Softly, cautiously, he slipped his arms behind her back and behind her knees and lifted her out of the bunk. She turned and pressed her face up against his chest. He whispered, “Don’t wake up, baby. Just a few steps.” And he cursed the exhaustion that made his legs tremble as he gently carried her back into the lounge.
He managed to sit back on the sofa without dropping or waking her.
Gabrielle was still on the screen. She looked at Gaby but couldn’t see her face. “Who is this?”
“A friend.” Gently, Harris shook Gaby. “Wake up, baby. Look at who’s on TV.”
She stirred. The talk-box picture broke up for a moment. Gabrielle looked surprised. “The eye blinked,” she said.
Gaby murmured something incoherent.
“Wake up, Gaby. Look at the TV. It’s Frank Langella and Kevin Kline. They’re naked.”
Gaby’s eyes opened. She stared up at Harris, confused, then looked around.
She caught sight of the talk-box.
Her gasp and Gabrielle’s were simultaneous.
The picture on the screen started to break up. The two women reached for one another. “Don’t go,” they said.
Then the picture faded to static.
Gaby collapsed back against Harris and burst out in tears. He held her while her shoulders shook.
“It was transitions,” Harris said, his voice slurred and dull. “Moving in and out. That’s how I figured it out.”
Doc sat on the other side of the lounge’s table. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I know.” Harris laughed. The sound was high-pitched and strained. He cut it off. “You couldn’t make Gaby’s magic go.”
“Magic is a discredited term—”
“Oh, just pipe down. But obviously she had a lot of it. Your devices told you so.” He chanted the last words to the tune of the old Sunday School song—“Jesus loves me, this I know . . . ”
Doc scowled. “Yes.”
“You see, the thing was, Gaby knew the fair world before she got here. It didn’t freak her out the way it did me. But Gabrielle didn’t even know herself. Tried to ask me about her once. You remember.”
Gaby, wearing a robe over her nightshirt, was huddled in one of the chairs, her legs drawn up. She still looked upset.
“There’s no mystic twin. Gaby and Gabrielle are the same person. When she sleeps, her mind goes running off into talk-box land. Transitions, in and out of sleep, get it? It’s like the people who get radio waves on their braces and fillings. Except she’s a lot better.”
“She must be, if her mind can walk between worlds. She called to me even when she was living on the grim world.”
Gaby stirred. “Don’t talk about me as though I’m not here.”
“I’m sorry, Gabriela.” Doc looked apologetic. “It does make sense. I could never coax your ability out . . . because it only works when your mind wanders among the dreams. The conjurer’s circle might actually have inhibited you.”
“Then what good is it to me? Especially if I can’t remember who the hell I am when I’m asleep?”
“There are techniques that might help. We’ll explore them after I’ve slept.” Doc fixed Harris with a stern look. “I’m having Alastair come from the cockpit to give you something. You need sleep worse than I.”
“No need.” Harris closed his eyes. There was nothing behind them but darkness. “Funny thing is, I think I can sleep now.” He stood and looked at Gaby. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s irrational, but I feel like that long-lost sister just died.”
“I’m sorry. I hope she didn’t.” He turned away.
He made it back to his bunk and crawled in. For the first time since he boarded the Frog Prince, he luxuriated and stretched as he settled in.
He savored the memory of holding her one more time, the way she’d unconsciously nestled against him when he picked her up. Then he slid away into a dark, comfortable place and was gone.
“I want you to listen for the voices,” Doc said.
Gaby, eyes closed, sat facing the talk-box. Her expression did not change.
“Are you listening?”
“Yes.” Her voice was subdued.
“What do you hear?”
“Talking. So much. I can’t make out the words.”
“Look around. What do you see?”
Gaby turned her head one way and then the other but did not open her eyes. “My room.”
“What’s in it?”
“My table. My bed. The walls. It’s lonely.”
“Go sit down by the table and pick up your horse. We’ll give you someone to talk to.”
“All right.”
Doc picked up the leather helmet from the table and strapped it on. He pulled the mask portion over his face and snapped it in place. He knew the dangling tubes gave him the appearance of the offspring of an elephant and a human, something he’d heard of but never seen. He briefly wondered what sort of devisements would make such a conception possible, and whether either party enjoyed it.
His improvised gear also hung out of the nose of the mask. He turned on the talk-box, then moved around back and attached two wires from his nose gear to leads on the machine.
Harris, rubbing the stubble on his chin, appeared in the doorway to the aft sleeping cabin. He looked very grimworldish in his new jeans and old jeans jacket, and he seemed more rested. His eyes got big as he spotted Doc in this peculiar gear. Doc held up a finger to shush him and waved him to sit in one of the chairs positioned to the side. Harris complied, looking confused.
Doc flipped the switch at his neck. Now, with his mouth muffled, Gaby should not be able to hear his voice, while his words would go out over unused talk-box wireless frequencies. “Gabrielle,” he said. “Gabrielle, this is Doc. If you can hear me, please look at me. Please open up the eye beyond the mirror.”
He heard the high-pitched whine of the talk-box turning itself on. He pulled off the mask and moved around to the front.
The screen showed Gabrielle sitting, looking more like a lost little girl than he’d ever seen her. She glanced between Gaby and him. “Grace, Doc.”
“Grace. Gabrielle, you know why I’ve called you.”
“Maybe. Because of her.”
“She’s another part of you, Gabrielle. I want you to meet her. Talk to her.”
“I’m scared of her.”
“Don’t be. Please stay.”
He turned to Gaby. She wasn’t in the deep, eye-moving sleep; that was encouraging. But she was tense, perspiring. “Gaby, in a moment I’m going to ask you to open your eyes. You’ll be able to hear voices other than mine. You must not become alarmed. You’re safe, surrounded by friends. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Please open your eyes.”
Gaby did so and stared straight at her doppleganger.
The talk-box screen faded and twisted, the horizontal and vertical controls both lost, but straightened out again. Gabrielle remained there. She looked ready to bolt.
“Gaby, can you see her?”
“Yes.” There was strain in her voice.
“Greet her. You know her name.”
“Hi, Gabrielle.”
Gabrielle’s voice was a whisper, almost inaudible over the engine roar. “Grace.”
Gaby was still perspiring; she looked tired, tense.
“Gabrielle, I want you to think about your horse. Hold it to you, think about how it feels.”
The woman on the screen was already holding the pitiful plush toy as though it were a life preserver; she clutched it tighter and rocked in her seat.