Crown of Glass

by Isabella August

  The edge of a hairline crack caught Jenna’s attention. She turned with a frown, chasing the tiny fracture’s path with her eyes. It led to the door of her room… and disappeared out the other side.

  “What is that?” she mumbled. She rose to her feet, stepping carefully closer to get a better look.

  The crack was minute, but very clear. Jenna was sure that it wasn’t supposed to be there — or rather, that it was unhealthy for it to be there. Her Witchsight offered a vague feeling of unease as she traced her fingers along the edge.

  A foreboding idea occurred to her.

  The Looking Glass reflects what it sees, Jenna thought. Gabe isn’t all right… and now he’s connected to it.

  Did the Lord of the Looking Glass know? Surely, he had to know. It was his realm, for god’s sake. No wonder he’d looked at Jenna the way that he did.

  I better do something, Jenna thought with a chill. I don’t think anyone wants to find out what happens when a faerie realm shatters.

  She followed the crack in the silvered surface, chasing it out her bedroom door and back into the hallway of Gabe’s old university — or rather, into the hall of mirrors that currently seemed to be the university. The crack expanded dangerously as she went, leading back toward a classroom door. There was a particularly garish break in the Looking Glass there, splintered across the front of that door.

  “How do I fix this?” Jenna murmured, pressing her fingers hesitantly to the scarred glass. “What even is it?”

  Her own voice floated into her mind, broken and distorted.

  “What sense does that make, Gabe?”

  The moment flashed away again, and Jenna staggered back.

  “A memory?” she whispered.

  And why not? The magic that affected Gabe had been cutting away distressing memories. Surely, they had to go somewhere. The Looking Glass was hungry for outside influence. It would have been a simple, instinctive matter for Gabe to let it consume those memories.

  Jenna hesitated, staring at the splintered door. Cancer magic was particularly adept at scrying. Jenna had once searched out Elaine’s broken memories and pieced them back together again. If she wanted to, she knew, she could see the memories that Gabe had cast away from himself.

  It would be unethical, her mind whispered to her. You haven’t asked Gabe’s permission.

  But the Lord of the Looking Glass had all but demanded that she do it, hadn’t he?

  That’s not why, Jenna admitted to herself. It’s an excuse. I need to know for myself. I have to understand what he did.

  Jenna reached out for the moonlight that filtered through the skylight above her, taking it into herself. Slowly, it curled around her in an aurora, filling her up and threading her veins with cold, clear possibility.

  Her magic was headier, more potent, more solid than she’d ever felt before. Belatedly, she remembered that Arcadia was a realm of ideas made real… a place where witches’ magic gained physical substance.

  Jenna pressed her magic against the crack in the glass. The Looking Glass absorbed the ghostlike glow, flickering with pale light. It’s just a memory, she thought. I’ve done this before.

  Bright white light spilled across the hallway. Images flickered across the broken mirror. Jenna leaned in, trying to make out the details beneath its spiralling cracks.

  The images should have been just that — images, playing across the surface of a reflective surface. But as Jenna’s fingers touched the glass again, they faded right through it, and she found herself stumbling through to the other side, into a mirror image of the hallway she’d just been in.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell anyone!” Another, younger Jenna dragged Gabe by the arm into an empty classroom. Fury and injury mixed in her expression. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” There were tears threatening in her eyes, behind her glasses. Jenna stared, fascinated. I remember this, she thought. I remember being on the other side of this. What was this, six years ago? This is so weird.

  Gabe staggered after her, surprise etched onto his face. He didn’t look so different from the Gabe she knew now — but his hair was still dark, his eyes still that warm, friendly shade of golden-brown. “Um, Jen,” he managed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The other Jenna whirled on him. “Stanford, Gabe! You could have gone to Stanford. For free. You told me you wanted to pay your own way, that you couldn’t afford it—”

  Gabe cringed, clearly caught by surprise. He raised a hand to his forehead. “I’d, uh. Mostly forgotten about that by now,” he admitted. “It didn’t seem important.”

