Wallace followed him. “Why?”
“I can’t speak for Grandad,” Hugo said. “You’ll have to ask him.”
“I did.”
Hugo glanced back, a look of surprise on his face. “What did he say?”
“That it was none of my business.”
“Sounds about right. He’s stubborn that way.”
“And Apollo?”
The dog barked at the sound of his name, guttural and sharp. He came bounding up one of the rows to their left. No dust or dirt rose when his paws hit the ground. He stopped near the porch, back arched, nose and whiskers twitching as he stared off into the dark forest. Wallace couldn’t see far, and it struck him how different the night was here compared to the city, the shadows almost alive, sentient.
“I don’t know that I can answer that either,” Hugo said. Before Wallace could respond, he added, “Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know, exactly. Dogs don’t—they’re not like us. They’re … pure in a way we aren’t. I’ve never had another dog come here before, needing help to cross. I’ve heard stories of ferrymen and women whose job it is to handle certain animals, but that’s not what I do. I’d love it, though. Animals aren’t as complicated as people.”
“Then why would he—” Wallace stopped. Then, “He was yours.”
Hugo paused at the bottom of the steps. Apollo stared up at him adoringly, a goofy smile on his face, whatever had captured his attention in the trees forgotten. Hugo held his hand toward Apollo’s snout. The dog sniffed his fingers. “He was,” Hugo said quietly. “He is. He was a service dog. Or at least he tried to be. Failed most of his training, but that’s okay. I still love him all the same.”
“Service dog?” Wallace asked. “Like for…” He didn’t know how to finish.
“Oh, probably not like you’re thinking,” Hugo said. “I’m not a veteran. I don’t have PTSD.” He shrugged. “When I was younger, things were difficult. Days I could barely get myself out of bed. Depression, anxiety, a whole matter of diagnoses I didn’t know how to handle. There were doctors and medications and ‘Do this, Hugo, do that, Hugo, you’ll feel better if you just let yourself feel better, Hugo.’” He chuckled. “I was a different person then. I didn’t know what I know now, though it’ll always be part of me.” He nodded toward Apollo. “One day, I heard this little yipping outside my window. It was raining and had been for what felt like weeks. I almost ignored the sound I heard, wanting to pull the covers over my head and shut everything out. But something made me get up and go outside. I found this dog shivering under a bush on the side of my house, so emaciated, I could count his ribs through his skin. I picked him up and took him inside. I dried him off and fed him. He never left. Funny, right?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s okay not to know,” Hugo said. “We don’t know most things, and we never will. I don’t know how he came to be here, or where he came from. Thought he might make a good service dog. Seemed smart enough. And he was—is. Didn’t really take, though. He was too distracted by most everything, but who could blame him? Certainly not me, because he tried his best, and that’s all that matters. Turned out he was this … this part I didn’t know I was missing. He wasn’t the answer to everything, but it was a start. He lived a good life. Not as long as I would’ve liked, but still good.”
“But he’s here.”
“He is,” Hugo agreed.
“Trapped here,” Wallace said, his hands curling into fists.
Hugo shook his head. “No. He has a choice. I tried to lead him to the door at the top of the stairs time and time again. I told him it was okay to go to whatever’s next. That I would never forget him and would always be thankful for the time we had together. But he made his choice. Grandad made his choice.” He glanced back at Wallace. “You have a choice too, Wallace.”
“Choice?” Wallace spat. “If I leave, I turn into one of those … those things. If I step foot outside this place, I turn into dust. And don’t even get me started on this ridiculous thing in my chest.” He looked down at the cable stretching between them. It flashed once. “What is this?”
“Mei calls it the red thread of fate.”
Wallace blinked. “It’s not red. Or a thread.”
“I know,” Hugo said. “But it’s apt, I think. Mei said … how did she put it? Ah, right. In Chinese myth, the old gods tie a red thread around the ankles of those who are destined to meet, who are meant to help one another. It’s a pretty thought, isn’t it?”
“No,” Wallace said bluntly. “It’s a shackle. A chain.”
“Or it’s a tether,” Hugo said, not unkindly. “Though I know it doesn’t seem like that to you now. It keeps you grounded while you’re here. It helps me to find you if you’re ever lost.”
That certainly didn’t make him feel any better. “What happens if I remove it?”
Hugo looked grim. “You’ll float away.”
Wallace was gobsmacked. “What?”
“If you try to remove it while you’re on the grounds of the tea shop, you’ll … rise. And I don’t know if you’ll ever stop. But if you remove it off grounds, you begin to lose your humanity, flaking away until all that’s left is a shell.”
Wallace spluttered. “That … that doesn’t make any sense! Who the hell makes up these rules?”
Hugo shrugged. “The universe, I expect. It’s not a bad thing, Wallace. It helps me help you. And while you’re here, all I can do is show you your options, the choices laid out in front of you. To make sure you understand there’s nothing left for you to fear.”
Wallace’s eyes stung. He blinked rapidly, unable to meet Hugo’s gaze. “You can’t say that. You don’t know what it’s like. It’s not fair.”
“What isn’t?”
“This!” Wallace cried, waving his arms around wildly. “All of it. Everything. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. I have things to do. I have responsibilities. I have a life. How can you say I have a choice when it comes down to becoming like Cameron or going through your damn door?”
“I guess the denial was there all along.”
Wallace glared at him. “I don’t like you.” It was petulant and mean, but Wallace couldn’t bring himself to care.
Hugo didn’t rise to the bait. “That’s okay. We’ll get there. I won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do. I’m here to guide you. All I ask is that you let me try.”
Wallace swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Why do you care so much? Why do you do what you do? How do you do what you do? What’s the point of all of this?”
Hugo grinned. “That’s a start. There might be hope for you yet.”
And with that, he walked up the porch stairs, Apollo bounding up beside him. He stopped at the door, looking back at Wallace still standing amongst the tea leaves. “You coming?”