“Did I say that?” the Manager chuckled. “I suppose I did. Glad to know you were listening.”

  “You could’ve stepped in at any time to help him.”

  “Why would I have done that?” the Manager asked, sounding baffled. “He made his choice. As I told Wallace, free will is paramount. It’s vital for—”

  “Until you decide that it’s not,” Hugo said flatly. “This isn’t a game. You don’t get to pick and choose when you intervene.”

  “Don’t I?” the boy asked. He glanced around at the others as if to say Can you believe this guy? His gaze lingered on Wallace for a moment before he looked back at Hugo. “But, for the sake of argument, why don’t you tell me what I, an endless being of dust and stars, should’ve done.”

  Hugo leaned forward, face stony. “He was suffering. Lost. My former Reaper knew that. He fed off it. And still you did nothing. Even after Cameron turned into a Husk, you didn’t lift a finger. It wasn’t until Lea that you decided to do something about it. It should never have taken that long.”

  The boy scoffed. “Perhaps, but it all worked out in the end. Lea’s mother is on the road to healing. Cameron found himself again and continued his journey to the great and wild beyond. I don’t see the problem here. Everyone is happy.” He grinned. “You should feel proud of yourself. Kudos all around. Hooray!” He clapped his hands.

  “Could you have helped him?” Mei asked.

  The Manager turned his head slowly toward her.

  She didn’t look away.

  “Well,” the Manager said, dragging the word out for several syllables. “I mean, sure, if we’re getting down to brass tacks. I can pretty much do anything I want to.” He narrowed his eyes. Wallace felt a chill run down his spine as the boy’s voice became clipped. “I could have stopped your parents from dying, Hugo. I could’ve kept Wallace’s heart beating its jazzy little jam. I could’ve grabbed Cameron by the scruff of his neck the day he decided to flee and forced him through the door.”

  “But you didn’t,” Hugo said.

  “I didn’t,” the boy agreed. “Because there is an order to things. A plan, one that goes far above your pay grade. You would do well to remember that. I’m not sure I like your tone.” He pouted, his bottom lip sticking out. “It’s not very nice.”

  “What is that plan?” Wallace asked.

  The boy looked to him again. “Pardon me?”

  “The plan,” Wallace said. “What is it?”

  “Something far beyond your capability to comprehend. It’s—”

  “Right,” Wallace said. “What’s on the other side of the door?”

  It was subtle, there and gone in a flash, but Wallace saw the bewildered expression before it disappeared. “Why, everything, of course.”

  “Specifics. Tell me one thing besides what we already know.”

  His bottom lip stuck out farther. “Oh, Wallace. There’s nothing for you to fear. I’ve told you that. You will find—”

  “Yeah, see, I don’t think you know,” Wallace said. He leaned forward as Mei sucked in a breath, as Nelson tapped his cane on the floor. “I think you want to. You try to emulate us. You try to make us think you understand, but how could you? You don’t have our humanity. You don’t know what it’s like to have a beating heart, to feel it crack. You don’t know what it means to be happy, what it means to grieve. Maybe some part of you is jealous of all the things we are that you can never be, and though you may not believe me, I wish that for you more than you know. Because I know there’s something on the other side of that door. I’ve felt it. I’ve heard the whispers. I’ve heard the songs it sings. I’ve seen the light that spills from it. Can you even begin to imagine what that’s like?”

  “Careful, Wallace,” the Manager said, pout melting away into steel. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

  “He knows,” Hugo said quietly. “We all do.”

  The Manager frowned as he glanced at Hugo. “Do you? I should hope so.”

  “What are the Husks?” Wallace paused, thinking as hard as he ever had. “A manifestation of a fear-based life?” That seemed like the right direction, but he couldn’t quite get the picture to come into focus. “They … what? Are more susceptible to…”

  “Fear-based life,” the Manager repeated slowly. “That’s … huh.” He squinted at Wallace. “Figured that out on your own, did you? Good for you. Yes, Wallace. Those who lived in fear and despair are more … how did you put it? Susceptible. All they know is dread, and it follows them across. Though it doesn’t affect them all the same way, people like Cameron sometimes can’t accept their new reality. They run from it and … well. You know what happens next.”