  The younger Jenna’s mouth dropped open. “It didn’t seem important?” she repeated, incredulous. “You wouldn’t have to pay a penny of tuition! You could quit your stupid part-time job—”

  “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you!” Gabe interjected, frustrated. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to go to Stanford, Jen?”

  Jenna looked away from herself, a sinking feeling in her chest. He wanted to forget this, she thought.

  “Why?” the younger Jenna demanded. “What sense does that make, Gabe? You’re a goddamn genius, and you’re working retail! You could be pre-med, but you’re inching your way through a nursing degree—”

  “And I’m exactly where I want to be!” Gabe burst out. Jenna found herself looking at his face, searching him for emotions. He was hurt too, she realized. “Jesus, Jen, I’d have to move to California. Do you want me gone?”

  The younger Jenna pressed her fingers to her forehead. “No! God… of course I don’t want you gone. I just want you to be happy.”

  Gabe reached out to grab her by the shoulders. “For the last time, Jen. I am happy!” There was a strange, pleading note to his voice. “I don’t want to be on the other side of the country. If something happened to you—”

  The other Jenna pulled back from him, horrified. “…to me?” she managed. “Oh my god. You turned down Stanford because of me?”

  Gabe closed his eyes.

  “I can’t believe…” There was a thickness in her voice now. “You told me I wasn’t holding you back. I believed you.”

  “Jen,” Gabe said quietly. “You’re not listening to me.”

  The younger Jenna shoved past him, her hand over her mouth. Gabe tried to touch her shoulder again, but she jerked away from him sharply. Jenna watched herself head for the door, the memory fresh in her mind. I needed out, she thought. I went and cried in the bathroom for a whole hour.

  Gabe stared after her helplessly. Slowly, he sat down at a nearby desk, holding his head in his hands.

  “I don’t want to go to fucking Stanford,” he muttered to the empty room. “Maybe I don’t want to be a fucking genius.” He kicked out angrily at a chair, toppling it to the floor with a loud crack of metal against tile.

  Jenna rubbed at her arms uncomfortably. “I don’t get it,” she mumbled. “Why apply to Stanford if you didn’t want to go there, Gabe?”

  He glanced up at her sharply, surprised. Jenna blinked. He can see me? she wondered.

  “I…” Gabe flushed, embarrassed. “I thought I wanted to go,” he said. “And anyway, I never really expected to get in. But then the letter came, and it just… it scared me.” He pushed back up to his feet. “It’s not like I didn’t think it through, Jen. I did. But even with all the upsides, I just…” He closed his eyes. “I didn’t want to be alone again,” he admitted softly. “I know that makes me a coward.”

  Jenna sighed heavily. “You’re not a coward,” she said. “I wasn’t listening. I should have been. I was so stuck in my own head, thinking about my own stuff.” She shook her head. “I’ve always felt like a burden on everyone. Like all I do is drag people down. But I was so scared of that, I didn’t even stop to think what you might have been scared of.”

  Gabe crossed the distance between them in a few long steps. He wrapped his arms around her, holding onto her tightly. “You have never dragged me down,” he whisp
ered fiercely. “Don’t you know how much I need you?”

  He felt utterly real. The tone of his voice, the soft press of his shirt, the faint scent of coffee… for a moment, it was just like having him back again. His heat pressed into her, sparking that old yearning that she didn’t dare acknowledge. Is this really him? Jenna wondered. What if he put more of himself than just memories in here?

  “I meant what I said,” Gabe murmured. “I don’t need to go somewhere else to be happy, Jen. I’m already happy here — I’m happy with you. I like being in the same city with you. I like being able to watch stupid cartoons with you, and eat pancakes with you at three in the morning, and… and I want to be here when you’re sick and you need help, and I’m not going to apologize for that.”

  He swallowed hard, nudging her chin up toward him. There was trepidation in his eyes. “I have been a coward, okay? I can’t imagine my life without you. But everything’s so weird between us, and I thought… I thought I’d scare you off if I told you that.”

  Jenna stared at him. Everything was still so wrong, but her pulse had jumped, and her skin was hot. This is Gabe, she thought. This is my Gabe, when he was still him.

