Chapter 3: Gate

I feel so light…

There was fog. Actually that was it. Nothing but fog. It felt like being in a giant marshmallow. Barely visible were the twinkling of what looked like stars above us. Other than that, I couldn't see a thing. I coughed automatically and a swirl of white rippled in front of me.

"Jesse?" asked Paul, somewhere to my right.

"Yeah, I'm here." Wherever here was, anyway.

This didn't seem right. The fog was too thick. Normally, it settled at knee height in the hallway. As it was, I couldn't see any of the doors either. I didn't want to accidentally stumble into one.

"Is there anyway to get rid of this?" I asked in Paul's general direction.

He answered, "Hell if I know." Wonderful. I vaguely wondered if we could trudge forward until we hit something.

"Can't you two do anything right?" I stood still. That was not Paul. The voice sounded familiar but I couldn't place it.

The fog started to roll, splitting open a path that almost looked like the parting of the Red Sea. Paul was in fact to my right, only three feet ahead of me. But we were both staring at where the rolling path led.

That was not a 'door' as Dr. Slaski had put it.

Towering above us was a huge, dark stone gateway. Both the doors and the frame were decorated with intricate sculptures carved deeply into the marbled surface. As we approached it, my eyes fixed on the fantastic scenes of flying horses, winged gods, and scarred monsters. I brought up my hand to touch the small carving of a nymph hiding in a bush, until it squeaked and ran away.

They were alive. In a manner of speaking. The miniature bush rustled again as if confirming the thought.

Paul, who hadn't noticed, stepped closer to examine the giant curved handles that looked suspiciously like rib bones. But when he saw many tiny empty eyes abruptly turn towards him, he backed away a few paces. "This is the place then?" I asked unnecessarily.

"Yeah, but," He frowned, looking around in confusion. "How did we get here?"

"What do you mean?"

"We were supposed to shift into the hallway and walk to the end. Not instantly transport here." He turned away from the staring and now chittering sculptures. They darted around their carved environment, making high-pitched conversation with each other, eager and excited. For what, I didn't know.

"They know you're here." We both jumped and turned towards the voice, the same one who had criticized us before. There was a young man standing near the giant hinge of the door and frame. He was transparent, like all ghosts, but there was something off about him. Something terribly familiar about those blue eyes.

Then it hit me. He looked an awful lot like Paul.

Paul yelled incredulously, "Gramps!"

I stared at the man. Yes, it did look like an older version of Paul, but a younger version of Dr. Slaski. Same eyes, same nose. Except now he was standing up straight and perfectly fine. Fine for a ghost, that is.

"Are you…?" Paul trailed off.

"What, dead? No, stupid," Dr. Slaski said as he strode up to us effortlessly. "This is where I go when I can't be in my body. No point in wandering around in my own mind. Been there, done that."

"But you said we shouldn't shift often!"

He rolled his eyes, "You think I do this for fun? No, boy, I can't control it anymore. Not easily anyway. Half in, half out, none of the stability." It was bizarre to hear this man, who looked no more than five years older than me, call Paul 'boy.'

"Less talking, more doing," Dr. Slaski went on, rubbing his hands together, "Just open the door and wish for the best. Or the favor of the gods. It's best to be specific." He was surprisingly animated as a ghost.

"Are you coming with us?" I asked. Whatever was on the other side of this creepy gateway, it seemed better to go in numbers.

He shook his head, "Can't. I've already been in there once, and I don't want to take anymore chances. I wonder what that gladiator fellow is doing," he added as an afterthought. Without another word, Dr. Slaski walked away from us, back into the fog.

"Why does he keep doing that?" I asked no one in particular.

Paul sighed, "I think Gramps has been unbalanced since whatever happened to make him like this." I pondered about that. Dr. Slaski had mentioned a few things that were more than unusually precise: this location, the identity of Susannah's captor, and not to mention just knowing so much about being a shifter in general.