  “How many of them are there?” Hugo asked.

  The Manager reared back. “What?”

  Hugo stared at the Manager, barely blinking. “People like Cameron. People who’ve been brought to the ferrypeople all over the world and lost their way. How many of them are there?”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with—”

  “It’s the entire point!” Wallace exclaimed. “It’s not about any one person. It’s about all of us, and what we do for one another. The door doesn’t discriminate. It’s there for everyone who is brave enough to look up at it. Some people lose their way, but that’s not their fault. They’re scared. My god, of course they are. How could they not be? Everyone loses their way at some point, and it’s not just because of their mistakes or the decisions they make. It’s because they’re horribly, wonderfully human. And the one thing I’ve learned about being human is that we can’t do this alone. When we’re lost, we need help to try to find our way again. We have a chance here to do something important, something never done before.”

  “We,” the Manager said. “Don’t you mean they? Because, in case you forgot, you’re dead.”

  “I know,” Wallace said. “I know.”

  The boy frowned. “I told you once, Wallace. I don’t make deals. I don’t bargain. I thought we were past that.” He sighed heavily. “I’m so disappointed in you. I was very clear on the matter. And you talk about the Husks as if you know anything about them.”

  “I’ve seen them,” Wallace said. “Up close. Cameron. I saw what he was, regardless of what he’d turned into.”

  “One,” the Manager said. “You’ve seen one of them.”

  “It’s enough,” Hugo said. “More than, even. Because if the rest of the Husks are anything like Cameron, then they deserve a chance, the same as we do.” He leaned forward, gaze never leaving the Manager. “I can do this. You know I can.” He looked around at the others at the table. “We can do this.”

  The Manager was silent for a long moment. Wallace had to stop himself from fidgeting. He barely kept from shouting in relief when the Manager said, “You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”

  Closing arguments, but it didn’t come from Wallace. It couldn’t. He looked to the one person who knew life and death better than anyone else in the tea shop. Hugo squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath and letting it out slow. “The Husks. Bring them here. Let us help them. They don’t deserve to stay as they are. They should be able to find their way home like everyone else.” He glanced at Wallace, who still held onto the table as tightly as he could. It was getting harder to do. His rear lifted from the chair a few inches, his knees pressed to the underside of the table, his feet off the floor. And if he listened hard enough, if he really tried, he could hear the whispers from the door once more. It was almost over.

  The Manager stared at him. “Why would I agree to this?”

  “Because you know we can do it,” Mei said. “Or, at the very least, we can try.”

  “And because it’s the right thing to do,” Wallace said, and he’d never believed anything more. How simple. How terrifyingly profound. “The only reason the Husks chose as they did was out of fear of the unknown.”

  The Manager nodded slowly. “Say I entertain this. Say, for a moment, that I consider your offer. What will you give me in return?”

  And Wallace said, “I’ll let go.”

  Hugo was alarmed. “Wallace, no, don’t—”

  “How strange you are,” the Manager said. “You’ve changed. What caused it? Do you even know?”

  Wallace laughed, wild and bright. “You, I think. Or at least you’re part of it, even if nothing you do makes any sense. But that’s par for the course with existing, because life is senseless, and on the off chance we find something that does make sense, we hold onto it as tightly as we can. I found myself because of you. But you pale in comparison to Mei. To Nelson. Apollo.” He swallowed thickly. “And Hugo.”

  Hugo stood abruptly, chair tipping over and falling to the floor. “No,” he said harshly. “I won’t let you do this. I won’t—”

  “It’s not about me,” Wallace told him. “Or us. You’ve given me more than I could ever ask for. Hugo, can’t you see? I am who I am because you showed me the way. You refused to give up on me. Which is how I know you’ll help all those who come after me and need you as much as I did.”

