The Thief

by Aine Crabtree

  There. I’d said it. And from the shock on Bea’s face, there was no taking it back.

  Camille, Mac, and Destin stood stock still, silent spectators to my outburst.

  “All of us,” I said. “You and Tailor, you keep telling us to ignore what’s around us, but how could we? We’re here. We’re involved. If you want to protect us, give us the tools to protect ourselves. If you don’t, we’ll find a way to arm ourselves.”

  I felt Camille take a step up to stand beside me. Gratitude flowed through me for the silent solidarity.

  Bea’s expression was incredulous, and somehow distant, as if seeing something other than Camille and I standing there. “You’re not here for the mirror?” she said at last.

  Maybe if I finally told the truth, all of it, maybe then she would finally believe me.

  “I know where the mirror is,” I said, and she went rigid. “I’ve even been inside,” I raised my chin. “I’ve been doing a lot of reading. But Dad has nothing to do with it,” I stated firmly. “He’s never mentioned anything to me. He never let me look at his research. I didn’t even know magic was real until I found the stupid thing by accident. I haven’t even told my friends about it, because it just seemed...too much.” No lies, just...omitting Rhys. He’s not going to be happy...

  “I’m sorry, guys,” I turned and apologized to the others. “I was going to show it to you eventually, it just...felt really private, I guess,” I said, suddenly embarrassed. He’s going to kill me.

  “Don’t,” Bea said sharply, then shook her head, letting out a long sigh and softened her tone. “Please, don’t show it to anyone. Not ever.” She gave me a long, considering look. “You want the truth, Juliet? Then swear to me that you will keep its location a total secret from this moment on. From everyone. That mirror is more important than you, or me, or this entire town. You can’t tell Simon, you can’t tell Camille,” her eyes flicked to the blonde girl, “you can’t even tell Tailor. I’m serious. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but in return you have to help me guard it.”

  I nodded slowly. Rhys already knew, but did I need to tell her that? Surely I could keep one thing to myself? “Ok,” I said. “I’ll keep the mirror a secret. Tell us about the mill.”

  She let out a breath she’d been holding. “Just remember, this is what you asked for,” she said. “You won’t like it all. The more you know, the more you have to be afraid of.”

  Camille gasped, looking out the window. Bea followed her stare but quickly lost all sense of alarm, seeing a pair of wide yellow eyes peering in.

  “Oh, don’t worry about him, he’s just hungry,” Bea said dismissively. Seeming to deflate, she looked around at us all. “Well, who else is hungry?”

  Mac raised his hand immediately. The rest of us slowly followed suit, with varying degrees of sheepishness.

  “I thought as much. Get in the kitchen before you break my china.”

  “I never get tired of the part where the imp is your pet,” Mac said, totally engrossed in watching the creature on the back porch have a staring contest with the cold pie Bea had set out there. She stood at the kitchen counter putting together something she called ‘long sandwiches’ for the others while I munched on a bag of carrots.

  “I’d hardly call it a pet,” Bea said offhand, layering a split loaf of French bread with meat, cheese, and ranch dressing. “But it’s harmless. Mostly. Imps will steal from anyone, and they look like vicious little vermin, but they’re only truly dangerous to people who wronged them when they were alive, or if you threaten them. Skittery little bastards though,” she said, eyeing the creature through the window. “I’ve been feeding that one for years and he still won’t come near me. Imps just don’t trust anything they didn’t steal.”

  “And they eat candy bars and pie?” Mac asked eagerly.

  “That one does. All imps are different. You know what they are, right?”

  “Not even slightly,” Mac said, unabashed.

  “Well,” Bea said, watching the yellow-eyed creature sniff the pie cautiously. “When people die, usually they ‘pass on’ or whatever that means. Maybe there’s another life. Maybe they vanish entirely. Who knows? But every so often, there comes some poor idiot who just can’t let go, for whatever reason.” She shrugged, opening the oven to lay both sandwich halves under the broiler.

  “So they’re ghosts?” Mac said eagerly.

