Mirror, page 10
“Oh, that’s much better.” Victor took a long pull from his beer.
Arthur looked at him kindly. “It’s a fine line, I’ll grant you.”
Victor thought about finishing his pint in one go, but moved it aside and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table as he processed what Arthur was suggesting.
“You’re saying that the spell that was performed the other night not only tore open the Veil but summoned people’s worst fears into our reality.”
“The owners of the mirrors, yes. If, for example, your worst fear was a werewolf, then one would be drawn to the tear in the Veil and through to our reality. Provided, of course, you owned one of the mirrors.” He took a sip of his drink. “The troubling part—”
“We haven’t gotten to that yet?” Victor interrupted wryly.
Arthur smiled wanly as he continued, “—is that there’s no limit to what sort of creatures have come through. All of the things we fear, things we think are conjured in our imagination, they exist. I’ve long believed that our subconscious, the part of our mind that sees nightmares in sleep, is actually getting a glimpse into the Otherworld. All of those stories we tell children about the boggart under the bed, or the fears we have of giant spiders, they’re all real … they’re all there.”
Victor cleared his throat. “That’s … troubling.”
Arthur hummed to himself and took another sip. His companion had grown pale. “Of course, I could be wrong.”
Victor knew he probably wasn’t, but as deeply disturbing as Arthur’s theory of the Otherworld was, he had to stay focused on it.
“So, it’s impossible to say what came through each mirror.”
“Do you still have yours?” Arthur asked. “I’d love to take a look at it. Must be enchanted somehow.”
Arthur seemed almost excited by the prospect. Not that he wished any harm to anyone; he was a gentle soul, but being witness to such powerful magic fascinated him.
“I disposed of ours,” Victor replied.
Disappointment colored Arthur’s face briefly but he then became somber. “Of course.”
He didn’t miss the spark of disappointment in Arthur’s eyes. He was, at his heart, a scientist. He’d only later focused on the study of the occult, but he approached it with the same investigative curiosity.
“These are only my best guesses, mind you,” Arthur added. “Of course, I haven’t spoken to a qualified witch about it. They would know far better than I.”
Victor’s thoughts darkened as he pulled on a thread he’d been avoiding tugging at.
“Miss Ashcroft,” he began, hoping Arthur would jump in and provide the answer to the question he didn’t want to ask.
“Delightful girl.”
Apparently, he would not.
“Yes,” he said, then cleared his throat again. “You don’t think she ….”
“What?”
“Was involved somehow?”
If a gentle breeze had blown in it would have knocked Arthur Darvill right out of the booth. “Isadora? What on earth are you on about? A girl like that? This magic was … well, dark doesn’t begin to describe it. It was positively diabolical.”
He looked at Victor curiously. “What makes you think she, of all people, was involved?”
“I didn’t mean to imply that she was behind what happened. But perhaps,” he said, trying not to let the thought take hold, “she got involved, to learn more.”
Arthur was a keen study, not just of the supernatural but of people as well. “You’re worried about her.”
“I went ’round to her shop, but she wasn’t there.”
Arthur waved a dismissive hand. “Well, that’s nothing. So she closed up for a bit.”
Victor released a deep breath. “I went to see her the other day. Asked her about Samhain. What might happen. She told me that there had been rumors about a witch asking about a ritual that would rend the Veil.”
He paused and moved his glass back in front of him. “I asked her to look into it.”
“I see,” Arthur said, sitting back and looking at him carefully. “And you fear she perhaps learned too much?”
There it was, out in the open. He’d asked for her help never thinking of the danger it might put her in.
“Yes.”
Then Arthur did something Victor was not expecting—he laughed.
“I fail to see what’s so funny about that.”
“Nothing, it’s just that, well, Isadora can take care of herself.”
He was curious at that characterization. He was sure she was capable, but … “She’s so young.”
A smile twitched at the corner of Arthur’s mouth. “She’s more experienced than she might appear.”
Victor didn’t see how that was possible. “I certainly hope so. Now about these nightmares, these manifestations, is there any way to find out how many there are?”
Arthur shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “How many mirrors were there?”
Victor didn’t know, but he was definitely going to find out.
“You believe the mirrors don’t pose any further threat?” he asked.
“I doubt it. The spell could only keep the breach open for a short time. That sort of magic requires immense power. Whatever has come through is through.”
At least they wouldn’t have to worry about more incursions or that those who had the mirrors were still in peril.
“That’s something, anyway,” Victor said.
“Of course, the difficulty now is in sending them back.”
There was no spell, at least not one anyone could dare to perform, that could do that. The only way to eliminate the nightmares was to destroy them. And the only person who could do that was his daughter.
Chapter Ten
“Well this isn’t at all what I thought it would be,” Phoebe said with a yawn.
Artemis pulled her thoughts away from the dark street behind the Quills’. “And what’s that?”
Phoebe shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it would be exciting. Danger lurking behind every corner. But, honestly, Artemis, this is quite dull.”
