Beyond the Reflection’s Edge (42 page)

Nathan closed his eyes and answered with the familiar notes of his lightning-fast response. Then, opening his eyes slightly to watch the mirror, he played on, blending in with the master’s smooth, effortless tones. Soon, he would play solo. The last time he performed that part, his parents disappeared and he was left standing alone on stage, playing a solo that never ended. This
time, he would watch all the players — Nikolai, Dr. Gordon, and anyone else who might spring a surprise.

As Nikolai backed away, Nathan shifted to the center, keeping his body angled enough to see the mirror. He tried to focus on the reflection, but the music had other ideas. Every phrase seemed to massage his mind, bringing back memories of his mother. The recollections soothed and stung at the same time, blessings that reminded him of the pain of love torn away before its time.

Then, images of his father mixed into his memories. As Francesca wept and trembled, Solomon laid a hand on her cheek, a tender caress that always seemed to calm her down, no matter what troubles stirred her turmoil. He held her close, kissing and nuzzling as sweet words passed between them like the same silvery notes Nathan played in their honor.

Seconds from now, Nikolai would play again, taking his mother’s part at the place she had abandoned just a few days ago. As his part built to a crescendo, her final words seemed to brush by his ears.
“I will join you again when the composer commands me.”

A newcomer walked into the back of the seating area and remained standing, a tall white-haired man — was it Mictar? Patar? Dr. Gordon bent over and skulked along his row of seats, then headed toward the rear. He stood close to the gaunt man and the two spoke quietly.

Nathan glanced at Kelly, still hiding behind the flowers. She saw them, too. Could she tell them apart? Were they Gordon Red and Patar, or Gordon Blue and Mictar?

Suddenly, the mirror flashed. The reflection displayed bright, colorful shapes that quickly bled together to form a blurred figure, veiled by the floral decorations that separated the two coffins. Kelly crawled out and shoved the flowers out of the way, staying on her knees as she slid some to the side and knocked others over until the entire mirror came into view.

The image clarified, showing Francesca Shepherd standing with a violin, her bow at the ready position. On one side, a sheer curtain flapped in a gentle breeze, and on her other, a poster bed with a bare mattress sat on a carpeted floor.

Straining to keep his breathing in check, Nathan swept through the final notes of his solo. As murmurs spread across the onlookers, the reflected Francesca joined the duet, answering the composer’s call. The notes rang through like carillon bells, sharp and echoing, yet as lovely as any angel could hope to create. Nikolai, his eyes wide, lowered his violin and backed away another step.

As if guided by his mother’s entrancing gaze, Nathan walked slowly toward the mirror, his legs heavy. He focused on her eyes. Yes, they were looking right at him. She could see him! And now her lips moved, a quiet whisper drowned out by her thrumming melody.

Crouched at Nathan’s feet, Kelly relayed Francesca’s words. “Take a picture of the mirror.” She leaped to her feet and aimed the camera at the mirror, backing away as she framed in the coffins at each side. When she reached the second row of seats, the camera flashed. Light spread out over Nathan and everything around him — the mirror, the coffins, and even Nikolai. A sizzling beam shot out and struck the lens, smashing it to pieces.

Kelly dropped the camera and shook her hands. “It’s hot as fire!”

The mirror scene expanded. Their view of the inner room widened, spreading out to show Nathan’s father standing nearby, shackles binding his ankles and wrists, though the attached chains seemed broken as they dragged freely. The floor where Francesca stood pushed outward and blended into the cemetery grass as the two dimensions merged into one. The swelling dimension looked like a soap bubble with thick, rubbery walls, yet as clear as crystal.

Francesca extended her hand and cried out, her voice now
penetrating the barrier. “Take my hand, Nathan! Pull us out of here!”

Kelly echoed the cry.

Nathan shouted, “I hear her now!”

In the image, Solomon held on to Francesca. With chains dangling, he raised a hand. “Son! Now is the time! Rescue us!”

Dr. Gordon ran up the aisle, grabbed Kelly from behind, and pressed the edge of a dagger against her throat. “Don’t touch them, Nathan! If you bring them back, I’ll slit her wide open!”

Several mourners jumped to their feet. With the blade already drawing a trickle of blood from Kelly’s tender skin, most stood petrified. Daryl lunged, but Clara jerked her back.

