“Then it is done,” said Henry gently. “You will be my guest for the winter. Sofia will escort you to your room, and nothing will be asked of you until tomorrow.”
Again I nodded. This was it then—I was trapped. This would be my home for the next six months. Suddenly the room seemed much smaller than it had before. “Henry?” I said with a squeak.
“Yes?”
“Did Sofia know this was going to happen?”
Henry eyed me for several seconds, as if trying to decide whether or not I would believe him. “We’ve been watching you, yes.”
I didn’t dare ask who we were. “What is this place?”
He looked amused. “Have you not figured it out already?”
I felt my cheeks color. At least there was some blood left in my head, which meant I had a chance at standing without passing out. “I’ve been a little busy thinking about other stuff.”
Getting to his feet, Henry offered me his hand. I didn’t take it, but it didn’t seem to bother him. “It goes by many names. Elysium, Annwn, Paradise—some even call it the Garden of Eden.”
He smiled as if he’d told a clever little joke. I didn’t get it, and my confusion must have shown, because he continued without me asking.
“This is the gate between the living and the dead,” he said. “You are still living. The others on the grounds died a very long time ago.”
A chill ran through me. “And you?”
“Me?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I rule the dead. I am not one of them.”
CHAPTER 7
THE IMPOSSIBLE
My rooms were surprisingly comfortable. Unlike the rest of the house, they didn’t seem to be too preoccupied with making sure everyone walking through them knew they were part of a very rich and powerful household. Instead my suite was relatively modest, the only real luxury being the bed, which was huge and canopied and exactly the sort I’d always dreamed of having. Part of me wondered if Henry had known that, too.
Everyone seemed to know I was there, as if I were someone famous. I heard whispers and giggles every now and then from the other side of my door, and whenever I looked out the huge bay window, I could see some of the grounds workers staring up at me, like they knew I was watching them. I didn’t like being a topic of gossip, but there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it except close the curtains and bury my head in a pile of pillows.
The day passed quickly, and it wasn’t long before Sofia brought me dinner. I was still annoyed that she hadn’t warned me she was part of this earlier, so I muttered my thanks without looking at her and refused to answer any of her questions. How I was doing wasn’t exactly a secret anyway.
After she left, I picked at the food, too worried about what was going to happen in the morning to eat. While I wasn’t confined to my room, there wasn’t much else for me to do, at least not now, not when I knew how easy it would be for me to get lost.
But no matter how nice the room was or how kind the staff was or how good the food tasted, the fact remained that I was essentially a prisoner. I thought of James and wondered how long he’d waited at the gate and whether or not he’d gone to see my mother afterward. Six months seemed to stretch on forever in front of me, the end nowhere in sight—would he keep his promise? Would he be there when this was over, or would he have moved on? Deep inside, I knew he would be there. I didn’t deserve a friend like him.
But would my mother still be there at the end, too? Would Henry keep his promise? Was he even capable of it? I wanted to believe him, to believe that that sort of thing was possible—because if he really could keep her alive, then maybe I’d never have to say goodbye, not until it was my time to die, too. Or maybe he’d be able to keep her alive long enough for them to find a cure.
I couldn’t save Ava, but there was still hope for my mother, and no matter what it cost me, it would be worth it.
I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in Eden Manor anymore. Instead I was lying on a blanket in the middle of Central Park and staring up at a cloudless summer sky, the heat of the sun on my face.
I sat up, confused, and looked around. There was a picnic basket next to me, and other people were scattered around the grass enjoying themselves. Sheep Meadow. It was my favorite spot in the entire park, within view of the lake, but far enough away from the worst of the tourist traps that it didn’t feel gimmicky. My mother and I hadn’t been able to come here in years. I started to stand, determined to figure out what was going on, when my mouth dropped open.
My mother, looking as healthy as she had ten years ago, long before the cancer set in, walked up the gentle slope, wearing a long flowing skirt and peasant blouse I hadn’t seen her in since she grew too thin to wear it.
“Mom?”
She smiled—a real smile, not a sickly smile or the smile she put on when she was trying to hide how much pain she was in. “Hello, sweetheart.” She sat next to me and kissed my cheek.
I was still for a moment, too stunned to move, but when it finally sank in that she was here, healthy and glowing and my mother again, I threw my arms around her, hugging her tightly and inhaling her familiar scent. Apples and freesia. She was no longer frail, and she wrapped her arms around me with equal strength.
“What’s going on?” I said, struggling to keep my eyes dry.
“We’re having a picnic.” She released me and began to unpack the basket. It was full of my favorite foods from when I’d been a child—peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches, sliced tangerines, macaroni and cheese packed in plastic containers, and enough chocolate pudding to serve a small army. Best of all, she pulled out a box of baklava, just the way she always made it. I watched in amazement, wondering what I’d done to deserve such an amazing dream, even though it felt too real to be one. I could sense each blade of grass underneath my hands, and the warm breeze brushed the ends of my hair against my bare arms. It was like we were actually here.
And then a thought wormed its way through my mind, and I looked at her suspiciously. “Did Henry bring you here?”
Her smile widened. “He’s lovely, isn’t he?”
I gulped a lungful of air, and all the bad thoughts I’d ever had about Henry flew out of my head. He kept his promise. More than that, he could really do it. “Is this a dream then? Or is it—is it real?”
She gave me a container of macaroni, along with a look that only my mother could pull off. “Is there some rule I don’t know about that means it can’t be both?”