Chapter 7. The Portrait

Allison was drowsy back in her room.

Mulan sat on chair next to her bed, humming absentmindedly while picking at a feather on one of her arrows. Dinner had been absolutely wonderful, the best Allison had ever had in her lifetime. She was stuffed.

"You know," Mulan said. "It's getting close to curfew." She smiled at Allison, then stood up. "I have to go."

"Curfew? This place has a curfew?"

"Yeah...this place does. As I said...it's not safe to be venturing out at this hour."

"Why not?"
Mulan hesitated. "Well...I'm not sure. Merlin told me so, and I don't doubt Merlin. He's the best guy we've got."

"And...Mulan?"

"You're curious. What?"

"Well, are fairy tales real?"

The question had bounced around in Allison's mind all day. She had seen three pigs, a girl on a lion, and a fire-breathing dragon...all in one day. Fairy tales had to be real. But no...logic suggested that it could not be real.

"Yes," Mulan said without hesitation. "Yes, fairy tales are real." Now she sounded unsure, repeating her answer as if she was doubting herself. "Fairy tales are real."

"They are?"

"Snow--Allison, it's complicated. Ugh...I keep calling you Snow...well, good-night. Don't let Merlin catch you out after curfew. He gets...well, he gets cranky. 'Night."

Mulan closed the door behind her, leaving the lights on.

Allison blinked and crawled under the covers. However, no matter how drowsy the awesome dinner had made her, no matter how much info her brain had just processed, she was wide awake, as if she had drank three cups of coffee in an hour.

After dinner, Allison had checked the card Charming had given her. He had printed out his phone number, email address, car license-plate number, his other email address, about a million links to online pictures of him and Allison in their first life, and links to his Twitter and Facebook pages.

Allison had promptly tossed the card to a squealing group of insane princesses.

The truth was, Allison was unsettled. Even with the bravado she had shown Charming and Jason at dinner, she was still unsettled. How was she good with Prince Charming back then? Why did Mulan--warrior-princess Mulan--turn red at the sight of him?

Allison turned over onto her right side. How were fairy tales real? They were definitely not real, that she was sure of. But the things she had saw had almost blew her mind. Three pigs. A girl on a lion. Fire-breathing dragon. Extremely buff surfer guy with about a dozen giggly princess followers.

She stood up, shivering slightly. She was going to find out if fairy tales were real or not. Starting in this room.

Allison tapped the walls, the sink, and kicked the cabinets under the counter, hoping to find some sort of secret data or any proof that the hospital was located in a real area. She came up with none.

Allison stopped kicking the floor right beside the cabinet and instead surveyed the room. Bookshelf, bed, heavy curtain against the far wall, sink, cabinets...

Why would they need such a heavy curtain? It was only a wall behind there--right?

Allison started towards the curtain. It totally covered the wall, made of thick, coarse, black, and heavy material.

Allison placed both hands on the curtain and lugged it to one side. It refused to budge. She glanced up and saw that the curtain was attached to the roof, meaning that it would not move, no matter how much she would try.

Allison let go of the curtain. She wished she had her pocket knife, but she doubted that the tiny blade would work on such a large curtain.

Allison abandoned the curtain and started on the other items in the room: the mattress, the door...

After a while, she still yielded no results.

She slumped back against the curtain, yawning and rubbing her eyes. So maybe the fairy tales were not real. So what? She had been getting her hopes up. Did she really believe that they were real?

Then Allison remembered her two dreams at the IBS. There had been a burning hospital--the same one she was in right now--and both Merlin and Mulan had described the hospital burning down. Mulan had been the girl right next to her. Then the next part: about how her father had the dagger...how she had suddenly convulsed and...died?

That was the only part Allison didn't get. If fairy tales were real, that had probably been Mulan's first death.

The second dream had been much more abstract. Allison remembered how the wolf thingy hanging from the board had wanted to drink her blood. That had been what Merlin had described as the Big Bad Wolf...yet there was no Big Bad Wolf in the world.

There was a sudden beep behind her, and Allison turned abruptly. The curtain was glowing a bright shade of gold.

"What--"

The whole curtain vanished, and Allison stumbled back. In the place of the curtain, there was an ornate portrait, framed with gold, a slim platinum handle along one side.

Allison stared in shock at what had been the curtain. The person in the portrait looked...a lot like Miss Vaneko. Thin brown hair, snide expression, drippy nose. She was wearing one of those old-fashioned ball gowns. It was a sickly shade of green, like broccoli gone bad. Her fingers were invisible under layers of golden rings, and her arms were totally covered by silver bracelets. She wore dangly earrings so large they looked larger than her face. Her hair was piled into a messy beehive of gems and ribbons. Bows were stuck into her hair, gold twist-ties, and one or two headbands.

The frame, in Allison's opinion, should have been the work of art instead of what it was framing. It was delicately carved, real gold, from the texture and the way it gleamed, and was ornately decorated with cupids, decks of playing cards, miniscule math symbols, numbers and Greek letters all swirled together, some music notes and clefs...

The handle protruded from two small circles on the right side. It was fashioned beautifully out of platinum, smoothly melded into the frame. Allison placed her hand onto it. The metal was warm under her touch.

She traced her finger along the frame, trying not to touch the portrait. She pressed down slightly on the alpha in the upper right hand corner. To her surprise, the alpha yielded easily, caving into the frame. 

Wow. A keypad frame?

Allison pressed down on the delta symbol, watching it sink in and pop out. After a few more minutes of investigation, she realized that all the symbols on the frame could easily go in and go out. It was a lock.

Ingenious. A picture-frame combo lock.

As she pressed the alto-clef on the left hand side, the portrait suddenly moved. Her hairdo wobbled dangerously, and her bracelets jangled loudly as she stood up, placing her hands on her hips.

"You have entered the wrong code too many times," she hissed, her rings clanking against each other. "Access denied for twelve hours."

The buttons flashed silver, then all vanished, leaving a blank, golden frame.

Allison jumped back, staring at what had been an ornate frame. The portrait glared at her, her nostrils flaring.

Allison scooted back, keeping the portrait in her sight. She didn't dare speak. How did the symbols all vanish? Did they all sink into the frame? Was there some special kind of contraption?

All Allison knew was that she wanted to try again. She wanted to find out what was behind the curtain.

Allison glanced at the digital clock propped up against the counter. 10:46 PM, it read. That meant that she would have to wait until 10:46 in the morning to try again.

There was another problem. She didn't know how to make the curtain reappear.

"Uh, portrait?" She asked.

The portrait raised her eyebrows. "What?"

Allison hadn't expected the artwork to speak. She widened her eyes. "Uh...can you make the curtain--"

The portrait scowled and waved her hand at the roof, causing another jangling of bracelets. There was another beep and the curtain was suddenly there, blocking her from the view of the portrait.

"Uh, wait!" Allison exclaimed, suddenly having an idea. "Curtain up!"

The curtain beeped again and vanished.

Allison gathered her wits and stood in front of the portrait. She rapped three times on the drawing, listening intently.

"Stop that," the portrait snapped sulkily. Allison nodded.

"Curtain down, please."

The curtain beeped and reappeared.

Allison smiled once the portrait was out of sight. There was something behind that portrait. From the sound it had made when she had tapped on it, it was obvious that the portrait and the frame was guarding something.

Twelve hours, Allison thought. I'll try again at 10:46 in the morning.