But I'd think about it later. I had to find Susannah. Taking in a steadying breath, I muttered, "Here goes nothing," and put my hand on the gleaming white handle. The stone creatures quieted themselves. With a heave, I pulled it open just an inch. But apparently that was enough room for something the size of my fist to leap out and grab me around the neck.

"Holy shit! Jesse!"

I yelled a string of Spanish curses as I was thrown backwards. Clawing at my collar, I tried to pry whatever it was away from my trachea, but the thing made a sickening squelching noise and started unraveling itself so that tendrils fastened its centerpiece to the hollow of my neck.

The sculptures screeched again as they watched me wrestle with my own neckline. Paul was also trying to pull at the strands at my nape, but my rolling around was keeping him from getting a good grip.

Finally, the thing shuddered and collapsed. It was still draped around me, but loosely.

Paul shook me upright and asked, "You all right?"

"I… I'm fine." Even I was surprised. There was no choking or even discomfort of any kind. I brought a hand up to my collar to examine the new but slight weight around my neck. It was a necklace, a remarkable ruby pendent hung on a long, thin black chain. So long, in fact, that it seemed to be wrapped around my neck several times. Without a clasp to undo it, it looked like it was there for good. Until I got a hold of a pair of pliers anyway.

"That's what tried to kill you! I thought it was one of those facehugger aliens or something." Paul took the ruby into his hand and flipped it around, looking for some sign of life. It just glittered innocently. "If there's more killer jewelry behind there, no wonder Gramps left."

I sighed, "We've got no choice. Help me open this more so we can get through." Even though I could've have sworn it was alive and unpleasantly slick a moment ago, as long as it wasn't harmful, there wasn't any point in dealing with the unusual necklace now. We both took hold of one of the handles and pulled it open just enough to slide inside. You know, in case there were any rings with teeth or biting earrings in there too.

Paul peered through the opening. "It looks the same as it does out here. All fog." I took a look. Indeed it was just more white fog.

"I'll go first. If something happens-"

"Yes, yes, if you die chivalrously, I'll go back and die of guilt and Suze will be a vegetable," said Paul sarcastically as he waved me in. "Just go through already."

I bit back a retort and settled for a half-hearted glare. With the nervousness between us was gone, Paul seemed more inclined to banter sardonically with me. At least that showed we were more at ease with each other. I suppose that was a good thing.

I slipped inside, Paul right after me.

It really didn't look any different. Just a lot of fog, as usual. I don't know what I was expecting, but this definitely wasn't it. I turned to tell Paul so, but he was staring at me. "What?"

"Look at yourself!" He said simply. I did. My hands looked as they always did: tan, clean, and solid.

Wait. Solid?

It was true. I didn't look like a ghost anymore. Completely solid all the way through. I looked back at Paul. He was still transparent. In fact, he was getting fainter by the second.

"Paul!" I lunged for him, but went straight through. He faded completely, a look of surprise on his face.

There was a chuckle from above me, "Can't travel without a permit, no sirree."

"Who's there?" I looked up at the door frame, but it was too high to see who was perched there. The only thing I could make out was a silhouette casually sitting on the corner.

"Why, me, of course," replied the male voice. After this non-answer, he amended, "Oh! You want a name! Let's see, I have dozens…" He started calling off random names, even female ones.

After he mentioned 'Alice' twice, I interrupted, "Could you pick just one I may call you by? And then maybe come down from there?"

"Just the one?" He asked. "Oh all right. At least you were polite about it." There was a silence, and I wondered if he was narrowing down his choices. A 'tap!' on the ground behind me made me turn around. A very odd man, balancing on one foot, was twirling something in his right hand.

"You may call me Virgil then," he smiled broadly. "Welcome to Nyx."

Author's Note: I meant to update on Saturday but got distracted by Garth Nix's Across the Wall. I'll do a weekly update starting the week after this upcoming weekend because of obvious Harry Potter related squealiness.

And just as an observation, I noticed this is the first fic I've written that isn't expressly shipping a couple, although it's the catalyst. It's also my least popular. Haha, may be a correlation. Ah well, that's all good, I'm having fun writing it. Nyx is a fun place.

Happy Readings.