December, the best month ever.
Or it was. I was sure it wouldn't be after tonight. We walked through the door and found ourselves in a place that couldn't exist. It was a library, but not just any bibliotheca. It looked like a strange cross between the old Alexandria Library and Mrs. Claus's living room.
Fireplaces in every corner, towering bookshelves filled with books with red, green, and gold covers, garlands hanging from the interior balconies, and a smell of pine and cinnamon so strong it made me want to reach for a cup of hot chocolate.
"Okay," I mumbled. "I wasn't expecting this."
"Were you expecting something weirder?" Ivy asked.
The room was warm, to my surprise. The intense chill of the maze began to dissipate in my body, and I felt like I'd just picked up a bag of sugar, not chased by two creatures from a nightmare. The place must have existed for a long time, but it was surprisingly clean, as if someone had just cleaned it an hour ago.
Perhaps it had been cleaned by elves; after what we'd been through, that was quite likely. We moved through the shelves, completely amazed. Hundreds of tomes on every imaginable art: History, Philosophy, Cuisine, and Animal-caring. We'd have so many things to explore.
In the center of the atrium, on a wooden lectern, sat a huge book with snowflakes etched into the cover. The title was written in gold letters: "Atlas Invernalis Labyrinthus."
"I like the sound of it."
Rex frowned. "Or does it seem so, or is the title moving?"
Yes, it was moving. June opened it, and the pages weren't even remotely normal: they were sliding maps, moving people, and symbols floating in the air.
"This appears to be a map… of the labyrinth." Ivy turned the page. "Look… it says here…"
"Sounds like a very dangerous theme park," I commented.
Ivy continued reading. "It connects to places all over the world. Each door leads to another point, but…" she frowned. "…you can get lost forever if you don't have something called a Passage Card. Some doors require you to use this golden card to open."
At that moment, the book began to glow, and the letters rearranged themselves into a new message:
"To continue your journey, you must go where winter never comes: California. There you will find the Keykeeper. He will give you what you need to pass through the gates without getting lost."
"California?" I asked. "Great… but how are we supposed to get there?"
In response, the ground beneath us began to glow with golden light. A perfect circle formed, and warm air rose from it. A golden dome seemed to envelop us.
"What if this is a trap?" Rex said.
"Well, it would be the prettiest trap I've ever seen," June smiled.
"I've always wanted to go to California… but not dressed for skiing," I said, just before the circle swallowed us into the depths of the abyss.
We'd arrived in California, or so we thought. When I opened my eyes, the harsh sunlight blinded me for a moment. The snow had been replaced by a gentle warmth and the smell of freshly cut grass, the kind you'd only find in a well-maintained neighborhood. We were on the edge of a park; a nearby sign read, in elegant letters, Garlic Park. I'd never spent time in this neighborhood, despite having traveled to the United States a couple of times.
In fact, I'd never visited California before. I grew up in England and haven't left the country much except to visit some annoying cousins in Scotland and Wales, or on summer vacations, which were infrequent.
Wealthy people lived there, as if the buildings themselves were screaming, "Stay back, Miles Stuttgart, you don't belong here!" Rows of elegant brownstones and white houses surrounded a leafy rectangular park (where we currently stood). The park entrance had a black, Victorian-style cast-iron chain-link fence that displayed elegance. Probably to keep out unwanted guests (poor people and people like me). As far as I knew, only apartment owners had the key needed to enter the park, so it was lucky I ended up inside. I didn't know how we could have gotten in; otherwise, we might have had to climb the fence, or worse, steal the keys somehow.
I completely understood why this place would appeal to so many billionaires, but personally, it didn't appeal to me at all. Bristol has hundreds of do-it-yourself public parks, all perfectly maintained and much larger than this one. I was starting to miss my hometown and my family; it seemed like months ago when we'd conceived this ridiculous idea of traveling the world.
Now I was on the other side of the continent, and I couldn't be further from home.
Garlic South Park was at most two blocks long, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find the keeper of the keys.
"Where would the house be?" Rex asked.
"I guess it'll be the house that stands out the most from the rest," Ivy said.
"What if it's just a normal apartment?" I inquired.
"Well…" Ivy looked worried. "I guess we'll have to find out."
It didn't take us long to find it. I honestly didn't know why I'd thought otherwise. Even without knowing the exact house number, all we'd have to do was walk down the sidewalk and look for a place magical or strange enough to be a stranger's lair. It was the second time we'd done this in two days.
We only had to walk past five mansions before we found it. We arrived in front of a huge garden, with an elegant white mansion stretching out in front of us.
But the mansion wasn't the weird thing.
The weird thing was that it was decorated like it was New Year's Eve: lights in every window, garlands on the roof, and pine wreaths on the doors. The mansion's garden was so over-the-top, I didn't even know where to begin to look. There were plastic reindeer and baskets of candy, all on a completely green lawn that would rival a multi-million-dollar golf course.
The decorations were wintery, and the rest had a summer feel, and I guess that jarred me a little. Dominating the entrance was a huge, two-meter-high inflatable Santa Claus, moving in the wind as if waving.
