Page 14 of Of Mercury and Mist

A hand ruffled his hair. “You don’t fuck with those people. Look, I know you’re risk taker. You need to get your rocks off, just come to me and I’ll give you a job, a project, but don’t under any circumstances risk your life like that again.”

Andy had confirmed my innermost thoughts. I couldn’t bring myself to verbally acknowledge he knew, but as I stared at him, it was unspoken between us. A twitch of the mouth, a shadow crossing his gaze. Something was off at Ipomoea, with the people who ran it, and he was fully aware.

Something strange was afoot and this wasn’t the Circle K. More like the circle of hell, but here we were.

He pulled me into a hug, wrapping an arm around my neck. “If it makes you feel any better, Karissa is the last person that should be working there. You probably did her a favor. She’s too soft for that environment.”

I eased out of his arms and shoved an errant curl out of my eyes. “She didn’t seem that upset, at all. Like, it wasn’t a big deal to her. I just feel so bad; she’s my friend and I fucked her over. I keep thinking I should confess.”

“If it makes you feel better, I guess? Seems unnecessary.”

A deep sigh left me. “I can at least let her know I was going to try to put it away for her.”

Andy dragged a hand down his face before he shook his head. “Well, then confess if you want. Doubt she’ll give a shit. The world could explode around that girl, and she’ll just keep going about her business.”

Andy wasn’t wrong. The girl was an island. A soft, delicate, entity that seemed to just float through life unaffected.

“Ehh, probably the wine talking. I don’t know why I told you any of that, I’m just stressing. Thanks for listening. Love you.” I kissed him on the cheek and started down the hall.

“Love you too, curly.”

I lifted my middle finger in the air just to hear him laugh and close his bedroom door.

FIVE

Ashley

Talking to Andy always made me feel better; it helped put things in perspective when I stressed. I was lucky we were still such good friends and there was no ugly break-up. Wrapping my blankets around my semi-content self, I settled on my pillow, with my conscience mostly eased. Sleep came quickly.

When I woke up, everything was different. It took me a moment to realize what was wrong, but when I grabbed the comforter, it was the wrong color. It was obvious in the meager light streaming through the window. Mine was dark gray with little black flower buds printed on it but the one covering me was a reddish color. I blinked and then rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and when I glanced back down, the blanket was still foreign.

When I turned to switch on my nightstand light, I was stunned. My cheap Ikea lamp had been replaced by some overly fancy brass contraption with a bunch of arms scrolling upward into a fancy lampshade with little beads hanging off it. It was super nice, but not mine. Sitting up, I took in the entire space around me. How I’d come to be here, I had no idea.

My first thought was I’d been kidnapped and relocated. Who would want to kidnap me? Good luck getting past Andy.

My second thought was I’d sleepwalked in my semi-drunken state. However, I hadn’t really drank that much, maybe three drinks. Certainly not enough to go on off on an adventure.

The room was pretty close to how I’d design a room if I’d been in charge, so it looked like it could’ve been mine—in another life. The design was like I was in a castle, or French château, maybe. I wasn’t confident I could identify a palace in France but whatever this style was, I loved it.

The bed had four posters made of a dark, molded wood that spiraled nearly to the ceiling to hold up a canopy. Its curtains were tied back, and I was against stacks of plush pillows. All of the material matched the comforter, and the effect was lush and elegant.

Shoving the covers off, I slid to the side of the bed and noticed I wasn’t even wearing my own clothes. The black satin nightgown I had on was just about floor-length, held up by spaghetti straps and had delicate lace edging along the bodice.

The room’s walls were solid wood panels and bore brass wall sconces, gilded mirrors, and shelves with flowing floral arrangements. A standing wood-trimmed mirror sat in one corner, and the rest of the space was taken up by a gorgeous dresser with elaborate scrollwork, a few other small bureaus, and a velvet couch with mahogany trim.

The yellow light of the room was soothing, comforting, and soft heat came from a lit fireplace across from the end of the bed. My bare feet hit the floor and where I expected it to be cold, it somehow wasn’t.

I walked over to the window that had a deep sill and reached for the glass panel. Metal grating was laced across it, forming diamond-shapes. Wherever I was, this place was perfect. I couldn’t have come up with anything better if I’d had my own construction contractor. My little inner goth girl was thrilled.

It was when I looked up that I realized none of my surroundings were real. The moon hung abnormally low in the sky; I could distinctly see its pock marks and craters. The blue light it beamed down highlighting the forest was anything but natural.

In the distance, there seemed to be a second moon, but too many trees were blocking the view to be able to say for sure. The hyper-reality of the scene shot goosebumps across my skin, and I shivered.

Was I dreaming? I had to be. I hadn’t done any drugs or drank much at all for it to be anything else.

Turning around, I took in the whole room a second time, expecting something to change. If I was asleep, was I going to wake up? Any minute now, right?

I set myself on the edge of the bed and stomped my feet against the floor. Nothing. I didn’t jar myself awake. There’d been a couple times in the past where I’d found myself awake inside dreams but the moment I’d realized it; I’d wake up. But I didn’t really want to wake up right now since this place, this dream, was so beautiful.

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