  His hand slipped behind her neck. His fingers slid into her hair. His lips traced hers, gentle and uncertain, and any semblance of thought fled her mind.

  Gabe is kissing me. A shocked, delirious pleasure shot through her body, wrapping around her heart. Years of terrified, uncertain yearning fled away all at once, replaced with the perfect feeling of his arms around her, his lips against hers, his heart pounding just under her hands.

  She slid her hands up his chest, winding them around his neck. Dizzy, conflicted thoughts swirled through her head, but she couldn’t bring herself to pay attention to them. For just a few moments, the terrible last few years faded away as though they’d never happened at all. Gabe sucked in his breath as she pressed herself against him, kissing him back with a desperation she hadn’t known she felt.

  Let it be a dream, Jenna thought. Let everything else be some awful dream. Why can’t this be the real thing?

  His fingers tightened in her hair. The kiss deepened blissfully. His hand pressed at her lower back, moulding her against him. She fit there perfectly, as she always had. It was stupid how long she’d fought against this, how scared she’d been. Gabe’s lips belonged on hers. That soft sigh he made against her, that belonged to her too.

  And she belonged to him. Every little piece of her knew him, wanted him, needed him.

  “This…” Gabe pulled back, closing his eyes. His breath came ragged. A flicker of pain crossed his features. “This isn’t how it happened, is it?”

  Jenna’s heart clenched. She closed her eyes against tears, pressing her forehead to his. “It should have happened this way,” she said. “If I hadn’t been so damn stupid…”

  His hand pressed to her cheek. His thumb wiped away a tear. “I made you cry,” he whispered. “We never talked about Stanford again.”

  “This isn’t your fault,” Jenna said. “It’s mine. I’m allowed to screw up too, Gabe. It’s not all on you.”

  Gabe was looking at her, when she opened her eyes. He looked so lost. “It is my fault,” he said softly. “Whatever happened… after this. It’s my fault you left New York.”

  Jenna tightened her arms around him. Why couldn’t this be real? “I want you back,” she whispered. “Why can’t I just have you back, Gabe?”

  “Am I gone?” he asked distantly.

  Jenna shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t know,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re not the same. You’ve done things you would never do. I want to trust you again so badly, Gabe, but… I don’t know how.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Gabe said. Concern marred his golden-brown eyes as he traced her cheek. “If I hurt you… if I did something really bad. Maybe I shouldn’t still be here.”

  Panic gripped her abruptly. “No!” Jenna held him more tightly. “That’s awful, Gabe. You shouldn’t… you can’t talk like that.”

  He blinked slowly. A terrible conflict showed on his face. “No,” he mumbled. “You’re right. I can’t disappear yet. There’s something I still have to do.”

  “What is that?” she whispered. “What do you have to do, Gabe?”

  Gabe forced a wry smile. For just a second longer, it was like having him back.

  “I made you a promise,” he said softly. “I said I’d find a way to fix you, Jen. And I’m not going to break that promise.”

  The world tilted and fractured. The memory slipped through her fingers.

  Jenna found herself on hands and knees, gasping for breath against a cracked and broken mirror.

  Chapter 7

  It took the last of Jenna’s remaining energy just to drag herself down the hall again and collapse back into her bed.

  Messing with a splintered faerie realm while anemic had not, admittedly, been her very brightest idea. On a normal day, Jenna would have feared even glancing at the Looking Glass with her Witchsight. But nothing about any of this had been normal.

  She closed her eyes against the pillow, pressing her fingers to her lips. The ghost of a kiss that had never happened lingered on her mind.

  Her heart thrummed in her chest, sick and confused.

  Gabe’s still there, she thought. I know he is now. I’ve seen him.

  But that was all she’d been able to do — see him. A piece of him, really. How was she supposed to put him back together again? Especially when some part of him didn’t want to be put back together?

  Why would he want to be put back together? she thought. There’s nothing good waiting for him on the other side of that.

