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She turned the page and read aloud. “If there are two objects on both sides, usually round and made of stone or metal, then a connection can be bridged, allowing the physical realm to connect to one of the many spirit realms. Something round made of stone or metal . . .”
Alice raised her head and locked eyes with her reflection. Alice didn’t need to ask the question. She could tell her reflection already knew.
“Hugo, is your wedding ring in the house with you?” her reflection asked.
There was a pause. Alice held her breath.
“He said the box is there, but he hasn’t opened it,” her reflection replied.
Alice let out a laugh. She could no longer contain her excitement as the prospect of contacting Hugo reinvigorated her spirit. She gripped the sink and leaned as close to the mirror as she could.
“Tell him to get the ring and stand in front of the couch where he was the night we drankThe Lovers’ Kiss. I’ll be sitting on thecouch. When he sees me, touch his ring to mine. It should bridge the connection.”
“Hugo, did you hear her?” Alice’s reflection asked. “Of course you didn’t. You can only hear me. Hold, please.”
“Did you put him on hold?”
“You go get the ring. Go to the couch. I’ll tell him to meet you there. We’re getting our Hugo back.”
Alice bounced on her tiptoes. Her fists clenched and raised in joy. A smile beaming. “We’re getting our Hugo back!”
Alice bounded out of the bathroom, knocking over her wineglass. It rolled on the floor toward the sink. The commotion excited Max as she sprung up and followed Alice out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
“We’re getting Hugo back!” Alice shouted back to her reflection.
Chapter 12
Phantasmagoria
Hugo hurtled down the stairs, the very stairs he had taken so many times before. In his excitement, his foot slipped. He threw his arms against the wall to brace himself. A momentary pause to regain his footing, then he hurried down toward his goal. It wasn’t the first time he had slipped down the stairs. It was usually the same step tripping him up. Hopefully, it would be the last time walking down this set of wretched stairs.
“Excited to continue, are we?” Thaddeus asked as Hugo darted through the living room.
Hugo never turned toward Thaddeus. “I’ve got my ticket out of here, and I’m taking it.”
“What are you talking about?”
Hugo remained silent.
The living room was still decorated in the decor of Christmas from his second trial. No doubt a trick to play on his emotions. He had left Alice a week before Thanksgiving. Right in between her two favorite times of the year—Halloween and Christmas. The phantom image of Alice was meant to torment him and break him down because it was last Christmas when Hugo had finally freed himself from one prison. He freed himself with thehelp of Alice. This Christmas, she would help him free himself from another.
He rushed to Alice’s memory shrine—the place on her bookshelves containing photos and memorabilia of her relatives, as well as Elizabeth. The pictures appeared the same, but they were slightly off, as was everything else here. Fingers were missing or added. Faces blank. It was a surreal, lucid dream. He could recognize everything, but upon closer inspection, it wasn’t the same as the real thing. The box was real, though. Physical objects retained their shapes.
Hugo lifted the masterfully crafted wood box resting in front of Elizabeth’s smiling face. It was the same general picture, but like everything else, it was a dream like state. Her hair covered her face, hiding her hazel eyes. Hugo struggled to tear his eyes away as his mind wandered to the phantom image of Elizabeth from his first trial.
It wasn’t the first time he had encountered a ghoulish image of Elizabeth. No, the honor belonged to the tricks of the Savinos and their Red-Hearted Queen wine. If he had his way, this would be his last. Going forward, only happy, loving memories of Elizabeth were allowed to enter his mind.
With a flick of his thumb, the box sprung open. Hidden inside was his former torment and now salvation—his black onyx wedding ring. Hugo plucked the ring out of the box and tossed the box to the side. With a skip and a hop, he rushed over to the red velvet Victorian couch. He stood in the exact spot as the fateful night they both drank from The Lovers’ Kiss.
“Alice,” Hugo shouted. “Alice, I’m here.”
There was nothing.
“Alice?”
Still nothing. His heart skipped a beat. He held his breath. Worry overtook him as his mind wandered to what was happening in the mortal realm.
“Alice?” Hugo asked to break the stranglehold on him.
