Chapter Sixteen #2
Calisa stepped onto the bookcase ladder to dust the higher shelves, and the ladder zipped down the bookcase. She let out a yelp and hung on. It halted, and she caught her breath. That was unexpect—
It flew back to where she’d begun.
“Whoa! Slow down!”
Steve lifted his head and hissed.
“It’s fine,” Calisa told the lizard. “I was just surprised.” A moving library ladder. She took a second to absorb this, then said, “Everything’s fine.”
The ladder wobbled as if apologizing, and then it hopped inch by inch to the left.
“You don’t have to move,” Calisa told it. “Just let me dust these shelves, okay?”
It halted.
Reaching, she dusted the top two shelves. “A little to the left?”
The ladder scooted a foot to the left.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
She continued to dust the shelves, and Steve settled back down on his pillow. She felt a smile tugging at her lips. There was so much magic here, and the inn wasn’t even at its peak. What must it be like when it’s full of otherworldly guests? She wanted to see that.
But if Auntie Zee stayed away from the inn for too long…
they’d lose what few guests they had. She wasn’t as confident as she’d tried to sound to Jack that they could keep everything moving smoothly without Auntie Zee.
She’d seen last night how demanding the guests were and how much the innkeeper did to cater to them.
Not to mention: What if Auntie Zee was in trouble?
Hurt or sick somewhere? Calisa didn’t want to even think about that.
It didn’t seem plausible. Not Auntie Zee.
She was too ornery for that. Regardless…
We can’t wait for her to come back on her own.
If Auntie Zee did this regularly and if Jack had never said anything, she might not realize how many problems her absence could cause. She had to be told and brought back.
What they needed, she decided, was access to Auntie Zee’s records.
If they had that, they could figure out where she’d gone.
Calisa had gotten a glimpse when she’d first arrived—a large leather-bound book with handwritten notes.
It had looked to be where Auntie Zee kept all her info about the inn: guest registration, expenses, supply lists…
Maybe there was a record of where those supplies came from?
In fact, the more Calisa thought about it, the more likely she thought it was.
Unfortunately, Calisa hadn’t seen the logbook since her first day. It clearly wasn’t kept anywhere visible. “Do you know where Auntie Zee keeps the inn’s logbook?” she asked the ladder.
It wobbled under her, as if she’d confused it.
“I doubt she keeps it in the library. You don’t need to get upset.” Climbing down from the ladder, Calisa patted the rungs. “You’re doing a great job.”
The ladder seemed to stand up straighter at that, and it occurred to Calisa that she had adjusted remarkably well to weird stuff happening, if she was complimenting a ladder without even pausing to think about it.
Her first guess was that it was in the lobby desk.
If Auntie Zee were here, she was positive she wouldn’t be permitted to touch it.
She checked the kitchen, the sitting room, and the dining room to be sure no one was watching.
All were empty. Jack was upstairs, cleaning the bathrooms. She could hear the faucets turning on and off.
Outside Melidor was lying in a muddy puddle, talking with the shrubbery.
The stone statue was closer to the inn, beneath the overhang of the porch roof, shielded from the worst of the rain.
Drops rolled down one of her shoulders and along her arm.
Looking out at her, Calisa wondered if she should invite the statue inside. Had she ever been invited? Did she want to come in? Could she come in? Considering it, Calisa wondered how she’d manage the steps up to the front or back door.
Once Auntie Zee is home and everything is back to normal, I’ll ask Jack if there’s wood to make a ramp.
There was nothing she could do about the second and third floors, but everything on the first floor should be made accessible, and not just for the statue.
Other guests might have other needs…if they ever had other guests.
Certainly wasn’t going to be an issue if they couldn’t find Auntie Zee.
Filing the idea away for later, Calisa searched the desk, checking every drawer.
No logbook.
She did find a pine cone, a pair of scissors, and a yo-yo.
Calisa sank into the stool behind the desk. What if Auntie Zee had hidden it, to preserve the privacy of her guests, instead of merely putting it away? Given that the primary draw of her inn was discretion, that seemed likely.
“Where would she keep her book?” Calisa asked out loud.
What if it was in Auntie Zee’s room?
If Auntie Zee didn’t want Calisa to open doors, she was not going to like it if Calisa broke into her bedroom. Her great-aunt would likely send her back to Brooklyn instantly…. Of course, Auntie Zee would have to be here before she could do that.
Weighing the risks, Calisa absently watched the shadows in the mirror swirl.
If I wanted to hide something and I lived in an inn full of portals, why just hide it in my room? Auntie Zee could have hidden the book anywhere, in any realm.
“Any chance you’re a magic mirror?” she asked the mirror.
The swirls seemed to deepen, and she glanced behind her to see if they reflected any movement. When she looked back, a single word was displayed on the mirror’s surface in black newspaper font:
No.
“Seriously? That’s not…Okay, yes, that’s kind of hilarious.” She crossed to the mirror and, hands on her hips, stared into it. “Magic mirror on the wall, do you know where Auntie Zee keeps her records book?”
The smoke swirled.
Yes.
“Where?”
More smoke.
Calisa waited, but it didn’t resolve into any more words. “Can you only answer yes-or-no questions?”
No.
“Then will you please tell me where I can find the inn’s logbook?”
No.
She blinked at the mirror. That was not what she was expecting. “Why not?”
I don’t want to.
“Um, okay, is there anything I can do or say to get you to change your mind? Is there anything you want or need? Are you…trapped inside the mirror? Do you need help?”
I’m fine. Go away.