  “Fine,” the Manager said suddenly, and all the air was sucked from the room. “You have a deal. I’ll bring the Husks here, one by one. If he heals them, then so be it. If he doesn’t, they stay as they are. It’ll be a lot of work either way, and I don’t know how successful it’ll be.”

  Wallace’s grip on the table grew slack as his jaw dropped. “You mean it?”

  “Yes,” the Manager said. “My word is my bond.”

  “Why?” Wallace asked. The Manager had agreed quicker than Wallace expected. There had to be more.

  The Manager shrugged. “Curiosity. I want to see what happens. With order comes routine. Routine can lead to boredom, especially when it goes on forever. This is … different.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Hugo and Mei. “Don’t mistake my acquiescence for a sign of complacency.”

  “You swear?” Wallace insisted.

  “Yes,” the Manager said, rolling his eyes. “I swear. I’ve heard the closing argument, counselor. The jury has come back with a verdict in your favor. We’ve reached a deal. It’s time, Wallace. It’s time to let go.”

  Wallace said, “I…”

  He looked at Mei. A tear trickled down her cheek.

  He looked at Nelson. His eyes were closed as he frowned deeply.

  He looked at Apollo. The dog whined and bowed his head.

  He looked at Hugo. Wallace remembered the first day he’d come to the tea shop, and how scared he’d been of Hugo. If only he’d known then what he knew now.

  What will you do with the time you have left?

  He knew. Here, at the end, he knew. “I love you. All of you. You’ve made my death worth it. Thank you for helping me live.”

  And then Wallace Price let go of the table.

  Unmoored, untethered, he rose.

  The tops of his knees hit the table, causing it to jump. The teapot and cups rattled on the table. How freeing it was, letting go. Finally, at last. He wasn’t scared. Not anymore.

  He closed his eyes as he floated toward the ceiling.

  The pull of the door was as strong as it’d ever been. It was singing to him, whispering his name.

  He opened his eyes when he stopped rising.

  He looked down.

  Nelson had a hold of his ankle, fingers digging in, a look of determination on his face which changed into surprise when he too started to lift from the floor.

  But then Apollo leapt forward, jaws closing around the end of Nelson’s cane, holding him in place. He whined when his front paws rose from the floor, the top of Wallace’s head near the ceiling.

  Mei grabbed onto Apollo’s hindquarters, his tail hitting her in the face. “No,” she snapped. “It’s not time. You can’t do this. You can’t do this.”

  Then she started to rise, feet kicking as they left the floor.

  Hugo tried to grab her, but his hands went through her again and again.

  Wallace smiled down at them. “It’s okay. I promise. Let me go.”

  “Never in your life,” Nelson grunted, grip tightening around Wallace’s ankle. Nelson’s hand slipped to Wallace’s shoe. His eyes widened. “No.”

  “Goodbye,” Wallace whispered.

  The shoe came off. Nelson and Apollo and Mei fell to the floor in a heap.

  Wallace turned his face up. The whispers grew louder.

  He rose through the ceiling of the first floor to the second. He heard the others shouting below him as they ran for the stairs. Nelson appeared out of thin air, reaching for him, but Wallace was too high. Mei and Hugo made it to the second floor in time to see him rise through the ceiling.

  “Wallace!” Hugo cried.

  The third floor. He wished he’d spent more time in Hugo’s room. He wondered what sort of life they could have made for themselves had he found his way to this little place before his heart had given out. He thought it would have been wonderful. But it was better to have had it for as long as he did than to never have had it at all. What a tremendous thought that was.

  But then it was a tremendous death, wasn’t it? Because of what he’d found after life.

  The whispers of the door called for him, singing his name over and over, and in his chest, a light, like the sun. It burned within him. He was horizontal to the floor below him, arms spread like they’d been when he’d ridden behind Hugo on the scooter. He hit the ceiling of the third floor, and it gave way as he rose through it to the fourth floor.

  He wasn’t surprised to see the Manager already waiting for him below the door, head cocked. For a moment, Wallace thought he’d continue up and up and up. Maybe the door wouldn’t open, and he’d rise through the roof of the house into the night sky and the never-ending stars. It wouldn’t be such a bad way to go.

