The Lasts and the Hall of Mirrors

by Tabitha Scott

“Whatever, don’t make a habit of giving our coin away, we haven’t got that much and we have to use what we have to give Old Straw a send off.”

  “We should sell some more of that Roman stuff. Do you think that Professor fellow would like to buy some more of those old silver coins? What was his name, anyway?”

  “Oh, we didn’t catch it,” Precipice answered. “We’ll have to pay more attention, we should go see him, we’ll need more dosh. We’ll get his name from the door. Maybe Dr. James might want to buy some swords too, he seemed interested in what was in the souterrain. We’ll go there tomorrow and see what we can organise.”

  “We can take one of the daggers that you didn’t want, and some more of the coins,” Clara suggested.

  “Aye, we’ll see how big their eyes bug and set our price accordingly. But maybe we’ll wait a while, until we’ve talked to Sister Margaret, that way we’ll know how much we need.”

  “Oh, yes, that be wise, Precipice.”

  The two sisters headed back to their bolthole, beneath the city streets. As they had agreed, Clara opened the locks on their arrival at the souterrain. But when they passed through the second door and stepped into the stone lined chamber, a light was already shining where a small fire had been lit in their hearth. There with her back to them was a familiar silhouette.

  “I don’t know how I came here. I was there with my birds, feeding them like, then I was here,” Old Straw spoke. “I see things now, I didn’t know where this place was, but I knew my girls would come here, and even without turning around, I know it’s you.”

  Chapter 7: Home

  Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, because the silhouette was gone. No, she had spoken clearly for the girls to hear, and the apparition of Old Straw had also stoked the girl’s fire, which was further evidence she had been there.

  The two girls stood fixed to the floor for some minutes.

  “I think she’s a wraith,” Precipice finally said.

  “I think you’re right,” Clara replied.

  “She must be, she’s dead.”

  “We saw the body,” Clara affirmed. “It must be the Morrígan who done it.”

  From somewhere far away a murmur of laughter tickled the air of the chamber.

  “What was that!” Clara started.

  “It came from the mirror, I’m sure of it.” Precipice was staring at the glazed surface, was there a soft glow there that wasn’t coming from the fire? Yes, she was sure there had been, though it was almost gone now.

  Precipice and Clara moved cautiously toward the mirror.

  “It be magic in the mirror, ain’t it Precipice? That’s why the Morrígan left it here, she’s on the other side, watching us.”

  “Aye, I think you’re right, but more than that, I think it be a door – a door between her and us. Túathal mentioned there were other locks we’d have to open, not human made locks though, I think he meant magical ones.”

  Clara’s eyes darted briefly to Precipice, and then back to the mirror. She gulped. “Are we meant to go through it?”

  Precipice nodded her head, and put her fingers out against the cold glazed surface. The mirror was very old, part of its silver back was oxidised so that the image that stared back at her was patchy in places. Its frame may once have been gilt, but the gold leaf had worn away from much of the wooden surface. Precipice could feel the same tingling she had felt before when she first opened the locks to the souterrain.

  From somewhere deep inside of herself, the girl could feel something stirring in response to the tingle at the end of her fingers. She took on a faraway look as she saw beyond the mirror, and then pushed her hand past its surface. First her hand and then her arm went inward, then more, until all of Precipice was gone, and Clara was alone.

  Clara was stunned, her mouth was agape, her sister had disappeared. Precipice was totally gone, leaving Clara behind, but then a hand came out of the smooth reflecting surface and beckoned for her to follow before pulling away to be swallowed again by the reflection of the chamber.

  Clara gathered a deep breath, then took her sister’s place in front of the mirror. Imitating Precipice, she placed her fingers on the reflecting surface, then called upon the same magics she had used to unlock the souterrain doors before she pushed through. Clara actually fell into the surface, as she hadn’t prepared herself for the lack of substance, though on the other side her sister caught her before she hit the ground.

  “Careful, it’s sharp.” Precipice held up her elbow showing her sister a nasty gash she had managed. On the ground around them were crystals , each reflecting back an image of the two girls. Though a few of them had a splattering of blood.

  “We need to wrap you, and clean the blood,” Clara commented as she was pulled up by her sister. Then her mouth went open as she took in the chamber the two stood in, or hallway, for they seemed to have come out in one part of a winding corridor that was all light and reflection. Mirrors of all shapes and sizes lined the walls for as far as the eye could see, which was quite a ways as the mirrors reflected images around corners that would have been far out of sight otherwise. However, not only did the mirrors show reflections, there were other images as well, faint but still discernible.

  Precipice wrapped her hand in a rag that Clara tore from the hem of her skirt. As she was doing so, she stared into one of the mirrors witnessing the scene on the other side, which became clearer the more she looked. There was an empty room, but somewhere strange, with oriental tastes in furnishings. There was lots of red and gold, polished teak wood and lush tropical potted plants. Was it even in Ireland? It didn’t look like it was. What was she looking at? Turning to Clara, she noticed that her sister was mesmerized staring into another of the mirrors.

  “Precipice, that boy is taking his clothes off!”

