"There's one problem," said Charlie, and slumped down next to us again.
"Writer's block," I said.
He nodded glumly.
Allison said, "Have you ever had writer's block before?"
"Well, I've never really written before. This is my first book. Everything I've done up to this point was daydreaming and note taking. I have hundreds of notepads filled with character sketches and notes and histories of Dur."
I said, "And when you started writing, you were consumed with the book?"
"Oh, yes."
"And your wife thought she had lost you."
"I wouldn't come up for air for days. I used up all my vacation time and called in sick constantly. It was all I could talk about or think about. I got to work late, and left early."
"Until they fired you," I said.
"Yes."
"And your wife had finally had enough," said Allison.
He nodded. "Yes."
I said, "And in one fell swoop, you lost your wife and your job was in jeopardy..."
"And any day now my house," he added.
I said, "Which all adds up to one hell of a case of writer's block."
He looked at us, nodded. Sweat was on his brow. "I gave up everything for my writing, and now I can't write either, all while the very world I created suffers. I am in hell."
If anything, we might have made his writer's block worse.
Allison nodded, picking up my thought. She reached out and took one of Charlie's fidgeting hands. He stopped fidgeting and his hand closed around hers. He held onto her as if she were a lifeline. I suspected he was drowning in his own way.
In that moment, a bluish glow appeared in the hallway. I glanced at my cell phone and was not surprised to see that it was midnight.
"She's here," I said.
"Autumn?" asked Charlie, snapping his head up.
"Yes."
Chapter Twenty-six
I moved over to the hallway opening, slowly, so as to not scare Autumn. Then again, I seriously doubted she could see me. Neither Allison nor Charlie could see her, and Charlie had created her. Except that Allison could see what I saw, by dipping into my mind.
"Is she there?" asked Charlie. He had come up behind me too. He was turning his head this way and that, trying to catch a glimpse of her in his peripheral vision. Apparently, sometimes he could, and sometimes he couldn't. His human eyes, quite simply, were not used to seeing into the supernatural.
"Yes," I said.
The closer we got to the hallway, the more Queen Autumn seemed to fidget. She held her hands up like a mime, pushing against an invisible wall. In fact, she seemed to be doing the "trapped-in-a-box routine," as she now pushed against either side of her too. Except, she really seemed to be pushing against something... invisible.
Was the queen a mime, too? asked Allison.
No. She's inspecting something, searching for something.
For what?
I don't know.
Now, the queen cocked her head to one side, as if listening. After a moment of this, she bent down and inspected the floor, then stood up on her toes and felt above her, as if on an unseen shelf. She wore a loose gown that I suspected were pajamas in her world. Either way, they looked cozy as hell.
"What's she doing, Sam?" asked Charlie.
We were all standing before the hallway archway by now. Autumn was there, looking directly at us, but not really. Sometimes she made direct eye contact with me but that was only in passing. It was obvious that she couldn't see us, but I suspected she could sense us. After all, I could see the confusion, the strain, the eagerness and the hope on her face. Her mouth moved as well, although I couldn't make out any words.
"She knows we're here," I said.
Allison, who had been filling my head with her own presence, was seeing what I was seeing in real time. She said, "Sam, she appears to be in a closet of some sort."
"A wardrobe," said Charlie suddenly, and I realized how nice it was to have the actual creator of the world next to us, even if he did seem a bit confused. "And it's not just any wardrobe."
"Is there a lion and witch in it?" asked Allison.
"Not quite," said Charlie. His breath smelled vaguely of coffee. I wondered if all writers' breath smelled of coffee. "The wardrobe hasn't made it into the novel yet, but it it's there, in my notes."
"What kind of wardrobe is it?" I asked.
"It's how Queen Autumn communicates with..." but his voice trailed off.
"Communicates with who?" I asked, although I could have just as easily found the answer in his thoughts.