Nathan’s knees buckled, but he managed to hold himself up. As a gust blew a stream of snowflakes across his cheek and flapped the canopy’s ceiling, he lifted a fist and rasped through his sandpaper throat. “Let her go!”

Suddenly, Jack stormed up the aisle and latched on to Gordon’s wrist, pulling it away from Kelly’s throat. As Gordon jerked back to fight, the dagger swiped against her shoulder and dug deeply into her sweatshirt.

Kelly let out a pitiful wail. Blood dampened her sleeve and dripped from her fingers. Jack wrestled Gordon to the grass, toppling chairs on the front row as they rolled to the side.

Mictar leaped for Kelly and wrapped an arm around her chest. Three men from the audience rushed to subdue Gordon while two others leaped toward Mictar. Twin jagged sparks shot from Mictar’s palm and pierced the chests of the would-be rescuers. They fell to the ground, their bodies quivering.

The first three rescuers pulled Gordon upright. A trickle of sweat drew a purplish line down his cheek, exposing part of a bruise. Jack struggled to his feet. A bloody gash stretched across his forehead.

As cold gusts breezed through, everyone fell into a terrified hush. Hovering a hand over Kelly’s eyes, Mictar spoke quietly.
“Son of Solomon, heed my warning. If you take one step toward the gifted one, I will make this girl suffer beyond all imagination.”

Nathan wheeled toward the mirror. The image shifted forward another few inches and stopped. Francesca and Solomon, their bodies now filling the screen, stretched out their arms as far as they could reach. A voice again punched through the barrier. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone on stage!” Francesca cried.

“We had to change places with the Blue Shepherds before it was too late! Since Mictar had killed them earlier, we used their bodies to make him think we were dead, too. Pull us home and we’ll explain everything!”

Nathan clutched his jacket. “Left me on the stage?” He thrust his finger toward the other dimension and screamed at Mictar. “Are they my real parents?”

“They are,” Mictar hissed. As Kelly gasped, flinching under the ghostly hand, more blood dripped from the ends of her fingers. “But I am pleased that you found them for me,” he continued. “They escaped at the observatory, and now they will be mine once again.”

The mirror image slowly contracted. Solomon and Francesca slid backwards, shrinking with the reflection, their hands grasping empty air. A huge gust ripped the canopy away from the stakes and sent it flying across the cemetery. Biting wind squealed through the funeral party, and heavy snow cascaded from the skies.

“Nathan!” Kelly shouted, peeking under Mictar’s fingers. “Get them out! Hurry!”

Nathan laid the violin down, plunged his fist through the barrier, and grabbed his mother’s hand. After punching through with his other fist, he wound his wrist in his father’s chain, set his feet, and began to pull, but they didn’t slide right through. With his feet slipping on the dampening grass, it was like dragging two dead bodies through thick mud.

“Don’t believe me, Shepherd?” Sparks of electricity arced
from Mictar’s hand, drilling pinpoint scorch marks on Kelly’s forehead. She grimaced, pressing her lips tightly together.

Still pulling, Nathan looked back at his parents, snow swirling between him and the mirror. Their forearms were already through the barrier, and their heads drew so close, the crystalline dividing wall magnified every line in their frantic expressions.

Kelly cried out in a plaintive moan. “Rescue them, Nathan! I’m not worth it! I’m just a —”

“Be silent!” Mictar pressed his hand completely over her eyes. “Forever!”

Nathan gulped. What should he do? He needed time to think! He glanced at his parents, but their silent, motionless stares gave him no answers … only more questions. Why had they suddenly frozen in place? He swiveled his head back toward Kelly. She had also stiffened into a mannequinlike pose. The mourners, with faces like stone, stared in solidified horror. Only Mictar seemed aware of the change. Although his feet stayed planted, his eyes moved, darting back and forth as if searching for a reason for the suspended animation.

Nathan turned his gaze back to the mirror. Now, although his parent’s protruding limbs remained, the reflection altered to a new scene, a copy of the funeral surroundings — himself poised in front of the mirror, gripping his mother and father in the same way; Mictar standing with Kelly in his grasp, within arm’s reach; and the frozen onlookers anchored in the midst of a dusting of snow.

