Another shadow reached for Valentine. She lashed out at it with her inky magic, ripping it to tattered shreds. Shortly, she rounded upon Gabe again, gathering up a heavy, despairing darkness within her hands.
Jenna didn’t wait to find out whether Valentine’s magic would prevail against the Looking Glass this time. She pressed her fingers to the silver talisman at her neck, drawing up the mad, coiled moonlight she had stashed there earlier in the Looking Glass. “Stop it, both of you!” she called out hoarsely. The magic wove its way through the shadowy figures in the square, dissolving them back into the air like the fleeting thoughts that they were. It coiled its way protectively around Gabe, ready to stave off the darkness.
The magic in Jenna’s veins went abruptly wrong, though. Heat blossomed inside her like a burning coal.
A wave of dizziness hit her abruptly. She slid to her knees, gasping for breath. Her magic flared within her veins, burning her from the inside out. The world tilted dangerously.
I’m going to black out, she thought, with hazy alarm. Her forehead pressed against the cool, wet pavement. Oh, god. What is this? This isn’t a normal attack.
Footsteps sounded dimly around her. “Someone call a doctor!” a woman’s voice said. Someone knelt down and propped her up, checking her over for injuries.
“Move,” Gabe’s voice ordered. There was a cold authority in his tone that Jenna had never heard before. Well-meaning hands shrank away from her, replaced by the faint scent of soap and coffee.
Gabe pressed his hand against her forehead. Compared to the blazing fever inside her, his skin felt nearly like ice. An awful, helpless terror sank into her. I’m dying, she thought. This is what dying feels like. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, only that she did.
“Let her go, warlock,” Valentine’s voice rasped.
“I don’t have time for this,” Gabe hissed. “She’s dying. I don’t know who you are, but either help me or get out of my way.” He picked Jenna up in his arms. Blackness had started bleeding in at the edges of her vision, but she could still see his glass green eyes burning with that eerie silver light.
I’m going to pass out, she was suddenly certain. And then I’m going to die. I’m just never going to wake up again.
Jenna closed her eyes against his shirt. I’ve got to stay calm. I’ll only make things worse if I lose my mind. Tears trickled out in spite of her best efforts, though. An overwhelming hysteria rose up from the dark corners of her mind, smothering every last shred of rational thought. “Gabe,” she mumbled. “Please. Please don’t let… oh god, I’m scared, please.” The last word came out on a hiccuping sob.
Gabe’s arms tightened. He abandoned the last pretences of conversation, stepping back into the dreamy, distorted light of the Looking Glass.
Valentine lunged at him. Her dark figure grasped at Gabe like a vengeful ghost, her image blurred by Jenna’s tears. Valentine slammed against him, and Gabe flinched, hissing in pain… but he didn’t let go of Jenna.
Instead, the kaleidoscopic light enfolded all three of them, and the Hidden Path closed on a very confused crowd of people in Dundas Square.
Chapter 9
Gabe held her tight, whispering in her ear. Jenna’s head swam. The words made no sense.
Past and present confused themselves. Strange memories clawed at her mind.
“Gabe?” she whispered. She shuddered in bed, clinging to the ice compress at her neck. “Is that you?”
Gabe’s fingers smoothed away the damp hair at her forehead. “Hey there, gorgeous.” His voice sounded choked. “I’m here. Couldn’t stay away.”
Gabe had taken her past the mirrors, deep into the reflections that showed within them. Behind the mirrors of the Looking Glass, Jenna saw a hundred thousand images flickering madly. All sense of grounding and perspective fled her, chased away by impossible distortions of space. Heat pressed in upon her mind, so that she wasn’t entirely sure whether the dizzying images were born from Arcadia or from some fevered hallucination.
Somewhere at the center of the Looking Glass, a black candle burned brightly, casting a ghostly, phosphorescent light upon the mirrors. The sight of the flame tore at Jenna’s soul, and clawed at her body. Her magic burned in time with that glorious, dying light.
“I thought you were…” Jenna struggled to think. “You left. You went on vacation. You should have stayed on vacation.”
