Moon In The Mirror: A Tess Noncoire Adventure

by P. R. Frost

  “I might defeat them, but will I survive?” I whirled and shouted in the direction of Dill’s ghostly presence.

  Silence.

  That was my answer. Dill wanted me to die, so we could move onto some other plane of existence together. Or have our spirits cease altogether. He didn’t care if I lived or died. He was already dead. Why shouldn’t I be as well?

  This time I flung the photo and frame away like a Frisbee. It bounced against the ice, slid and slithered to the edge. There it teetered a moment.

  “I can’t believe you did this!” Dill protested. “I may not be able to hit you, but I know things that can!” His form flickered in and out of view.

  My heart rose in my throat, almost hoping the Goddess would reject this offering as well. Had I ever truly been happy since Dill died? Would I ever be a complete person without him?

  Remember the times he told you to stop writing to go rock hunting with him? Scrap whispered. Remember how often he found other things for you to do rather than write? He didn’t want you to be complete. He wanted to own and control you.

  A puff of wind caught the frame and made it sway. Back and forth it teetered on the edge of acceptance, on the brink of rejection and reality.

  I think I gasped. My drying tears burned icy trails on my cheeks.

  Then with an audible sigh, the wind let the frame go and it plunged into the water.

  The moon sank below the horizon, gobbling up the thing I treasured most. The thing I needed to let go of most.

  Chapter 31

  DRAINED AND EXHAUSTED, physically and emotionally, I let Gollum lead me back toward the house. I rested my head against his shoulder. His arm enveloped me, warming me against the chills that racked my body, inside and out.

  Maybe I cried.

  Maybe I was beyond tears.

  Scrap settled on my free shoulder, rubbing his insubstantial face against mine.

  They knew what this had cost me.

  I wasn’t certain I did. Yet.

  Dill remained anchored to the edge of the pond, staring helplessly at the black hole in the center of the ice.

  As we stepped free of the woods, a little more light filled my side yard, between the house and cottage.

  I straightened away from Gollum. The lawn should be in total darkness. The moon had set and a fine mist covered the stars.

  The mounds that had been ugly garden gnomes were missing. Had the Goddess banished them when She accepted my votive offering?

  I should have such luck.

  Gollum pointed to the cottage where a dim light seeped beneath the blinds in the living room. A vague shadow stood under the window.

  I must have made a noise. The shadow turned and beckoned us forward.

  Senses alert, Scrap on my hand, ready to lengthen and sharpen into the Celestial Blade, I shifted my balance to an aggressive stance and stepped into the shadows.

  “Listen!” WindScribe hissed with a finger to her lips.

  I just barely heard her.

  Gollum stayed close behind me as we pressed ourselves against the rough siding. His head remained a scant three inches beneath the window ledge.

  Angry whispers drifted to my ears.

  “You have to do your part, D,” Darren demanded. Though of a similar mode, it was deeper and more commanding than Donovan’s.

  “No. You’ve stepped way beyond the bounds of decency on this one, D,” Donovan returned. I could imagine well his tense stance with fists clenched, shoulders hunched, and head thrust forward. I’d seen him on the edge of a fight before. I’d also seen him dissipate strong emotions in a crowd ready to turn into a riot.

  Why wasn’t he doing that to his foster father?

  Maybe he couldn’t. Darren had his own talent to lull fears and calm anger. He was probably immune to the same magic in others.

  “What does decency have to do with it?” Darren said casually, no trace of emotion. “We are pledged to a mission. The end is in sight.”

  “Not this way. Not with Tess’ life in jeopardy.”

  “If she needs to be eliminated, like that worthless traitor Dillwyn Bailey Cooper, then she will be.”

  I nearly choked on my own breath.

  “Tess, no,” Gollum stopped me with panicked words and a fierce grip on my arms. “If you charge in there now, your mother will hear everything. Are you ready for that? Scrap may not be able to help you. He can’t get near Donovan.”

  Rational good sense. I didn’t want to hear any of it.

  “He knows something about Dill’s death. He suggested that he murdered my husband.” I was shaking again. My teeth chattered.

  Where was Dill at this moment of truth? He should be in on this.

  I needed to do something.

  “Hush, they’re still talking,” WindScribe said. That girl was starting to unnerve me. She was everywhere, sticking her nose into everyone else’s business but her own.

