Chapter 7
I opened my eyes.
I was standing in my bedroom, and I was alone. White light streamed through the windows, mixing with the ambient glow of the walls and ceiling and floor. There were no shadows; everything was bright and clear. Through the windows I could see the buildings and towers of a great empty city. There were hints of London in the architecture but it was different, vaster, the streets wider and the buildings huge and open. Beyond the buildings was empty sky.
I walked through my flat, down the stairs, and out of the shop. My front door opened out into a long avenue stretching off into the distance, torches mounted along either side burning with yellow flames, and I began walking forward. Without looking I knew the route back to my flat would have disappeared. It didn’t matter; here in Elsewhere, one place was as good as another.
I turned off the avenue and into one of the buildings, passing through the hallway and out onto a narrower street. Elsewhere felt different from the last time I’d been here. In the past the city had always been silent, empty of movement and growth. This time as I walked I kept noticing life: trees planted in rows and growing in gardens, birds gliding overhead. As I turned one corner I saw a fox trotting quickly across the road ahead of me. It stopped and looked at me, then kept going, disappearing into an alleyway. I could hear a very faint murmur of sound at the edge of my hearing, not the hum of a real city, but what might have been an echo of one. The street I was on ended in a medium-sized square, buildings on three sides and an arcade on the fourth marking the boundary with a wide plaza. I found a stone bench under a tree and sat down.
I’ve never really understood how Elsewhere works. In my early visits I tried to figure out the rules, and every time I ended up making things worse. Intuition seems to work better than reason here; the more times I’ve come the more I’ve learnt to trust my instincts. Right now my instincts told me that if I stayed here long enough, the person I needed would find me. So I sat, and waited.
I heard her before I saw her: footsteps echoing off the stone from the direction of the plaza. Looking up I saw her walking through the columns of the arcade, small and athletic, short dark-red hair and a quick smile. “Hey, Alex,” Shireen said. “Wondered when you’d come.”
Shireen looked different from how I’d seen her in the dream. Physically she was almost the same, but her manner was easier—back when we’d both been apprentices Shireen had always been full of energy but there’d been a tension there, a temper. Now she seemed relaxed. “Hey,” I said.
“So.” Shireen dropped down on the bench next to me. “How’s things?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said. “But before we get started on this, there’s something I’d like to know. What exactly are you?”
Shireen didn’t look insulted—more like amused. “What do you think I am?”
“You look like Shireen and you sound like Shireen,” I said. “But Shireen died ten years ago. It’s like you’re a picture of how she was the last time I saw her. How are you still here?”
Shireen’s smile faded, and she studied me for a moment. “I’m an afterimage,” she said at last. “A picture when the original is gone. But I can see and I can feel and I can remember. I know what you’re looking for.”
“Catherine,” I said.
Shireen nodded. “I can show you what happened to her.”
“Any chance you can skip ahead and give me the short version?”
“No.” Shireen sounded quite definite. “I’ve helped you before and I’ll help you now, but this time I want something back. I’ll show you what happened to Catherine and where she is, but only if you see the whole story.”
“Which story?”
“Rachel’s,” Shireen said. “What happened to Catherine, how Richard disappeared, why I’m talking to you now. It all comes back to her and it’s time you understood why. Don’t forget—if it wasn’t for me you would have been lost last year. You owe me.”
I looked at Shireen for a moment. “That’s all you want?” I said at last. “For me to know the story?”
“That’s part of it,” Shireen said. “There’s one more thing, but I won’t ask until you’ve seen what really happened ten years ago. The parts you weren’t there for.”
“I can’t promise I’ll say yes to that. Not without knowing what it is.”
“I understand.”
I stood in silence for a little while. “How are you going to show me this?”
“Rachel’s memories,” Shireen said. “You’ll see what she saw.”
I frowned at that. I’ve walked through my own memories in Elsewhere, watching the events unfold as if they were happening all over again, but never someone else’s. No one knows much about Elsewhere, but if there’s one thing they agree on, it’s that you shape it yourself. “How can you do that?”
“You’ll know once you’ve seen it,” Shireen said. “I know I keep saying that, but it’s true.” She grinned suddenly. “Come on. Aren’t you curious?”
I gave Shireen a narrow look, then looked away, out through the arcade to the white stone of the plaza. Around us the city was quiet, waiting. I turned back. “Let’s do it.”
Shireen nodded and held out her hand, palm up. “Hold on tight.”
I took her hand, and—
I was standing on a grassy slope, green trees scattered around and rhododendrons flowering to either side. I was in what was either quite a small park or a very large garden, and it looked well kept and tended. I could see glimpses of a wall surrounding the greenery, and just visible over the trees behind was a big white-painted house. The sky was overcast but light, the sun glowing through the clouds. It looked almost natural, but something about it was just slightly off.
At the bottom of the slope was a pond. There was a willow tree leaning over it, and under the willow was a girl, fifteen or sixteen years old and dressed neatly in blue and white. She was sitting cross-legged by the pond, looking down at the water with her face set in concentration. I was standing in plain view, but she didn’t seem to notice me. Hesitantly I moved, then when she didn’t react I came closer.
The girl was Rachel, but it took me a moment before I was sure that it was really her; she looked very different from the woman she would grow into. In Richard’s mansion Rachel had been pretty but elusive, rarely showing what she was thinking. When I’d met her again last year, that ambivalence had hardened into a diamond mask that showed nothing of what might be behind it. But here, as she stared down at the water, there was an openness which I’d only seen hints of when we’d first met, something soft and unformed.
Rachel’s eyes were still fixed on the pond, and as she stared at it the surface rippled. She extended a hand, soft blue light starting to flicker at her palm, and as she did a droplet of water rose from the pond’s surface to hover at her fingertips. The light brightened and another droplet rose, then another, a thin stream of water flowing upwards to gather in a floating orb. Carefully Rachel raised her hand and the orb rose with it, wobbling as it did, droplets breaking off to hover for a few moments before melding together again. Rachel’s movements were slow and careful, and there was a strange dreamlike look to her eyes, as though she were seeing something wonderful and far away.
There was a rustle of leaves. Rachel started, the light winked out, and the orb of water fell back into the pond with a splash. She scrambled to to her feet.
The girl who’d just brushed her way through the willow fronds was a younger version of Shireen. She was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, scuffed and dirty, and she was looking at Rachel with satisfaction. “So it was you,” she said.