  Precipice stared into the same surface as Clara until her eyes went wide. She quickly put her hands over Clara’s eyes. “We needn’t watch that!” She nudged her sister along so that she was facing down the length of the corridor before she removed her hands, but the image that the two girls saw then quickly removed all other thoughts from their minds.

  There, maybe twenty feet away, was a woman, perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties, she was completely dressed in black, with her dark eyes outlined in black as well. Around her, more darkness seemed to swirl. She seemed almost immaterial. There, but not there; corporeal, but an illusion. She looked at the girls, and then beckoned for them to follow, before disappearing into one of the mirrors down the hall.

  The two girls looked at each other, gulping. Then, ever so slowly, they moved down the hallway to the mirror where the woman had disappeared.

  “That were the Morrígan, weren’t it, Precipice?”

  “That was the Morrígan, wasn’t it,” Precipice corrected. “What would Ma think?” The older girl stared into the mirror where the dark apparition had left them. “But yes, it must have been her.”

  There on the other side was a room that seemed somewhat familiar to Precipice. It wasn’t oriental, there was a familiar bed, and carpeting; there was a dresser with a jewelry box, a hair brush, a rosary and some other personal effects. Precipice looked at Clara. “Follow me.”

  Precipice pushed her way through the glass, she looked around the room she had entered, and then went to the dresser. She opened the drawers of the jewelry box, picked up the hair brush, and then took the rosary in her fingers, rubbing the beads in her hand. Behind her Clara had also come through.

  Precipice turned to her sister. “Do you know where we are?”

  Clara nodded her head, “Home.” There were tears streaming down her face.

  Chapter 8: The Witch House

  The two girls stood there in the house they had lived in before their parents died. After a second, Precipice moved forward to hug her sister who had begun to cry.

  “Why did she bring us here, Precipice?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s funny. It’s all just as we left it two years ago.”
Precipice, wiped the tears from her sister’s face. “Come on, we’re stronger than this, we’re the Lasts, nothing can hurt us, we’re tough as stone.”

  Clara nodded, pursing her lips as she tried to take control.

  When Precipice saw that her sister was okay, she turned back to the drawer and wiped her finger through the layer of dust that had settled over the top. “I thought the government would take the place, but nothing has been disturbed. I wonder why that is?”

  They were in their parents’ room, and looking back from where they had entered was the old full length mirror where their mother and father used to dress themselves. It had been from that mirror that they had entered the room. The place seemed eerily quiet, until the caw of a crow came from somewhere down the stairs.

  The two girls looked at one another, and then by mutual consent made their way to the landing where the staircase met the end of a hall. Cautiously they made their way down the steps, though the floor creaked as they went. Precipice paused after the first creak, and pulled her short sword out from the sheath which she kept hidden in her jacket – there had to be a better way to the carry the thing, she’d have to work that out.

  As the girls inched forward, more sounds could be heard from below. There was some humming and banging, which seemed to be coming from the kitchen, and then there was more cawing. As they came into the small suburban living room, they could hear a voice too, an old woman’s voice.

  “I don’t know why no one thought to clean out the fridge, crow. You’d have thought someone would have done that. Horrible job now.”

  The crow, that was pecking its way along the kitchen cabinets, cawed back to the old woman.

  “Oh, they’re coming then.” Old Straw turned around to the two girls who stood in the doorway as she continued to wash out the fridge. “How be ye, girls? Sorry for the smell, haven’t quite finished yet. It was something awful when I first got here. Opened the door and the odour could have killed me. It goes to show, even a witch’s house can have its problems.”

  “Witch’s house?” Clara asked.

  “Aye, a witch lived here, no doubt about it. There are signs everywhere. There’s an incense alter in the dining room, there are bundles of herbs set all over the place to turn away evil. There are even wards above all the doors, and there’s writing above the space under the stairs.”

  Precipice looked up to the top of the back door that led out from the kitchen to a small garden where their mother had grown herbs. There was a sign carved over the door, a few squiggly lines, the image of a woman, it had always been there. Her mother had left a sprig of something or other above the door as well, she had always done that. The older girl looked back to the door that led under the stairs, she had never been allowed in there, but she recognised above that door some Ogham letters, almost exactly the same as those of her tattoo. They had never meant anything to her before, growing up with them she had barely noticed they were there, but now…

  “Mother of God!” Precipice whispered to Clara. “Those signs there, over the staircase door, they’re the same as my tattoo.”

  “And mine,” Clara replied, as she had also been tattooed with the old Ogham script that marked the two girls for the Morrígan.

  “Well girls, I don’t know how I got here, but crow thought we should clean up.”

  The black bird cawed from the corner, nodding its head as though it was in agreement.

  “In fact, I’m not sure how I’m getting around at all. I keep seeming to just appear in places without my remembering how I got there. I wasn’t this way before Southside got a hold of me. That beating they gave me must have knocked some of me marbles loose,” Straw Hat winked at the girls.

  She meant the Southside Bankers, the drug gang whose turf was on the south bank of the river Liffey.

  “Do you think we should tell her?” Clara mumbled out from the side of her mouth. “I don’t think she knows.”

  “I’m not sure,” Precipice mumbled back. “Maybe we should.”

