by Alex Rivers
“She’ll see what happens… she’ll feel it in her skin… in the rocks buried in her marrow. They’ll all feel it… trapped. Everyone will die. No one will ever trap me again. Not me.” She approached another pillar, giggling, her laughter echoing hollowly off the ceiling. “Six geese a-laying… what comes next? Seven swans a-swimming? Eight pillars a-falling… Shouldn’t have trapped me…”
She crouched, gently laying the jar on the ground. My stomach clenched. This was the moment to strike—nothing in her hands but the mirror.
I lunged, and she whirled to look at me—gripping another, smaller jar. It glowed red in her palm.
Her eyes looked sunken in her pale face, and tattered clothes hung off her bony frame. She had a feverish look in her eyes.
“Hello, life stealer.” She lifted the jar high, making me freeze. “Move, and I drop this.”
“If you drop that, you die.” My breathing shallowed.
“You think I’m scared of death after what you did to me?” she shouted. “I’ll die happy, knowing you and your friends and your lover will suffocate in rubble. Or maybe I’ll shimmer away just in time.” She giggled. “It seems like poetic justice. You stole my life, I steal yours. You trap me, I trap you. I want to finish what I started when I killed your parents. My parents. I had to kill them,” she added defensively.
“What are you doing, Siofra? Working with the Seelie? Is that what the Rix would have really wanted?”
“Well… let’s ask him.” A line formed between her eyebrows. “Rix, would you want me to work with the Seelie?”
Silence reigned over the hall. Was she hallucinating?
She shook her head mournfully. “Why won’t he answer? Oh yeah. You killed him.”
“If you destroy this place, you’ll kill Grendel, the head of the Weala Broc Court. You’ll kill members of your own house, one the Rix—”
“Grendel can rot in Hell!” she spat. “After he’s gone, things will be much simpler.”
Okay. Wrong approach. I took a step closer, eyeing the jar. “Siofra—”
“Uh-uh!” She raised the jar a fraction higher. “One more step, and I’ll drop it, thief. You’re the profiler. Do I seem like I’m lying?”
Maybe she wasn’t afraid of dying, but she was afraid of something. A thrumming pulse of fear beat from her chest. You trap me, I trap you. Maybe she was like me. Terrified of becoming trapped.
In any case, I could feed from her fear. I breathed it in, letting it strengthen me, pulse through my blood. “I think you’re serious. But do you really want to risk getting trapped down here, Siofra? Suffocating under the rock?” Just the thought of it made my heart skip a beat. Was I touching on Siofra’s fears, or my own?
Her dark eyes bored a hole into me. “Stop talking. I’ve got six jars of Seelie explosives, and I’m going to bury this whole outpost in dust.” She glanced at the mirror. “What do you think?” She looked at her own reflection.
There was a moment as she stared at the mirror, a small smile on her face. I prepared to tackle her, when she looked back at me, and said, “Abellio thinks I should leave now.”
I stared at the glowing red jar in her hand. If she jumped through the reflection, I would have to catch it before it hit the floor.
“But I want more,” she said, her feverish eyes on me. “I want you to go through what I went through.”
She grabbed the jar with the hand holding the mirror, freeing her other hand. Then, she rummaged in her pocket and took out a small bottle. “I have something for you. A Seelie hag gave me this. This potion drains your power. If you drink it, I won’t bury your friends.” Her voice grew sing-song. “All I’ll do is trap you, in the world between mirrors. With no magic to leave it. Trapped, forever. Like I was. But your friends get to live. You just have to choose.”
“Bullshit.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Bullshit? I promise it. Just drink it, and your newlywed friends will have a happy honeymoon. Roan will get to live.”
I swallowed hard. What choice did I have here? Was it possible she was playing on my own fears? A desperation to avoid cowardice warred with my terror of becoming trapped.
She glanced at the mirror. “Abellio isn’t happy with me,” she cooed. “He didn’t know about this part of the plan.”
I swallowed. She was serious. “Okay.” I took a step forward, holding out my hand. “Just let everyone else go.”