  And she never wore a coat or shoes. How much of Faery still clung to her?

  I wondered if there was a lock that could hold her. I really wanted to put her away somewhere secure until this was all over.

  Gollum pushed me back to our place beneath the window. I dragged my feet, looking over my shoulder to the front steps. Ten paces away. I could bolt and run.

  “What about the witch, WindScribe? You going to kill her, too?” Donovan demanded.

  “No need. She’s so stupid and naïve she’ll end up getting herself killed. King Scazzamurieddu needn’t be so diligent in his duty. She’ll be a lot less trouble to the universe meddling in this dimension, than bribing prison guards with sex and diamonds.” Darren yawned. “She barely needed my help to escape.”

  My ears pricked. Darren had aided her prison break! He also sounded like he knew why my charge had been imprisoned. Donovan probably knew, too.

  “I went along with you on the necessity of eliminating Cooper. He was a loose cannon, ready to spill our plans to the wrong people. I am as committed to your Great Enterprise as you. I was committed before I fell! That’s why I did fall,” Donovan ground out.

  Fell from what? I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. I needed to hear more.

  “Then act like you think this is important.”

  “I won’t let you hurt Tess. Or her mother,” Donovan insisted.

  “You don’t have a choice. I am head of this clan. Leader in the Great Enterprise of creating . . .”

  “I am not part of your clan. I never have been. I was given to you because I resembled your bat form. You manipulated the Powers That Be to see things your way without a thought for what was best for me. Nothing binds us. And I will stop you from hurting Tess.”

  “Not bloody likely, boy. I am stronger than you. And I have the backing of the clan.”

  “The clan is scattered. Your children are more interested in staying human, blending in. They’re too inbred to have the intelligence to be useful.”

  “My children are dedicated!” Darren wailed. “They would never deny their true heritage.”

  Sounded like rationalization to me.

  “Your children are dedicated to fast cars, skiing in the Alps, snorkeling in Fiji, and electronic toys,” Donovan laughed. “Who do you think are my biggest customers for computer games? Your children.”

  A long silence followed. Long enough that I wondered if I should retreat while I could.

  “It’s just you and me here, D,” Donovan said. “You don’t have the clan to back you up.”

  “You’ve been spoiling for a fight for a long time, D. If I didn’t find you useful upon occasion, I’d take you down right now,” Darren replied.

  “Name the time and place. But not here. Not where Tess and her mother could be caught in the backlash.”

  Darren laughed. An evil, hideous sound that echoed around the cottage and the immediate environs.

  New chills ran up and down my spine. I wondered that Mom didn’t hear it and cry out in alarm.

  “I’ll find you, when I’m ready, D. Until then
, watch your mouth and watch your back.” The sound of a fist hitting flesh. Someone stumbled. A lamp crashed to the floor.

  What little light there was vanished.

  Before I could react, Donovan stormed out of the cottage and over to his car. He raced the engine and skidded on the gravel as he turned onto the main road.

  “Next time, D. Next time I’ll be the one who does the hitting, and you the falling,” Darren chuckled. “But then you’ve already fallen once.” He silently closed the door.

  Time for answers. I marched up to the worn wooden steps of the cottage.

  Both Gollum and WindScribe caught me.

  “Not now, Tess. Wait until morning when you have a clear head,” Gollum insisted. “And Allie to back you up.”

  “I’m cold,” WindScribe whined.

  I could see tears in her eyes and moisture gathering around her nose. She was my responsibility—at least until noon tomorrow—even if she didn’t have enough sense to get in out of the cold.

  Had my mother ever felt this exasperated, frustrated, aching with grief and bewilderment when she had to deal with three fractious teenagers alone, after her divorce from Dad?

  Most likely.

  If she could cope, so could I.

  But first thing in the morning I was going to corner Darren and demand explanations. With or without my mother present. A violent showdown was coming. Soon. I felt it in my bones.

  Silently, the three of us trooped back to the house. I sent WindScribe up to my bathroom to take a hot shower and go to bed. I didn’t want to follow her. I wasn’t ready to close down my mind and body for the night.

  “I’ve got a bottle of single malt,” Gollum offered.

  “Did it start as my bottle?”

  “Nope. Bought this one all on my own. Highland Park, you usually go for the more expensive stuff.”