  Gabe had told her himself. He had a promise to fulfill. He didn’t need to be healthy, happy, or well-adjusted in order to do that. He just needed to be… useful.

  “I can’t afford to be like this right now,” he’d said.

  Jenna let out a breath. “What a fucking mess we both are,” she whispered.

  Her bedroom door opened quietly. Jenna didn’t have to open her eyes to know that Gabe had entered — she knew even his footsteps by heart.

  He hesitated next to her bed. She heard him set something down on the bedside table.

  He touched her cheek gently. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. I know you’re tired, but you should try to get a few bites down.”

  Jenna kept her eyes closed. I don’t want to see him, she thought painfully. If I open my eyes, he’ll be different again. I won’t be able to pretend anymore.

  “Jen?”

  Slowly, she opened her eyes anyway.

  Gabe looked down at her in the darkness. He was the same height as his memory — but just a little bit leaner, a little more mature. His eyes were that strange pale green, his hair gently toned with silver.

  For just a second, I had you back, she thought. And now you’re standing right in front of me, but you’re gone all over again.

  “Real world food,” he said. “Sorry if it took a bit. I figured you ought to eat something a little healthier than fast food.”

  Jenna glanced toward the bedside table, where a New York deli bag sat. The logo was facing the correct direction, which she assumed to be a good sign.

  She sat up in bed and reached out for the bag. Gabe plucked it up and handed it to her before she could lean out too far. “I’d have settled for golden arches,” Jenna mumbled. She found it suddenly hard to meet his eyes. Wrong color or not, she remembered looking up at him as his lips pressed against hers and his arms held her close—

  Gabe tapped her on the nose. She blinked. “I’m beginning to suspect you’re actually sleeptalking. I thought that was my thing. Should I try kissing you awake? Is that a real faerie tale thing?”

  Jenna’s face flushed bright red. Please do. The words were on her tongue. She swallowed them down with effort, but she couldn’t help the way her eyes flickered to his mouth. She pressed her lips together, her heart thudding in her chest.

  “Jen
?” Gabe snapped his fingers in front of her face. “You are really out of it.” He opened the bag for her obligingly. She snatched it away from him and dug out the containers inside, her cheeks burning.

  Jenna cleared her throat, and forced a change in subject. “Did you… talk to your boss again?” she asked.

  Gabe frowned. “Briefly,” he told her. “He said you shouldn’t leave the Looking Glass. Or at least… I think that’s what he meant. It can be hard to tell sometimes.”

  “I bet he did say that,” Jenna muttered. She unwrapped a roast beef sandwich and bit into it with a vengeance. He doesn’t want me to leave until I’ve fixed Gabe. His realm is falling apart.

  The taste of real food drove away any bitter thoughts though, as a ravenous hunger overtook her. In a matter of minutes, she managed to demolish the sandwich and put a sizeable dent into the coleslaw.

  “Your fetch is settled in,” Gabe told her. “If anything happens to her, I should know, even from here.”

  Jenna leaned back into her pillow, forcing herself to let her stomach settle. “You think something is going to happen?” she asked.

  “I don’t really know,” Gabe admitted. “I just know that whatever danger you were in, it hasn’t passed yet. My patron’s being frustratingly vague on the matter, even for him. I’m going to have to see what I can figure out on my own, I guess.”

  The Lord of the Looking Glass wants to keep me here longer, Jenna thought, stabbing down at the coleslaw again. He’s probably not going to volunteer anything until I make some progress.

  “I don’t know what kind of danger I might be in,” she said. “Adrian was a slimy bastard, but as far as I know, I was just a meal ticket to him. I doubt he was going to kill me.”

  “Maybe it has to do with your magic,” Gabe muttered. “Your latest attack lasted weeks, you said. It only really stopped when I brought you here.”

  “It is something,” the Lord of the Looking Glass had said. “It is someone.”

  Jenna shivered. Whatever the faerie lord had been talking about, Gabe hadn’t reacted well to it. What if he can’t figure this out? she wondered. If the answer is something he can’t bring himself to deal with, doesn’t that make this a Sisyphean task?