“Don’t move!” she shouted. “I’ll kick the bottle over to you.”
She put the bottle on the floor, holding the red jar high above her head. Then, straightening, she kicked the bottle. It rolled over to me, pinging against my foot.
“Pick it up. Gently.”
I bent. Picked it up. It felt heavy in my hands. Much heavier than a bottle this size should have been.
“Now drink it. All of it.”
With shaking hands, I uncorked it, thinking of Roan, of the way his body felt wrapped around mine. I raised the potion to my lips, Siofra’s eyes intent on me.
That’s when my shadow rammed into her, knocking her to the floor.
“The jar!” I screamed.
The shadowy hand closed on the jar as it dropped, softening the blow. I let out a long breath when Branwen’s shadow magic caught it. I lunged at Siofra, rage burning. Her fear hit me like a wave—but just before I reached her, she leaped into her mirror. Then she disappeared, the mirror clattering to the floor.
I snatched it from the ground, staring at Siofra and Abellio through the reflection.
“Give me the jar,” I said to my own shadow.
She handed it over. Oh, Siofra. You forgot something.
Just as I reared back my arm to throw it, Siofra looked at me and severed the connection.
“Damn.” My breath was coming fast, in panicked bursts. I glanced at my shadow. “Thanks—”
My voice died as I felt the jar in my hand warming up, the red liquid glowing brighter. My stomach clenched. All around me, the jars in the room pulsed with light, some of them starting to smoke.
“The jars!” I barked at the shadow. “Quick!”
My chest tightened, cold sweat beading on the back of my neck. I needed to throw this thing out of here. But everywhere around here was full of people—where in London could I find a place with no people in it?
I swallowed hard.
The Thames.
I scanned through reflections in the mirror, until I called up the dark, gleaming water of the Thames. If I could throw this jar deep into the water… I let my mind bond with the reflection, opening the link. Then, I threw the jar. It sank into the Thames with a splash, before reddened water exploded into the air. Good. It had worked—the explosion had been contained within the river.
We bolted toward different pillars. I scooped a jar from the floor, nearly dropping it as it burned my hand. Screaming in pain, I tossed it through the reflection. The shadow ran over to me, giving me another jar, which I quickly threw after the previous one.
I ran to another jar and closed my hand on it. It was like grabbing a live coal. Whimpering in pain, I dropped it into the reflection. My shadow was holding one of the remaining jars, and it followed their predecessors.
We were almost done—just one left. My shadow went for it, whisking it from the floor. I held out my hand, nervously eyeing the bright red glow, burning hotter, brighter in my shadow’s hand.
The last thing I saw, before my body flew backward, was a bright, white flash.
A high-pitched noise rang in my ear. I coughed, panic rising when I realized I couldn’t hear myself, my own breathing. Just that high pitched sound. Dizziness overwhelmed me, and in my blurred vision, I could see only gray. When I tried moving my arm, a jolt of pain screamed up to my shoulder, the agony exploding in my mind. I screamed uncontrollably. At least, I thought I did. I couldn’t hear anything but the ringing.
Panicking, I sucked in a deep breath, my lungs filling with debris. I coughed violently, sputtering bile, my lungs burning. Each cough fel
t like blades slashing through my ribs, my back. Pain gripped my mind, and for a minute, my vision went dark.
When it returned, I tried to breathe more slowly. I could glimpse shapes, which meant a chink of light pierced the darkness from somewhere. I just couldn’t see anything clearly. When I tried moving my right leg, I could wiggle it slightly. My right arm was twisted behind my back, trapped in an unnatural, painful position, impossible to budge. I could move my left arm, but when I did, pain ripped it apart.
Something heavy pressed against my leg and my stomach, making it hard for me to breathe. I tried shifting, but agony pierced my body. I whimpered, then called for Roan, for Branwen—anyone who could help me.