Gabe took her hand in his, pressing it to his forehead. “I wasn’t on vacation, Jen,” he said thickly. “I was doing research. I found a case study — someone else just like you.” His fingers trembled. “You don’t have any time left. I found all the answers, but I can’t… I can’t do anything.” Hot tears slipped down her hand.
“…something,” Gabe was begging someone desperately. “Please do something!”
Cool, radiant hands pressed against her. The creature that looked down at her no longer resembled a human being in any way. Beneath the surface of the Looking Glass, it appeared instead as a figure of pure silver light. The eyes that looked down at her were familiar though, and she knew that it was the same faerie lord that had followed her and Gabe all this time.
“Gabe?” Jenna blinked, worried. Heat blazed within her veins, near-painful in its intensity. “What do you mean… I don’t have any time left?”
Those bright silver eyes flickered toward the deepness of the Looking Glass, searching for something. The Lord of the Looking Glass took Jenna’s wrist firmly, and pressed her hand into a pool of liquid light.
The light twisted and bucked. Incredible power washed over her, and Jenna’s mind struggled with the sheer intensity of it.
Gabe’s lips pressed to her hand, aching and familiar and desperate. “I’m not going to let this happen,” he whispered in a trembling voice. “I can’t. I'm sorry.”
A faded image of Jenna splintered away from the pool of light, flickering along one of the infinite walls of the Looking Glass. Another reflection of her followed — and another, and another. The candle at the center of the Looking Glass burned into those images relentlessly, destroying them like so much flash paper.
“I love you so much, Jen.”
The candle flared greedily. Its phosphorescent light ate away at a thousand other false Jennas… but the Looking Glass was infinite, and infinitely patient. A thousand more images of her appeared, burning in her place.
Slowly… sullenly… the candle’s flame grew low again.
But it did not stop burning.
“I know what a faerie fetch looks like.” Valentine’s voice faded in slowly, as Jenna came back to herself. The woman sounded sour. “To Witchsight, anyway — that’s all I ‘ave, these days. That construct had th’ feel of somethin’ from the Looking Glass. I figured I’d smash it up an’ wait to see what came out of th’ nearest Path that led there.”
“So you weren’t actually trying to kill her.” Gabe’s voice sounded worse than exhausted… but there was a blank, empty calm there that sent a foreboding feeling through Jenna.
“Hardly.” Valentine’s voice was flat. “I owe th’ Ice Queen enough favors already — I don’t need to kill her old apprentice on top of that. I sent her off a message, by the way. She’ll come nosing around Toronto soon enough. Lord Blackfrost will come wi’ her, if he’s got half a brain.” The last sentence hung on a threatening implication.
Gabe paused. “…I’m not holding you here as some kind of prisoner, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said. “I barely know what to do with the one prisoner we do have. I don’t want to imagine how much coffee he’s had by now.”
“Good,” Valentine muttered. “I’m still plottin’ to kill th’ last creature that enslaved me. Growin’ out my murder list just sounds like too much trouble at this point.”
Jenna forced her eyes open blearily. Gabe had tucked her back into bed — but it wasn’t her bed, this time. She blinked a few times, taking in the sight of his old college apartment — the one he’d paid for on student loans, and later wit
h a nurse’s salary. Peeling wallpaper. Warped old floorboards. The faucet even dripped in exactly the same way.
Gabe and Valentine sat across from one another at the tiny kitchen table. Gabe had a terrible-looking black bruise just across his right cheekbone. Predictably, perhaps, he had made himself a cup of hot coffee, which he sipped at tiredly. Valentine had a chipped mug in front of her, but she had wisely chosen not to touch it, judging from her crossed arms and hostile manner.
Jenna closed her eyes again for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of the crummy old apartment. She’d crashed in on Gabe’s life and stolen his couch more than once while he lived there — sometimes for useful reasons, but more often just because she wanted to be near him.
I’m alive, she thought, with a bone-deep relief. I woke up after all.
Snatches of those fevered memories wove their way back into Jenna’s mind though, and she grimaced. I didn’t imagine those, she thought. They really happened.
If those memories were true… then she should have died three years ago already.
Her head throbbed with pain and misery. Gabe saved me. That’s what all this is about. It’s why he became a warlock.
