Against my better judgment, I keep staring at the school door, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jack. The father I lost before I realized I had found him. This f-ed up Shadow world plays with me like a cat with a ball of string. I’ve had it! I need to regain some kind of control, but how? If only...
“To dare is to ask.”
I spin around so fast that I almost fall over. There he is—that scruffy giggling dwarf from earlier tonight, observing me from head to toe with a broad smile on his face. Even hovering centimeters above the ground, he doesn’t reach higher than my chin.
“That’s better.”
“What?”
“Finally fully.”
“Fully what?”
“Here.”
“You mean…”
“Yes, fully here, body and all.”
“But I thought you could only come here in your mind, in a dream or something.”
“Not the key. The key opens worlds.”
I look at him, eyes wide open, unsure what to say or even think. Until now, it was easy to dismiss this cartoonish figure as a figment of my imagination—or at least not worth taking seriously. But that changed earlier tonight, when I recognized him in my neighbor’s centuries-old book. And then, the unthinkable happens: I ask for help.
“Balthasar, what do I need to do?” His rough, white eyebrows rise in surprise.
“Help Alice? Already?”
“Yes, yes, don’t rub it in.”
“There’s always help. Always hope.”
“Hope? Hope for what?”
“Not for what—for who.”
“All right, for who, then?”
“For you, of course, Alice. Always for you.”
Something inside me shifts painfully into place.
“I don’t understand. What happened to all the other Alices?”
“Other Alices, Alice?”
“The ones from the past. I’ve seen an old etching in a book… you’re in it, too. What happened to her? Did she fail? Did she… die?” His expression is a strange mix of amusement, compassion, and sorrow?
“There are no other Alices, Alice. It’s always you.”
“Me? But that’s impossible! That book was from the Middle Ages or something. I’m not even blond, I’m only sixteen!”
“Ah, yes, time, round and round it goes.” I swallow back my irritation, straighten my back, and take a deep breath. Come on, Tinderstick, for once do as you’re told.
“Alright, no time for riddles. We need to find Jack. How do I get into the school?”
“Through the door of course.” He’s kidding me, right? With his centuries-long experience and knowledge, I had hoped for something more, well… mystical or adventurous, like a secret tunnel, an interdimensional portal, a centuries-old spell, or anything else to avoid that bloody square. Apparently not. So the square it is. Better do it right away then. Jack needs me.
I cautiously open the gate and place a tentative foot on the first black tile, as if testing the strength of the ice on a pond after a single night of frost. Nothing happens. I take another step—still, nothing. No crows, no sounds, no nothing. I walk faster, with Balthazar right behind me, hovering a few centimeters above the ground.
Halfway, everything remains suspiciously uneventful. But when I turn around to check on Balthazar, I catch him staring at the gate behind us, beyond which, an army of semi-transparent figures moves quickly and purposefully around ghostly trucks.
A girl—or rather, the shadow of a girl—runs toward me. I recognize her immediately, but before I can shout a warning or stop her, she passes straight through me like a ghost. As I spin around, I catch a glimpse of her sprinting into the school. I try to steady my breathing. She’s not really here... but still, this is the creepiest thing I’ve ever experienced. I stand there, petrified for a moment, and before I can decide what to do next, something big and hairy lunges at me from behind, hurtling into the building with lightning speed. Maybe it was just a vague, transparent projection of the real world, but I could’ve sworn it was a wolf—a giant, motherfucking wolf.