The Door at the End of the World by Caroline Carlson

Author:Caroline Carlson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-02-05T16:00:00+00:00

18

It was nighttime in the other world, too. At first I couldn’t see because of the thick darkness all around me. A few moments after that, I couldn’t see because someone was shining a beam of light straight in my eyes. It was twice as bright as Rosemary’s flashlight, and from the way she was cursing, I guessed she wasn’t the one controlling it.

“Mrs. Bracknell?” The voice in the darkness sounded dubious, and the beam of light wavered. “You’re not Mrs. Bracknell. And you’re an hour early. Who are you?”

“Get that thing out of our faces and we’ll tell you,” Rosemary shot back.

She must have sounded ferocious enough, because the beam of light dimmed to a mere glow. The boy in front of us was dressed in a white jumpsuit like the ones the travel officers back in Southeast had worn when they’d chased Henry Tallard into the lobby of Interworld Travel. His visor was pushed back on top of his head, though, and he didn’t look any older than me. “Did Mrs. Bracknell send you?” he asked, looking at Arthur as though he were the one of us most likely to have something useful to say.

“Yes,” I said, jumping in before Arthur could open his mouth. “Mrs. Bracknell is busy, but she sent us in her place. We’re also from Interworld Travel. I’m Lucy Eberslee.”

As soon as I said my last name, the boy’s face relaxed. There was plenty I already didn’t like about him, but at least he was predictable. “You’d better get in the pod, then,” he said. “And hurry. It’s not safe out here.”

“You can say that again,” said Arthur, looking over his shoulder. I looked, too, but I couldn’t see the sleek black door in the darkness, and even though I hadn’t managed to lock it behind me, no one was running through the doorway after us. I wondered what was stopping them.

The boy was shining his light on something just beyond us now, a large, transparent orb with doors that stood open and cushioned seats inside. It reminded me of an illustration from a book of otherworld fairy tales I’d had growing up: in one story, a girl had gone to a masquerade ball in a magical carriage made of glass and drawn by four white horses. There weren’t any horses in sight here, though, and I didn’t think the boy was likely to take us to any sort of party. But the orb—the pod, he’d called it—seemed magical enough to me. Once we’d all taken our seats, the doors closed by themselves, and when the boy pressed a button, the pod started to roll forward, even while our seats stayed upright. “We’ll have to take the long way around,” the boy said apologetically. “It’s better if we’re not seen. But I’m sure Mrs. Bracknell briefed you already.”

“Of course she did,” I said, trying to act like I meant it. “She didn’t tell us who we’d be meeting, though. What’s your name?”

“Me?” He said the word as though the answer should have been obvious to anyone who mattered.

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