Artemis laughed. “I’m sorry you’re not entertained.”
“It’s not that—”
“Shhh.” She held up a finger to silence Phoebe.
They both listened to the silence and then Artemis heard it again. A soft scraping sound, growing closer.
Phoebe gripped Artemis's arm, her eyes wide with sudden alarm as they both peered out through the carriage window toward the Quills’. The tension grew as the sound seemed right upon them now. She moved Phoebe aside and began to reach for the hilt of her sword.
Suddenly a shadow moved in front of the window.
“‘Ello.”
Phoebe gave a half-scream and Artemis drew her sword only to catch it in the roof of the cab.
Tommy looked at them both in shock and held up his hands in front of him. “Sorry.”
“Don’t do that!” Artemis scolded him as she extricated her sword from the roof. “What was that sound?”
Tommy glanced down. “Somethin’ on my shoe.”
“For Heaven’s sake,” Phoebe exclaimed, her shock barely subsided.
Tommy touched the brim of his cap. “Apologies, miss. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
He grinned at her in anticipation of some acknowledgement of his sincere regret. Her pique melted and when she met his gaze, she smiled almost shyly in return.
And is that a blush crawling up her cheeks?
Tommy’s grin grew.
“Just be more careful,” Phoebe said quickly, stealing one more glance at him, before purposefully looking away.
His smile faded. He obviously didn’t understand Phoebe’s mercurial moods. “I just wanted to know if you needed anythin’.”
“Thank you. We’re fine,” Artemis replied. “You haven’t seen anything, have you?”
“Quiet as the grave.”
They’d been there nearly three hours already and there’d not been the tiniest sign of anything unnatural. She wasn’t sure how much longer they could stay out tonight. It was already well past midnight and—
An insistent tapping on her knee broke her train of thought. Phoebe’s hand beat out a staccato rhythm. She was about to ask her what was wrong but then saw her face. Phoebe’s mouth hung open in shock and her eyes were fixed on something outside the window.
Artemis didn’t see anything at first and leaned forward to get a better look. What she’d thought was only a shadow … moved. Her breath caught at the sight of it. Whatever it was, it was enormous.
“Stay. Here,” Artemis ordered.
Phoebe, mouth still agape, unable to look away, nodded in agreement.
Artemis climbed out of the carriage. “Stay with her,” she said to Tommy.
“But—”
She silenced him with a look. He was clearly none too pleased about it, but acquiesced.
The large shadow disappeared around the corner of the building. She gripped her sword and hurried across the street. It was a cloudy night and the only light was from the dim yellow pools of the street lamps.
Artemis moved close to the Quills' building and peered around the corner. This street was small, almost an alley. And it was darker than the rest; two of the lamps had gone out, leaving it in near darkness.
She could just make out a shape in the distance, but without light she couldn’t see well enough to make out what it was.
It was a risk, in the middle of the city, but there was nothing for it. She let the darkness flow through her and her sword lit with Hellfire.
As the flames licked at the edges of her blade, she saw the creature clearly for the first time and gasped.
It was at least seven or eight feet tall, most of it long legs and arms with sharp three-fingered claws on the ends. Its head held two bulging eyes and two sets of sharp buck teeth. Some sort of antennae like a cockroach might have wriggled in the air, and long thin whisker-like things hung down its cheeks.
It was just reaching one of its jagged claws into the brick on the side of the building when it turned at her approach. Small leathery wings unfurled from its back, and its eyes glowed red with fire.
Artemis gawked at it, trying to make sense of the thing before her, when it hissed and gave a deep burbling growl. Suddenly its head thrust toward her like a striking snake, its teeth clattering together as it tried to bite her. She ducked out of the way just in time.
She moved quickly to the side and raised her sword. The creature reached out one of its talons toward her and she struck it with her blade. The thing hissed in pain, but judging by the look on its strange face, she’d only managed to make it angry.
It reached for her again and again as she ducked and parried with her sword. She moved to the right again, circling around, trying to get a clear shot at its body. Suddenly, it leapt at her, moving far more quickly than she imagined possible for something so large, and she struck at it with all of her might. Her sword glanced off its scaly body, sparking as if it had hit metal.
That’s not good.
It reached out to grab her again and it was all she could do to dive out of its reach. She rolled across the filthy street and sprang back to her feet just as it came for her again.
It lunged and she struck. Its arms weren’t as armored as its body and those blows began to draw blood, but nothing she did seemed to slow it down. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how fierce the strike, her sword could not penetrate its scaly skin.
The beast advanced again, and she struggled to fend off its attack. She swung her blade wildly, barely able to find an escape.
The street was not large and she constantly had to shift and move to avoid its talons.
Avoiding yet another blow, she set her feet and anxiously tried to catch her breath.
What am I going to do?
“Gads,” Phoebe said as she gaped, wide-eyed up at the creature. Tommy stood at her side, regarding Artemis in helpless apology.
Artemis's heart leapt into her throat. “I told you to stay away!”
I never should have let her come!
