Christopher Golden - The Shadow Men

“The Oracles don’t live in the same building in each Boston?” Jim asked, waving a hand around them.

“Of course not,” Veronica said. “Too dangerous. A catastrophe across the In-Between could wipe out this place, and all three of us, at the same time.”

“Right,” Jim said, uncertain and unsettled.

“And do not open the letters yourselves,” Veronica continued. “In addition to my warnings and pleas for help, there are incantations that the other Oracles will need to protect our cities. But if an ordinary person were to read them… well, without a mastery of such things, you could accidentally trigger an immediate and total integration.”

“And destroy the city,” Trix said. “Right. Important safety tip.”

Jim glanced over at her in surprise at the reference-a quote from Ghostbusters -and smiled. “We can do this, right?” he said.

“We have to,” Trix replied.

“Or die trying.”

Trix grimaced. “Aren’t you just a ray of fuckin’ sunshine?”

By the time they had returned to McGee’s study, the lightness of that single moment had been forgotten. Jim stood in the center of the room, one foot on scorched wood and the other on whole, undamaged floorboards, and felt a dreadful trepidation. Hours ago, the things he had been forced by circumstance to believe would have seemed absolutely absurd. Fantasy. Now, even as he straddled the two sides of that room, he felt torn between the fear that Veronica’s story might be the product of an unbalanced mind and the terror that it might all be true. Veronica unsettled him, but he had too much to lose by not doing as she asked.

Splintered cities-the barriers separating them now degrading-in danger of collision? It was daunting enough to think of finding Jenny and Holly in some parallel Boston, especially since they could be anywhere. A hundred anxieties came along with the prospect, not least of which was whether or not he could find them, and how they could all get home again. Would the world realign itself? Was reality truly that malleable? It had undergone a metamorphosis to account for Holly and Jenny no longer existing in this world, so he supposed it could happen.

Jesus, listen to yourself, he thought, staring down at the burn line in the floor, and the half-starburst pattern that-he suspected-marked the explosion that had killed Thomas McGee.

In the end, though, hope must hold sway. Jenny and Holly were the whole of his heart, existing outside of his body, and if they were now somehow elsewhere, then he would have to follow. Any other choice was inconceivable.

“Jim,” Trix said, and from her tone he realized she had called his name more than once.

“Sorry,” he said, turning to see her and Veronica watching him expectantly. “Were you saying something?”

Trix gave him a knowing look. He saw the pain in her eyes as she took a deep, worried breath and exhaled. Then she glanced at Veronica.

“Okay. We’re listening.” He patted his back pocket where he’d folded and stored the two envelopes, unknown names and strangely familiar addresses on their fronts in surprisingly untidy script. “Tell us what we need to do.”

The old woman stood at the open doorway, and every shred of her body language screamed that she did not want to be there. In the charred cavern of that half of the room, she looked almost in need of rescue herself.

“You both should be on that side of the room,” Veronica said, pointing toward the end opposite her, where the writing desk remained intact and the door to the small bedroom-perhaps once servants’ quarters-was tightly shut.

Jim reached out his hand to Trix. She took it, and together they crossed to the desk. They turned their backs to the desk, hands still clasped, and faced Veronica across the length of the room. “What now?” Trix asked.

“Look away from each other,” Veronica began. Jim started to turn. “No,” Veronica said quickly. “Not like that. Continue to face me, but let your eyes shift to one side. Stare at the wall with only your peripheral vision.”

Jim let out a breath, trying to focus. He felt uneasy, until Trix squeezed his hand reassuringly. He glanced at her and nodded, and then both of them followed Veronica’s instructions. Jim started by concentrating on Veronica and trying to push out of his mind how absurd the whole thing felt. He had to remind himself that he had accepted all of this, that he believed it. You have to believe it, he told himself.

And that was the truth. He didn’t have anything else.

Facing Veronica, he glanced to his right, away from Trix, assuming she was doing the same thing. The floral wallpaper was faded, and there were water stains along the seams. He focused on the flowers and those seams.

“Still without turning your head, try to look farther back, into the very edge of your vision,” Veronica said. “Your eyes will feel the strain. They may moisten or burn.”

Just as she predicted, Jim’s eyes hurt. He narrowed them slightly, fighting the urge to close them or to look forward.

“Keep them open. Force yourself,” Veronica said. “You may feel dizzy-”

Jim had to shift his feet to maintain his balance.

“-and your vision will start to blur eventually.”

“Start?” Trix said. “It’s blurry as hell.”

“Good,” Veronica said, her voice barely a whisper, coating the room like dust. “That’s very good.”

Good? Jim thought. This is bullshit. And what is that? Is she chuckling?

“Concentrate on the blur. There will be two or three variations on what you see, one laid on top of the other, shifting, out of focus.”

Jim’s eyes were tearing up badly now, but he did think he could see two different variations on the wall to his right, slightly out of sync with each other. One of them had the faded floral paper and water-stained seams, but the other… the other blurred version of the wall was just as charred as the far side of the room, where Veronica stood.

“I see them,” Trix said, startling him.

Jim’s heart began to thunder in his chest. His eyes burned. He wanted to look away. But he couldn’t, because this was real. Oh, God, Jenny, it’s real. I’m coming to get you-you and our baby girl. Just hold on.

“Jim, do you see them, too? The variations?” Veronica demanded.

As she spoke, he noticed the third. At first it had been difficult to see, because in that variation the walls were equally scorched. “Yes,” he said, hating how small and alone his voice sounded.

Trix squeezed his hand, reminding him that he was not alone after all.

“What now?” Jim asked.

“You’ve got to separate them visually. Shift your vision to follow only one of the variations that you know is not the image you should be seeing. Then begin to turn, slowly.”

Jim and Trix both obeyed, still clasping hands, turning together.

“Let your eyes relax slightly. Continue focusing on your peripheral vision, but not so painfully. Uniques can see all three variations, and this should work elsewhere as well, but it will be simpler here. The parallels are more unsettled here than anywhere else in the city. You’ll be able to see such places clearly after this-places where the Bostons don’t quite match up. Holly is a Unique. You can teach her, as I’m teaching you. In such places, you’ll be able to bring Jenny back with you.”

“But the void you talked about,” Trix said. “The In-Between. People get trapped there.”

“You’re Uniques,” Veronica said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world. “You can guide her through.”

As she spoke, Jim and Trix continued to turn. When he’d made it three-quarters of the way around, he could see a badly blurred Veronica in his peripheral vision… but there was only one of her. She existed in only one of the variations his strained vision could see.