  But he didn’t.

  He stopped, suspended in air. Nelson appeared near the landing, but he didn’t speak.

  For the first time, the Manager looked unsure. Just a little boy with flowers in his hair.

  Wallace smiled. “I’m not afraid. Not of you. Not of the door. Not about anything that came before or will come next.”

  Nelson put his face in his hands.

  “Not afraid,” the Manager repeated. “I can see that. You let go of the table as if…” He stared at Wallace for a long moment before looking up at the door as the whispers grew louder, more unintelligible. “I wonder. What would it be like if…”

  The whispers turned into a maelstrom. The Manager shook his head stubbornly, a child being told no. “No, I don’t think that’s quite true. What if—You know what? I’m getting pretty tired of your—”

  The maelstrom became a hurricane, furious and loud.

  “I’ve done whatever you’ve asked. Always.” He glared up at the door. “And where has it gotten us? If this is for everyone, then it needs to be for everyone. Don’t you want to see what could happen? I think they could end up surprising us all. They’ve proven themselves as it is. And they’ll need all the help they can get. What could it hurt?”

  The door rattled in its frame, the leaf in the doorknob unfurling.

  “Yes,” the Manager said. “I know. But this … this is a choice. My choice. And it will be on me, whatever happens. You have my word. I will be responsible for whatever happens next.”

  The hurricane blew itself out, silence falling on the fourth floor of the tea shop.

  “Huh,” the Manager said. “I can’t believe that worked. I wonder what else I can do?” He looked up at Wallace before jerking his head. Wallace fell to the floor, landing roughly on his feet, but managing to stay upright. For the first time since he’d given Cameron his hook, he felt grounded, like he had weight.

  Mei reached the landing, panting as she bent over, hands on her knees. Apollo’s nails slid along the floor as he jumped the last few steps, tumbling end over end before landing on his back. He blinked up at Wallace, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he grinned, tail wagging.

  Hugo came last. He stopped, mouth agape.

  “There’s been a change of plans,” the Manager said, sounding oddly amused. “I’ve made a change in plans.” He laughed loudly, shaking his head. “This is going to be fun.” The air around them thickened before exploding in a comical pop! The Manager held a file folder, frowning down at it as he flipped it open, mouth moving as he read silently, riffling through the pages. Wallace tried to see what he was reading, but the Manager closed the folder before he could get close enough. “Interesting. Your résumé is very thorough. Too thorough, if you ask me, but since no one did, that’s apparently neither here nor there.”

  Wallace felt his eyes bulge. “My what?”

  The Manager threw the folder up into the air. It hung suspended briefly before it winked out of existence. “Job interviews,” he said. “All this damn paperwork, but death is a business, so I suppose it’s a necessity. Who would have thought this would turn into an office job?” He shuddered. “No matter. Congratulations, Wallace. You’re hired.” He grinned sharply. “On a temporary basis, of course, one whose terms will be negotiated should this move on to a more permanent position.”

  “For what?”

  The Manager reached up and plucked a flower from his hair, the vine snapping. The petals were yellow and pink and orange. He held it out to Wallace, palm toward the ceiling. The leaf on the crystal doorknob above them fluttered as if caught in a breeze. The flower floated above his hand as it bloomed brilliantly. “Having the Husks brought here will be a bigger job than you think. The others will need the help. As per your résumé, you certainly seem qualified, and though I would have preferred someone a little less … you, a résumé such as this doesn’t lie. Open your mouth, Wallace.”

  “What?” Wallace asked, rearing back. “Why?”

  The Manager grumbled under his breath before saying, “Do it before I change my mind. If you knew what I was risking here, you’d open your damn mouth.”

  Wallace opened his mouth.

  The Manager puffed his cheeks, blowing a stream of air against the flower above his palm. It grew bigger as it floated toward Wallace. The petals brushed against his lips. They tickled his nose. They folded into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. They tasted sweet, like honey in tea. He gasped and coughed as the flower filled his mouth. He bit down, trying to hold it back to no avail. The flower slid down his throat.