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The agony sketched across her face told me she was conflicted, but after another minute, she nodded. “I’ll try.” She closed her eyes and let out an easy breath. After only a few seconds, she opened them, cleared her throat, then followed the same routine as before.
Nothing.
“I can’t. I can’t leave.” A hint of panic laced her voice, as she closed her eyes and tried a third time.
Still nothing.
Slouching back against the tree, she huffed. “It’s no use. I can’t even return to the mortal realm.”
Wracked with disappointment, I sighed. “Why on earth would you follow me in here?”
“It’s not like that corridor screamed Disneyland. Why on earth would you step into it?”
“I heard a baby crying. And someone kept telling me to save him. I couldn’t really stop myself. I kind of blacked out, and when I woke up, truly woke up, that’s when the wall closed.”
“I hate to say it, but I wish that fucker Vaszhago was here. Do you think they’ll find us?”
“I don’t know. I hope so. In the meantime, we’ll stick together. I think if we go back out the door, we’ll be farther along in the labyrinth.”
Vespyr twisted around, looking behind the trunk of the tree. “Farryn … the door is gone.”
“What?” I scrambled onto hands and knees and looked for myself, finding nothing but trees. “What the hell? That’s where we came in.”
“I get the feeling whatever it iswantsus to venture into all of these rooms.”
“I think you’re right. There’s something to it. Like a puzzle. The first room we came to was 137. I saw that number repeatedly in dreams and hallucinations I’ve had throughout the day.”
“What does 137 mean?”
“I believe they’re separate. Thirteen and seven. Death and creation. When we exited, there was 220 on the door. It’s possible it could be references to the Bible.”
“Or the two could mean duality.” Vespyr nibbled on her lip, her eyes contemplative. “Could be tarot?”
“Maybe. Whatever it is, I think it’s guiding us toward something. And I think we need to keep our eyes open.” A shine flickered in my eyes, and I looked up, to see a gossamer thread stretched between the trees just over my head. I followed its path toward darker, more shadowy parts of the woods ahead of us. “Looks like the only way out is through the woods.”
“I don’t know about you? But I’ve read plenty of fairy tales to know that never ends well.”
53
THE BARON
The baron stepped inside the dark room, staring across to where his mother lay, weak and still. He did his best to reel in the tears, but as he gazed upon her frail form, he felt the sting of tears hit the rims of his eyes.
“Will you stand there all evening?” she asked in a breathy voice.
Head down, he crossed the room and came to a stop alongside her bed. He couldn’t speak a word, as if his voice had been cut right out of his throat.
“I am dying.”
He looked away, breathing hard through his nose to stave off tears, and felt the gentle touch of his mother’s fingers guiding his face back to hers.
“Do not cry for me. For I am not in pain. Cry for those who suffer.”
“Why, Mother? Why did we not leave? Why did you choose to stay and suffer his abuse?”
She brought his hand to her lips and kissed the back of his palm. “If I am to be honest, I dreamed of that very thing so many times. When you were first born, I found myself torn between duty and motherhood. How badly I wanted to steal you away, but I could not.”
“Why? What duty? As hiswife?” He couldn’t help the repulsion on his lips as he spoke the word.
