Chapter 2

The mansion was certainly less frightening during the daytime, with sunlight thrown through the curtain-less windows and the shadows that plagued a child's overactive imagination chased away by the light. However, the baseball bat from yesterday accompanied him again, clenched in one of Alfred's fists (the flashlight was pointless at this time of day, of course) as he returned.

Alfred had never been one for the supernatural. He'd always scoffed when the girls talked about fairies and unicorns, and every time his brother had mentioned what the bear had "said" to him, he had given Matthew his own patented "you've lost it" look. He didn't believe in the Lochness Monster or in Bigfoot, or even in the Boogieman. Monsters simply didn't exist.

(The aliens were an isolated incident. Besides, little gray men were far more sci-fi than fantasy, right?)

Ghosts, on the other hand, were another story. They were the dead spirits of real people, and they were immune to all that science could provide, resisting even detection.

And then there was what he saw last night, which he knew wasn't a ghost, but because he refused to categorize it as something fantastical in his mind, it hovered in his brain, invaded all his thoughts, and generally annoyed him all day until he finally gave up and decided to go back to the mansion to make sure it wasn't all a hallucination – because a hallucination would be the easiest answer, whereas a ghoul the worst.

And if it was a restless spirit, then Alfred would be the better man, he decided. Ghosts were ghosts because they still had something left to do in the real world, right? So if that business were finished, they'd leave. He would conquer his fear, ask the spirit what it wanted, and get it to leave.

His decision hardly wavered the entire journey to the mansion – so much less hungry-looking under the light – but just as he stepped into the room with the mirror, he felt his body seize up. His palms felt unusually sweaty, but he couldn't even move a muscle to wipe them on his pants.

Was it a spell?

But no, spells didn't exist, and look, if he concentrated enough, he could move one foot forward. And then another. And another. He was just nervous.

Before he knew it, he stood in front of the mirror. In his distraction, he noticed that its frame reached all the way to the ground, just barely grazing the wooden floorboards. Washed over with a sense of accomplishment, he brought his gaze up, slowly.

He jumped. The bat clattered to the floor as he fell onto his rear.

Standing nose to nose with him was a man. No, more precisely, the man was kneeling, one hand resting on a knee, purposely bringing him to Alfred's eye level. He was old, probably past his twenties. On his shoulders rested a mantle, gold-rimmed but otherwise a simple midnight blue. He wore some sort of costume, with buttons all down his front and gold string dangled everywhere, and he had thick cuffs, like he'd seen in old European movies, that curled back and fastened with yet another button. He had white gloves that matched his pants, over which he wore boots that managed to be both large and sleek at the same time.

In short, he looked like a foreigner to this world.

But despite the reflection's (Whose? His? A ghost's?) unusual attire, what attracted Alfred's attention first and foremost was his face.

It was the same, the one he had seen last night. The man's head was framed by wheat-yellow hair, and his eyes were a lively green that seemed to shimmer (now if that wasn't otherworldly, he didn't know what was). He hadn't noticed the previous night, probably in his panic, but his gaze naturally moved up and took in the two furry eyebrows that seemed to dominate the man's forehead.

Alfred couldn't decide if they made the reflection look silly or even scarier.

"Shut your mouth. You're not a gaping goldfish."

The boy obeyed automatically, before his brain processed the voice. It hadn't come from behind him or from himself, and it definitely wasn't in his head. He doubted he would imagine a voice that had such a weird accent, anyways. He yelped and his mouth fell just as wide open as before. "Y-you talked!"

"Yes, I talked. Why is that so surprising?" The image honestly seemed to be puzzled.

"You're a reflection, that's why! Reflections don't talk!" Alfred paused. No wait, what if… "I get it. You're a ghost, and this is the only way you can speak to the living."

"Huh? W-"

"I'll listen to what you have to say, but I won't let you take over me!"

"Wait a second…"

"Just be glad that the great hero Alfred is here to help you with your problems, so hurry up and pass to the underworld!"

"Alfred?" At this, the reflection-ghost man stood, causing the other to flinch involuntarily. "You said your name's Alfred?"

The boy gulped, but he nodded. "Y-yeah, you got a problem with that?"

After a long pause – so long that Alfred thought the ghost really was planning on possessing him because he got him mad or something – the man shook his head. "No, it's a wonderful name. Tell me, Alfred, what is your world called?"

"World?" He was sounding more and more like Mattie every minute. He tried again, "What do you mean, 'world?'"

"What it sounds like. What's your world's name, or does your world not have one?"

"W-well, if you mean 'planet,' then it's Earth…"

"'Earth…'" the man repeated.

Alfred regained a bit of his courage by this time, and said, "You're a weird ghost, you know that? You managed to forget the planet's name?"

He winced again as those green eyes glared at him. "I don't know how you came to the conclusion I'm a ghost, but I am no such thing. If what you say is true, then you are a human from a different world than me."

"Different world … like, from Mars?"

"I don't know of any 'Mars,' but I suspect it's a world you don't know of." The man knelt again, and Alfred unconsciously relaxed a little. "I'm going to ask on a hunch, but … do you know what magic is?"

