Saturday Night Séance

the disguise?"

  "I thought you'd feel sorry for me since I chose a disguise that was obviously from your past. But you didn't ask any questions about where I came from. Everyone else was fooled. Why weren't you?"

  "I want to go home now," she said, ignoring his question. She had no idea how to use the sword, but it felt right to hold it. With her other hand, she pulled the banishment spell out of her pocket.

  "You still have to figure a way out," he said with an unpleasant smile.

  "I have to get through you," she said.

  He nodded, and suddenly charged at her with the sword.

  She sidestepped him and stuck the spell on his back.

  He let out an inhuman screech and stopped in his tracks with the sword pointing downward.

  She pulled out another charm and waited.

  In a minute, the charm turned black and fell off his shirt. He turned and looked at her with an angry expression. He appeared to be fatigued and again braced the sword with the tip on the ground. "That-that was not what I expected," he huffed. "Your magic is strong and seems to have some kind of particular resonance with paper. I should have guessed that since you write your spells on paper, but you don't use them in a way I understand."

  "I'm not interested in talking to you," she said. "I'm not interested in satisfying your curiosity. I'm only interested in getting out of this maze. Are you going to tell me how to do it now?"

  "You haven't quite beaten me. All things considered, I'd really prefer you stay here."

  "Why?" she asked.

  "Because you're obviously the Queen of Swords. And now I'm the King of Swords. It's only proper you stay."

  "And do what?" she snapped. "Keep running through your maze?"

  "Of course not." The world suddenly seemed to crumple and the maze folded away to be replaced by a grassy lawn and a stately New England country manor. Brendon's clothes changed to that of an early 1900s fine suit. "This world is infinitely malleable. I can create anything I want. I could create anything you want."

  "I don't want anything here. It's not real."

  "Who's to say what's real?" he retorted.

  "This is just a book. It's just paper. This isn't real."

  "It is as real as the world beyond the leather binding," he snapped. "It is the world I create and I shape. What's out there that's better than what's in here? In here, I know the hero will win. I know that love conquers all. I know there will be a happy ending. I can roam the countryside or ride dragons or spaceships," he said, as the pop-up world around them turned from the country manor to a fantasy world to a science fiction one. "Everything I could ever need or want is within the pages. What's so great about your world? There's no plot. There's no resolution. Things happen for no reason. Every day there is tragedy and death and loss." He rocked the sword slightly on its tip. "Why go out there? No matter what you do, what you want, how much you work or wish, you are still at the mercy of an uncaring, chaotic universe."

  "I know."

  "Then why not stay here? I realize I haven't been upfront with you..."

  "You've lied to me and attacked me," she snapped.

  "And I apologize for that. But consider the possibilities," he said, as the world collapsed and turned into a modern concert stage.

  She sighed and traced out a spell on the sword. "I want to leave. I'll risk the world as it is."

  "You'll fail. You know the odds are against you. The odds are always against you," he said bitterly.

  "I know that. You can live through any story you want. But that's not for me. That's not my life. So you live your life, and I'll live mine. Now, show me the exit."

  "And if I don't?"

  She walked up to an ancient oak tree and sliced through it with the sword with no more resistance than cutting through construction paper with a pair of scissors. "Then I'll find an exit."

  He looked surprised and then sighed. "Fine. I think you'll change your mind, though. And I won't promise to let you back in."

  "That's okay."

  A door popped out of the scenery and turned into what looked like a real door.

  "That's the exit," Brendon said, looking unhappy.

  "Thanks."

  "The book goes where it will," he said. "It will be gone before you can dispose of it or destroy it."

  "Alright. Well, good-bye," she said, opening the door.

  "Good-bye, Isabella," he said.

  She walked through.

  Isabella sat up at the desk and rubbed her face. Her glasses had been smashed into her cheek and gotten slightly bent. She readjusted them as best she could and looked at the clock. She sighed, put a charm on the book just in case, and went to bed.

  In the morning the book had vanished. Isabella told the others what had happened in the book.

  "He sounds like he was once an occultist," Maryann said. "Maybe even a member of the Golden Dawn, especially with all the tarot stuff. I wonder how he got in that book."

