Juniper Wiles, page 15
I let Gabi decide how much she wants to tell since it’s her story, not mine. She gives them a shortened version of what she told me, but the others see right through what she isn’t saying. Jilly leans forward, sympathy in her eyes but no pity.
“Don’t think for a moment,” she says, “that you are any less your own person than any one of us.”
Joe nods. “None of us get to decide how we come into the world. Sure, some people get created and come with a history rooted in whatever story’s being told about them, but once they’re here in the world, nobody owns them. Nobody can tell them who they’re supposed to be. Their own story starts and they get to make their own decisions, fulfill their own potential. And they don’t owe anything to whoever created them.”
“Like Christiana,” Jilly says. “Christy’s shadow.”
Joe gives another nod.
“Christy’s what?” I ask.
“Long story. You know Christiana Tree.”
“Not well.”
“Well, we call her Christy’s sister, but she actually started her life as his shadow—all the parts of Christy that he thought he didn’t want. But she became her own person. She took things that Christy thought were negatives and made them into positives.”
Wendy laughs and starts ticking things off on her fingers. “She’s social where he’s not. She’s emotionally open where he closes up. She calls people on their crap where he prefers to avoid conflict. I could go on.”
I can’t believe how clueless I’ve been to the secret lives of these people I thought I knew.
Gabi has a slight squint in her eyes, her gaze moving from one to the other of them. I know what that look means.
“You’re not being pranked,” I tell her. “You think what happened to you is strange? Well let me tell you, the whole world’s bigger and stranger than either of us could ever have imagined. For instance, did you know that faeries are real?”
Joe raises his palm. “We’re losing focus here. Let’s stay on track.”
Wendy nods. “I went through Ethan’s laptop, even dug up the stuff he thought he’d deleted.”
“You’re a hacker, too?” Gabi says.
“Not in your league,” Wendy tells her. “But I can get by. There’s a whole lot of Nora Constantine crap on his machine, but nothing particularly revealing. I did find a correspondence between him and the guy who set up his ID, and let’s just say an overabundance of fanfic porn.” She gives me a sympathetic glance. “I also found the correspondence between him and whoever sold him that unpublished novel. I tried to backtrack to get an IP address, but the seller was using way too many proxies to get a solid lead.”
“Maybe I can help you with that later,” Gabi says.
I take the manuscript out of my backpack and lay it on the table. “I brought the book for you to read,” I tell Wendy, “but to save time let me give you a brief synopsis.”
I lay out the main plot points for them.
“That jibes with what I found over there,” Joe says.
Gabi’s gaze locks on him. “You mean, you can go to the other Crescent Beach?”
Her question spawns a repeat of the explanation Joe and Jilly gave me about how the otherworld works.
“Bad things are happening there right now,” Joe goes on. “Looks like the local authorities have given up on the place and the bloods have the town locked up tight—nobody in or out. Inside, it looks like a war zone.”
“So we’ve got three objectives,” I say. “We need to find out how Ethan was killed so it doesn’t happen to anyone else.” I don’t look at Gabi or mention her by name, but we all know who I’m talking about.
Gabi shifts uncomfortably in her seat. I take a breath and continue. “We also need to make sure Charlie Midnight doesn’t make his way to this world. And we have to do what we can to help those left behind in the other Crescent Beach.”
“About that,” Joe says. “I agree with you on all counts, but you need to understand that there’s no turning back what’s happened in Crescent Beach. We can try to stop it, but even if we succeed, the town will have to move on from there. There’s no reset.”
He looks at Gabi. “It’s the same for you. You’re who you’ve come to be. Doesn’t matter what anybody writes or believes, your life is your own and only you can make decisions for yourself.”
She nods. “Good to know.”
I can tell she’s way more relieved than she’s letting on.