"Well, this has got to be the weirdest thing I've seen today."
"You're forgetting the ghost sleigh," Ivy recalled.
We approached the house at a slow pace; I guess we didn't want another Mr. Bram to jump out the door and scold us. When we were a few steps from the entrance and climbing the marble staircase, the inflatable turned its head toward us. Yes, turned. The fabric rustled in the soft summer wind, and its plastic eyes opened wide, as if recovering from a long nap.
I wanted to say I was surprised, but talking to inflatables wasn't the strangest thing I've ever experienced. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about.
A booming voice exclaimed, "HO, HO, HO... RIDDLE TO PASS!"
"Excuse me?" June asked.
The inflatable doll puffed out its belly and continued:
"In December, you look for me, in July, you forget me.
I'm not food, but I enter your house.
If you don't guess, the door will remain closed…"
The inflatable Santa Claus seemed very proud of his performance and quickly deflated. We, on the other hand, didn't know whether to laugh or worry.
"I don't know," Rex muttered. "A gift, maybe?"
"Too easy," Ivy reasoned. "I'm sure it's something much more complex."
"An advent calendar," I tried. We used to have that at home, so it could very well be that. Ivy thought for a moment and shook her head. The inflatable Santa Claus, meanwhile, blinked. Yes, blinked. "Wrong answer, guess number two," his voice echoed throughout the neighborhood. Maybe some billionaire neighbors were going to file a complaint very soon.
"Okay, okay," June thought. "What if it's a Christmas wreath?"
Santa Claus (he was talking about the inflatable, of course) stood still, then jerked up toward us in an unsettling manner. "Correct answer, access granted…"
Just before he finished his sentence, the front door burst open, and the inflatable jumped back. An elderly man leaned out of the doorway, but perhaps the most striking thing about him wasn't his age, but his clothing: a burgundy suit and hat.
"Oh, please ignore Inflatable Santa!" he said in a deep but friendly voice. "He's an old experiment I haven't had time to unplug."
"He even talks," I added.
"Too much," the man replied, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Come in, come in, please. We have many matters to discuss."
As soon as we crossed the threshold, we entered a gigantic, dreamy room with high ceilings, elegant yet practical crystal chandeliers, and red carpets. Despite its ostentatious appearance, the combination of wood and concrete gave it a sense of hospitality I hadn't felt in a long time.
The Christmas decorations didn't end in the garden: there was a huge tree in the center, garlands hanging from the railings, spiral oak staircases, and a mechanical choir of singing puppets moving their mouths to the rhythm of Jingle Bells. In short, something you might find at a small billionaire's Christmas party.
"Does this man live like this all year round?" I murmured.
"Shh," Ivy said to me, though I noticed she was also staring at the giant Christmas tree that dominated the main room.
"This looks like…" June murmured.
"A mall in the middle of December," I finished.
The man turned to us cheerfully. "My name is Mr. Garland, and you…" He pointed at each of us with his wooden cane, "...are my last-minute solution."
"Solution for what?" Rex asked, arms crossed.
"To take care of my house," he replied calmly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "I'm going away for a few days, and I don't want anyone coming in."
"House-sitting in California? Easy," June said, smiling.
"Ah… yes, of course." Mr. Garland raised an eyebrow. "Well, it turns out it's not as easy as it seems."
I sighed. "How difficult can it be to take care of a mansion?" I knew it wouldn't be easy; nothing was, especially when it involved the maze.
Mr. Garland wasn't surprised: "I suppose they came from the maze. Oh yes, I see. Although I must say the monsters have been more active since last Christmas. They seem to be preparing something big." He looked at each of us carefully. "You should be careful, there are those who know how to open doors."
"Doors," Ivy repeated.
"Indeed." Garland took a small gold case from his suit and opened it. Inside was a black and gold card with a silver snowflake engraved in the center. "Passage Card. With this, you can safely pass through doors without the maze swallowing you up and sending you elsewhere."
"It's pretty," I acknowledged. "But don't tell me it's a monthly fee."
"Don't remind me, kid. This ensures that the monsters stay as far away from you as possible, but in exchange for being subject to the rules of the maze. This, guys, comes with responsibility."
Rex raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, you'll give us one if we watch your mansion?"
"Exactly," Mr. Garland explained proudly. "But it's not just 'watching.' Some secret rooms and objects are best left untouched if you don't want to end up in another part of the world or a horrible death. Besides, if the wrong people get in, well… they're going to be in serious trouble."
"What kind of trouble?" Ivy asked defiantly.
Mr. Garland smiled, but chose not to answer. "You'll find out in due time. You accept the deal… or you return the way you came."
We looked at each other, not that we had much choice, really. If you ask me what you'd rather have between a luxury mansion and a week in a dumpster, well, there's not much to think about.
"What's stopping us from grabbing our bags, running out the door, and catching a flight to Heathrow Airport?"
"Well," Garland continued. "First of all, I think they made you sign a contract that binds you to the maze, and if you even managed to get through the doors, my magical wards would stop you."
We looked at each other, June being the first to nod.
"I accept," she said lightly. "Sounds like fun."
"Sounds like the beginning of a horror story."