by Alex Rivers
He stammered for a moment, then continued, “Well, of course you’re all-knowing, but… We’ve been warned of a possible break in, goddess. They’ve stationed more guards, and replaced our ammunition two days ago.”
“Give me your gun. Now!” I barked.
Terrified, he unslung his machine gun, then handed it over to me. I took out the magazine, and brushed my fingers over the top bullet. I shivered at the feel of it.
Iron.
My mind flew into high gear. The humans had replaced their bullets with iron. They’d told them to patrol this area specifically. Were they expecting us?
And then it began clicking into place. I glanced around, the strange location of the armory suddenly making a terrible sort of sense: a narrow spot between two walls. Just in the corner. My heart skipped a beat.
It was the perfect spot for an ambush. We’d walked right into a trap.
I heard the click behind me as the mirth fae finally picked the lock. My pulse raced. “Don’t open that—”
Before I could finish my sentence, the door exploded with a bright orange light, a blazing magical fire. It flung me back, temporarily blinding me. Flames had ignited my clothing. Frantically, I rolled on the ground to extinguish them until I heard the hiss of flames doused on the damp ground. Bright spots flashed in my vision—the aftereffects of the blast.
The world seemed hazy as I stumbled to my feet, blinking. Through the ringing in my ears, I could hear screams of pain. Dizzy, I blinked, and as my vision cleared, nausea rose in my gut. Charred bodies lay on the cobbled ground. I searched for Roan, desperate to find him in the smoke. I couldn’t see him, but I felt him through our bond. He was fine. I could sense his relief as he sensed me as well.
“We have to go!” I shouted. “The guards have iron!”
As soon as the words were out, blasts of automatic gunfire pierced the night. Ricocheting bullets flashed off the stone walls around us. I dove to the ground, huddling in a corner.
Fae fell around me, and I desperately scanned for Carter, the human guard. He crouched in the shadows.
“Call your men!” I screamed at him. “Tell them to cease fire!”
He nodded, reaching for his radio. Just as he did, a stray bullet pierced his skull. He went limp, blood pooling from his head.
Sharp tendrils of horror wound through me as I took in the carnage around me, panic rising in my chest. “Damn it!” I screamed. I felt a desperate need to get to Roan, to protect him. As the smoke cleared, I caught a glimpse of him, twenty feet away. I glanced at the mirror, letting my mind click with a reflection right next to him. I leaped in, ready to fight by his side. As the reflection washed over my skin, my instincts flared. The reflection felt wrong.
I stood between reflections, trapped in the In Between.
I’d been between mirrors thousands of times before. Almost always, it had been just a fraction of a second.
Siofra had been here a lot longer.
Dread crawled up my spine. It looked different, as if it had been… arranged somehow.
Normally, I could instinctively feel exactly where I was needed to go to get through the next reflection. Now, reflections surrounded me, and they all felt the same, looked the same. Through each one, I could see carnage at the Tower of London. I scanned the chaos until I found Roan, barking orders from an arched doorway where he’d taken cover from the gunfire.
Panic stole my breath. I felt like I was trying to walk, only to suddenly feel the ground shift and move around me, unable to place my feet.
Desperately, I ran toward one of the reflections, but I couldn’t feel the coolness of it washing over my skin. I plunged through—into the same place where I’d started. That reflection had been an illusion.
Even in my panicked state, I knew the truth. This was the final piece of the trap, carefully planned by Siofra. She’d known I would jump through the reflections.
This was her realm. I’d trapped her inside the In Between for months, giving her the chance to get to know this place really well, to understand how it could be manipulated and changed. How to turn it into a magical prison.
My heart thundered as I stared through the reflections, unable to help, unable to get to Roan. Protect him, my mind screamed. Through our bond, I could feel Roan’s rising panic as he realized he couldn’t find me. He had no idea where I was.
As I stared through the reflection at the sky above the parapets, I watched something swoop. It was the flying banshees, attacking the armed human guards. Swiftly, the banshees began hurling the humans from the walls. The machine gun fire slowed as the fae began to have the upper hand, and the humans tried to run.
