Abigail paced to the window and back. “I only hope it’s not too late….” Emma sobered up at once, recalling her thought that the spell might not work now.
Maybe after a night’s sleep, Abigail won’t be so mad. Maybe in the morning she’ll remember the good times, and how nice I was, and she’ll change her mind. Maybe . . . Note: Emma’s text on the mirror is shown in the book. Her last appeal is a crude drawing of the heart halves unlinked.
Even if Abigail did cool off and wish her home, the spell wouldn’t work. And she was well and truly stuck: a ghost from the future doomed to haunt the Bentleys’ past!
“I honored Wabeno, gave the man his due….I’d have said he was a good man. But whatever his powers, if he’s harmed Abigail one whit, I’ll have his head.”
Emma listened, caught a creak of wood. “What’s that?” she whispered. Abigail looked fixedly at the open doorway. “Who is that, you mean. Emma, someone is on the stair.”
“I’m sorry you don’t like me,” Emma said. “Don’t like? What on earth are you saying? How can you even think of ‘like’ and ‘don’t like’ at a time like this?”
… That doll could vanish at any moment, Abigail with it. Unless …
… “What’s the story about, Emma?” “Oh … There’s this olden-day kid called Alice who steps through a mirror into…” Emma faltered. “Into a strange world where nothing goes the way … it … should.” “Oh, Emma.” Note: High fantasy is set in a mythical world; low fantasy is set in this one. Some books are a combination of both.
“Look: when you banged down the doll, the face appeared to warn you off. But that didn’t work. So when you tried to burn the doll, well, it jumped you to a time when there was no fire to harm it.”
… “Abigail, what year is this?” “Year?” Abigail frowned. “Eighteen forty-six, everyone knows that.” Emma shook her head. “When the lightning flashed, our times criss-crossed and now you’re here—in nineteen ninety-five!”