  "I think he wanted to go into the book. He sounded pretty bitter about the real world," Isabella said.

  "I think you were very lucky," Nora said seriously. "That sounds like he wasn't sure about letting you leave."

  "I agree."

  "Where did the book go?" Maryann asked.

  "I don't know. It'll go someplace else, I guess, for someone else to read."

  "Isn't that dangerous?" Nora asked. "You were almost trapped."

  "It is dangerous, but I don't know how to destroy that book. I don't think any of us know how to destroy that book, and I don't think trying to hide it or bury would work. I mean, it's not here now," Isabella said. She sighed. "I hate loose ends as much as anyone, but there's not much we can do now except try to be prepared in case we ever run across it again."

  No one was happy with that, but agreed it was the best course of action, so they turned their attention to other matters.

  The Lyrics:

  I knew better with a guy like you

  You played me and broke my heart

  You acted like we could make it through

  And instead we just fell apart

  Nothing you said was ever true

  We were doomed from the start.

  Refrain: You wounded me with just a look

  Your words struck a painful chord

  Never again; it's time to close this book

  And never turn another page of swords.

  You said all the right things

  Every syllable sounded so good

  Each word tugged on my heartstrings

  But then I started to be more shrewd

  And realized there was a hollow ring

  And that ruined the entire mood.

  Refrain:

  Every single word you said

  Was just a manipulative ploy

  To control the thoughts in my head

  And turn me into your toy

  I was supposed to keep your ego fed

  And make life easier for you to enjoy.

  Refrain:

  I stopped holding your hand

  And set to make my life my own

  You issued a reprimand

  To stay with what I'd known

  But I started to understand

  That I was better off alone.

  Refrain:

  Track 6 - Looking-Glass

  The Interview:

  Nico: Well, clearly the title of this next track is a reference to Lewis Carroll.

  Lee: Yep.

  Jana: So why gothic rock?

  Anna: It's a dark song. We thought that would be the best music.

  Nico: But you're not a dark fantasy-themed band?

  Lenore: No, we're not, anymore than we're an '80s pop band or a progressive metal band or a country band. And I still don't even know what dark fantasy is supposed to be.

  Jana: Fair enough. You play what you like.

  Belle: And apparently other people like it too.

  Nico: So we'll a
sk again, what's the inspiration for this one?

  Anna: Mirrors are creepy.

  Jana: That's it?

  Anna: Pretty much.

  Jana: So you wrote a song because you think mirrors are creepy?

  Anna: Yep.

  Lee: There are a lot of horror movies and superstitions about mirrors. We're not the only people who think they can be kind of creepy.

  Nico: But Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-glass aren't usually considered creepy.

  Belle: Well, no, true, but it's really hard to rhyme the word "mirror." "Glass" is easier to rhyme.

  Nico: [laughs] I see. So there are some practical considerations?

  Lenore: Always.

  Lee: Writing lyrics is hard enough. Why make it harder on ourselves? Which means we will never write a song about the color orange.

  The Story:

  Nevermore and the Ravens were technically on the road again. Actually, they had stopped for lunch and to visit on of the off-track roadside attractions that dotted their journeys. They had seen several variations of "World's Biggest Thing" and some of the uncredited but clearly odder museums. This day's travels had brought them to the "Hall of Mirrors," which was billed as "America's Largest Collection of Mirrors," although they could find no confirmation of this claim elsewhere. The building looked like a small, converted warehouse, and was full of cheap shelving units stacked floor to ceiling with mirrors.

  "Why? Just, why, Maryann?" Nora sighed as they turned over their hard-earned cash to the laid-back curator.

  "Because it's my turn to pick, that's why," the redhead answered.

  "The curator seems to have a broad definition of 'mirror,'" Isabella noted, looking at what was some kind of play or opera prop of a bedroom that happened to have a mirrored surface.

  "Any magic mirrors?" Leah asked.

  "Like you could just find those anywhere," Maryann said dismissively. "Honestly."

  "What? Like that isn't a thing that could happen to us?"

  "You're paranoid."

  They continued down the hall of mirrors.

  "So, are we really touring this whole place?" Nora asked impatiently.

