center, wearing a tiny brass key around its neck on a collar. Vivian squealed—the creature was a penguin, and she adored penguins. She wanted to keep looking, to take it off and play with it, but her grandfather’s voice stopped her.
“Wear this always. Never take it off—water won’t hurt it; neither will the sun. It will help keep the dragons away. Can you keep it secret from your mother?”
“Of course.” Keeping real things secret from Isobel was easy. She wrinkled her nose. “The chain isn’t very pretty.”
“No, but it’s strong.”
“Silver is prettier.”
“Hmm. Trust me on this—silver isn’t for you.”
She shrugged. The pendant was perfect, and a shiny chain would just draw attention to something she wanted to hide. Just to be sure, she tucked the pendant under her shirt.
Grandfather nodded approvingly. “There you go. Are you ready now?”
“Yes. Let’s go home,” she said.
“See if you can make the door.”
She closed her eyes and thought hard about her room at home—the bed with the blue blanket, the bookshelf with the books she was just learning to read, the stuffed penguin that slept beside her at night. She thought about school and chocolate and ice cream. She thought about her mother and how she needed to be taken care of.
“Open your eyes,” her grandfather said.
There, right in front of them, a door hung in the air. For a long minute she sat and stared at it, frightened. But Grandfather was not alarmed at all. He gave her that half smile again, but she thought he looked tired all at once.
“Well, open it, then.”
She did so.
Behind her were the big tree and the wide green field; through the door, her grandfather’s strange room with the window and the shelf where the marble box had stood.
The shelf was empty now, a dark rectangle marking thespot in the surrounding dust. Her grandfather stood beside her, and she only now noticed that he held the box in his hands. Isobel, still in Grandfather’s room, half ran toward them. The sense of strangeness grew, Vivian on one side of this door, her mother on the other.
As hard as she tried, Isobel could not come through that opening between the Wakeworld and Dreamworld.
“Give them to me,” she said.
Grandfather’s face looked more wizard than gnome, Vivian thought. Stern, that was the word. “Go home, Isobel. I won’t let you touch them.” It was not the sort of voice one dared to disobey, but Isobel did, still trying to reach through the door, her hands bouncing back from an invisible barrier.
“Give them to me. They should be mine.” Tears tracked mascara down both cheeks.
“Put the marble in the box, please, Vivian,” Grandfather said, and she placed it carefully with the others. He smiled at her, then turned to Isobel again.
“Go home. Take the child with you. She’s created enough mischief for one day.”
Vivian opened her mouth to object, but he winked at her and nodded, and she smiled back, a little warm glow at her heart. Through the door with a skip and a jump, she tugged at Isobel’s hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”
For a brief instant hazel eyes looked at her and the penciled eyebrows rose.
“Take her home, Isobel,” Grandfather said. “Don’t bring her here again.”
One more smile for Vivian, to show that he wasn’t angry, and then he closed the door.
It vanished in the blink of an eye, and she stood beside Isobel, staring at a wall where only a moment ago there had been a door.
“Vivian!”
She startled, guilty. “What, Rox?”
“Helicopter’s landing—”
A huge breath of relief escaped her. They’d managed to keep Brett stable—he wasn’t warming up at all, but his heart was still beating, he was breathing, his urine output was adequate. In Spokane they could warm his blood on a dialysis machine, maybe figure out what it was that she was missing.
Unless what she was missing had something to do with Dreamworld and the Between, in which case there wasn’t
“Wear this always. Never take it off—water won’t hurt it; neither will the sun. It will help keep the dragons away. Can you keep it secret from your mother?”
“Of course.” Keeping real things secret from Isobel was easy. She wrinkled her nose. “The chain isn’t very pretty.”
“No, but it’s strong.”
“Silver is prettier.”
“Hmm. Trust me on this—silver isn’t for you.”
She shrugged. The pendant was perfect, and a shiny chain would just draw attention to something she wanted to hide. Just to be sure, she tucked the pendant under her shirt.
Grandfather nodded approvingly. “There you go. Are you ready now?”
“Yes. Let’s go home,” she said.
“See if you can make the door.”
She closed her eyes and thought hard about her room at home—the bed with the blue blanket, the bookshelf with the books she was just learning to read, the stuffed penguin that slept beside her at night. She thought about school and chocolate and ice cream. She thought about her mother and how she needed to be taken care of.
“Open your eyes,” her grandfather said.
There, right in front of them, a door hung in the air. For a long minute she sat and stared at it, frightened. But Grandfather was not alarmed at all. He gave her that half smile again, but she thought he looked tired all at once.
“Well, open it, then.”
She did so.
Behind her were the big tree and the wide green field; through the door, her grandfather’s strange room with the window and the shelf where the marble box had stood.
The shelf was empty now, a dark rectangle marking thespot in the surrounding dust. Her grandfather stood beside her, and she only now noticed that he held the box in his hands. Isobel, still in Grandfather’s room, half ran toward them. The sense of strangeness grew, Vivian on one side of this door, her mother on the other.
As hard as she tried, Isobel could not come through that opening between the Wakeworld and Dreamworld.
“Give them to me,” she said.
Grandfather’s face looked more wizard than gnome, Vivian thought. Stern, that was the word. “Go home, Isobel. I won’t let you touch them.” It was not the sort of voice one dared to disobey, but Isobel did, still trying to reach through the door, her hands bouncing back from an invisible barrier.
“Give them to me. They should be mine.” Tears tracked mascara down both cheeks.
“Put the marble in the box, please, Vivian,” Grandfather said, and she placed it carefully with the others. He smiled at her, then turned to Isobel again.
“Go home. Take the child with you. She’s created enough mischief for one day.”
Vivian opened her mouth to object, but he winked at her and nodded, and she smiled back, a little warm glow at her heart. Through the door with a skip and a jump, she tugged at Isobel’s hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”
For a brief instant hazel eyes looked at her and the penciled eyebrows rose.
“Take her home, Isobel,” Grandfather said. “Don’t bring her here again.”
One more smile for Vivian, to show that he wasn’t angry, and then he closed the door.
It vanished in the blink of an eye, and she stood beside Isobel, staring at a wall where only a moment ago there had been a door.
“Vivian!”
She startled, guilty. “What, Rox?”
“Helicopter’s landing—”
A huge breath of relief escaped her. They’d managed to keep Brett stable—he wasn’t warming up at all, but his heart was still beating, he was breathing, his urine output was adequate. In Spokane they could warm his blood on a dialysis machine, maybe figure out what it was that she was missing.
Unless what she was missing had something to do with Dreamworld and the Between, in which case there wasn’t
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