The Metropolis Series #3: Quinn and Cassandra
29. Paradox Road

I HUNG UP ON HARUMI as she pleaded over the phone. I didn’t know how to explain my situation to her, and even if I did, I would be dead to my parents no matter what. Aside from the fact that I had gone far from St. John’s and stayed out late, I had also left campus alone with a guy and had ridden in his car. Those were two things my parents considered mortal sins. I couldn’t let Harumi face their wrath for me, nor could I go back to St. John’s.

At that point, there could only be one solution: to rewind time.

I sat up straight, held out my hands, and concentrated. I only needed to go back a few hours. It shouldn’t be so hard. I imagined being at The MacGuffin with Julio. I was going to thank him for the night and tell him to drive me back. I was going to message my parents. I was going to give Harumi peace of mind. Everything was going to be okay. But no matter how hard I tried, nothing seemed to work. I remained in the same place—at the same time.

I couldn’t even go back a few damn seconds. Nothing was working. I didn’t know what to do. My jaw clenched. My hands were shaking. My phone rang like crazy.

Why weren’t my powers working?

As I was on the verge of tears, the door to Ms. Louise’s room swung open. I didn’t even bother looking up. I only knew that Julio had entered the room when he spoke, his voice hoarse and frantic.

“Quinn, you’re awake. Thank God—”

He must have noticed how terrible I looked. My head hung low as I closed my eyes. My hands were outstretched in front of me.

“It’s not working,” I said frantically. “Why is it not working?”

“Quinn, what—”

“My powers, Julio. I need to turn back time. I need to go back…”

That was when I started sobbing, my cries sounding over my ringing phone. I felt Julio sit on the bed next to me, and he stroked my back as I brought my hands up to my face.

“What happened?” he asked. “Can you tell me?”

I told him about how my mom found out about my frequent visits to the nurse’s office after a phone call with my homeroom teacher. She was mad that I didn’t tell her about my condition, so my parents wanted me to keep in touch with them when I returned to St. John’s. I went on with the angry messages I’d received from them and how they drove all the way to St. John’s just to look for me. Harumi was worried about me, and she didn’t know what to say to my parents. So, I tried to turn back time, but nothing was working.

“I can’t go back to St. John’s, Julio,” I cried. “I can’t. But my powers… I can’t seem to turn back time…”

“I understand, Quinn,” Julio said. “But what’s your plan? You can’t hide from St. John’s forever.”

I couldn’t think straight at that time, but Julio was right. Where would I go? Where would I stay?

Then, I had an absurd idea. I thought about that phone call from the supposed Author. I heard the lady’s voice in my head, and it calmed me down a little.

Drop by anytime you want, she’d said. I’ll be waiting.

“Let’s go to see the Author,” I whispered.

“What?” Julio gasped. “Quinn, are you—”

“Unless I get my powers to work, she’s the only one who can fix this. I can ask her to figure out what’s wrong with my powers. Or better yet, she can stop Cassandra from bothering me, and I don’t have to be sick anymore.”

“But Quinn, I haven’t had the Spanish House investigate yet.”

“Julio, there’s no time. Please, let me do this.”

Julio sighed. He looked at my phone, which rang relentlessly as Harumi tried to call me back. He grew silent, probably thinking of a better solution, but being deep in thought only led to a sigh.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll take you there.”

I knelt and threw my arms around him. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“C’mon, Quinn,” he said, patting my back and pulling away. “Paradox Road isn’t far from here, but the roads can get heavy with traffic. We’d better get a move on if you want to get there quickly…”

Paradox Road was a curved avenue near the border of the Metropolis’ business district, where numerous office buildings, hotels, and condominiums stood. We drove by slowly; it was easy to get lost in all the fancy structures that looked so similar to each other. I had also turned off my phone by that time. The silence had made things easier to read all the building signs.

“Sky Towers,” I whispered to myself. “Sky Towers…”

“There it is,” Julio said.

He pointed toward a shining blue building on the left side of the road. It wasn’t anything of architectural significance, but looking at it made my heart pound. The closer we drove to it, the more I started asking myself if it was all real. It would be the worst possible time to wake up and realize that everything was just a dream, and I would have to face my nightmares back at St. John’s.