“Look out!” Tommy cried, and Artemis moved back just in time to avoid being the creature’s midnight snack.
She swung her sword to fend of its advance. “I don’t know how to kill it,” she shouted, breathlessly.
It lunged again and she parried.
“Its head,” Phoebe said, softly at first then with more passion. “It’s head! Cut off its head.”
Artemis didn’t understand. She couldn’t be serious.
“It’s the Jabberwock!” Phoebe exclaimed.
“The what?” Tommy asked.
“Alice. Through the Looking Glass,” Phoebe answered, her eyes alight with recognition. “The boy cut off its head and killed it.”
I definitely need to read more, Artemis thought as she barely escaped its taloned claw yet again.
“Cutting off the head killed it?” she asked as she maneuvered for a better position.
“I think so.”
Artemis shot her a glare. “You think?”
“Well, it’s all nonsense really. But ….” she finished with an unsure but vaguely encouraging shrug and then screamed as the beast lunged toward her and Tommy.
Artemis leapt between them, swiping at the outstretched arm with her sword, knocking it aside just before it reached her friends.
“Get back!” Artemis cried.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tommy lead Phoebe a little way back. They were still too close, though. She tried to put that out of her mind and focus on the Jabberwock.
Off with its head?
Well, it was a better idea than the absolutely-no-idea she’d had before.
“Stand back,” she warned them as she maneuvered the creature’s attention toward the opposite end of the street.
Now or never.
Artemis readied herself and then thrust forward, hoping to lure the creature into sticking out its neck out again. But as she did, the beast lifted off the ground.
I guess those wings aren’t just for show, she thought idly, as the Jabberwock hovered about six feet off the ground.
It kicked one its taloned feet toward her. She barely dodged out of its way but stumbled in the process. Off balance, she spun back just in time to see its enormous clawed hand reach out toward her. She couldn’t escape it this time and it grasped her painfully around the waist, lifting her off the ground. Its horrible red eyes flashed with pleasure.
No, no, no.
The thing’s claws dug into her sides and she could feel the life being squeezed out of her. Slowly, the world was ebbing away.
“Artemis!” Phoebe cried from somewhere behind her.
The creature craned its long neck out to see the intruder. And with all that was left in her, Artemis swung her blade.
It sliced through the beast’s neck and, as if time was moving more slowly now, the head fell to the ground while the body still hovered in the air, Artemis still in its clutches. For a horrible moment, she thought Phoebe had been wrong, but then she felt herself falling as she and the body of the Jabberwock dropped to the street.
Tommy ran forward and helped her pry the thing’s claws from her waist. Artemis stood and moved back to the look at the thing, its dismembered head lying adjacent to its still body.
“Are you all right?” Phoebe asked as she came to her side.
Artemis, still short of breath, could only nod.
The three of them stared down at the thing as it lay in the middle of the street.
“What do we do now?” Tommy asked, voicing the question they all had.
But before Artemis could muster an answer, the creature began to glow. They all took a step back, and in a flash of light it was gone. Back to the Otherworld.
Phoebe looked at Artemis with wide-eyed wonder.
Artemis was about to chastise Phoebe again for leaving the carriage when Tommy spoke.
“You’re hurt,” he said, reaching a tentative hand toward the tears in Artemis's dress, but not daring to actually touch her.
They were just scratches, deep painful scratches, but nothing to worry about. “I’m all right.”
Phoebe’s eyes fixed on her injuries then looked back to where the Jabberwock had fallen.
“Is it always like this?” she asked. “Being the Blaze.”
“Mostly,” Artemis said.
“Golly.” Phoebe swallowed and then added, “I’m sorry.”
Artemis wanted to be angry with her for disobeying, but she was too busy being angry with herself for bringing her along in the first place. In the span of a week she’d nearly gotten everyone she loved killed. She was the Blaze, no one else. As much as it terrified her, she was going to have to do it alone.
Who is this girl?
Leroux watched the scene unfold with growing horror. His perfect plan had almost worked. Until that girl had shown up and ruined everything. All of his planning, all of his preparation wasted in an instant.
As he watched from the shadows across from Helen’s flat, the rage began to well inside him again. The pressure slowly built until he could feel it begin to reach a crescendo. He clenched his hands and trembled with the effort to keep from striding across the street and strangling all three with his bare hands.
How dare they interfere? How dare she interfere?
He’d heard tales of a girl like her, but he’d never given them much credence until now. It was a complication.
His mind focused on the problem, and his rage diminished. He would have to do something about her. It would require thought, finesse.
He looked up at the darkened window of the Quills' flat where he knew Helen lay with another man.
And what of my dear Helen?
This hapless trio may have stolen this victory from him, but he would not be deterred. He would find another way, a better way to see justice was done. Already a plan was taking form in his mind.
It would be beautiful, he thought. So horribly beautiful.
Chapter Eleven
Victor watched his daughter pick at her food. Most unlike her. She was usually as ravenous as a pack of wild dogs, but this morning, she was quiet and sullen, barely touching her breakfast.
