The Shattered Mirror (Winter's Blight Book 4)

by M. C. Aquila

  Alan laughed without humor. “What an honor.”

  “It’s almost as if fate brought you here. It’s as if you were meant to make it to this point. It’s kismet.”

  After a pause, Alan said, “But that wasn’t my only reason for coming here.”

  “Ah, yes.” The Cait Sidhe slunk away, and when he returned a few minutes later, even he looked grim as he carried the broken body of the little girl in his arms. He set her down gently at Alan’s feet. “I am sorry about the girl. She was an innocent in all this.”

  Alan fell to his knees before he realized it was happening. His throat closed up. It never ends. There is always more suffering, more death.

  As if he could read Alan’s mind, the Cait Sidhe spoke up. “Her death was quick at least.”

  “Liar,” Alan choked out. “Anyone could tell it wasn’t quick or merciful.”

  “Indeed, I am a liar.”

  “You’re worse.” Alan stood, wiping his face on his sleeve and then jabbed a finger at the creature. “You are worse than any monster here because you have a choice. You could fight for something real. Instead, you chose to work for the Fae. And for what?”

  “You have a choice too, darling.” The Cait Sidhe continued in a thoughtful tone, “If it makes you feel any better, at least her death brought you here. That is something, isn’t it? Don’t sacrifices need to be made sometimes for the greater good? The ends… do whatever it is for the means?”

  “You just spout rubbish and nonsense. You wear medals and have no idea what they mean. You don’t even believe the words crawling from your own throat.”

  “Do you believe them?” The man’s golden eyes glittered knowingly, and Alan recoiled.

  Crouching down, Alan carefully lifted the child’s body, cradling her against his chest. Turning to the Cait Sidhe, he wondered if the look of pity on his face as the creature eyed the child was even real. “Does your face serve the same purpose as those medals of yours?”

  Immediately the Cait Sidhe’s features became a blank mask. “Not for a long time… That is, I haven’t cared about anything in a long time.” Then he chuckled, adding, “Imagine what would happen if I cared enough to bother and if you didn’t care so much that it crippled and weakened you. Imagine the team we would make.”

  “You’re deranged,” Alan remarked with a scoff. “You never give a straight answer, do you?”

  “Oh, certainly not.”

  Leaving the creature and the tomb behind, Alan carried the little girl back to the base. All the while, the Cait Sidhe’s vile words about sacrifices for the greater good echoed in his head. He did not know if he believed them.

  It was not until the desolation of the Winter Court left him, once he was far from the island and back in Neo-London, that he knew his answer: the price of the little girl’s sacrifice was too high, no matter the ends.

  Chapter Two

  Present Day

  James was shivering when he awoke to an odd, distant wail. Jolting awake in the middle of a clearing, sheltered by clusters of gnarled, bare trees, he glanced at the others still sleeping around the fire. Cai traipsed back into camp from outside the line of trees with fresh kindling, the ground crunching under his boots with each step. A fine layer of frost dusted everything.

  Mum was the only other person awake out of the group, sitting up on the ground a moment after James did. There was a flash of fear in her eyes, but it vanished when she turned and saw him awake. She had a few dried leaves sticking out of her long, dark, wavy hair.

  “Did… did you hear it too?” James gulped. “It sounded like a scream. It could’ve been an animal.”

  Rubbing her arms with a shudder, Mum said, “I am not certain what I heard. I thought I was dreaming.”

  As Cai tromped over to the fading fire in the middle of the clearing, a stream of mist swirled around his mouth as he no doubt grumbled under his breath the whole way, sour-faced, movements stiff. He sounded more like a grumpy old man than someone who had once been a knight of Camelot as he crouched down and fed the hungry, ashy campfire. James thought he heard him cursing the Winter Court, but he ceased when Mum frowned at him.

  “What was that sound?” Mum asked Cai, standing and placing her hands on her hips. “Did you see anything out there? And how are your injuries? You haven’t let me check.”

  “They’re fine. It’s been a week since the festival anyway.” Cai scratched his beard, saying, “I heard a shout. I didn’t see anything out there, but we should head out. Soon.”

