The doors were restless.

It was apparent in the way they pulsed slightly, their handles shaking as if being moved from the other end. But it was also the feeling Jack had in his chest.

A tightening, tugging feeling that made him feel unsteady.

“Do you feel that?” Priestess Nina asked, her fingers tapping against the sixth door’s wood as it pulsed and shuddered in mid-air.

None of the doors were set into walls. None led into rooms. Instead, they hovered three feet off the floor in an abandoned church in West Virginia. Six each, all with swirling patterns that made no sense to most except the Six Doors Covenant.

Even now, as they pulsed and their handles shook, Jack felt honored to be a Protector in Training. Honored to be trusted to look upon them.

Jack knew Priestess Nina wasn’t addressing him, but he spoke anyway.

“I feel it,” he said, staying back as the Priestess stroked the sixth door’s whirling pattern. To Jack, it resembled a large serpent standing tall, mouth open as if to strike.

“They seem… excited,” she murmured, gazing at the pattern in fascination.

Excitement. That was what he felt curling around his chest. The doors were excited.

“What do you think is happening?” Corral, the Protector currently training Jack, was standing as far as possible from the doors, her gaze apprehensive. “I’ve never seen them like this. What do we do?”

Priestess Nina pursed her red lips. Jack had always found her fascinating; not only because she was the only person capable of entering and touching the doors, but also because she was strangely beautiful. With curly blonde hair cut pixie style, deep brown eyes, and a smile that thawed even the coldest heart. Jack was like everyone else that was a member of the Six Doors Covenant; he had a crush on her that would last as long as he lived.

“We wait,” Priestess Nina said softly, tracing the snake pattern almost lovingly. “As of right now, the doors have been peaceful.”

Corral stepped closer to Jack, her white cloak swishing along the ground. Corral was almost as achingly beautiful as the Priestess, but her features were harder. Less elfish and ethereal. She had black hair shot with gray, dark green eyes, and a tilt to her lips that always made her seem as though she were smirking. Jack thought of her as the anchor that kept Priestess Nina grounded.

“Are you sure this is wise, Priestess? Shouldn’t we do something? This is far from normal.”

Priestess Nina gave Corral a look, then slid her gaze to Jack. “Jack, tell me what you think.”

He shifted uncomfortably, looking at Corral for guidance. She shook her head, but Jack didn’t know what that meant.

“Jack?” Priestess Nina dropped her hand from the door, head tilted expectantly.

Jack’s gaze snapped back to the Priestess, “I-I don’t know. I feel that strange excitement, too. But I don’t understand it.”

“Yes, but what do you think should be done?” Priestess Nina was starting to sound impatient, something she sounded often.

Jack swallowed, rubbing at the small black hairs at the nape of his neck. Jack had hardly been a Protector in Training for a year; he only knew how to fight and guard the doors. And although he knew that Corral did far more than that, he wasn’t allowed in any meetings or clued in on any decisions yet.

All he knew was that he felt off-kilter and strange with that feeling in his chest.

“I think we should prepare,” he said, shifting as Priestess Nina and Corral studied him. “Guard the doors more extensively and investigate the strange pulsing. Maybe you could enter the doors, Priestess Nina?”

Priestess Nina opened her mouth to respond, but Corral beat her to it, “No. Absolutely not.”

Priestess Nina sighed, “Please, Protector Corral, do you really think I can’t care for myself within my doors?”

Jack got a strange feeling when she said, “my doors,” but Corral didn’t comment on it.

“You won’t tell us what can be found behind them,” she said instead, her eyes narrowing as she watched the Priestess. “How do we know you won’t get hurt? Killed? And we can not enter to help you. It’s too dangerous.”

Priestess Nina tutted softly, “Jack thinks it’s a good idea, Protector Corral.”

Corral scoffed, “Jack is an idiot.”

Jack didn’t think that was true, but he stayed silent, his fingers still buried in the hairs at his nape. Jack was nothing if not overly cautious; never causing conflict, never sharing his thoughts, and never defending himself. In Jack’s thoughts, it was just too hard. 

Priestess Nina turned back toward the sixth door, a slight smile her only response to Corral’s comment. It was clearly a dismissal, one that made Corral bristle and scoff.

She didn’t leave, but looked at Jack, speaking in a tone only he could hear, “Find Protector Reed. He’s the only one that can convince her of anything.”

