Ghost of Doors (City of Doors) (17 page)

"I'm sorry," she said. Wolfgang wasn't sure what she was sorry for.

He said, "Just remember that everything here was human once, was just like you. Every zombie. Every stone. Except for the fae. They are the rulers here."

"What do you mean?" She stood up, her long hair falling behind her like a shadow. "What does that mean, every thing was human once? That doesn’t make sense." There was a slight wave to her hair that made it float behind her, around her, a dark halo that blazed. She'd worn it up when he first met her; he didn't realize how long it really was.

"I mean I'm not exaggerating. The fae own everything, made everything. Whatever you see here is what it is because some powerful fae wanted it to be that way." Wolfgang had a hard time keeping the anger out of his words. He didn't want her to think the anger was directed at her, because it wasn't. She seemed kind of sensitive that way. He wanted to learn more about social customs in the human world, but he didn't want to get off track. This was important, and she needed to understand. He hated the way things were here, wished he could change them with all his heart. "You’re right, I should be clearer. When I say 'made,' of course I don't mean that they actually build things. That's for the slaves to do.
They
make everything, with their bodies and souls. And this place is just a copy of a human city. None of the buildings here serve their real purpose. Most don't serve any purpose. They're hollow things, just like the fae. No soul to them. Never was. Why the eldritch copy human cities I don’t know. I used to think it was to make their prey feel more at home, but now I’m not so sure they have complete control over the shape the city takes. Or maybe it’s being done by the most powerful eldritch, the few god-like, unmatched. That’s certainly possible. Humans like us wouldn’t have any way to know.”

"Wait. Stop. This is Berlin," she said, "isn't it?"

"No," he replied. "This is Doors." He wasn't exactly surprised that Raphael had not bothered to explain anything to her. That would only frighten her off, make her change her mind, just as he was doing now. He continued, "It's only been a model of Berlin for about fifty or sixty years. Before that, it was some other place. Are you from Berlin?"

"Hold on a minute. If this isn't Berlin..." The tremor in her voice and outstretched hand proved to Wolfgang that she had to have an answer from him, because the answer that she came to herself was horrifying. "Where are we?"

"Some people call this the Land of the Dead," Wolfgang told her. "But it's not. Not exactly. It's sort of a stop on the way. The eldritch—the ‘Fair Folk’, the monsters—all call this place the 'Land of Youth.’”

"Land of Youth?" she asked in a tone that said she wanted to make sure she understood.

“Yeah,” Wolfgang said, chuckling to himself. “It’s because they don't age. They never get old. They grow up and stay young forever." Her eyes wide in wonder, Wolfgang wasn't sure if she misunderstood him or understood him only too well. He turned away from her briefly, stirred the beans idly just to be doing something. The warm smell made his stomach growl but they both ignored it. The conversation was making him lose his appetite anyway. "They can't die. They don't have souls. They can only be destroyed." Her expression became so alarmed that Wolfgang felt compelled to ask, "You knew that, right? I mean, you came here to join them, I thought."

"I—sure, I knew about the not dying. Not so much about the 'no soul' part." She rubbed her bare arms; Wolfgang noticed the goosebumps and wondered if they were from cold or fear. "What happens to it?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted.
But Dad knows
, he thought, and felt sick.

"So what you're saying is, this is where the people belong who die and can't go to heaven or hell. Like a purgatory."

Wolfgang scratched his head. It was beginning to get warm in the kitchenette from the stove and hot food and their body heat, and he'd started to sweat. "I don't know about that. I've never seen a heaven or a hell. But then again, I can't exactly leave Doors."

"You can't?" she asked. "Why not?"

"No human can," he explained. Thinking about the day before, he smiled dryly. "I guess Raphael forgot to tell you that, too. Only the monsters can go in and out of the doors at will."

She was silent for a long time. He stirred some beans and waited for her to find her voice. "What happens if you do?" she said.

"If I do what? Go into a door?" She nodded. He shrugged. “It depends. Sometimes death. Sometimes nothing. Of course, the portal in the Hindernis isn't like the normal doors in...Doors." Wolfgang realized he'd started rambling and got quiet.

"So, when you say eldritch..?"

"I mean monsters. And the fae. The Fair Folk, sometimes they're called. Elves. Changelings like Marie, or my doppelganger. But there are other kinds, too, that can do much more than change shape and disappear." Wanting to get closer, Wolfgang moved to sit beside her. Most of his red-hot anger was gone, leaving only smoldering coals of bitterness. She made room for him at the table but seemed reluctant. "Those kind are very old, but most of the ones in Doors aren't like that. Most of them killed each other off in bloody wars. The older they are, the more powerful and dangerous they are. Luckily there aren't too many of those anymore."

"I guess I understand," Leonie said.

"You and I can never be fae," he explained. "You are either born a fae or not. That leaves the rest of the monsters here, the soldiers in the Fair Folks' armies: Vampires, zombies, werewolves. Other things."

"So how did you and Marie get to be friends, then?" she asked, taking off her glasses to clean them on her T-shirt. "It sounds like that kind of thing would be forbidden."

"Oh, no. It’s not because everyone here expects the humans to change," he told her. "Being human is like uh, the larval stage on the way to the butterfly. So, even though we’re lower class, we’re still worth something. Doesn’t mean we don’t get pushed around a lot, though."

Leonie seemed to accept this. She nodded and warily eyed the beans Wolfgang had served her. Reminded that he finally had some food to eat, hunger came back like a stray animal, and he spooned the hot beans eagerly into his mouth as politely as he could manage. He didn’t want her to think growing up in this place had made him some kind of beast. “Don’t like beans?” he asked.

“No, I like beans fine,” she said. “I was just thinking. Isn’t there some kind of rule that if I eat the food here, I’m trapped here forever?”