  “Tonight I’ll take it. Even if it isn’t as complex as Lagavulin. ”

  “I’d call Highland Park a full and robust flavor, without the taint of iodine from exposure to the sea,” Gollum said. He kept his arm around me as he guided me toward his sofa.

  “But Lagavulin is the fire of the gods wrapped in velvet. ”

  The sharp amber liquid he poured for me burst upon my tongue like something magic and wonderful, then warmed me all the way to my toes as it slid down my throat. Sipping scotch is a three-step process. First the sniff. Highland Park has a flowery touch to the nose. Then roll the sip around the inside of the mouth. Here the flavors of peat and salt and other good things come into play. Then the swallow and the whiskey explodes like fireworks against the taste buds.

  “Usquebaugh!” I sighed. “The water of life.”

  “Whiskey. The only word in the English dictionary acknowledged to have come from the Gaelic,” Gollum said. For once he didn’t have his professor face on. “Although I have my own theories about the word quaff. Is it derived from quaich, a footed beer cup? The only proper beverage one quaffs is of course beer. Quaffed from a quaich.” He sounded a little tiddly on only one shot. Usually he needed more. A lot more to get drunk.

  “Do you ever turn it off?”

  “Turn what off?”

  “Your head. All the vast quantities of esoteric trivia stashed there.”

  “Upon occasion.”

  “Like when?”

  “When I’m making love to a beautiful woman,” he said in a rush, then blushed.

  “What did you say?” I couldn’t have heard him right. I didn’t want to have heard him right.

  "Well, uh . . . um . . .”

  “Never mind.” Dangerous subject. Even more dangerous the way he looked over the top of his glasses at me, then hastily looked away, afraid I might catch his gaze. And hold it.

  “Well, hit me with some more trivia. Like anything you’ve learned about the Orculli trolls that will help me fight them. Anything you’ve gleaned about the Great Enterprise of the demon world. Anything you might have heard on your occult grapevine about my dead husband.”

  Chapter 32

  A child born on the first day of the full moon is said to enjoy a long and healthy life. But those who take sick on this day are in for a lengthy and serious illness. Possibly fatal.

  ONCE MORE I WOKE up on Gollum’s couch. This time morning light streamed through the windows. It looked like the weather had finally broken and we might, just might, be headed for a warming spell.

  Could this be the Goddess breaking the hold of the Orculli on our weather? Gollum had said that unseasonable cold was often attributed to the little trolls.

  The Windago also brought unseasonable freezes.

  Whatever. I welcomed the warmth and basked in comfort for just a moment.

  Gollum had pulled a soft open-weave blanket over me and tucked it under my chin. I was fully dressed and he was nowhere in sight.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I may have spent the night with him, but I hadn’t slept with him.

  “Coffee,” I sighed as the rich scent wafted in from the main house. The door was open, and I heard muted conversation.

  Yawning and stretching, I wandered through the house, checking for signs of anything out of place on my way into the kitchen. Sleep still made my eyes and limbs heavy. Or was that the aftermath of too much scotch?

  Gollum was making a huge pot of coffee, humming along to a CD of filk. He had a fine tenor. The first time we’d gone to a con together he’d bonded with my filking friends. He’d also pushed me to sing long before I was ready. When I finally did, at a belated wake for a dear friend, he’d been as responsible for freeing my voice as anyone.

  For a moment I was glad I had claimed him in front of the Windago and the Orculli.

  Mom manned the stove. The enticing scent of sizzling sausages wafted toward me. I also caught the rich doughy smell of steaming waffles. Heaven.

  Gollum handed me a large glass of orange juice and a fistful of vitamins.

  “Thank you. Bless you. How did you know?”

  “I had more scotch than you did.” His eyes twinkled behind his glasses. He looked good this morning. Freshly showered and shaved, in a forest-green silk turtleneck covered by a Nordic sweater in more shades of green and brown and his usual chocolate-colored cords.

  He looked better than I did with my tousled curls and splotchy eyes.

  “You look like you slept in those jeans, Tess,” Mom said sharply.

  Well, I had.

  “Breakfast is ready. You’ll have to change later.” She was back in her new white pants suit with the ruby blouse. Her inevitable pearls graced her neck. Every hair was in place, and her makeup was perfect.

  She had a tightness about her eyes and a tremor to her hands that told me she’d had a migraine and taken heavy drugs to combat it. The pain might have vanished, but the pills left her fragile, almost frail.