The Lord of the Looking Glass must have traded a solution for Jenna’s problem in return for Gabe’s service. No wonder the shapeshifting bastard had been so helpful; the faerie lord was contractually obliged to help keep her alive.
“I found all the answers.”
Gabe did know what was killing her. He’d searched and scoured and somehow found the answer, in some obscure case study elsewhere. The fever had wiped away so much of her memory of that night… but another brush with death had been enough to bring it roaring back.
“I love you so much, Jen.”
Tears pricked at Jenna’s eyes. She took a deep, shuddering breath.
“What happened to her magic?” Valentine asked suspiciously. “How did you fix it?”
“I…” Gabe’s voice wavered. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember?” Valentine asked slowly. “To be clear: you don’t remember what happened just an hour or two ago?”
Jenna pushed herself upright in the bed. “Don’t,” she interrupted weakly. “It’s okay. He doesn’t have to talk about it.”
Gabe turned. The emptiness of his eyes softened, and he shoved to his feet. “Hey,” he said, heading over toward her. “How are you feeling?”
“Alive,” Jenna rasped. “I’m alive.” She threw her arms around him, holding on tightly. “You stupid… horrible… awful… moron!”
Gabe held her back, blinking slowly. “I’m getting mixed signals here,” he said.
Jenna thumped him in the chest, and he let out a soft ‘ow!’ “You sold your soul to save me!” she accused him.
Gabe reached up to rub at his chest. “…oh,” he muttered. “That.”
Jenna let her head fall against his chest. “I’d be angry, if I thought it would make any difference. But it won’t. And god knows you’ve suffered enough for it already.” She closed her eyes tiredly. “I’m alive. And I’m relieved to be alive, even if I should be horrified at the cost. I hate that. I’m all over the place right now, okay?”
Gabe’s hand settled at the back of her head. “You always overcomplicate things,” he muttered. “It’s kind of your expertise.” His voice was wry, but his heart beat frantically against her ear. His thumb stroked hesitantly against her hair. There was a faint desperation to the way he held her that made her feel guilty. He was still worried that she would die, or disappear, or tell him that she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
“Funny story,” Valentine observed to Jenna from the table. “I was told you were worried about a warlock from th’ Looking Glass. I can’t imagine there are that many. Should I assume you’re happy to be kidnapped, an’ get on wi’ my life?”
Jenna dug her fingernails into her palms. With a great, reluctant effort, she tugged back from Gabe’s arms. I might need her help, she thought. “I guess we should talk,” she told the other woman.
Valentine shoved to her feet. “Outside, please,” she said. “I can’t even see it, an’ this place still makes me claustrophobic.”
“New York living,” Gabe said wryly. “It’s the best.” He forced himself to let go of Jenna, though she knew it wasn’t what he wanted. She squeezed his hand, and stepped away.
“You’ve got th’ whole Looking Glass to choose from,” Valentine said to Gabe, as Jenna dragged herself up to her feet. “Why not go live at th’ Ritz or somethin’?”
Gabe shrugged uncomfortably. “Normality is a rare commodity in Arcadia,” he said. “I’m not ready to give that up just yet.” His eyes followed Jenna, troubled, as she moved for the door.
“I’ll be just outside,” she assured him. “I’m not in the mood for a hike, I promise.”
Jenna opened the door for Valentine, who strode through it with a certain dark, direct confidence she hadn’t possessed in the real world. Witchsight probably works better in Arcadia, even without her normal vision, Jenna thought dimly. Everything here is made of ideas, after all.
The door to Gabe’s apartment took them out onto the observation deck of the Empire State Building. The New York City skyline rose up before them, its lightless buildings backlit by a hundred thousand stars.
A cool, pleasant wind brushed past Jenna. She stared out over the city, shaking her head. How can Arcadia create something so beautiful, without understanding what it really is?
Valentine tugged the mirrored glasses from her face. Hideous raised scars lingered around her milky eyes. There was a measure of beauty in her too, behind those scars, but it had been beaten and bruised into a weary, cynical resignation.
“What should I tell your mentor?” Valentine asked simply.