Despite herself, Calisa laughed. “That’s a whole mood right there.
Wow, this place.” She turned away from the mirror to study the lobby.
If the mirror, which was stuck to the wall, knew where the records book was, then it was likely someplace visible from the mirror’s vantage point, which also made sense given how quickly Auntie Zee had accessed it when Calisa checked in.
She contemplated the desk and the wall of keys, which was clearly in the view of the mirror. And she noticed there was a hinge on one side of the board that held keys.
Like a door hinge.
Huh.
Striding toward it, Calisa pulled the board open and faced an iridescent purple swirl, about two feet by two feet. She shot a grin at the unfriendly shadow mirror and then reached into the portal.
She felt cold prick her skin, and she wondered if the air in other realms was ever toxic.
Or radioactive. Or just generally unfriendly.
She reminded herself that Auntie Zee had done this, and Calisa hadn’t seen her wear gloves.
Feeling around, her fingers brushed against what felt like hard leather. She put her hand down flat. A book?
She grabbed it and pulled.
The logbook fell out of the purple portal into her hands.
“Yes!” Calisa shouted, and then immediately regretted the shout.
Glancing around, she saw no one except for the mirror. It had returned to swirling smoke. She hoped it was ornery enough not to tell anyone what she’d done. She clutched the registrar to her chest and darted down the hall and into her guest room.
The firebird danced on the hearth as if it was happy to see her.
“Our little secret, okay?” she asked the firebird.
It flapped its wings over the logs, fanning the flames higher, and she wasn’t sure if that was a yes or no or if it understood her at all.
She waited a moment, but the bird didn’t seem as if it planned to flee with the news that she’d absconded with Auntie Zee’s hidden logbook.
Perhaps it knew she’d stolen it in order to find the missing innkeeper?
Perhaps it approved? Or perhaps it’s just a bird. Made of flame.
Opening the cover, Calisa studied the pages.
It began with a date that was 150 years ago.
She’d had no idea the Faraway Inn was that old.
She wondered who had owned it before Auntie Zee.
A relative? Was this a family business, passed from one generation to the next?
She wondered if Mom-Kate had ever thought about staying and running the inn.
She tried to imagine what it would have been like to grow up here, to be surrounded by doorways to realms and guests from places she didn’t know existed…
to grow up alongside Jack. If her mom and great-aunt hadn’t fought, she could have had that life.
She could have always had magic from other realms.
Even more, if Mom-Kate had stayed, the inn wouldn’t have fallen into disrepair.
But maybe Mom-Kate hadn’t wanted that to be her life. Brooklyn was a long way from Vermont. She could have wanted a different adventure, with Mom-Elise.
Calisa couldn’t imagine not wanting to be at the Faraway Inn if she’d had a choice.
She wondered again what their fight had been about, why they hadn’t returned for a visit in over a decade, why Auntie Zee was still so angry at Mom-Kate that she hadn’t wanted Calisa to come and help when she clearly needed help.
Had they fought about the inn?
It was a leap to assume that. They could have fought about anything. But it was certainly possible. Focus on this, she told herself. What was past was past. She had to fix the future.
Calisa flipped pages, noting the records—name, date, and guest room. Sometimes there would be additional notes, such as Allergic to beets. Or Likes mountain view. Or No apples.
Most notes were cryptic, but once in a while, the innkeeper would stop the lists and instead write out more of a paragraph—a kind of journal entry.
Opened portal to the Night Market of Elyacor.
Good prices from Rin, third stall in the fifth row.
Ate a spiced meat pocket. Moon was gibbous.
It wasn’t much of a diary, but in it were snippets of adventures into other realms, mostly centered around either guest recruitment or shopping expeditions. This was where all the food and supplies for the inn came from, especially to please the varied palates of the guests.
Calisa heard a scratching at the door. She instantly tucked the logbook under the quilt before opening the door.
Steve waddled inside.
In the fireplace, the firebird flared brighter, and Steve chirped at the bird. He trotted across the room and lay down in front of the hearth. The firebird shifted its fire closer to the grate so it could warm the lizard.
Smiling at them both, Calisa retrieved the book and returned to her chair.
There were hundreds of entries for guests, each with dates scrawled next to them, as well as how much they paid—first in their original currency and then converted into dollars.
A few paid with magical items. She found the entry for the enchanted teapot.
It came from a realm called Versinar. Or was that the name of the guest?
Every page sparked its own set of questions.
New realms. New people. New creatures. She skipped ahead to near the end.
She wasn’t certain what she was looking for.
Perhaps a nice, clear note detailing where Auntie Zee had gone last night and what to do if she didn’t return as scheduled?
Or a record of where Jack’s father went?
Or a clue as to when and why it all went wrong?
But there was nothing like that. Just a steady decline of guests. Maybe that’s all it was: over time, Auntie Zee had slowed, and she’d lost the ability to care for the inn by herself. No grand event or traumatic moment. Just time, which Calisa supposed was traumatic enough.
“Why didn’t she ask for help sooner?” she asked out loud.
In the fireplace, the bird halted its dance over the logs. It cocked its fiery head. Its eyes were embers sunken into the shifting flames.
“Do you know?” she asked it. “Why does she keep pushing people away?”
The firebird only stared at her.
“Steve, what do you think?” Calisa asked.
Steve let out a snort. He was asleep again.
She kept reading. In addition to every name of every guest and every realm they came from, there were records of where Auntie Zee purchased her supplies and how much she paid. Of all of them, one place kept cropping up more than any other:
The Night Market.
What’s the Night Market?
And more important: How do I get there?