“Oh. Well, these beans weren’t made here. They came from a can.”

“Ah,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking about it that way.”

“If you really don’t want them, I’ll take them.”

“Oh, sure.” She pushed the bowl toward him as he pushed aside his empty bowl for the moment.

“And besides, you’re trapped here anyway. Unless you become a monster.” She didn’t reply but instead cast her eyes down to her hands. They folded in her lap, wings of a white dove resting.

“You know,” he said, scooping up the bowl and digging in, “these are hard to come by here.”

“Really?” She studied the bean can as if it was a hieroglyph.

“Not impossible to get. Just that people don’t bring them in that often.”

“So, how do you know Raphael?” His stomach twisted completely around, squelching his appetite. “It sounded like you two grew up together.”

“Long story,” Wolfgang said. He stood up to put the uneaten beans in the sink.

“I didn’t mean to—”

He held up his hand. “No, it’s ok. Just sometimes— You grow up trusting someone and then—” He looked her right in the eyes, those dark blue jewels flecked with bits of silver holding his full attention. “You have to be careful who you trust, here. I guess it’s different in the human world.”

She laughed a little and shook her head, the magnetism in their locked gaze broken but still felt. “I wish. I wish it was different. We’ve got a lot in common, Wolfgang. We both don’t know who to trust.”

“You can trust me,” he offered immediately.

This brought forth more gentle laughter, not the response he wanted nor was expecting. “I can’t believe that I thought you could murder someone. I’m sorry, Wolfgang.” Suddenly he was not the least bit insulted by the laughter, but was instead happy for it. It meant they were connecting, and that was what he so desperately wanted. And here he had stumbled upon it just by being himself, when all amounts of trying to make it happen had done nothing.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, returning to his seat. A dove wing fluttered from her lap, settling on his hand, taking his hand in hers. He was relieved to find himself already sitting because he found he was fast losing the strength to stand which he blamed on exhaustion. She leaned forward and slowly brushed stray hairs from his eyes with a caution reserved for wild things.

“I’d like to make it up to you.”

Red lips, berry soft and berry smooth, leaned toward him almost imperceptibly. The jewels of her eyes gleamed beneath their supple lids, once, twice, with languid blinking. Then Marie was back, her soft voice rushing into Wolfgang’s ear to fill it with deep tones: “We should be safe here tonight. But it’s only smart to leave early.” Wolfgang felt blood rush to his face in shame even though he had done nothing at all, let alone done nothing wrong.

Clearing his throat and offering Marie the remaining bowl of beans, he turned back to Leonie shyly, almost afraid to look at her, even though he didn’t understand why. “Want to come with us?” he asked.

She looked to Marie who was eating the beans almost too carefully, nearly one at a time, instead of with the insatiable hunger Wolfgang had shown. Marie devoted her attention entirely to the bowl, not supporting or rejecting Wolfgang’s offer. “Sure,” Leonie said. “I can always find Raf again later. It only makes sense to make new friends, right?”

Wolfgang only smiled and excused himself, then headed for the one of the rooms Raphael had offered them.

Chapter 12

T
HE HOUSE WAS DARK AND
quiet, much larger on the inside than it had seemed on the outside, not that it was small to begin with: Three stories, several balconies, at least one fireplace (she had seen the chimney), a basement (she remembered passing the shut basement doors on the way in), and an attic. The house was already a mansion, but it felt longer than Marie remembered it looking on the outside as she chased after Raphael under the cover of invisibility through the crooked and narrow hallway. He went up a flight of stairs to another narrow hall and knocked softly on a door. He let himself inside while Marie, not knowing who or what was in there, decided to wait in the hall. Placing her ear near the keyhole, she tried hearing what was happening inside. It had been too dark for her to see inside, and since changelings had hearing as good as any other monster, this was the next best thing.

A door closed. A muffled sound, but audible none-the-less. When strong arms enveloped her and hands gripped her hands, shock gave way to acceptance as she realized it was none other than the vampire she had been following, his soundless movement undetected by even her sensitive ears.

She felt her cheeks get hot, tried to suppress it but could not, or perhaps didn’t want to. Raphael’s strong chest against her back, Marie sank against him, her fear dissipating quickly, leaving annoyance in its stead. “I can’t believe I let you sneak up on me like that.”

“Were you really surprised? I imagined this to be a trap, but I couldn’t think how you could trap me in my own house.” He leaned forward, no breath moving through his lips. “Did you really think I didn’t know you’d follow me? It’s your nature. It’s like expecting water not to flow.”

She thought about this, wanted to tease him. “Ice doesn’t flow,” she said by way of example.

His smile was in his voice. “Ice never comes to mind when I think of you.”

“I’m afraid to ask what does come to mind.”

“Why? I think you might like it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you used to like it. A lot.”

His mouth brushed against her neck and made the small hairs there stand on end. A tingling ran up her spine. She turned around enough to see him, and did not break the grip his hands still had on hers. A grin had reached his dark green eyes, something Marie had noticed only happened when they were alone together like this. She hadn’t seen that grin in a long time.

“And you think I still would?”

“Yes. Because I think you knew that I would expect you. So you did set a trap for me of sorts. A honey trap. Correct?“

“Now where would I get honey?”

“I bet I could find some if you let me.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t try to discourage you, but—” she twisted around, her hands free from his grip and placed her forearms affectionately on his shoulders “—what about the other guests?”

“Let them find their own honey.”

“Mmmm.” Her fingers found locks of his hair to twirl. Their eyes met, his dark and serious with desire and hers full of the playfulness of the moment. “What did you say earlier? I think it was ‘Har, har’? Two can play at that game.”

“Marie,” he said, “I know I made some mistakes. Is it really too late to, well, I guess, start over?”