Jack wanted to tell her he wasn’t an errand boy, but she was too upset, and he didn’t dare leash her anger to him. He would end up scrubbing toilets in her house for three weeks if he dared talk back.

“As you wish, Protector Corral,” Jack nodded slightly and turned on his heels. The six doors were tucked safely away in a back room of the church that used to be some sort of praying area for dedicated nuns and priests. The altar had since been removed, and the other decorations were tucked away in the church’s attic.

Now, he stepped through the door of carved wood that led to the door’s room, his thoughts scattered and wandering. Jack had grown up in the church an orphan after two women had taken him in and introduced him to Priestess Nina. They were both his mothers now, officially and unofficially, and they were considered like nuns to the Priestess. They prayed with her, offered guidance, and dissected her strange dreams about the doors.

So, to be honest, he knew quite a bit about the doors and the church.

He knew that there was a secret room in the attic full of old religious statues.

He knew that Corral had a lover who visited her room every night.

He knew that the mirror in his room opened and led down into an empty basement.

He also knew that he could touch the doors.

It had been a strange dare he had issued himself. Something that he wanted to prove; that he was strong, brave, special. 

And he was.

He had traced the pattern on the third door that resembled a lion rearing out of the bushes, and he had felt it.

A connection.

To the doors and what lay beyond them.

Also, he had not died.

He had wanted to tell the Priestess, who said all who touched it save her would fall dead, that he was like her. He was special.

But he was too afraid. What would she say? What would she do?

And, even worse, what if she realized that the strange excitement making the doors shake might be because of him?

He shook that thought off and wound his way around the church’s pews. A few people sat in them, praying or simply thinking. Others were eating off to the side, their white Protector cloaks fluttering as they walked. As a Protector in Training, he wasn’t allowed to wear one. It felt strange guarding the doors with Corral in a simple pair of jeans and his black hoodie, but she was adamant.

A cloak was earned.

He walked to the Protectors, who all gave him tired nods. There were six in total, and all had been guarding the doors throughout the night after they started to pulse. It had been Corral’s precaution. Usually, only she and one other, along with Jack, kept watch.

Jack couldn’t remember the last time he had slept more than three hours as he had last night.

It had been bliss.

“Jack-Jack,” Protector Sila, a woman with gray hair and smile lines along her eyes, handed him a potato that she had carved to look like a rabbit. “I was thinking of you when we were guarding the doors last night. Do you like it?”

Jack smiled and traced the rabbit’s form. He couldn’t imagine life without gentle Sila, who found out he loved potatoes and started carving them for him. He usually waited until they rotted to throw them out.

Though Sila was more than a sweet old lady; he had watched her spar with the others, and though she was small and weighed less than a leaf, she was fast and ruthless. Jack had a healthy balance of love and fear for her.

“I love it, Sila. Thank you,” he tucked it in his hoodie’s pocket, flashing a straight-toothed smile.

She blushed, seeming pleased.

“I didn’t mean to bother you, but Corral needs Protector Reed.”

Protector Reed, the youngest Protector at age thirty-five, shifted against the wall, a cigarette hanging unlit from the side of his mouth, “Priestess Nina again?”

Jack nodded, and he scowled. The fact was that Priestess Nina only listened to Reed because he was like a son to her, though they were only four years apart. Corral had once told Jack that Priestess Nina and Reed had been the first to discover the church and the doors. Ever since then, they had been bringing in those who needed shelter and food; mostly the homeless and orphans, or those who were being hurt and misused.

Reed gave a sigh and brushed past Jack, headed towards Corral and Priestess Nina, who were probably yelling at each other by now. Jack always thought they were too hot-headed to work well together, but Reed said it was mostly for show.

Who they were showing off for, Jack still didn’t know.

“Off to bed, Jack-Jack? You look tired,” Sila remarked, patting Jack’s cheek as the other Protectors snickered.

He was always tired. Even the blissful sleep from last night wasn't enough to make up for his exhaustion.

Jack blushed and pulled away from her hand, “No. At least, not yet. I thought I’d read until Corral needs me again.”

Sila grinned wide, the gap in her teeth right up in Jack’s face, “Such a good boy, Jack-Jack.”

Jack’s smile was awkward at best as he moved away from the Protectors and towards his mothers, who were waiting off to the side.