  The crow cawed from the corner.

  “What’s that darlin’? Oh, the girls have something to tell me. Really?”

  “Is that crow talking to you?” Clara asked.

  “Well, yes, that’s another thing. I didn’t really understood crow before the Russian kicked and booted me. It’s clear as day now though. I understand every word.”

  Precipice came forward very solemnly, and placed her hand on Old Straw’s shoulder. The old woman had stood up as the girl approached, sensing the formality of the moment.

  “Old Straw, there’s a reason you can speak crow now, and a reason that you keep appearing and disappearing from one place to another. Old Straw…” Precipice paused for effect, “you died in the hospital. We saw your body there, you’re not alive anymore, you’re a wraith.”

  Old Straw huffed. “That’s what the crow said. I don’t believe a word of it.” She turned back to the fridge she was wiping down and continued cleaning it out.

  Precipice turned back to Clara, and shrugged her shoulders.

  “It’s true, Old Straw,” Clara tried.

  “Load of rubbish.” She leaned into scrubbing the detritus of two years of rotted food from the fridge.

  “Strange,” Precipice noted. “The light is on in the fridge, there’s still power to the house. The city should have shut it off ages ago.”

  “There’s still gas for heating the house, and the stove, too,” Old Straw called from inside the fridge.

  “How is that?” Clara caught on. “Old Straw…” but as she turned from Precipice to Old Straw, there was no one there to address, the door of the fridge closed shut with the final bit of cleaning having been done.

  “Gone again,” Precipice said.

  The crow cawed, and rose on its wing, so that the girls had to duck down as it flapped its way across the kitchen, out into the living room and up the stairs.

  “Let’s follow it!” Precipice called to Clara, and the two girls raced after the crow.

  Chapter 9: Sister Margaret

  The girls ran up to the top of the stairs and down the hallway to their parents’ room. There the crow was waiting on the ground for them, pecking at the carpet, though when it saw them approach it took flight into the mirror. It was as though it had waited for them to catch up… which mayhap it had.

  The two girls didn’t hesitate but followed the crow inside the reflecting surface, barely stopping this time as they effortlessly passed into the Hall of Mirrors. There again with darkness swirling around her and an almost manic grin on her face was the lady in black, who beckoned for them to follow as she passed into yet another of the silvered reflections that lined the hall.

  Precipice strode to the mirror staring into its surface. Where was this new place that they were being directed to? She could only see shadows on the other side, perhaps there was a bit of light directed onto a section of a floor. It was impossible to tell where this would take them, but Precipice made her decision. Looking back to her sister, she winked, and then walked through.

  “I don’t like adventures, Precipice might, but I don’t,” Clara muttered to herself, and then she stepped through too.

  “Where are we?” Clara asked Precipice. The crow was nowhere to be seen, though an open window may have provided it escape to elsewhere. The room they were in was dingy with darkness, and with the open window it was cold from a draft.

  “Who’s there?” a voice called. It was a female voice, and it started the girls. “What are you doing here in my office in the dark?” A light went on above the girls, making their eyes squint from the brightness.

  Precipice squared her shoulders toward the wee woman who approached them through the open door. “We were brought here to wait for you. I’m Precipice, and this is my sister, Clara.”

  “I’m Sister Margaret,” the woman offered in return. “Are you the two young girls who I was told would visit me about their grandmother?”

  The girls relaxed as they realised that they had bee
n brought to the sister who could help them with Old Straw’s final resting.

  “Did the doctor tell you? Dr. Doherty?” Clara asked.

  “Why, yes. He mentioned that your grandmother had passed. It’s hard to lose a loved one. I understand that you would like her to have a ceremony and a piece of holy earth?”

  “Aye,” Precipice answered, “and some words from a Priest if it can be done?”

  “That can be done, however there are costs with a casket. We avoid this by using a shroud, if that is acceptable?”

  “Aye, so long as it be holy earth in consecrated ground.”

  The nun bowed her head. “There are other costs that can be saved, the government helps the poor who have passed.”

  “We have some dosh,” Clara answered. “We can pay so that it be nice.”

  “But how much will be needed?” Precipice asked.

  “The government will pay for it all if you don’t want too much. They provide a wooden cross, and a bit of land that will be used with others. If you want a stone marker, and a piece of earth of her own, then there are costs with that. The government provides a full requiem mass too. If you do things that way there’s no money needed at all. There is that option to consider.”

  Clara pulled on the hem of Precipice’ jacket to get her attention. “Old Straw deserves a piece of earth of her own. Can we pay for that, and a headstone?”

  “Aye,” she turned to Sister Margaret. “Is there a number we should aim for?”

  “I’d say four hundred Euro for a simple flat headstone, and fourteen hundred for a plot in the church yard. That be your costs for what you ask.”

  Precipice whistled at the number. “Dying be not cheap.”

  “No. If we were in the countryside, a plot might be as little as two hundred Euro, but here in the city the land costs are not small.”

  “Well,” Precipice considered, “we can pay for a gravestone now, we have the cash for that. The grave site will take a bit longer, we have to sell some stuff for that.”