“I don’t know where to start with figuring out how Ethan died,” I say. “Maybe we can get Edward to talk with the coroner. As for keeping Charlie Midnight out of our world, on the plus side, in the book, he isn’t smart. He’s cunning, but he doesn’t exactly formulate complex plans. So we’ve got time to come up with something to stop him and I have an idea about how we can do just that.”
“The prophecy,” Gabi says.
“What prophecy?” Jilly wants to know.
I tap the manuscript box on the coffee table. “It’s here in the book. Nora tracks down this vampire hunter who says it was foretold that when the monsters returned a red-haired warrior would rise up to put an end to their master.”
I shake my head and continue. “I have to admit that while the novel’s well written, it’s such a mishmash of everything that’s popular in fiction these days, it’s kind of embarrassing at the same time.”
“But the prophecy applies to Nora,” Gabi says, “and we don’t know where she is.”
I nod. “I know. My plan isn’t about the prophecy or finding Nora. I think we need to have another talk with Emma Rohlin.”
“Who’s that now?” Joe asks.
“She wrote the Nora Constantine books,” Wendy says.
“And I think she wrote the novelizations as well,” I put in. “Under a pen name. And it’s pretty clear she wrote this new book.”
“You think there’s that much mojo in her writing?” Joe asks.
“There has to be. From what you’ve said, you’ve seen firsthand what’s happening in Crescent Beach. None of that’s in the original books or from the TV show. It’s only described in this one, unpublished book.”
“She didn’t seem too open to the idea of another Crescent Beach the last time we talked to her,” Jilly says.
I give a glum nod. “I know. It’d be better to have a face-to-face. I want her to meet Gabi and see her try to say none of this is happening. But she lives in Phoenix.”
“Do you have a street address?” Joe asks.
I shake my head.
“I have it on my laptop,” Gabi says. “What?” she adds when I give her a surprised look. “I’m thorough when I do my research.”
“Good,” Joe says. “I’ve got a jump point near Phoenix, so I can get us there through the otherworld. But after that, we’ll have to walk or cadge a ride from someone.”
I’m not sure what he means, exactly, but having been to the otherworld once, I know it’s not impossible.
“When can we go?” I ask.
Joe stands up. “No better time than the present.”
“This is for real?” Gabi asks, standing up as well.
“As real as it gets,” Joe says. “So who’s coming?”
“All of us,” Jilly says.
Joe nods. “Except the dogs should stay here. We can’t have them distracting us from the business at hand.”
“I’ll get Geordie,” Jilly says.
“Don’t do that,” Wendy says. “I’ll stay with the dogs. It’ll give me a chance to catch up with the book. Maybe I’ll see something in it that Joon missed.
Gabi gets her laptop out and kneels at the coffee table. After a few moments she closes it up again and returns it to her backpack. While she’s doing that I grab a copy of Jilly’s new book and stick it in my own backpack.
“Okay, I’ve got the address,” she says.
“Good,” Joe says. “Everybody stay close.”
Jilly grabs his hand, I grab hers and hold out my free hand to Gabi.
“Dive right in,” she says as she takes my hand.
It’s what she always said on the show when we were about to do something crazy.
And then the greenhouse is gone.
The last time I crossed over to the otherworld, my new surroundings weren’t much different from Fitzhenry Park, just wilder, with no city around it. This time Joe steps us out onto the top of a mesa in the high desert. I have that flash of vertigo again as we cross, but recover almost immediately. It doesn’t seem to affect anybody else. The air here is crisp and dry, and for as far as the eye can see there are only more mountains and desert. The sky’s so blue it almost hurts, with neither cloud nor jet trail, and the sun washes the rock surrounding us to the tone of old red bricks.
At the far side of the mesa a tall bluff lifts like a finger pointing up into the sky. A small campfire burns at its base, logs set around it as makeshift seats. As we approach, a man holding a tin mug in one hand rises from one of the logs. He’s tall and handsome, with a smirk in his eyes that says he knows it. He wears cowboy boots, jeans and a checkered shirt, his jawline sharp, his eyes hidden under the shadow of a flat-brimmed black hat.