Julio parked his car in the basement, then we took an elevator to the ground-floor lobby. It was everything you’d ever expect: white polished floors, tall glass windows, and a line of chandeliers leading up to the front desk. A petite lady in a tight bun stood behind the counter, answering the inquiries of the person in front of us. She made a quick phone call, nodded, and pointed the visitor toward the elevators on the right. After that, she acknowledged our presence.

“Good day, ma’am, sir,” she said. “What can I do for you today?”

“Hi,” Julio said. “We’re looking to visit Unit 0617.”

The lady typed something on her computer. “And who would you be visiting?”

Julio and I looked at each other. What were we supposed to say? The Author?

“Oh wait,” the lady then said. “It’s okay. That won’t be necessary.”

I wondered what that meant exactly. How did Metropolitans process the idea of a metaphysical being living in their condominium? What did the records even look like?

The lady looked up at us. “May I have your names, please?”

“Uh, Quinn Vasquez.”

“Julio Agbayani.”

“Ah, the tenant at 0617 has been expecting you. The elevators are over there.”

We thanked the lady as we walked down the lobby.

“Well, that didn’t happen the last time we were here,” Julio said.

I let out a deep breath. “Maybe this is our lucky day.”

“Let’s hope so.”

We pushed the button to the Author’s floor and waited for the elevator to arrive. Once the doors opened, we climbed inside and ascended into the unknown. It was nerve-racking to just stand there in a closed space as the floor numbers went up. I looked at Julio, his eyes fixed on the elevator’s metal doors. He didn’t move, either.

“I… I can’t believe we’re about to meet the Author,” I said to him.

He let out a sigh. “Yeah,” he muttered. “The person who made us all miserable.”

I understood where his bitterness came from. The Author has removed him from the Metropolis’ main timeline, making him virtually nonexistent. It had brought him all sorts of trouble and heartache, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he still blamed the Author for what he’d experienced.

“You’ll be okay?” I asked him.

“I hope so,” he said.

And in that small space, he held my hand, and I was reminded once more of how I had fallen for him. I sighed; I needed to hang on a little longer. After sorting things out with the Author, maybe then I could consider telling him about my feelings.

But we were eye to eye now, and I was lost in his gaze. We stayed that way for a while, and one could only imagine what could happen if the elevator doors didn’t open on us so suddenly.

Julio cleared his throat as he let go of my hand. “Let’s go.”

I blinked, shaking my head. “Yeah.”

We stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway, searching for the door numbered 0617.

“Well, here we are,” Julio said, stopping in front of the right door.

I read the number multiple times.

0617.

0617.

That was it. That was the place.

We were hesitant to ring the doorbell. What were we supposed to say to someone as important as the Author? Hi, nice to meet you didn’t seem to cut it. But then, I brushed aside all my hesitation and rang the doorbell.

Almost instantly, a lady’s voice sounded off. “Come in,” she said.

I couldn’t believe it. I was so in shock that I stepped away from the door, processing what I just heard.

Julio turned to me “Is that…?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s the voice I heard on the phone last night.”

“Well,” he replied. “I guess this is it.”

I breathed deeply as I held the knob and opened the door. I didn’t know what to expect. I guess I’d envisioned the Author to live in a place that was elegant and classy. I imagined that she would have big windows with a beautiful view of the Metropolis, posh furniture that would make the Stevensons jealous, and finally, a beautiful, well-kept study where she would do a lot of her writing.

But the unit was nothing like that.

When we opened the door, we were met with an old dusty mirror blocking the entrance. We walked past it and found another mirror—and another, and another—until we realized that the room was full of them. They circled us like an army ready to charge. Beyond the strange sight was a balcony, which provided the only light source in the unit.

“What is this?” I whispered. “Some sort of joke?”

“Let’s get out of here,” Julio said.

I agreed, but as we turned for the door, someone spoke behind us.

“Well, well, look what we have here.”

I stopped in my tracks. I knew that voice, and I had prayed that I would never have to hear it again.

Slowly, Julio and I turned around. Standing by the balcony doors was our least favorite person.

“Hello, Quinn,” Cassandra said. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

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