  “You’re jumping ahead of me, boy,” Bea reprimanded him, closing the oven. “When a person’s heart isn’t strong enough to handle the transition, the echo of their mind becomes a ghost. That’s why ghosts can’t feel. And imps can’t think, because they’re what happens when a person’s mind is the weak half. That thing out there is a distant shadow of some poor idiot’s heart. It’s skittish, inconstant, and reacts totally on impulse. As for what it eats - that’s dependant on the person they used to be. This one won’t touch anything that’s not made of pure sugar,” she said wryly.

  Camille pulled a face.

  “Oh, that’s nothing,” Bea said, looking askance at her. “I once saw one that subsisted exclusively on frogs. It was disgusting.”

  The imp outside was buried head-first in the crust, crumbs flying upwards. My stomach twisted at the thought of those teeth turned on something living.

  “That one’s been around for some time,” Bea said. “I first saw it when I was a little girl. I have no idea how long it’s hung around Havenwood.”

  “Are you sure it’s the same one?” Destin asked.

  “I’ve never seen eyes that color before, or since,” she said. “I don’t know who he used to be, or how long he’s been dead, but I’ll tell you one thing: he hates Meredith.”

  “We noticed,” Mac said. We’d already told her about running into Meredith at the mill. She’d taken it better than I’d expected - apparently less keen on lectures than Tailor, she’d seemed to gather that we’d learned our own lesson about the Ender.

  “To be fair, I’ve yet to meet someone who doesn’t hate her,” Bea said, removing the crisped sandwich halves from the oven and deftly flipping the top half over the bottom. She set the assembled sandwich on a cutting board and sliced it into 2-inch sections. “She’s come to Havenwood twice before, in my lifetime. Her only goal is killing the Wolf.”

  “Yeah, so, I’m still kinda rusty on exactly what that is?” Mac said, reaching for a sandwich piece. “Other than apparently not an actual wolf,” he said, mouth full. Then his eyes went wide. “I just realized this is the best sandwich I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.”

  “The Wolf is a person,” Bea said, pushing the tray toward Destin and Camille before Mac could eat the entire loaf. “Or rather, it’s a bundle of power attached to a person. Kill that person, a new Wolf is born within the year. It’s impossible to predict who and where. Every one of them is bad news - the power of the Wolf inevitably corrupting the host - or so it’s said.” Her gaze out the window was distant. “I’ve seen two of them, but I’m still not convinced how inevitable that is. Meredith is convinced, though, and even if she sees proof to the contrary, she forgets. I don’t know why, but every time the Wolf is killed, her memories are wiped clean.”

  “But she’s immortal?” I asked.

  “You see the problem,” she said, with a significant look at me. “Right now, she has no more memories than you do. An immortal made of fire, with all the maturity of a teenager.”

  “No offense taken,” Mac said, mouth full of sandwich.

  Bea gives him a silencing, though not unkind, look. “You want to know about the mill fire. I’ll tell you. But I’ll need to take a step back, for you to understand my full meaning.

  “My name is Beatrix Graham, but generations ago it was Grimm. They changed it when they left the Afterlands and crossed to this side of the mirror, wanting to hide from the tyrants we’d left behind. My parents never told me,” she said, pointedly not looking at me. “They’d decided we were safe, that it was time to let history fade and melt into the rest of human
ity.” Now her eyes met mine. “Soren had other ideas.”

  Seeing the others’ looks of confusion, she explained, “Soren was a Mirrormaker - which is exactly what it sounds like. When he was a child, and still learning his powers, Soren made a few unintentional anomalies. One resulted in pulling me into the Afterlands.” Her expression was carefully blank. “I ended up spending a lot of time there, and brought some friends back here with me - orphans of war that wanted to live here, free of magic, seeking normal lives. Zinnia Wilde, my best friend, and two feral boys. Marco Heron,” she glanced at Destin, “and Omen Taft. Omen was like a little brother to us all. He’d wanted to stay and fight the war his parents had lost their lives for, but we wanted to give him something better. Something simpler. Safer. Zinnia and I got him a job hauling lumber for the mill. Marco had become a police officer. We thought we were done with the other side, that we could forget it all.