Frantic, I lunged through another reflection. And another. And another. They all led me back to the In Between.
Trapped.
For the past few months, I’d been terrified of becoming trapped in a place with no exits. It had never occurred to me that I could be trapped in a place made of infinite exits.
Horrified, I watched the multitude of reflections as fae and humans died, unable to do anything about it. I looked on as the fae butchered the humans who had shot them, mad fury in their eyes. Helpless, utterly helpless. Then the Seelie appeared, clad in their gleaming, platinum armor. My stomach turned as my vision homed in on the one dark-haired fae among them. Gripping an enormous sword, Abellio led the charge.
I might have screamed in fury—I wasn’t sure. Here, in the In Between, normal sound didn’t exist. All I knew was that my loathsome half-brother was driving his sword into a wounded Weala Broc warrior.
The visions played a thousand times around me. Endless reflections mirroring my brother as he moved between the burned and hurt Unseelie, his sword hacking fast, killing them.
Horror tightened its claws around me as I caught a glimpse of my bodyguard, Lannosea, lying on the ground. Blood seeped from her side. Abellio lifted his sword. At the last moment, someone jumped in front of him. Nerius. Thank God for Nerius.
Their swords clashed, and I silently prayed that the gutter fae would eviscerate my brother.
But Nerius had been badly hurt already. Burns marred the side of his face, his hands. Blood streaked his leg as he stumbled, perhaps the result of an iron bullet lodged in it. He was on the defensive, parrying Abellio’s thrusts and slashes, but he didn’t seem to manage to attack back. Perhaps it was a trick? I had seen him feign weakness during a battle, to catch his opponents unaware.
With my heart slamming against my ribs, I tried rushing through another reflection, and another. Trapped. Trapped. Trapped. As I futilely plunged through them, again and again, I caught sight of Nerius.
He was lying still, Abellio’s blade thrust through his throat. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
Then, without giving it a second thought, my brother stabbed at Lannosea, the sword plunging into her chest.
Among the survivors, I spotted Roan. His blade arced through the air, sparking in the moonlight as he kept the Seelie at bay.
Abellio turned to me, his blue eyes meeting mine.
I didn’t know what he was looking at exactly. A reflection in a small window, maybe a puddle. All I knew was that he could see me, and he was enjoying my torment.
He smiled, then walked into the shadows.
Another of the Unseelie fell. The Seelie closed in on the remaining Unseelie, outnumbering our forces by four to one.
My mind screamed Protect Roan until it drowned out all other thoughts in my skull. Pure fear coiled around me. Fear… fear is my way out of this.
I stared at the battle lines. Time slowed as I searched for their fear. As their movements slowed, I felt the tendrils of fear ripple over my skin. They felt weak, as if coming from a thousand miles away. I tried to concentrate, tried to figure the right way to follow them, but it was like trying to follow the buzzing of a fly in another country.
And then I felt something else: a force of dread, just like the Stone’s. Only it was stronger here. In fact, I was pretty sure it was beckoning me toward one of the reflectio
ns, its tug almost impossible to avoid. It almost seemed tangible, a damp and heavy dread. Was that the way out? Through one of the reflections, I glimpsed a cloying darkness, heard the voice of running water, felt the heaviness of wet soil. And that powerful pull, tugging me relentlessly from inside my chest. Something through that reflection wanted me to move closer. I stepped closer to the darkness, and an icy shudder slithered up my spine.
No. If I kept moving in that direction, the darkness would swallow me whole.
I pulled back, breathing hard. Roan had only minutes left, perhaps less. If I followed the tug of that power, I would never get to him in time.
I pivoted to another reflection, staring as Roan hacked into another Seelie, blood pouring from a wound in his forehead.
No no no no no. I felt for our bond. I could feel him out there, desperate and angry. But how the hell could I get to him?
He risked a lunge, hundreds of Roans leaping forward in front of me, and a spear nearly impaled him. Under his wrath, I could feel another emotion, the one as desperate for me as I was for him. The one tinged with the honeyed tones of love.