  Mum nodded. “Yes. I don’t like this frost. It feels like a bad omen.”

  “Frost, uh, isn’t unheard of in autumn, you know,” James said with a groan as he stretched his arms over his head. “But the first frost is usually significant. It can mean… it can mean all sorts of things, like a longer winter later on, or—”

  “’Tis a hunt, I believe.” Alvey’s usually clear voice was muffled and stuffy as she spoke up from her chair on the other side of the fire. She was bundled in her shawl like a cocoon, and her nose was a bright, angry red color. She attempted to sniff the air but, after a few miserable sniffles, clenched her fists and struck her armrests. “Fie! I cannot smell anything with a common human illness infecting me!”

  Mum clasped her hands together, eyeing the girl pityingly. “I’ll ask Iain to fix you some special tea, yes? We’ll get you warmed up in no time.”

  With a wave of her hand, Alvey grunted in answer and curled up tighter in her shawl, turning her back to them.

  James hesitated, biting his lip. “Hey, Alvey…” He cleared his throat. “I’m, uh, sorry you’re under the weather. But what did you mean—about a hunt? What kind of hunt?”

  Shifting in her seat, Alvey turned her face to him and said in a low tone, “It matters little. If it is from either Court, we must avoid it at all costs.”

  The others stirred and woke a few minutes later. While Iain prepped loose-leaf tea in a pot over the fire, Deirdre stretched her muscles with caution, careful of her still-healing ankle. The faery was usually the first among them to wake up and explore, but now her energy had dampened, making her slower to greet the day for the past week.

  It had been a week since General Callaghan had drained all traces of magic from Deirdre’s body. A week since Deirdre and James had fought after he ditched her to search for answers about Mum’s disappearance. A week since he had met Cecil Morris for help, who had turned out to be the Cait Sidhe creature who had taken his mother captive.

  And it’s been a week since I’ve really spoken to Deirdre, after all that happened between us…

  When Deirdre tried to meet his eyes, James turned away, fetched his book of Unseelie creatures from his pack, and opened it to where a scrap of notebook paper served as a bookmark. Though he had read through his old copy in the past, everything about it was new and exciting with Cecil’s handwritten notes bursting from every margin and blank space.

  The book felt heavier than before, full of the author’s personality, like Cecil had imbued it with not just his thoughts but himself. Reading the notes gave James more than new knowledge of faeries—he got to know the person who wrote it.

  The researcher, Cecil Morris, who had taught James magic and given him answers. The Master, who had kept his mother from him for years and who had made the fateful bargain with his father. The Cait Sidhe, an Unseelie beast that terrorized the moorlands but who had also aided him during the chaos at the festival and saved his life.

  James could not connect the fragments as a whole person—who he was beginning to appreciate in a strange, confusing way.

  Losing himself in the book for a while, James was happily oblivious to the chill in the air and the goings-on around him. He hadn’t realized he had laughed out loud at one of the antidotes until Iain crouched beside him, holding two steaming cups of tea.

  “What could be so funny in a book like that?” Iain asked.

  “Well, it’s just that the author was asked by this royal at the time to harvest unicor
n horn for medicinal purposes, but instead he”—James let out a snorting chuckle—“found old goblin claws and crushed them to powder. And the royal took it in his tea!”

  While James burst into a fresh peal of laughter, Iain stared at him blankly.

  “Trust me, it’s hilarious,” James insisted, wiping at his eyes.

  “Some things never change, yeah?” Iain gave him a firm but awkward pat on his back. “Anyway, you should pack up. It’s time to get moving.”

  James jumped up, suddenly giddy at the thought of where they were heading. “Can you believe we’re about to see the Summer Court?” he asked no one in particular. “We’ll probably be the first humans to enter since the barrier went up, uh, over thirty years ago! I mean, I know there’s been research done on the realm before, but think of what all could have changed since then! And plants—think of the new plants!”

