Her eyes popped open. Was that a noise? She turned her head back to the lake. There was a small, skinny old man in overalls, scattering birdseed along the banks, who had not been there before. He had pure white skin, with eyes like the lake in front of him. His face was gaunt and wrinkled, and wavy white hair hung past his shoulders. He looked up and started.
"Hello?" his gravelly voice rang through the air.
"Um, hi," Charlotte said, taking a step back and checking his mouth for fangs.
"I'm sorry, but…"- he stared at her, blinking-"Are you mortal?"
Charlotte nodded slowly.
"Oh my!" he said. "Oh my!"
Charlotte looked around uncomfortably. It was just her luck to have some creepy guy ruin paradise for her. "Listen…" He took a step toward her. "Could you do me a favor? Could you look into the lake for me?"
"What?"
"Just stand on the bank and look at the lake. I just want you to tell me what you see."
Charlotte stared at him suspiciously.
He held up his hands and smiled kindly. "I'm not going to play any tricks or push you in or anything. I'll stand back here. I just want to know what you see. Please?"
Actually, the old guy wasn't so creepy. He seemed fairly nice, really. But…
"Wait," Charlotte said. "Where are we?" She shook her head. The whole place had the feel of a dream, but she knew she was awake. "I have to go. I have to get back to the Underworld. I have to hurry."
The man nodded. "We're still in the City. I just like it better this way." He gestured around him. Charlotte didn't blame him. "You don't have to worry, time doesn't pass here, not like it does in the rest of the Underworld."
Charlotte bit her lip. She couldn't help it; she was a little curious about what was going on. And the lake was just so peaceful-she'd seen so many ugly, horrible, awful, deathly things today, she couldn't help wanting a little beauty. Another small bird broke through the water and flew up to the sky.
Charlotte took a deep breath, stepped forward, casting a glance back at the man to make sure he was not, indeed, going to push her in, and then gazed down at the lake.
As she looked down at the lake's surface, something flickered in front of her-not quite a reflection, just the idea of one-and then disappeared. And then Charlotte saw nothing reflected in the lake, nothing at all. She shivered a little. Was she a vampire now too? She looked up at the old man. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing there."
"Not your own reflection?"
"At first, maybe," Charlotte said. "But then nothing."
"Fascinating!" He peered at her. "Would you describe yourself as unformed?"
Charlotte took a step back. This was getting a little personal.
"I'm sorry," he said gently. "I should have explained. This is the lake where dreams come from."
"Dreams?"
"Dreams," he nodded. "Night visions? You know. This park belongs to Hypnos; he's a big shot for Hades. Dreams and sleep are supposed to be his domain, but he's too busy now hiring and firing people and creating Divisions and the like. I watch over things for him, take care of the grass and the birds." A black bird burst from the lake and flew up into the sky. "Oooh, that one looked nasty." He shook his head. "The dreams fly up on their own, or else someone down here comes on in and conjures one up to send to somebody up there."
With a flash Charlotte remembered her dream-the ground cracking around her, the Footmen coming up to grab her. Had someone sent that to her? Why? To warn her? But who?
A rustling came from the towering tree next to Charlotte. She looked up. One of the shriveled brown fruits had begun to wiggle around just above her head. Then the fruit leaped from the branch into the air-no, it wasn't a fruit at all, but a bat, a horrid, sickly looking bat stretching out its wings. No, not a bat- the creature spread its wings out and, before Charlotte's eyes, transformed into a great, beautiful bird-like a mix between a swan and a peacock, but colored in pure gold. Its feathers gleamed. The bird let out a cry that sounded like the singing of a harp, and went off into the sun.
"So beautiful!" Charlotte said.
The man grunted. "No, it's not. That's the Elm Where False Dreams Cling. There's nothing beautiful about it. Remember that, mortal, it's the most beautiful dreams that are false."
"Oh," Charlotte said. She looked back at the lake. "Why can't I see myself?"
The man shook his head. "Supposedly, when mortals look into the lake, they see, well, not themselves, really.
But a dream of themselves. Something they want to be or something they are becoming. I would guess you don't know yet."
"Oh," Charlotte said. "Oh."
"It's okay," the man said. "I bet in a couple years you'll come back here and see something for sure."
Charlotte shuddered. One thing she knew, she was not coming back here.
"I have to go," she said. "I have to go."
"All right," he said. "Thanks for coming by."
Charlotte nodded at the old man and headed back toward the gate. She didn't see that as she turned, her reflection shone in the lake, clear and strong.
Stepping back into the City, Charlotte felt loneliness and exhaustion wash over her again. The rotting, moldy, smoky smell hit her with full force, darkness surrounded her, and cold seemed to seep into her veins. Unwittingly she felt tears spring to her eyes, and she shivered.
The park was behind her now, the Palace ahead. She was so close to being done; she would talk to Hades, and then he would stop Philonecron and free Zee, and they could go back home and leave this horrible place behind.
There was no bustling on the Palace grounds, and no bowler hats either. The Palace stood right in the center of the City, yet seemed strangely apart from it too. It stood six stories high and was made entirely of black marble. Three onion-shaped domes of various sizes reached up into the sky. The walls were perfectly plain, except for two stately columns (Ionic, Charlotte noted. Her art teacher would be so proud!), which framed the front door. All else was shiny, smooth blackness.
Surrounding the Palace was a great, three-story iron gate. Charlotte inhaled, then pushed on the gate, which squeaked like a very large bat. There was a long path paved in gold, and framing it were thin, bowing trees with small red fruit clinging to the branches.
Charlotte walked up to the massive black door, stood on her very tippy toes, and knocked.
No answer.
She tried again, louder, loud enough to wake the… Dead.
She stood back and studied the front door, arms crossed. It would be just her luck to come all this way and not be able to get in.
Stepping back, she cupped her hands to her mouth. "Helloooo?" she called. "Anyone there?"
Before her eyes one of the front columns seemed to stir. Two eyes popped open sleepily, then a mouth appeared, which let out a great yawn. Charlotte stared.
"Yeesssss?" the column asked in a rather dusty voice.
"Um, hi," Charlotte said.
"Hello," said the column. "May I help you?"
"Um, yes," Charlotte said, more squeakily than she would have liked. "I'm here to see Hades. It's extremely urgent-"
"You are? Really!" The column stared at her.
"Yes.."
"Most curious," he said. "Don't see your kind much here… don't see anyone, really. Well, I should get someone to open the door for you, shouldn't I?"
"That would be great, um… sir?"
"One moment, please," he said politely.
The eyes and mouth disappeared-Charlotte didn't want to think where to- and a few moments later reappeared.