Roan was right: Love was more powerful than fear.
I focused on our bond, focused on our love. It would lead me out of this labyrinth. It was strong, it was everywhere.
Only—it was unfocused.
I couldn’t pinpoint the direction, couldn’t find the origin because it wrapped itself around me like an embrace.
A seed of an idea bloomed in my mind. Still holding on to our bond, feeling it, clinging to it, I unfurled my senses, searching for those tendrils of dread again. Shutting my eyes, I let Roan’s emotions flow through me, mingling with the tendrils of fear from the battle. Love and fear, bound together—a beacon in the chaos. It was all coming from one direction, one reflection.
I’m coming for you, Roan. I plunged into the reflection, the cold magic washing over my skin.
Back in the real world again, my senses threatened to overwhelm me, the clanging blades and the screams intermingling. The scent of burnt flesh curled around me.
Sucking in a breath, I looked straight at the horde of Seelie surrounding my friends.
And then I raised the machine gun in my hands.
Chapter 28
The methodical, relentless fire from my gun deafened me. I shut down the turmoil in my brain, trying to focus on the task at hand. Aim and fire, aim and fire.
Shoot every Seelie that was exposed, avoid hitting allies. For better control, I fired manually, one at a time. Calm. Cold. Mechanical.
As the Seelie took cover, my allies were quick to press the advantage, and the tables began to turn. We slowly surrounded the Seelie, trapping them between bullets and fae swords. Roan’s golden-eyed gaze met mine, relief flooding through him at the sight of me. From the other side of the line of Seelie, he cut through them with his sword like an angel of vengeance.
After what felt like hours of violence, his sword drew a final arc, cutting through the neck of the last Seelie standing.
An eerie silence fell over us, and I let the machine gun fall to my side as I scanned the survivors.
“Cassandra.” In an instant Roan was by my side, his eyes searching mine. “I couldn’t find you. I could feel you, but I couldn’t find you.”
I touched the side of his face, feeling his warmth, the love that had led me here. “Siofra laid a trap for us. She caught me between the mirrors. I followed our bond to get back to you.”
“We were lucky to get out of this alive,” he said darkly.
My throat tightened as I looked around us. All that remained of our invading horde were seven Unseelie warriors: Roan stood with two Weala Broc males, bloodied and gasping for breath. Lord Balor gripped his sword, his face red, steam curling from his nostrils. One of his men stood by his side, practically vibrating with rage. Lord Judoc wrapped his arms protectively around Elrine, talking quietly to her.
But the other casualties turned my stomach. Lannosea lay in a pool of her own blood, her eyes lifeless, jaw slack. My vision blurred with tears as I searched for more signs of movement among the Unseelie. I saw nothing—only charred bodies. Fae riddled with bullet wounds, eyes staring vacantly.
Roan pulled away from my side, crossing to Nerius. Sadness bloomed in my chest at the sight of him, the blood pouring from his mouth. Roan stood over him, his expression grim. I took a step closer, then crouched by his side. I tried to feel for his pulse, his throat slick with blood. His skin felt cold, and his heart had stopped pumping. Silently, I shut his eyes.
From my side, a shadow pulsed.
“Drustan?” I asked.
The shadows looked weaker than before, almost translucent.
Strange, Drustan’s voice echoed faintly in my mind.
“Drustan.” I rose, moving toward the shadows. “Hang on.”
No, his voice intoned. The mists beckon me.
The sound of a feathery wing beat in my mind, and the darkness pulsed back into his body. For the first time, I could see him—actually see Drustan’s body—his pale skin, silver hair. He was beautiful and completely lifeless.
Sirens keened in the distance, drawn by the sound of gunfire. They resembled eerily the wails of the banshee, screaming for the dead. I rose.
“So much death,” I muttered, my voice trembling. Then, louder, “We have to go.”
“Lord Balor!” Roan’s voice boomed. “We’re moving out. There are more humans coming.”
“What about my armory?” he roared.
