Along Mirror Road - Chapter One

Chapter one from a story I hope to one day publish. My boyfriend helped me come up with the idea. Please, tell me what you think and everything you like/don't like! I really would love to see this in print, so it needs to be its best.
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The storm that had been building all day finally broke at exactly three a.m. with a fierce snarl of thunder and a drenching downpour.  Nia, nestled in her cocoon of blankets and quilts, woke with a jerk when her windows suddenly burst open, letting in a gust of wind and rain.

She scrambled out of bed and pawed desperately for the latch, hauling it closed against the fierce storm. She stood there a moment, shivering and disoriented from being so rudely awakened.

I was having the strangest dream, Nia thought, pushing her thick hair off her face. That cat… Had it even been a cat? She’d never seen one the size of lion but without the mane, and had it been wearing jewelry? The more she thought about it, the less she remembered, like trying to hold water in cupped hands.

She turned to crawl back into bed, but something caught her eye in the next lightning flash; something big and tawny gold lounging against the far wall. The next flash lit up eyes the color of sunsets. Instead of being afraid, she felt strangely drawn towards it. Not it, she corrected herself, though she didn’t know how she knew, him.

As she drew nearer to the big animal half-draped in shadows, the cold floorboards beneath her feet began vibrating. It took Nia a few seconds to realize that he was purring. She timidly put her hand out to his nose, and without hesitation the beast pushed his muzzle against her palm. His fur was surprisingly warm and soft, and smelled like spices and sweet, strange things.

“I know you,” Nia murmured. “I saw you in my dream.” She expected the animal’s mouth to open and human speech to come out, and was sorely disappointed when it didn’t. Instead the animal lifted one huge paw, and underneath it laid an old, ornate key, the kind seen in movies because no one used such keys anymore.

Nia bent down to pick it up, but as soon as her fingers touched the warm metal they went numb and her vision blurred. The last thing she remembered was a great, velvety warmth surrounding her before she fell asleep.

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The storm had blown itself out by the time Nia woke the next morning. If it hadn’t been for the big puddles in their scraggly front lawn, Nia thought the storm last night had been a dream too. She always had an active imagination, but her dreams had been getting stranger and stranger these past few nights. Big cats and a road paved in diamonds...

She caught sight of the clock next to her bed and jumped as if shocked. “8:12!” she yelped. “Oh grandpa, don’t be awake yet!” Nia flung off her night gown and pulled on jeans, a loose gray sweater and boots. As she was dressing, her foot knocked against something cold and metal and sent it skittering against the wall. Momentarily distracted, she stopped to see what it was.

It was an old key. Skeleton keys, she’d heard them called. This one was thick and heavy, with an intricately carved head. She had seen it somewhere before… It couldn’t be the one from last night’s dream, could it? Of course not, because dreams weren’t real, and this key very obviously was.

Nia scolded herself for taking so long and shoved the key in her pocket. She had more important things to worry about than some strange key. She ran a comb through her unruly red hair and braided it as she hurried down the hallway to her grandfather’s room.

In a normal family, it would be the grandparent who checked on the child in the morning. But Nia didn’t live a normal life. She couldn’t remember her parents, did not even have a picture of them. Long ago she had stopped dreaming about what they looked like and how they acted. All she cared about was her grandfather.

Nia was sure he hadn’t always been in a wheelchair, but memories of her childhood were strangely fuzzy, and it had been Nia who took care of Moriarty for as long as she could remember instead of the other way around. During the school year a nurse came to help, but they couldn’t afford one year round. It was summer now, and responsibility fell solely on Nia.

Nia liked it that way, though. Unlike most twelve year olds, she didn’t spend her days with friends away from this dreary grey place. Even if Nia had friends, she wouldn’t have wanted to. She enjoyed being alone, and when she wasn’t looking after her grandpa she was most often in their dusty attic, sorting through years of collected junk, or venturing on her own in the copse of trees near their home.

She opened the door, slowly so that it wouldn’t squeak, and peered inside. Some disease or accident (he never told Nia what it was) had paralyzed him from the waist down, and the damp climate often left him with a terrible rheumy cough. Moriarty’s wheelchair was by the bed, empty, and she could barely hear her grandpa’s soft rumbling snore. Good, he was still asleep. She closed the door with equal care, then padded quietly downstairs, flipping on the light switch when she passed it.