  It was like speaking to an empty room, as no one else was quite as excited. Still, even though they were traveling there in order to warn the Summer Court of the impending threat of the Iron Guard, the human military led by General Callaghan, that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy themselves. After all, if they arrived in time, the faeries would stop the military from breaking the protective barrier shutting off the Court from the world. And the war General Callaghan wanted would never even begin.

  Iain went over to Alvey’s chair and handed her one of the cups of tea. As his older brother walked away, James swore he heard Alvey grumble, “If only I had fallen deathly ill sooner.” Next, Iain delivered the last cup to Deirdre, who had already packed and was standing gingerly, leaning on her makeshift crutch.

  They smiled at each other and chatted briefly, and James, rolling his eyes, slammed his book shut.

  When Iain turned back to the fire to put it out and gather his supplies, Deirdre bent down and collected a small handful of frost. Giggling, she sprinkled it down the back of Iain’s neck. He tensed up and let out a choked, high-pitched cry.

  “Oh, now you’ve done it!” Iain warned with a grin, twisting around at Deirdre’s shriek of laughter. “I was trained in the Iron Guard for this exact situation.” He yanked a few blades of frosted grass and tossed them at her, but she dodged out of the way.

  “You wouldn’t chase someone with an injured ankle, would you?” she taunted.

  “And now you’re taking advantage of my sense of honor?” Iain shook his head in mock disapproval, then, doing his best impression of Cai, added in a gruff tone, “Faeries.”

  “Enough horseplay.” Cai interrupted in the same gruff tone as Iain. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover if we want to reach the Summer Court today.” When Cai cleared his throat loudly, arms crossed, everyone dropped what they were doing and made quick work of packing up camp.

  Since leaving the Wayfaring Festival, where the military had caught up to them and attacked, the group had traveled north through the shelter of forests. They had reached Cumbria the day before and continued their northern trek toward the barrier. As they walked over the hilly terrain, James pored over his notes on the Seelie faeries and their realm, stumbling at each incline and drop. The air was dry and cold, crisp as if before a snowstorm.

  Alvey had said the entrance to the Summer Court existed in and around an ancient site in the area called Castlerigg Stone Circle. The circle was built thousands of years prior, during the Neolithic age, to mark the site as the entrance to another realm, just as how some monuments marked the stars or were a place of ritual.

  When they had entered the Lake District yesterday, the sun had been out, illuminating the landscape of looming, pine tree-covered mountains stretching on as far as the eye could see, with shining, deep blue lakes nestled in the valleys between them. But this morning, the sun was blotted out by thick clouds, casting everything in a dreary gray and turning the landscape dull.

  The Lake District was silent and empty with no signs of civilization save for Herdwick sheep and working dogs, diligently keeping their posts. Still, the group kept off the beaten path as they walked and, after a quick lunch, continued along the banks of the great reservoir, Thirlmere. A freezing wind blew around them, and snowcapped mountains towered above on both sides. James covered his nose and mouth with his scarf, his face numbing.

  As the day drew on and the early twilight of autumn arrived, the birds and wildlife went silent. Even inside the thick, ancient woods of spruce and evergreen, the only sound was their crunching footsteps. The whole party was subdued by this silence, heavy like a crushing weight.

  Except for Alvey. The entire day, she sneezed loudly from the back, moaning and complaining every time it happened. Iain and Deirdre lingered in front of her, occasionally talking and laughing softly, and James stayed with Mum in the front and tried to keep up with Cai as he pushed ahead without a word.

  They were walking with care down an incline of a grassy, rocky hill when another scream echoed through the valley below. James shuddered and clutched at his scarf. It wasn’t a scream, exactly. It was a wailing howl, many voices crying in unison.

  “What do you think is making that sound?” he asked Cai, breathless. “It could be a banshee, or—”

  They all halted on the hill as Cai motioned for them to stop and be quiet. The group stood together now at the top of the hill, searching for the source of the noise. Iain sidled between James and Mum, sticking close. Alvey attempted to smell the air to catch a scent, sniffling pitifully.

  “There!” Deirdre whispered, pointing.