Most thought they were lovers, but Tamera and Natty were actually sisters though they hardly looked like it. Natty’s hair was a burnt umber and her eyes a cool green, while Tamera boasted blonde dreadlocks and eyes the color of the sky on a cloudy day. The only things that made them similar were the clefts in their chins, the dimples they both flashed liberally, and their chocolatey skin.

Jack often thought he looked quite like them if they had been mixed in a pot; with his dark curly hair with light blond highlights, his eyes that were not quite blue, not quite green, but somewhere in between the two, and his skin that was a rich color of chocolate.

“Off to bed, Jack?” Natty asked, smoothing his curly hair away from his forehead, “you look exhausted. You need to sleep more. And you’re so skinny! Are you eating? What are you eating? Do you drink enough?”

Jack winced at Natty’s concerned voice while Tamera watched in bemusement.

“I’m fine, Mom. Really.”

Never mind that Natty saw him every day. With the way she acted, you might have thought Jack lived in a foreign country for several hours.

Natty tsked, “Yes, but what are you eating?”

“Nat, shove off. Jack can handle himself,” Tamera ruffled his hair just to make him angry, her eyes glinting.

Natty and Tamera had immediately fallen into their respective roles of mother and father when they adopted Jack. Natty was the hover mother while Tamera was the tough love father. Often, Jack found himself wondering if his real parents were as loving as Tamera and Natty.

He figured they weren’t if they left him to die on the streets. Alone.

“I’m really fine, Mom. Don’t worry. Corral sent me off, but I’m only going to read until she needs me.”

Natty tsked again. She did a lot of tsking, “You work too hard, Jack.”

“Natty, just let him go. Jack needs to learn to get along on his own,” Tamera remarked.

Natty’s eyes instantly teared, “Tam!”

Jack smiled softly and kissed both his mothers on the cheek, “I’ll rest, Mom. Promise.”

Natty grinned through her tears as Tamera awkwardly patted her back. 

Jack quickly escaped, afraid Natty would start pestering him again and made his way up the stairs to the attic. The attic was dusty and usually cold, but Jack found solace there. It was quiet and comforting to be alone every once in a while, simply reading and wondering.

And the attic had secrets, just like Jack.

He sighed when he stepped into the attic, staring at the rafters, dust, and cobwebs in corners. The secret room was off to his left, its door that resembled the wooden walls cracked slightly so the sun shining through the holes in the roof could graze the religious statues. Jack stepped towards the room, opening the door wider until he could touch the statue that stood in the middle; it was of the Virgin Mary, her arms outstretched, head bowed.

Jack didn’t really consider himself religious, but the statue offered comfort. Protection, almost.

Jack reached out to stroke the statue’s bowed head when he felt it; a strange tugging in his chest. He still felt strange from the door’s excitement, but this was different. 

He rubbed his chest, trying to dispel that tug, but it only got worse until he heard it.

Follow me.

Jack blinked, looking around for the soft voice of a boy who wasn’t even there, while the tugging intensified and pulled him…

Through the other side of the secret room.

But there was nothing behind there; Jack had scoured the whole of the attic for any more secrets, but the room was the only one.

Nevertheless, he stepped closer, touching the shelves of the secret room, moving aside lambs and paintings of Jesus, until he came back to Mary. Mary’s head bowed, her arms outstretched in reverence. Jack reached out again, touching his thumb to her right hand.

You’re getting hotter, the boy’s voice was louder and lilted playfully as he spoke.

Jack moved his hand further up until he was touching her shoulder, then he gently pushed her back. The statue moved back against the wall, her base leaving a trail in the dust on the shelf.

There was a slight clicking, and then the whole of the tall shelf slid back and parted down the middle, disappearing into slits in the wall.

More secrets.

Jack grinned and watched as the shelf disappeared completely, taking Mary with it until he could see that the room extended far back to another door. But jack knew for a fact that wasn’t possible; the church only went as high and as far as the attic did.

Unless… Unless this was more magic.

Jack started walking, listening as that strange voice floated toward him. He knew following a mysterious voice was not wise, but Jack had a healthy dose of wandering blood in his veins. He couldn’t help being drawn to secrets.

It’s been a long time. Strange how your Priestess never seemed to notice…

“Who are you?” Jack whispered, reaching the door and staring at it. Staring at the whirls and patterns, the strange jiggling knob, and glowing seams.

