The atrium—that’s what I’m calling that back room that leads out into the cemetery—is clearly visible from here. It’s a wide half circle. And if I squint, I can see the grand staircase of stone steps that we came down through the massive windows. But there is no way there can be two equally grand stone staircases on either side of it.
It’s just not possible. The building isn’t even that wide.
“Huh.”
I expect Pia to say something. Ask me what I’m thinking, at least. She’s reliably nosey in almost all situations. But she doesn’t even poke her head up out of curiosity.
“It must be a trick of the light,” I mutter, continuing on my way.
The stone tombs on either side of the walkway are a lot creepier now that the sun has set. Light filters down the lawn from the cathedral and back patio, making weird, dark shadows on the grass all around me. And there are so many tombs out there. I didn’t quite understand that before. They are packed together. Almost on top of each other.
It’s kinda creepy after dark and I’m suddenly having second thoughts about that cottage.
I look over my shoulder, but the top of the slightly sloping hill I’m now walking down has hidden it from view.
If I get this job, I would be living out there all alone.
“Oh!” I say, more to myself than Pia. “Maybe we should find that Tomas guy? He wasn’t creepy at all. I liked him. And the caretaker said he was staying. So who cares if that guy makes us shiver? Right? He’s leaving. We don’t need to bother thinking about him at all.”
This line of questioning should get Pia’s attention. But she keeps quiet.
I hurry past all the eerie tombs and enter the cathedral once more. Then pause to take in the two staircases on either side of the main one. I go back outside, just to make sure I’m getting this.
Nope. There is no possible way that those staircases exist.
Except… when I walk inside, there they are.
OK. Maybe Pia is right. This place might actually be more than we think.
She’s still huddled inside my flannel pocket. Quiet. Unmoving. This is not like her. Not like her at all.
Well, not entirely true. She hides like this—goes all quiet and still—when she thinks I’m in danger and I should not be distracted.
She went still and quiet when we got arrested for stealing soup when I was seventeen.
She went still and quiet when my mother dropped me off at child protective services when I was nine and never came back.
A chill runs up my spine.
Pia is right. Something is wrong.
I run towards the stairs and take them three and four at a time. A minute later I’m rushing out into the main hall, aiming for the massive double doors through the dark shadows. I grab the handle, fully expecting to find it locked, but it opens easily, and with that same familiar creak.
Then I’m through, and out, and running across the well-manicured lawn in a thick fog, towards the walking gate.
But… it’s not there.
The fog curls around my legs like a snake. But I keep going. Until there is so much fog, I can’t see anything in front of me and I have to stretch my arms out, feeling around for the cold iron. “It has to be here,” I whisper, out of breath from running and panic. “It has to. Gates don’t just disappear.”
And young men don’t turn into old grandpas before your eyes, either.
But that’s just what Pia said happened. I didn’t actually see that.
“Pia.” I don’t know why I’m whispering. There’s no one out here. But I do it again. “Pia?” My voice is more urgent this time.
Her tiny body is still huddled inside my pocket, but she’s not moving.
I stop in the fog, reach into my pocket, and pull her out. She is limp.
“Pia?” I gasp. I put her up to my cheek and she’s still warm, but she’s… lifeless. Which is kind of ironic, because she’s not even real, but there’s a clear difference in how she feels right now and how she should feel if nothing were wrong.
I pet her back and wings, keeping her pressed up to my cheek. “What is going on?”
And where the hell is my Jeep? I keep walking. The fog lifts just a little, just enough so that I can tell the difference between where I’m at and where I’m going, but I can’t make out anything else but depth. No trees, no grass, no street, no gate. And when I look over my shoulder, I can’t see the cathedral, either.
For a moment I stop and just stand there. Afraid to go forward and also afraid to turn around.
As unlikely as it seems, there is clearly nothing in front of me.