When my eyes focused a bit more, I had a better idea of where I was—under a mound of rubble. A large rock crushed my stomach, pinning me in place. A sharp-looking piece of stone dug into my left leg. Above my head, I had a tiny gap—a gap of three inches that had saved my life. My head pounded, but it hadn’t been crushed. I couldn’t twist my neck enough to see my left arm, but it felt broken, in two places, at least.
Trapped. Trapped in the darkness, with the rats.
Pure panic began to sink its claws into my mind, and I unleashed scream after scream, until I broke into sobs. Trapped. I would be here forever, would never leave, would have to feed on rats, to live in the stench.
I writhed, pain becoming my companion, but I refused to let it control me.
I need to get out of here.
Trapped under the rock and rubble, I’d never see Roan again. I’d never feel his arms around me, or smell his mossy, musky scent. I’d never sit in front of his fireplace, curled in his lap, or hear stories from his childhood. Roan.
With one painful heave, I yanked out the arm trapped behind my body, searing my shoulder with pain. The agony stole my breath, and I gasped for air. After another minute, I could appreciate this small victory. My arm was free, and I could use it. I glanced at my scratched, bare wrist, thinking longingly of my mirror bracelets—gone, along with my purse.
I nudged a rock by my face—the one closest to the light source. The rubble shifted, debris raining down onto my face. I clamped my eyes shut, freezing. One wrong movement, and it would drop it all on my head, killing me.
Carefully, slowly, I brushed away the small pebbles and rocks above me, trying to clear the debris around the shaft of light without nudging the larger rock. The shaft of light grew wider. I screamed for help again, my voice now barely audible over the ringing. Could anyone hear me? Was anyone else free, or had the rubble trapped them too? I still couldn’t hear a thing.
My head throbbed, and I closed my eyes, the fog of sleep drifting into my mind.
The pain in my chest woke me again, and I swallowed thickly, my throat dry.
Only—now, I could feel something else. I could feel fear thrumming through the rocks, a sense of worry and dread. And I knew the source. Roan was letting me feel his emotions through the bond. I tried to strengthen the bond, to let him feel my emotions, too.
Roan. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m under the rocks.
I let my fear flow through the bond, calling him to me. Could my terror lure Roan here? Time crawled by slowly, the minutes ticking on as I heard rocks shifting, shouts in the distance… hours, maybe, the rocks pressing into my gut, but he couldn’t quite find me. Maybe my fear wasn’t enough.
What had Roan said?
Fear wasn’t the most powerful emotion. It was love. I didn’t know if that was true for everyone; maybe we weren’t all alike. But it was true for Roan.
I closed my eyes, thinking of him in his kitchen, carefully making me the spiced cider. I thought of him crawling into my bed to protect me from my own nightmares, soothing me from my fears.
And then, suddenly, the weight across my stomach lifted, and Roan’s powerful silhouette appeared in the light.
With Roan standing above me, it was safe to drift away again.
Chapter 18
I remembered flashes of white ceiling lamps and a distant sound of shouting, a phone ringing, the smell of antiseptic cleansers. Torrents of fear pulsing through my blood, and my battered body drinking it like a sponge. Somehow, throughout it all, I remembered Roan’s soothing presence, his earthy scent.
At last, my eyelids fluttered as I awoke in a soft bed. My left arm pulsed with pain. Agony burned in my palm, legs, stomach, lungs—but my arm was the worst. I winced, hissing through my teeth.
“You’re awake.” Roan’s face instantly appeared above me, pain etched on his own features. “What do you need?”
“Water,” I croaked. “And something for the pain.”
He moved out of my vision, and I looked at the room around me—the dark wooden walls of Roan’s room, back in his mansion. He returned a moment later, holding a glass of water. I tried to reach for it and gasped in pain.
“Here. Let me.” Gently, he lifted my head behind my neck, then put the glass to my lips. He tipped it slightly, and the cool water hit my lips. Glorious.
I took two enormous gulps of water, soothing my scratched throat. Then he pulled a plastic pill bottle from his pocket.
“Alvin said this would help. They’re some sort of human tablets of healing.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
He tried to unscrew the top for several seconds, and then stopped, frowning. “There’s something wrong with it.”