“There was no armory.” I motioned to the blasted door, and the empty room behind it. “They lured us here for nothing.”
Dazed, I stumbled into the mansion’s front hallway.
Alvin ran from the dining room, his expression horrified. “What happened?”
“It was a trap,” I spat. “The Seelie set Branwen up. They knew she was coming back to us with a map, and they gave her false information. They ambushed us. Abellio and Siofra. The Tower’s guards had iron bullets.”
“The Seelie and the humans were working together?” Alvin sounded aghast.
I shook my head. “The Seelie were glamored; the humans couldn’t see them. And they didn’t seem to know what’s going on. I talked to one of the guards, he was completely clueless. Hell, Siofra used to be London’s mayor, she probably used her connections to organize it all. She told them there would be a break-in. She knew what we’d do, because…”
Because what? How did she know Branwen had the map? They’d been expecting us for two days, but Branwen had only come back a few hours ago.
I blinked as my mind began to put things together.
Concern crinkled Alvin’s brow. “Where’s Nerius?”
Roan crossed into the hall. “Dead,” he said quietly.
I could feel the rage curling off Roan. He’d already moved on from grief to pure fury, so intense he couldn’t seem to put it into words. A raw, restrained violence simmered under the surface, an unfulfilled lust for blood.
“Lannosea? Drustan?” asked Alvin.
“Gone,” I said. “They killed almost everyone.”
Alvin shook his head. “I don’t understand how this happened. I thought Branwen—”
“Branwen,” I said, feeling sick. “How is Branwen?” I pictured her face when she’d returned, recalling every detail vividly. The broken nose, the bruises, the scar… Oh God.
“Idelisa is doing what she can, but… I don’t know what’s going on. She’s still weak. She hasn’t opened her eyes yet, hasn’t said a single word.”
“No,” I muttered. “Of course she hasn’t.” Rage crawled up my throat. I clenched my fists, walking briskly down the hallway toward Branwen’s room.
Stupid. So stupid.
Alvin ran after me. “Cassandra, when Branwen wakes up, don’t tell her about her brother right away.”
“He wasn’t her brother.” I strode rapidly down the hallway.
“What are you talking about?”
I pushed the door to Bran
wen’s room. Idelisa was crouching by Branwen’s bedside, and I stood over her, staring at Branwen’s face. This time, I knew exactly what I was looking for, and once I saw it, my entire body tensed.
“Get away from her,” I snapped.
Idelisa looked up at me, frowning. “I hardly think—”
“Get away from her!” I said forcefully.
Idelisa pursed her lips and rose. I looked at the bruised fae who lay in the bed, her eyes closed. And I stared at the scar that had moved itself from her left cheek to her right.
So fucking stupid.
She hadn’t said one word since she had returned, conveniently fainting once she had made sure we saw her map. The scar was on the wrong side of her face. Just like it would be, on a reflection.
It hadn’t been Branwen at all—it had been a reflection, just like the one who’d attacked me in the bathroom. Siofra’s magic didn’t just create illusions. It created moving, breathing creatures.
I melded with the reflections in the room, and could feel her there, just one more reflection. I let my body connect to her. And Branwen smiled, her lips curving in a cruel grin. Just as I expected, I felt Siofra on the other end, and I could almost picture her mocking face. She’d already seized her victory.
Then Siofra was gone, and I released my hold as well. Branwen’s reflection faded away.
“What the fuck is going on?” Alvin muttered by my side.
“It wasn’t Branwen,” I said hollowly. “That was her reflection. Siofra can send these creatures out of the mirrors. She used Branwen’s image to bring us that damned map. I should have known. Reflections can’t speak, and the scar was reversed…” I was pretty sure I was babbling now. “I should have…” Horror dawned in my mind. “She’s still there. Still with the Seelie, battered and bruised, just like her reflection.” Assuming they haven’t killed her.
“Damn it,” I said, choking. “It’s my fault. I should have known. Should have realized right away.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Alvin touched my arm gently.
“Take it easy.” He said. “None of us realized. We’re up against some truly devious psychos, Cass.”