“Hey, Joe,” he says with a grin. “Does Cassie know you’re running around with a little pack of pretty women?”
“This is Cody,” Joe tells us. “You can ignore most of what he says because he’s got no filters and his social skills are pretty much nonexistent.”
Cody puts a hand on his chest. “Man, that hurts.”
Joe ignores that. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here,” he says, “but I’m glad we did.”
“So everybody says,” Cody goes on. “Life of the party and all that.” He cocks his head, not quite leering at us, but definitely checking us out. “I’ve got to say, you’ve really traded up from those mangy canids you’re usually running around with.”
I notice that Gabi isn’t paying attention to either Cody’s attention or the conversation. She’s turning in a slow circle, eyes wide as she takes in our surroundings. I understand. I’m trying to stay focused myself, but it’s hard to do when my mind feels like it’s blown a few circuits as it tries to catch up with the drastic change in our location.
“I need a favour,” Joe says.
Cody’s gaze leaves us and returns to Joe’s face.
“I’m trying not to meddle anymore,” he says.
Joe sighs. “It’s not meddling when someone comes and asks for your help. It’s only meddling when you think you know what they need better than they do, then go ahead and give it to them without their permission.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Cody says.
Jilly starts to laugh. “God,” she says, “you’re worse than ever.”
“Darling,” Cody says. “Who’s been telling tales out of school?”
“Anybody who’s ever met you?” Jilly replies.
Cody grins. “That sounds about right.” He turns to Joe and, just like that, he’s all business. “What do you need?”
“A quick trip to Phoenix. I don’t have any jump points there.”
“Phoenix in general,” Cody asks, “or do you have a particular address?”
And that’s how we find ourselves standing outside the door to Emma Rohlin’s condo about ten minutes later. Cody tips a finger against his brow and he steps away—back to his mesa, I assume.
“Let me do the talking,” I say as I put my finger on the bell. “At least to start things off.”
“It’s your show,” Joe says. He cocks his head, nose twitching the way Sonora’s does when she’s catching a scent. “Someone’s come to the door,” he adds, “and she’s watching us through the peephole.”
A moment later the door opens and Emma Rohlin is standing there giving us a once over. She looks exactly the same as she did a decade ago on the set in L.A. Tall and slender, short blond hair, a peaches and cream complexion that hardly shows a wrinkle except for the few laugh lines around her eyes. I hope I can still look that good when I’m in my sixties. With my genes, the chances are decent.
“Juniper?” she says. “What are you doing in Phoenix?”
I hold out Jilly’s book, which I pulled from my backpack before we left the mesa.
“Delivering a personalized copy of Jilly’s new book to you. Emma, meet Jilly Coppercorn. Jilly, this is Emma Rohlin.”
Emma nods an automatic greeting, but I can see she’s confused. I don’t blame her. I would be too, in her shoes. Her gaze goes to Joe, then to Gabi, and I watch her eyes widen.
“Can we come in?” I ask.
“Allison?” she says, still looking at Gabi.
But just as greeting Jilly was an automatic politeness, she moves aside to let us all into her condo. The main room is an open concept combination of kitchen, dining area and living room with a large adobe fireplace. A glass wall with sliding doors opens onto a patio that looks out over a part of her gated community with desert and mountains in the distance. The furnishings are Southwestern—Mission furniture, Navajo rugs, original paintings of desert landscapes on the walls, woven grass baskets and pottery. On the coffee table is an open notebook with a glass of iced tea on a coaster beside it.
“Why are you dressed up as Gabi, Allison?” Emma asks.
She’s followed us into the condo. Joe goes and closes the front door and stays there, his arms folded across his chest. Oddly, he seems to blend into his surroundings rather than look intimidating.
I put the book on the dining table and take Emma’s hand.