Hearing this, the boy almost snorted. "There's no such thing as magic."

A sly smile, of the "I know something you don't" type, spread across the man's face. "So I was right. There is most definitely a 'thing such as magic.' It just doesn't exist in your world."

"That's just an excuse. You can't prove it to me."

"Oh? I can't?"

Alfred stared at the man. Perhaps that was one explanation for what was going on, for him speaking to a reflection that was not his? "Fine. Show me, and if you can't, I'm gonna break the mirror and call the Ghost Busters to get rid of you."

The man waved impatiently at the last part of the statement. "Come, put your hands on the mirror."

Alfred hesitated. "How do I know you're not trying to trick me?"

At this, the other sighed. "If I were going to trick you into coming closer so I could do horrible things to you, I would have just spelled you to move your feet two steps forward. Now stop being a prat and get closer."

Acknowledging that this stranger had a point, Alfred shuffled a little closer. He slowly put his palms to the mirror. "Like this?"

The man nodded, and he slid his hands forward too. Alfred couldn't help but stare at the size of them in comparison to his. He hardly ever held his father's hands; he bet this was what a grown-up's hand looked like. "Now," the man said after their hands were opposite one another. They would be touching if it weren't for the surface of the mirror, "say what you want the magic to do."

Alfred was slightly distracted by the tingly sensation coming from the chill of the glass surface. "Out loud?"

The other nodded. "Here – because I can't account for how magic works in all the different worlds – magic works by vocal commands. It represents your will to control the elements and allows the spells to know how to follow your command. I obviously know nothing of your world, so it's your words and your wishes that will determine what the spell will do." Just as Alfred was about to open his mouth, he continued, "This is just a demonstration, so please keep the task small. I don't wish to cause a fiasco in your world, accidentally."

That made sense. Alfred fell silent, trying to think of what he wanted. He was a bit hungry, since it was almost dinner time and he hadn't eaten yet, but more importantly… "I want the stupid dust in this place gone!"

Suddenly, he was blinded by a flash of light, and he heard more than felt a blast of wind rush from the mirror (how was that possible?). By the time his clothes and hair had settled, his vision had cleared, and he realized that he was staring into the other's eyes.

"What an odd wish. You looked to be the type to wish for food or toys."

Frowning, Alfred broke the gaze and the connection between their palms. "I'm eight! I'm too old for toys!"

Again, the man waved his hand. Alfred supposed that meant that he was right. "Why don't you go outside and see if your wish came true?"

He'd almost forgotten. He swerved around and ran, almost tripping over his shoelaces (when had they come undone?). He didn't even need to step into the hall, though, to see that the man was right.

The carpet was a vivid color, burgundy red and cream, that had been muted by the layers of grey stacked on it before. The delicate fixtures on the wall were free of hangings, and the walls were no longer peeling or stained.

Alfred turned around, his expression still one of shocked wonder. "Whoa," was all he could say.

"You do do a marvelous fish impression, you know. I suppose that's your talent?" But the man was smiling, his chin resting on one hand casually. He looked so satisfied with himself that Alfred let the comment slide.

The boy ran forward to the mirror again. "That was soooo cool! Can you do it again?"

The other looked taken aback. "Well, that's…"

"Oh right, I don't even know your name yet. What's your name?"

Again, the man looked troubled. "I'm… Well…"

Alfred crossed his arms. "One second you say you're a wizard, and the next you act like a ghost who's forgotten about his past. You don't remember your name?"

The man didn't reply immediately. After a few moments (where Alfred observed his pupils do that weird shifting thing when people were thinking really, really quickly), he sighed resignedly. "My name's … Arthur."

Alfred scrunched his nose up. "Arthur? That's a really stuffy name."

"Yes, I've been told that."

"Must be something that doesn't matter which world you're from." At this, Alfred realized that he was actually believing this stranger who had suddenly appeared in a mirror, but after a moment's thought, he shrugged. He'd believed stranger things, and this really wasn't that weird. "So, can you do it again?" he repeated.

Arthur shook his head. "I try to limit myself to one spell a day."

"That's too bad… So, are you a wizard?"

"Something like that." But he didn't try to elaborate, and Alfred's mind had already wandered.

"If you're from a different world, then how come you also know English?"

"I'm guessing 'English' is your world's language? I suspect it's just the nature of this spell. To me, I'm just speaking my own tongue."

"Tongue? Ew, your tongue speaks?"

"No, I mean…" Arthur said, flustered, but then he chuckled and shook his head, "You're a very exuberant boy, aren't you?"

"I don't even know what that means. That sounds like a bad thing."

"You will one day, and it's not a bad thing."

Alfred opened his mouth to ask this Arthur person another question, but then he realized that the sun's rays through the window were getting awfully long and red. "Oh crap, it's already sundown! Mom's gonna be so mad I'm late!" He turned back to the wizard beyond the mirror. "I'll be back tomorrow, and then you can show me more magic and stuff!"

As he was almost out the door, he turned and waved. "See ya!" He heard only a faint "See you soon," before he had made it out of the room, but it brought a full-blown grin to his lips that lasted all the way home.