In its golden years their house had surely been a beauty, but it had fallen into a state of disrepair both inside and out several years ago, and had steadily been declining since. Ivy had claimed the front of the house, the pipes were leaky and they had no central heating, just had to rely on space heaters and the huge fireplace in the living room.

Nia filled a tea kettle with water from the tap (the pipes groaned in protest before water finally spurted out) and put it on the stove to heat. The kitchen was large and spacious, and Nia kept it as clean as possible. She had picked a bunch of wildflowers and put them in a jar on the table, but they had withered and died and she had yet to throw them out.

Nia leaned her head against the big picture window and looked outside. The lawn was muddy and choked with weeds, and a cold, depressing drizzle was falling. She put her chill hands in her pockets and felt something cold and smooth.

The key, she thought. I forgot about it. She pulled it out and turned it around in her fingers. She thought it would have absorbed her body heat and become warm, but it was as cold as if it’d been sitting in snow. As she played with it, it became hotter and hotter, until it suddenly blazed bright and scalded her fingers.

Twwwweeeeeeee!! The tea kettle whistled loudly, and Nia flung the key aside with a barely contained cry of pain and surprise. She snatched a towel off the counter and wrapped it around the kettle’s handle, moving it off the hot burner and onto a hot plate.

“What the hell was that?” she asked the empty air, rubbing her fingertips. There was no mark and it didn’t even hurt anymore, but it had felt like she put her fingers against heated metal. “Maybe it was just my imagination…” But she had never imagined a pain that intense before.

Already she was pushing it from her mind. Keys didn’t sporadically heat up and burn people… just like things dreamed about didn’t show up in real life. “I’m going crazy.” Clearly, as she was talking to herself. She pulled a couple of tea bags from the canister, put them in two chipped mugs, and poured steaming water over it.

She quickly finished making the rest of breakfast; scrambling the last eggs and buttering toast, and putting honey in her grandfather’s tea to soothe his cough and throat. She bore the laden tray back to his bedroom and nudged the door a little with her foot.

“Come in, Nia.” Moriarty’s voice was rough and gravelly, colored by a soft, musical accent that Nia had never heard before. It was her favorite sound in the world from her childhood, soothing silly fears and telling her fantastical tales.

“Good morning Grandpa,” she said brightly, opening the door all the way and coming inside. Moriarty was sitting upright in bed, quilt folded neatly over his useless legs. There were vestiges of great good looks and strength in the haggard face and body, but he was an old, sick man now. Nia settled the tray on his lap and smoothed back the halo of white hair to plant a kiss on his forehead. 

“That was quite the storm we had last night,” Moriarty rumbled, picking at his food. Nia worried about him. He hadn’t been eating as much lately, and barely stirred from bed.

“Yes,” Nia agreed, accepting the half of toast he offered more to save him from argument than because she was actually hungry. “It’s still raining some.” She sat down in his wheelchair and nibbled at the toast, and when her grandfather set aside his fork after a couple of birdish bites she made him pick it back up and eat a few more mouthfuls.

“You need to eat more, Grandpa,” she said sternly, removing the tray from his lap and perching on the side of his bed. Moriarty smiled faintly and cupped Nia’s face in his weathered palms.

“You fret too much girl. Twelve year olds should be off playing, not looking after a tired old man. Go on.” He snatched up the handkerchief kept nearby and coughed wetly into it, and waved aside Nia’s protests. She knew better than to argue, but wasn’t happy about the dismissal. She gathered up the tray and kissed Moriarty once more on the head, then shut the door on another coughing fit.

Nia looked outside as she passed the window. The drizzle had turned into a heavy rain, and before long there was going to be a small pond in the front yard. Definitely not the sort of weather to go out and play in. She finished the rest of her grandfather’s meal in the kitchen, then rinsed the plate off in the sink and set it aside. She would wash it later.

She wandered out of the kitchen, drifting vaguely in the direction of her room. What to do? It was cold everywhere in the house; she could bury herself under blankets and read a book, but that would only keep her occupied for a little while. What would keep her warm and entertained?

The attic, of course, she thought. Maybe all that dust will have insulated it some, at least. She went back to her room for a jacket and a pair of flannel pants to pull over her jeans. As she was pulling them on, she felt something in her pocket that made her heart skip a beat. With trembling fingers she pulled it out.

It was the key.