“You are from Auntie Zee,” the green woman said. “You look like her.”
Calisa wondered which piece of her looked like her great-aunt. Also, why was this woman chasing a flower? Also, why was a flower running? Also, why was she green and the sun purple and why did it all hurt?Where am I?“I, um…yes? You know Auntie Zee?”
Faster than her eye could follow, the green-skinned womandarted close to Calisa, uncomfortably close. Her breath filled Calisa’s face, and she smelled of soil and cut grass. She cocked her head. “You tell that daughter of mine that the time for indulging herself is over. She needs to plant her seedlings.”
“Daughter?” Calisa echoed.Seedlings?
“Melidor!” The woman’s voice ricocheted inside her head, sharp as a shriek. “I know she’s checked herself in as a guest. ‘To prepare,’ she said. But she has not returned, and she is not heeding any of our songs, though we have sent them wide to infiltrate both her waking hours and her dreams.” She gestured behind Calisa, and Calisa turned to see the swirling, door-shaped rectangle, the closet door, standing without any kind of support.
“I’ll, um, tell her?” Her head began to pound.
“She cannot hide from her duties. The seasons turn, and she has responsibilities. Pretending they don’t exist will not make them disappear. You tell her that, since she will not listen to us.”
The breeze pricked her skin painfully. It was hard to think, with the whispering flowers and the biting breeze and the bruise-like shadows that looked not quite right and the pain from the throbbing in her head. Every cell in her body felt as if it were screaming that she didn’t belong here.
The green woman, Melidor’s mother, swiveled to face another plant that had uprooted itself and was now running away, giggling in a high-pitched voice. “Root yourself right now! This is not the time for such behavior!” She charged after the running plant, her silvery dress unfurling behind her.
Calisa stared and stared, as if her eyes could drink it all in.
She then stepped backward through the iridescent swirl into the charming but ordinary guest room, with its floral accents and forest vibe, and she breathed. Ordinary air. Ordinary light. She rubbed her arms, feeling the memory of the bite of the wind.
Where was I?
And:Does every room have a closet like this?
She had a theory. It was an absurd theory, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Without letting herself think about what it meant or whether it was possible or even if she should, she spun around and crossed the room.
Sticking her head out of the door to the guest room, Calisa checked both directions—whoever she’d heard on the stairs seemed to have gone. She shut Melidor’s door behind her and locked it.
After less than a second’s hesitation, she used the master key to open the next guest room, number eleven, one she knew was unoccupied. She slipped inside. Instead of florals everywhere, this room was draped in silks that hung like buntings from the wooden rafters on the ceiling. The blankets and sheets on the bed were gold, and the headboard and posts of the canopy were painted gold as well. But her eyes went immediately to the closet door.
Crossing to it, she took a deep breath, then opened it—and she was greeted with another swirling portal. This time, it was black and gold, as if gold paint was being stirred into oil.
Giving herself zero time for freaking out, she stepped through.
It was dark. No, there was light: stars. So many stars! And amoon hung heavy and full, low in the sky over the gray silhouette of distant stone spires.
How did it become night?
In front of her, down a grassy hill, were row after row of tents, lit by torches and lanterns. It looked to be some kind of nighttime farmers market, with vendors at each tent hawking fabrics and fruits. The air was full of smells that she didn’t recognize: meats and spices, she guessed, but nothing she could name. On the hills around the market were dozens of other door-size rectangles of swirling colors.
Calisa stepped backward through her portal into the guest room and daylight and closed the door. Her closet had nothing like this. She thought of the red X painted on her guest room door and wondered ifthiswas what it meant. X for no swirl. No…wherever that was.
Checking the hallway, Calisa emerged from the unoccupied guest room and shut the door behind her. She was shaking, and she felt as if her thoughts were swirling inside her, as mixed up as the colors in the portals—that’s what they had to be, didn’t they? Portals to…somewhere else?
Auntie Zee knows.
So does Jack.
As did every guest staying at the Faraway Inn…. She thought of Kendra apparently stepping out of a supply closet, and how there were never any cars outside.
Exactly how far away are Auntie Zee’s guests from?
Chapter Eleven
The fireplace in her room was cold when Calisa returned, and she stared at it for a moment, then shook her head. She had much larger questions than an inconsistent fire. She felt as if the very foundation stones beneath her feet were crumbling. If what she saw was real…then everything about the world was different than she thought it was.
Calisa picked up the phone on the bedside table, and before she could talk herself out of it, she dialed her home number. It rang. And rang. And rang until voicemail picked up. She didn’t leave a message. She tried Mom-Kate’s cell phone. Voicemail too. She tried Mom-Elise.