  “Then Meredith came.” Her tone was grim enough that even Mac had stopped eating, attention totally focused on her story. “I’d heard of her,” she said, a dark smile crossing her face. “She’d sounded cool, honestly. An immortal guardian protecting the world from its monsters with a righteous cleansing fire. At first, I even wanted to help her find the Wolf, when she’d declared it was hiding in our town. But that was before we knew it was Omen.”

  She crossed to the window, looking out at the imp curled up in the pie pan, sleeping off the sugar rush. “His temper had been getting worse, it was true, but we thought it was just teenage hormones. He was stronger than he had any right to be - but he was feral, so we’d chalked it up to that. I think I’d had some instinct about it, because every time Meredith wanted to visit the lumber mill, I’d distracted her...but it was only a matter of time. The instant Omen turned sixteen, Meredith knew exactly where he was. He, Zinnia and I were doing inventory at the mill. You’ve seen the remains of the place. You can imagine the rest,” she said bluntly. “He resisted, but you can’t really stop her, only slow her down. She burnt him alive. He was only sixteen. He hadn’t even hurt anyone. Yet. Yet, she said, but it was Omen, so...” I couldn’t see her expression with her back turned to us. “That’s when I knew that she was the real monster. And that was when I knew that you can’t hide from forces like that.” She looked at each of us in turn. “John Tailor still thinks you can. I won’t tell you such fairy tales. I’ve learned to err on the side of caution, but no matter if any of you have powers or not,” she glanced at Mac, “you’re involved, Juliet is right about that. Meredith has no allegiances, no sympathies, no motives beyond hunting the Wolf. She won’t hesitate to harm anyone who gets between her and her goal.” Bea looked at us intently. “So is that enough to convince you to stay out of her path?”

  “Tattoo lady is bad news,” Mac said. “Got it.”

  “But we still don’t know who she’s looking for,” I said. “I mean, who this Wolf person is.”

  Bea shrugged.

  “I think I know,” Camille said, expression stony as she looked up at me. “Well, I think Gabriel knows. I’m going to ask him.”

  “Gabriel,” Bea said darkly, “won’t tell you anything unless it’s in his best interest for you to know. He’s come to Havenwood before, and once he has whatever he’s come for, he’ll be gone. Mark my words,” she said.

  Camille stood abruptly. “Thank you for the food,” she said formally. What Bea had said must have unnerved her.

  “Yeah we better get back home before mom gets suspicious,” Mac said, snagging the last piece of the sandwich.

  After the others had left, I reached into my jacket pocket and pushed the velvet box toward Bea across the counter.

  She gasped in recognition, and for several moments seemed to be without words. Finally, she reached for it. “Where did you find this?” Bea asked softly.

  “A drawer at the mill. The note was written to you, so I thought you’d want to have it,” I said. “It seemed kind of personal.” An understatement, that was clear.

  Her eyes rested on me a moment, considering, then returned to the box, her fingers barely touching the fabric.

  “Some people,” she said absently, “are never allowed to live normal lives, however much they may wish to. No matter how hard we work to disentangle ourselves, the mirrored world pulls us back in.”

  “That’s basically what Tailor told us. But he said that if we avoid the principal, we could still leave - ”

  She laughed, abruptly. “Behind all that anger, John is an optimist, even after all that’s happened. I don’t think he can help himself. Whatever he says, he’s never truly lost hope. But he’s wrong, Juliet. The moment you were born, your fate was sealed. Your mother only complicated it by leaving you at Simon’s mercy.” She sighed. “I fear I’ve done little better by you. Can you forgive me?”

  The corner of my mouth curved up. “I should find you empty boxes more often.”

  “I was harsh on Simon,” she admitted, setting the box aside, note still tucked inside. “I felt I had to be. His father died before he was born, never even knew he existed...I was afraid to raise a child alone. My parents had died years before, and I had no relatives. I did what I thought was best. I thought that if I kept him under tight discipline, I could teach him control...I wonder now if I only made him hate me, and if I’m the one who drove him away.”