  "We already agreed it's part of the Great American Road Trip to see every ridiculous tourist attraction," Leah answered.

  "Yeah, but we aren't on a road trip for fun. We're trying to get someplace. Do we have to see every last corner of this place? It's a maze!"

  "We have time," Isabella said. "It's fine. Some of this stuff is pretty interesting."

  "Makes me feel like I'm in a funhouse," Nora said, shuddering slightly.

  "Funhouses are fun by definition," Maryann said brightly.

  "No. No they aren't," she retorted flatly.

  "Personally," Leah said to Nora in a low voice, "I'm with you. I don't really like being around this many mirrors. I'm sure there's a horror movie about it."

  Nora considered making a frosty retort about not everything having a movie, but she understood where Leah was coming from and just nodded.

  Maryann stopped in front of an eight-foot tall, four-foot wide floor mirror with a frame made of wrought-iron. "Ooo, this one's really big. Who would ever need something this big? Nora?"

  "Interior decor is not really my thing."

  "You know about Tiffany lamps," Leah countered.

  "Okay, fine. I don't know about this, though. Giant floor mirrors with wrought-iron frames seem like the sort of thing some rich person might commission during the Gilded Age, but I can't place it specifically. It could be an art piece. Or could be someone's personal bedroom mirror. It is big enough to see your whole reflection."

  Isabella suddenly felt a chill down her spine. "I think we should keep moving. I mean, we have time, but not all the time in the world."

  "Okay," Maryann said, but as she turned to walk away, she twisted her ankle slightly and stumbled backwards. She threw her hand out against the large mirror to brace herself and fell right through the glass.

  The others just stared for a moment.

  Leah then actually slapped her palm against her forehead. "Good God," she said in Spanish.

  "How does this even happen?" Nora snapped. "I just... I can't... argh!"

  Isabella recovered from the shock first and immediately cast a spirit sight spell on all three of them. The mirror glowed oddly and unpleasantly. "Yeah, so, that's a door," she said.

  "I guessed that when Maryann went through the looking-glass," Leah quipped.

  "Leah, go get the emergency kit," Nora said icily.

  The brunette shot her a nasty look, but did as she said. She retrieved a heavy duffel bag from the van and returned to find Isabella studying the mirror intently. The other two watched quietly, if impatiently, as the blonde completed her examination.

  "I don't like it," Isabella declared finally. "The door is tied to the mirror, not the place. The iron scrollwork probably means something but I can't figure it out. I got a bad feeling right before Maryann tripped. I think that was the doorway activating."

  "And her falling in?" Leah asked.

  "I'm not sure that was an accident," she answered. "I mean, we all know Maryann's a little clumsy, but the timing was too good."

  "So we have to go rescue her. Again."

  "Yeah. But you have the kit. I'll write out some charms and let's be careful." Isabella wrote out some magic spells using Japanese kanji and stuck one against the glass. The polished surface shimmered like water and then turned dark.

  "That's not ominious at all," Leah said. "I've got a flashlight if we need it."

  "We might, we might not. Come on," Isabella said. "The spell will hold the door open for us." And the other three also walked through the looking-glass.

  Maryann fell painfully on her wrist and arm. She stood up, massaging out her wrist.

  "Nothing big broke, but I hope I don't have microfractures or something," she thought.

  Then she looked around. She was in a hallway made of what she guessed was black, dull stone and lined as far as she could see in either direction with eight-foot tall, four-foot wide mirrors. Despite having no discernable light source, she could see as well as if she were in a modern office hallway. There were reflections in the mirrors, and they were hers, but not of a young redheaded woman wearing a fire-engine red sundress and baggy orange cardigan. The closest reflections she could see were of her in various, recent stage costumes. None of the reflections had any kind of background; only the mirrors endlessly reflecting against each other. She didn't see was any sign of a doorway. "How does this even happen?" she sighed to herself. She didn't move; instead she cast a few spells of protection on herself. She trusted that Isabella could find and open the door and she wanted to be as easy to rescue as possible.

  "Now I get to wait," she thought. She shivered; the hallway was just a touch too chilly. The hallway was absolutely silent except for her own breathing. While there was nothing overtly dangerous that she could sense, the silence and being caught between endless reflections made her feel anxious.

