CHAPTER 155

CHAPTER 155
The Garden of Backwards Time

"Twisting? I'm showing what hides in darkness." The image in the glass inched forward, wavering. "You'll carry my wounds then when Blood Rite awakens."

Her heart was pounding like war drums. "You're……"

The idea struck her. "He'll have to kill you."

Emerald's hand closed into a fist. "Who will?"

"Joel," the mirror whispered. "He will."

Emerald stepped back, her head shaking. "He wouldn't."

The lips of the mirror curled. "He must." It pointed. "Die himself."

Her hands trembled at her neck. She swallowed. "I don't believe you."

"Believe what you want." The voice of the reflection faded. "But I speak the truth."

The skin on Emerald's face pricked. The mirror rippled and for one moment she was seeing Lena tied at the altar, her eyes beseeching her, then her own face. her face was pale and gaunt, her cheeks bearing the same blood-red runes.

Emerald hurled the candle at the mirror in a strangled shout. The flame struck the glass. Spidery lines of cracks shot out.

Shards broke. She stepped backward as fragments dropped to the floor.

The mirror had been broken. But out of the silver frame dripped blood like ink from the cracks.

She stepped forward and put her hand on the frame. She drew back…. her red-streaked fingers.

She looked at the blood. Red and shiny.

"Oh God!" she whispered.

She fell to the floor, candle on the ground at her feet.

The soft cough echoed from the doorway seconds later.

The butler stood there, his face pale. "Miss Lena?"

Emerald was shocked. She wiped her hands on her lap but the bloodstain spread like ink.

"I…. " She began, her voice quivering.

He crept quietly across the floor. "What happened?"

She looked at the pieces again, and then at him. "It. it spoke to me."

The eyebrows of the butler furrowed.

She laughed at herself ruefully. "As if it wasn't me."

He knelt beside her. “You’re injured.”

She looked at her hands. "It's not mine."

He held her hand softly. "I want to see."

She shook her head. "I'm okay."

He gazed at her, his expression concerned. "Miss Lena, please…. "

"No." She made her voice firm. "Please, butler, I'm all right." She steadied herself. "I

He did not complain. He observed her gather the broken bits in trembling fingers and swaddle the largest in cloth. Under the table, she clutched it against her side, hidden in her skirt.
He did not complain.

The butler coughed. "I'll get some bandages. Sleep will be

Emerald gave a nod. "Yes. Slept."

He stood and guided her to the door. "I'll be just outside."

She edged around him into the hallway. When the butler's steps disappeared from view, she relaxed, sinking down the wall to the floor. The shard concealed beneath her clothing seared against her hip.

The candle in the guest room sputtered out.

The silence continued.

Emerald lifted her head, eyes catching the moonlight. "Just in case," she whispered, her fingers toying with the shard beneath her dress.

In silence, the house itself appeared to be listening.

Emerald fled out the back door as late afternoon mist diffused the edge of the forest. Long shadows spread across the lawn as the sun set low. She stood hesitantly on the threshold, inhaling moist earth. There wasn't a wind to move the air, yet somewhere far inside, a heartbeat started to pulse…. slow and mesmerizing.

She stepped into the woods, boots sinking deep in the moss. Every step was both familiar and foreign. The cabin was at her back, windows aglow with warmth, but something beckoned her onward, to some unseen call.

A deer materialized on the trail…. a gaunt tawny doe. Its legs moved backward, stepping as in reverse. Emerald was transfixed. The doe's antlers sparkled in the mist of the twilight. Its dark-colored eyes seemed to penetrate her. Then, as if to assure her not to be its quarry, it disappeared in the air and faded out with the sound of a fallen bell.

She exhaled and walked slowly forward. The trees seemed to lean in where she was, their trunks sloping in as if to hunch and overhear. The leaves overhead twined in an arch of shadow and light. She felt eyes on her…. upon her….

Emerald shuddered. "It wasn't real," she whispered, her voice shaking. "It was just

The forest did not remain silent.

She walked on, her heart thudding. The ground dropped off to a gully unknown to her. And beneath vines was the rusty wrought iron gate entrance of an open gate. The gate was open, as if inviting her in.

Her steps drew her closer. Blood red flowers sparkled amidst the iron bars. She caught her breath. The same red flowers of her nightmares crowded behind the gate, petal-glittering as if just opening in the dusk.

She opened the gate wider and stepped through. The world changed. The air was filled with glittering golden dust. Time became distorted: the woods in front were near and yet remotely distant. The road in front was curving in impossible directions.

She walked along the trail and gasped. There in the center of it was a weathered and cracked stone altar. On it was the name LENA at first, then in script at the bottom EMERALD.

Her fingers traced out her own name. "Why?" she whispered.

Abruptly the air trembled. A hawk flew past in reverse motion, feathers and talons moving backwards. She jerked.

"Emerald!" the butler's voice reached as far as the garden gate but not beyond. She turned back to call to him but he was rigid behind the iron railing, hand outstretched, his face moving silently.

She stepped closer to him. "Butler. rescue me!"

He closed his eyes and stepped back. He went pale. He tried to move through the gate…. but his foot had gone half through the metal railing and got stuck. Panic fluttered in his eyes.

"I can't…" he began, voice constricted. "I'm sorry."

Emerald's heart sped up. "Why can't you enter?"

His voice cracked. "The garden… it won't allow me."

She swallowed hard as fear welled within her. The flowers on the altar seemed to lean in towards her in recognition. The flower petals shone in the fading light.

Emerald returned to the altar. She traced her fingertip across Lena's name. Cold. Traced it across her own name. Warm, like skin after fever.

Time slowed for her. There was silence.

She raised her head and looked at the face of Lena blossoming amidst the flowers. her eyes sad, her mouth opening to speak.

Emerald stepped back. "Lena

But still silence. The flowers on the altar seemed to arrange themselves into words. She bent forward to hear.

The garden graaned rather: a soft crepe wrapping itself around her mind.

Be who you are.

Her legs weakened. She leaned against the altar for support.

The butler rapped at the gate. "Miss Lena! Please…. "

She raised her hand. "Not now."

He leaned in, beseeching. “Emerald, whatever this is… it isn’t safe.”

She shut her eyes and allowed the final rays of the sun to flow across her. The flowers shook. A flower shook and fell from the vase, floating towards her.

She extended her hand and caught it.

As soon as her finger made contact with the petal, the universe trembled. The woods beyond wavered in and out of being, a kaleidoscope of greens and golds. The flowers near at hand burned more intensely.

The butler interrupted her daydreaming. "Miss Lena, come back. Please."

Her eyes opened. The magic in the garden disappeared. The petal glow was lost. The hawk soaring above flew forward again as it was before.

Emerald looked at the flower in her palm. She believed it was heavy as well as rich-looking, blood-red with dark black veiny lines.

Her lower lip quivered: ".What do I have to become?"

She brings the flower to her mouth, inhaling its scent…. earth and dust and some delicate sweetness.

The petal was quivering and crumbling in her hand, and it dissolved into smoke to drift skyward and disperse in the air.

The light of the garden had gone. Birds sang in the distance. Trees beyond the gate seemed as they had been in her recollection. The way behind her was grass again. Even the gate appeared small and weathered.

She heard the soft footsteps of the butler behind her, but when she turned, he had disappeared.

Emerald was alone in the silence.

The iron gate groaned shut She rushed to the cabin, flowers crumbling on her skin like promises. In her wake the secret garden was dark and still…. its secrets awaiting.