As Nathan stared at the reflection, his eyes flashed. White beams poured forth and splashed against the glassy surface. His image in the mirror suddenly activated and jerked his parents out of the dimensional barrier. They lurched into the funeral scene and sprawled over the ground. Mictar let out a raging scream, fire sizzling under the hand he held over Kelly’s eyes.

The reflection expanded and enveloped Nathan. His mind
seemed to meld with the reflection, and his vision shifted to the new point of view as if he had taken over the other Nathan’s body. While his father and mother struggled to their feet, Mictar glowed with a shimmering light and vanished. Kelly collapsed in a heap, her limbs and torso limp.

As if in a surreal, slow-motion dream, Nathan’s parents embraced him, but he could only fix his gaze on Kelly. With blood forming in a pool under her shoulder, her body quivered fitfully, her scorched eye sockets blankly staring straight up.

Then, her shaking ceased, as did everything else. Locked in his parents’ warm arms, he stared all around, finally focusing again on the mirror. In the reflection, a tall man with white hair stared back at him, his hands folded over his waist while the other funeral scene, the one Nathan had left behind, painted a dreary backdrop.

Nathan could barely mouth the man’s name.
Patar.

“The power you call Quattro awaits your decision,” Patar said.

Nathan couldn’t move. Unable even to shiver, he mumbled, “My … my decision?”

“You wanted time to decide, so you now have the luxury of seeing the results of one of your options.”

Shifting his gaze toward his mother’s face, Nathan took in her expression. As a tear dangled from her chin, she stared at him, more love flowing from her eyes than he had ever seen before, pure joy at once again looking upon her dear son. His father, too, seemed filled with joy, yet, with his jaw set like steel, he was ready to go to war.

Nathan looked back at Kelly. Her black eye sockets stared straight up — vacant, abandoned, forsaken. The image of her ravaged face would haunt his memory forever, the sightless countenance of a terrified girl, wandering in futility, only to suffer and die in the midst of life’s greatest search, lost forever.

Patar spoke again. “It is time to decide, son of Solomon. As soon as you are returned to your point of crisis, you must act.”

As Patar vanished, Nathan felt his mind moving again. He flew into the reflection and found himself where he was before, his grip locked on his parents, and Kelly in the clutches of Mictar, still alive, still struggling to hold on to that precious gift.

Nathan released his grip and lunged at Kelly. With a whip of his neck, he bashed his forehead against Mictar’s nose, sending him flying backwards. As his head thudded on the ground, dark blood gushed from both nostrils.

Nathan embraced Kelly and fell to the snow-covered grass in a rolling motion, tumbling two full rotations to get away from Mictar. Then, with a leap to his feet, he helped Kelly up and dove toward the contracting dimensional bubble. As he slid across the snow, his hands penetrated the barrier once again. In the other world, his father dropped to his knees and grabbed Nathan’s wrists. His father’s face strained, his lips moving, but now his voice could no longer break through.

Kelly called from behind, her voice weak and shaking. “Pull, Son! Pull!”

Nathan rose to his feet and pulled with all his might. Suddenly, a hand blocked his vision, and Mictar spoke in a hideous, throaty voice. “Now, Solomon, you will watch him die.”

Painful needles of light shot into Nathan’s eyes. The fingers around his wrists, his father’s fingers, gave way. Nathan lurched backward, knocking Mictar’s hand to the side. With a violent spin, he thrust an elbow into Mictar’s belly, then kicked him in the groin. Mictar’s thin form staggered back, his eyes pulsing like red beacons. At least five men marched toward him, but, when he lifted his hands, new arcs of electricity shot out from his palms. Four of the men hesitated, but Jack burst toward him in a flying fury. Leaping on Mictar and wrapping his arms around his lanky frame, Jack beat him on the back with his fists.

Lugging his stocky attacker, Mictar staggered toward the mirror. The image from the other dimension was now a flat reflection, showing Solomon and Francesca staring out, hand in hand, tears streaming down their cheeks. With his arms flailing, Mictar dove headfirst into the mirror and disappeared with Jack in a splash of light.

At the point he entered the mirror, a long crack etched the glass. Spreading rapidly and branching out, the crack covered the entire surface. Like crinkling cellophane, the polished surface rippled, then crumbled, falling to the ground in sparkling shards and leaving the supporting wall standing bare.

Nathan dropped to his knees and pounded the ground with his fist, raising a splash of slushy snow. He almost had them! Just another second, and he’d have had them out of there!