  Iain muttered a few choice Romani words, taking his axe from his belt as the rest of them stared in shocked silence. In the sparsely forested valley below, a pack of black dogs the size of wolves raced with a chorus of ghostly howls. And they were chasing something.

  “Unseelie hounds,” James whispered at first, eyes widening in awe. Then he said louder, pointing as well, “Those are Unseelie hounds. They usually only come out in groups like for the Winter Court’s Wild Hunt, but that’s supposed to be in Shetland, not in England! What are they chasing after?”

  “People.” Deirdre gasped, horrified. “Those are people!”

  Gray, sallow, emaciated bodies shambled away from the hounds, some of them collapsing instantly as they attempted to run. They moved like walking corpses or like puppets on strings. He let out a strangled cry as one of the hounds caught up to a gray figure and latched onto its neck, ripping flesh. There was no way it could survive such a bite.

  “Those hounds are not just chasing any ordinary humans,” Cai said wearily, stepping closer to Mum and James. “Those are thralls from the Winter Court.”

  His breath caught in his chest, and James felt cold now from more than the chill in the air.

  Iain’s knuckles blanched from the force of gripping his axe. “Cai, tell me there’s something we can do here. There has to be something. Those Unseelie monsters… they can’t keep doing this.”

  Alvey answered for him. “Once the thralls can no longer serve the Winter Court, they are set loose and killed by the hounds. There is nothing to be done for them.”

  James swallowed hard, looking away from the doomed thralls. Is that what would have happened to me if Mum hadn’t taken my place? Is that what would have happened to Mum? Is that what’s going to happen to Dad when this is over? No one deserves to die like that.

  For the past six years, Mum had seemingly vanished—until a week ago, when James and Iain reunited with her. And she had not simply vanished but had taken James’s place in the pact his father had made—trading his son’s life in exchange for the magical removal of his heart. But when it was clear Cecil had deceived her and still had plans for James, she had returned to warn them. But she was not safe or free yet.

  She was still a thrall of the Winter Court, and so James could still lose her. Again.

  Shivery, helpless fear shadowed him. A week ago, before he had met Cecil and learned to use magic for the first time, he might have stayed hunkered in shadow. But now maybe he could do something.

  “Maybe i
f we distract them…” James reached for his pack, for the explosive Fire Crystals contained inside, but Cai grabbed his arm.

  Before James could even react, the man warned him gently, “You need to agree not to do anything rash. I know you want to help, but there isn’t anything we can do for those poor blighters. What we need to focus on now is getting to the barrier before those hounds spot us. Understand?”

  “I understand, I guess,” James said, pulling against the knight’s grasp.

  “Good lad.” Cai let go of his arm. “Our best bet is to stay clear of the hounds, but if we run into them, fire will deter them somewhat. We don’t want them chasing us.”

  With a final glance at the thralls below, James followed the rest of the group farther along the hill, and they walked in the direction of the forest on the other side of the incline, away from the baying hounds.

  It was evening when they reached the bottom of the hill, and the standing stones were finally in sight, visible through a line of trees ahead and clustered in a field. Despite the distance between them and the hounds, the sounds of their howls had not grown any quieter.

  During their lunch break earlier in the day, James was glad for the break but had picked at the food listlessly for a while, finding he had no appetite after seeing the thralls torn apart. Mum had fussed at him until he’d eaten a few bites. Sitting close, Iain had asked James to explain the goblin story to him he was laughing at earlier. It was clear his brother wasn’t really interested and just hoped to distract him, but James played along anyway.

  Alvey had napped for a good half hour before the group managed to rouse her—Deirdre, clearly being the bravest among them, had grabbed the half elf’s shoulders and lightly shook her awake. Too sick to be upset for long, Alvey had only shouted a little at her.

  There had once been a gravel path leading to the sacred site, but yellow wildflowers and purple thistles had since claimed it. The forty massive stones covered in yellow lichen comprised an oblong circle twenty-five meters wide, and at the east side was a cluster of smaller rocks forming a rectangular mass. Brown mountains made of slate stone surrounded the circle on all sides, half hidden in mist.