.]
I turned back to the eye. “I guess that would make sense, since you’re so ancient. So’s your power.”
The creature chuckled in my head, and I had the odd experience of watching the mottled green-gray skin around the creature’s eye crinkle in amusement and flash brown, until the laughter in my head ceased.
[You are a practical little creature, little one. And so calm.]
I shrugged. “This past year has been all about the surprises. I’ve learned to roll with change.”
[Aren’t you frightened?] it asked.
“Of course,” I admitted. “But you could have killed me at any point, couldn’t you, since I’ve been in your home. Plus,” I hazarded, having formed a hunch from having the creature in my mind for these past few hours, “you were the one possessing everyone, weren’t you?”
There pulsed a feeling of agreement in my head—less language and more a sense of affirmation.
“I thought so. So, if you’d wanted to kill me, you could have just possessed me and made me dash my brains against a cave wall, or used that sword to kill myself instead of that bird. Which was a dastardly little trick, that bird.”
[Not my trick,] the creature interrupted. [That was put there by those who built this prison.]
“The Alfar?” I asked.
[Yes, that is what you call them.]
“That makes sense. Although I’m surprised I passed any test that they created.”
[You didn’t,] the creature intoned, in my mind. [You failed.]
“But the door…”
[I opened the door. The test was meant to test resolve. Your apology, plus the time you took to make the decision and the fact you paused at killing another creature, meant you failed.]
“Huh,” I replied. “Well, I never was very good at standardized testing—”
[Why did you pause?] the creature interrupted. [It was only a bird, after all.]
“It was only a bird,” I acknowledged. “But it was the principle. Whoever set that test up was being cruel, and expecting me to do something equally cruel. It’s one thing to kill a bird for food or because it’s… I dunno, attacking your babies. But the way it was just put there, like that…”
[And yet you did kill it.]
I hung my head. “If I didn’t, it’d be dead anyway. And so would a lot of other people, and animals.”
[How did making that decision make you feel?]
I thought about that before answering. “It made me feel used. Out of control. Like I don’t get to live my life the way I want to, but the way other people dictate.”
[You’ve felt like that for awhile, no?]
Yes, I admitted, although only in my thoughts. I knew it was useless to lie to the creature, since it could be in my mind so easily. And yet I felt like I wanted to talk to it for some reason. It felt good to be so honest—I felt like I could be honest with myself, in a way that was never easy.
[Since when?] the creature asked.
“Since all of this started. Since I learned about my mom and her world, my life’s been exciting, but not necessarily mine. I love it, too,” I insisted, knowing that my feelings for my new life were complicated. “But sometimes I wish I had more control over the way I live.”
[And yet I gave you choices, and you refused them.]
I smiled, sadly. “They weren’t really choices. They were fantasies.”
The creature seemed to be thinking about what I’d said. When it finally spoke, its voice was grave.
[Would you like to hear my story?] the creature asked. [For I, too, have felt acted upon. My life has not been my own. And yet, I have learned to accept that fact. Even to embrace it.]
Realistically, I knew that I had no choice in the matter. The creature clearly wanted something from me, and whatever it wanted involved me knowing its life. But I appreciated it giving me a choice.