  “Is he the Wolf?” I said.

  “No, Juliet, he’s not the Wolf. The last one died sixteen years ago. Whoever it is now, they’d be about your age, if the pattern holds. Exactly what Simon is, I’ve never been able to prove. He never exhibited powers that I saw, but I know now that it’s because of John. Even when he was too young to realize it, John had been dampening the powers of those around him to an astonishing degree. I’ve never known a Null to have such a widespread effect, and we didn’t catch on to what he was doing until well after Simon and Kyra left. I’ve been trying to help John find ways to control it, but it’s been slow. There’s not much literature on the subject. His family was nearly hunted to extinction in the Afterlands before they escaped over here. As it is, he severely dampens the abilities of any fae or feral within about a mile of him. We don’t think Rin Umino has figured it out yet. If she knew his presence at the school actually hindered their plans for the students...well, there’s no way she’d keep him bound there. Likely she’d ship him to her sister’s labs to figure out what makes him tick,” she said grimly.

  “So it’s because of Tailor that Camille’s senses aren’t working?” I said, incredulous. “That’s been driving her crazy.”

  “I think it’s part of what drove Simon crazy too...” she admitted. “He was always so frustrated with his lack of powers. But John was with him all the time, so they were buried. Even I don’t know how he turned out. Surely you saw something at home?” she asked, intently. “You’re the only one who’s been close to him in the last fifteen years. You had to have seen some signs.”

  It was basically what Gabriel had said. “He wasn’t at home much,” I admitted. “He was always out, usually researching at the university. He would bring home giant stacks of books and shut himself up in his room when he was at the apartment. He only really came out for food.” I swallowed. “Or to yell at me to clean the apartment.”

  “And you with no singing mice to help you,” she smiled sadly. “I have to say, I never liked Cinderella. I just can’t get behind a heroine who doesn’t know when enough is enough.”

  “It’s hard to know what ‘enough’ is when you have nothing to compare your situation to,” I said, gaze on the pale blue countertop.

  After a moment, she pushed a jar of chocolate chip cookies into my view.

  “I’ve never thought about it that way,” Bea said, serious.

  I looked up at her gratefully. I took a bite of one, chewing thoughtfully. “So you know a lot,” I asked slowly, “about Mirrormakers?”

  Her eyebrows raised. “Just the one.”

  “What was he like?”

  Her expression was empty,
eyes on the box. “Distant,” she said at last. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I’ve heard a few things about the Ryans as a family that makes them sound...”

  “Unpleasant?” she smiled wryly.

  “But Soren wasn’t?”

  “He was a very frustrating man,” she admitted. “But he meant well. He just didn’t have as much control over his life as he did over mirrors.”

  I could have told her everything about Rhys right then, but still I held back. “So you think difficult people are worth the effort?”

  “Depends,” she said.

  “On what?”

  “On whether they have a good reason for being difficult,” she said, reaching for a cookie.

  Chapter 16

  Jul

  On Monday, I ended up behind Rhys in line for lunch. He didn't even glance at me, expression flat as he stiffly reached for a tray with a sandwich. He'd strictly kept to the pretense that we had no contact beyond school, ignoring me even more completely than he had before. And it was starting to tick me off.

  "Can you hand me a spoon?" I asked him.

  He flicked me a glance that read, Seriously? and moved on to the drink station.

  Ire rankled. I didn't care if he was some magic prince, it didn't give him a right to be this rude. Especially after all the research I'd done for him in the Tower yesterday. I'd stopped in for a few hours in the afternoon, before Bea got home from work. I hadn't found anything instructive yet, but there had been a list of different kinds of magic mirrors in one that was worth mentioning. Business arrangement or not, it wouldn't kill him to show a little gratitude.

  I moved along in line to stand next to him at the drink station. "I left you a book on the library table," I murmured, and his hand hesitated, reaching for a bottle of water. "It had a section that - "

  "Shut up," he said under his breath. "What did I tell you?"