Jenna looked down at her feet. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I thought it might have been a mistake to call her. Now I feel like I don’t know anything at all.”
“Arcadia came knockin’,” Valentine said. “You had the White Rose of Blackfrost on speed dial — one of th’ few people in th’ world who’s killed a faerie lord outright. An’ you didn’t think it was a good idea to ask her for help?”
Jenna sucked in her breath. “Lainey went warlock,” she said. “I didn’t know what to think. I never would have hesitated before, but she’s tied to the realm of Blackfrost now. It’s in her magic, in her head. She was still herself last time I saw her, but it’s been months with that monster holding her leash—”
“Lord Blackfrost is no monster,” Valentine interrupted. She leaned back casually against the concrete wall that separated them from a frighteningly long drop. “I know monsters. I was one. Probably still am, if I’m goin’ to be honest. As faerie lords go, he’s positively charming.”
Jenna frowned. “…Lainey seemed to think he was somehow better than the others,” she said. “But he’s still a faerie. They don’t have any human emotions. They just… are.”
Valentine shook her head slowly. “That’s beginner-level bollocks,” she said. “Arcadia 101, for little baby witches. Th’ truth is a hell of a lot more complicated than that.” She leaned her head back into the iron grate behind her. “Arcadia has no emotion of its own. It has no free will — it can’t change without being acted on by an outside force. That’s why th’ faerie lords are so obsessed wi’ humanity. They crave th’ novelty, an’ them not fully understandin’ why.”
Jenna hesitated. “Lord Blackfrost is still a faerie,” she said.
“He’s part human,” Valentine said bluntly. “He picked up th’ mantle of Blackfrost. Normally, that ought to wipe him clean — turn him into just another vessel for th’ realm. But an outside force acted on him, an’ infected his realm. His humanity’s not goin’ anywhere, as long as that infection remains.”
Jenna stared at her. “How do you know all this?” she asked slowly. “I still don’t even know how you ended up with Lainey, or why you seem to owe her so many
favors.”
Valentine smiled grimly. “For a hundred years, they called me Pallid Valentine,” she said. “I was a warlock of th’ Drowned Lord. Your mentor convinced Lord Blackfrost to trade for my freedom.” Alarm and confusion battled for prominence in Jenna’s mind at the revelation — but Valentine was still just a blind, haggard woman, leaning against the edge of the Empire State Building. “Th’ Drowned Lord… now that’s a monster. You should hope you never meet him. Arcadia steals most of my memories of my life here whenever I go back to th’ Lower World… but I never forget him.”
Alarm gave way to wild inspiration. “You were a warlock,” Jenna said urgently. “But you’re not anymore? You returned to normal, even after a hundred years?”
Valentine tilted her head slowly. “Normal?” she said softly. “No. I’ll never be normal. I was bartered away to a faerie lord by someone I trusted. I drowned in th’ blackest depths of Arcadia, unable to die. I dragged doomed souls back to th’ tender mercies of my rotted patron.” Her blind eyes flashed with fury and despair. “I broke forever. I made myself anew. I clawed my way free of that bastard’s grip, but I will never be th’ same.”
Jenna swallowed, chilled by the spark of lingering madness in those eyes. “Poor choice of words,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Valentine straightened abruptly. “No,” she said. “You just want to save your warlock from th’ Looking Glass, don’t you?” She smiled sharply. “I’d wish you luck, but I don’t know that it’s possible. You’d need to offer the Lord of th’ Looking Glass th’ sort of trade he couldn’t possibly refuse. Given his secretive nature, even I don’t know what to tell you on that score. Until a few years ago, no one even knew there was a Lord of th’ Looking Glass. We all figured it was just a lordless realm, like th’ Hedge.”
Jenna walked toward the edge of the observation deck, staring out over the city. “Maybe I can figure it out,” she said quietly. “But I… I’ve got to fix Gabe’s head first. He knows what’s trying to kill me, but he’s forgotten. His mind was broken, when he made his warlock’s pact. I’ve managed to help him get back some of what he’s missing, but it’s really hard on him.” She searched Valentine’s blind eyes, hesitant. “I know it might be a rude question, but… how would you fix a broken warlock?”
Crown of Glass Page 11