“There’s something impossible we need to talk about,” I tell her, “but the easiest way to explain it is to show you something else first.” I look over my shoulder. “Joe?”
Joe pushes away from the door and comes to lay his hand on my shoulder. A moment later the three of us are standing on the mesa top where we met Cody. Emma sways and Joe quickly comes around me to steady her. There’s a panicked look in her eyes as she takes in her surroundings.
“What…where…?”
Words fail her. Joe steps away from her, but I keep hold of her hand.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, keeping my tone low and soothing. “You’re not dreaming and you’re not in danger.”
“This is impossible…”
“And yet, here we are.”
She takes another look around. Scuffs her slipper on the rough rock under our feet.
“This is the otherworld,” I tell her. “You can take as long as you like to verify that you’re no longer in your condo or Phoenix. You’re not in the world you know anymore. But as soon as you’re ready, we’ll take you back.”
She searches my face. “What do you want? Why are you doing this to me?”
“It’s like I said. I have things to tell you that you’re going to find impossible to believe, so I wanted to give you some proof before we talk.”
There’s still a flustered look in her eyes, but she seems to be calming a little.
“Why is Allison dressed up as Gabi?” she asks again.
“We’ll get to that. Have you seen enough here? Do you want to go back to Phoenix?”
“We’re really somewhere else?”
I nod. “Here. Come see.”
I lead her near the lip of the mesa where she can experience the full scope and height of our vantage point.
“Those—they look like the mountains outside of Tucson,” she says. “But there’s…”
“No sign that people have ever been here.”
She nods. “Except for that fire.”
Cody’s campfire is still burning but he’s not there. Something stirs deep in the shadows of the rock spire and I see a dog, head on its forepaws, watching us.
“I’d like to go home now,” she says.
I start to lead her over to where we arrived, but Joe comes up and steps us back into the living room of her condo.
“Jesus!” Gabi says, startled by our appearance.
She’s standing by the glass doors that lead out to the patio. Jilly’s sitting in a chair with a magazine open on her lap.
Emma’s unsteady on her feet from the crossing, so Joe and I walk her over to the sofa. She sits down and runs a hand across the fabric of the cushions, then reaches down and touches the red dirt dusting her sandals. I didn’t have any vertigo at all this time. Joe picks up her iced tea and hands it to her. She nods her thanks and takes a sip. Then another.
“So I’m not hallucinating,” she says as she puts the glass back down on the coffee table.
She looks around at us, one by one, as though waiting for someone to admit that this has all been an elaborate joke. Finally she gets to Jilly, who throws her hands in the air as though she’s tossing confetti.
“No!” she says. “Magic is real. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“I would have said disconcerting,” Emma says. “And it doesn’t explain why Allison here is dressed like her character from the show.”
“That’s because she isn’t Allison,” I say. “She’s Gabi.”
Emma shakes her head. “No. No. That is impossible.”
“You can say that after you’ve just been taken to the otherworld?”
“The otherworld. My god, what’s happening? Did someone drug me?” She puts her hands over her face and leans over.
I hesitate and pat her awkwardly on her back, but it’s Jilly who takes charge. She leaves her chair and sits on the edge of the coffee table, then takes both of Emma’s hands in her own. Her sapphire eyes hold Emma’s gaze.
“You’re not drugged or dreaming,” she says. “You’re not crazy. There is an otherworld and this really is Gabi. You know it’s true.”
Emma stares at Gabi. “But how…?”
So we tell her everything that’s gone on since Ethan Law first approached me in the Half Kaffe. She starts off shaking her head, not wanting to accept anything we’re saying. By the time we’re finished, she sits there, silent, staring at the polished hardwood floor at her feet.
“I did write those other books,” she says finally, “or at least I co-wrote them with my daughter Shannon. When the show was over she kept wanting us to write something else—something that would appeal to today’s readers. Vampires and shapechangers and dystopian landscapes. But I had no interest and she didn’t trust her own skills enough to do it herself.”