I would have smiled, if the pain hadn’t been this bad. “It’s child-proofed. And fae-proofed as well. You have to push the cap down when twisting it.”
“This is absurd.”
“Trust me.”
He did as he was told, and after several failed attempts, tore the cap off in frustration, breaking the plastic bottle.
“That works,” I mumbled.
He frowned down at me. “Alvin said two. Open.”
When I opened my mouth, he put two pills on my tongue, and held the water for me again. I drank the pills down and coughed. Then I waited a bit, trying to remember what had happened. From my hazy memories, I thought I’d been in a hospital. In fact, I could remember clearly the antiseptic smell of an emergency room.
“Was I in a hospital?” I asked.
“I took you to six of them,” Roan said. “Every emergency ward in the area. I wanted you to soak up the human fear, then I pulled you out before anyone would touch you. I didn’t want the human doctors poisoning you.”
I blinked, remembering shouting—it probably hadn’t been easy for Roan to pull me away. I knew why he didn’t want them to touch me. Any blood test would find me dangerously deficient in iron. If they tried to correct that, it could kill me.
I tried to remember what had happened before the hospital—the explosions, the rubble. “The wedding guests… What happened? How many were hurt?”
“None. You stopped it. You were the only one who was hurt in the explosion.”
“Branwen?”
“I gather it isn’t pleasant to control a shadow when it explodes, but she’s recovering.”
“Do you know what happened to Siofra and Abellio?”
“We found neither. Branwen told us what had happened.”
I shut my eyes, relieved I didn’t have to describe the meeting with Siofra myself.
“I’m sorry it took so long to find you. I could hardly sense you, you were so weak. I thought you were dying. There were mounds of rubble, and we moved slowly, afraid that if we dug too fast, the rubble would collapse, killing you.” His voice cracked, and I could feel a twinge of fear through our bond. Fear, and love.
“I’m okay,” I reassured him. “Alive.”
“You almost—”
“I’m alive.” I grinned at him, then grimaced in pain. “And healing. Thanks for saving me.”
I was just drifting back to sleep when I heard him say, “Thanks for saving us all.”
When I woke again, my vision slowly sharpened on Scarlett’s worried face. For a moment, I felt a surge of comfort as I looked at my oldest friend.
“Yeah.”
That’s when I froze. I was still in Roan’s mansion. “Scarlett?” I nearly shouted. “What the hell are you doing here?” In Scarlett’s world, all the Unseelie were the enemy.
“I convinced Elrine to let me in.”
“Oh.” Elrine and Scarlett had shared some very unpleasant time in Siofra’s captivity, leaving them with twin scars on their backs. It had resulted in a very fragile trust between them.
“I’ve been waiting outside Roan’s house ever since we learned about the attack. There were multiple confirmations that the Mistress of Dread had been hurt, perhaps killed.” Scarlett said, breathless. “I came straight here, and when I saw Elrine, I approached her. She agreed to let me in alone.”
I frowned. “I doubt she understands the CIA’s capabilities of infiltration.” I loved Scarlett, but this exposed the glamoured mansion’s entrance to the CIA.
Scarlett shrugged. “She said she didn’t really care if we knew how to enter. Something about this mansion not being in Roan’s possession for long…?”
“Oh, right.” Elrine didn’t care if the CIA knew where Grendel lived.
“What happened, Cass?”
“I ran into Siofra. She tried to blow me up.”
Scarlett’s face visibly paled. I felt a jolt of raw fear from her. “Siofra? I thought she was contained.”
“She got out.”
Scarlett looked around. When she saw the mirror behind her, she shifted her position so she was facing it. “She could be anywhere, then.”
I tried to think of something that would reassure her, but I had nothing. Maybe Siofra would target Scarlett. Maybe she was even watching us right now. I scrambled to think of what to say next. After a few seconds, Scarlett’s initial fear slowly abated, as if she was calming herself down. She wasn’t easily scared. Her fear was a gut reaction to the trauma she had gone through.