  Suddenly either the mirrors started moving or the floor started moving, or both. She couldn't tell because of the lack of landmarks and the fact she couldn't feel anything move. Something seemed to be coming towards her and the journey ended in a round room that was covered with the same mirrors. The reflections were still not what she currently looked like, but they were now more varied than just stage costumes. She could see a tiny baby with a wisp of red hair and wearing a pink onesie, a toddler in a tutu, a small girl with red pigtails and big glasses, a nervous tween with more stylish glasses, an awkward teenager in ill-fitting but supposedly stylish clothes and no glasses, and a few stages in-between. And there was one reflection she didn't recognize at all. The young woman looked identical to her but was wearing an elaborate dark red stage outfit Maryann knew she had never worn, and the reflection's hair looked just a few shades darker than her own. She was reminded of a woman she had me
t who called herself the "Red Queen" and whom Leah had considered to be Maryann's doppelgänger. Then the odd reflection stepped out of the mirror to be replaced with one Maryann did recognize of herself. She stepped backwards and noted the doppelgänger did not cast any reflections.

  "Hi!" the doppelgänger said brightly and in Maryann's own voice.

  Despite its cheery tone, Maryann was frightened. She'd encountered all sorts of spirits, fairies, and other supernatural creatures and this was one of the few that seemed to radiate an aura of evil.

  "I hope the others get here soon," she thought, but replied in as cheery a voice as she could muster, "Hi!"

  "What's your name?" the thing asked.

  "What's yours?" she retorted.

  It smiled. "I like 'Maryann.'"

  "Hey!"

  "You don't like that name? I think I could make it work."

  "I think you should look up some names and find a different one," she said. She recognized there was some kind of active magic being performed, but she couldn't pinpoint it. "With all these mirrors and weird reflections, this thing could know how to cast illusions. I might not even be looking at it," she thought.

  Some of the reflections were changing, although they were still of Maryann.

  "How about, 'Ginger?' It goes with my hair," it said.

  "I don't think it suits you at all," she replied flatly. "Don't you have your own name?"

  "Of course I do," it answered. "But that doesn't mean I want to tell it to you and that doesn't mean I can't give myself a new name. You did, didn't you, 'Anna?'"

  "Yeah, well, I didn't take anyone else's name."

  "What, really?" it said in a condescending tone. "There's no one else named 'Anna' in all the world?"

  "No, I mean, I didn't take a specific person's name. I just picked a pseudonym. It's not my real name. I wouldn't use someone's real name for my stage name," Maryann said.

  "You wanted a new name, you tried that one on, it fitted, so you took it," the creature replied. "I like 'Maryann Ginger Blake.'"

  "That's my name!" she snapped, stomping her foot. "What's your deal?"

  "You didn't say you wanted to deal," it said, its eyes suddenly glinting.

  Maryann noticed that its hair was now exactly the same as hers and in exactly the same style. It was also starting to feel less obviously evil which made her feel even more afraid.

  "I can deal. What do you want?"

  "To get out of here!"

  "Oh," it said, looking disappointed. "I thought you were serious." It walked into a mirror and out another one, now dressed exactly like Maryann, even down to the red plastic star-shaped earrings.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I've got my new name. Now I need my new look, although I think my old look was more interesting, don't you?"

  "No, because I'd never wear anything like that," she said indignantly.

  "You wouldn't? Good to know."

  Maryann scolded herself for telling the creature anything about her, although it did seem to have already gotten her name. "Why do you want my name and the way I look?" she asked.

  "Because I can't get what I want with my own name and look."

  "And what do you want?"

  It smiled again and in a way that was distinctly not like Maryann. "I can't tell you that."

  "Okay, then what are you doing?"

  "Talking to you."

  "No, I mean the magic. What are you doing?" she asked impatiently.

  "Oh, something that should concern you, but it doesn't matter because you can't stop it," the creature replied.

  It hardly felt evil at all anymore. Maryann gulped. "So you're going to try to take my place. Don't you think someone will notice? I mean, I fell into a mirror."

  "That's