This door… It looked exactly like the six doors below.

Clever, aren’t you? The voice mocked, a laugh accompanying the words.

Jack pressed his palm against the door, wondering. This… seventh door was left alone. Apart from the others. But why? Did the Priestess know about it?

No. This was a secret, and he didn’t know why.

Open it, the voice urged.

Jack traced the pattern, which resembled an Eagle in flight, and wondered some more. Should he tell her? Why wouldn’t he? And what was that voice?

I’m not getting any younger, you know. Are you going to open the door?

Jack should turn around. He should walk back downstairs. He should tell the Priestess and Corral. He shouldn’t keep this a secret.

But instead, he traced the pattern all the way down to the jiggling knob and curled his fingers around it. It was warm, and continued to shake in his hand.

Open it.

The voice was getting louder, and Jack wasn’t sure what to make of that.

But he was curious. Too curious not to open the door.

So he turned the knob even as it jiggled and shook against his palm and pushed the door inward gently. Darkness, the impenetrable kind, greeted him.

“Hello?” He called into the blackness.

“Took you long enough,” that voice remarked.

And then Jack saw him.

He was walking out of the darkness, black hair smoothed back against his skull, red eyes glinting, and a strange skip in his step. As if a present were waiting at the end of the door.

Jack took a hesitant step back as the boy halted across from him, the tips of his toes brushing the threshold. 

Jack didn’t know what to make of him with his fancy black clothes and curious eyes. He didn’t appear dangerous even as he slouched against the doorframe and grinned wickedly.

“I must admit, I was expecting a bit more…” he gestured to Jack’s person.

“Who are you?” Jack asked, refusing to show that he was greatly offended.

“Who am I?” The boy laughed and crossed his arms, “I’m… Oh, what did you call them? Right. I’m the seventh door.”

Jack blinked, wondering if he should laugh or run for Priestess Nina.

“But, you’re not a…?”

“Door?” The boy nodded, “no, I don’t suppose I am. But this door is only here because I am. Once I step out of here, it will disappear.”

Jack took another step back, “I don’t understand.”

The boy sighed and studied his nails, “I have to say, I’m quite offended. You haven’t even asked my name!”

Jack flushed, and his inner sense to avoid conflict poked through, “I-I’m sorry.”

The boy waved him off, “Just call me Seven.”

Jack knew he was mocking him by the way he smirked.

“And what does all of this mean? Why is this door so far from the others? And are people like you behind the six others?”

Seven yawned, head tilted back, “You’re boring me, Jack.”

Jack didn’t dwell on how Seven knew his name, instead, he inched closer. Wondering about secrets.

“Do you know why the doors are excited?” He asked, leaning in towards Seven, who leaned back.

Seven raised a brow, “Oh, that. Well, of course, I do! They’re excited because of you.”

“Me?”

“Oh, sure. Why not? You’re a handsome devil,” Seven gave him a bored look, “mostly. Anyway. The “doors” as you call them, are excited because you can free us.”

“Free you?”

“You’re starting to sound like a broken record, Jack. Listen, only someone like you can let me out of here, all right?”

“But, how? I don’t understand are you stuck?” Seven nodded, and Jack shook his head, fingers lacing together. “How do I even do that?”

“It’s quite simple, actually,” Seven purred, stroking the wood of the doorframe with his foot, “just take my hand.”

Seven extended a palm, face-up, and Jack stared at it. 

He shouldn’t.

He should stop wondering and tell Priestess Nina about Seven and what he was saying.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he reached out his fingers dark against Seven’s crisp white palm.

Seven waited as if he needed Jack to touch him first, but Jack saw the impatience in his dark red gaze.

He shouldn’t.

He really shouldn’t.

But he did.

Jack’s palm fell flat against Seven’s, and there was a strange shattering in his mind. As if a mirror had broken, and now there was nothing but an empty frame. Pain was lancing through Jack, but he didn’t close his eyes. 

Not as Seven grinned and stepped over the wooden threshold. 

Not even as Jack fell to his knees.

Not even when the door disappeared in a swirl of gold dust.

Not even when he hit the floor on his back and saw Seven standing over him.

“Well, this isn’t supposed to happen,” Seven remarked, kneeling by Jack’s head.

And then, and only then, did Jack shut his eyes and fall into oblivion.