Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

“I know that,” Wallace snapped. “I didn’t do anything.” He paused. “Wait,
how did you know how I…” He couldn’t finish.
“I know things,” Hugo said. “Or, rather, I’m shown things. Sometimes
it’s … vague. An outline. Other times, it’s crystal clear, though those are rare.
You were clear to me.”
“I expect I would be,” Wallace said stiffly. “Which makes this easier,
because I don’t know how much clearer I can be. Send me back.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then find me someone who can.”
“I can’t do that either. That’s not how it works, Wallace. A river only
moves in one direction.”
Wallace nodded, mind racing. He obviously wasn’t being heard. He
wouldn’t find any help here. “Then I bid you good day, and request I be
returned to the city. If you can’t help me, I’ll figure it out on my own.” He
didn’t know how, exactly, but anything would be better than being here and
hearing nothing but these three idiots talking in circles.
Hugo shook his head. “You can’t leave.”
Wallace narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying I’m trapped here? Keeping
me against my will? That’s kidnapping. I’ll see you all brought up on charges
for this, don’t think I won’t.”
Hugo said, “You’re standing.”
“What?”
Hugo nodded toward the floor. “Can you feel the floor beneath your feet?”
Wallace flexed his toes. Through the thin, cheap flip-flops, he could feel
the pressure of the wood floor against the bottoms of his feet. “Yes.”
Hugo lifted a spoon off the tray and set it on the counter. “Pick that spoon
up.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to. Please.”
Wallace didn’t want to. He couldn’t see the point. But instead of arguing,
he stepped back up to the counter. He stared down at the spoon. It was such a
little thing. Flowers had been carved into the handle. He reached down to
pick it up. His hands shook as his finger curled around the handle, and he
lifted it.
“Good,” Hugo said. “Now put it back down.”
Grumbling under his breath, he did as he was told. “Now what?”