Obsidian Mirror (35 page)

Wharton must have sensed it. He gave a quick glance at Jake and said, “I’ll just go and help Piers bring the food in.”

When he’d gone, she got up and crossed the room. “Jake. I’m sorry.”

She was standing close behind him. He kept hold of the last candle until the flame caught, then placed it deliberately in the iron candlestick. When there was nothing else to do, he turned.

She looked pale, and shaken, her eyes ice blue. She had changed into warm clothes, but they were still someone else’s, and for a moment he even wondered if Piers had found some of Leah’s for her. But she was still defiant.

He said, “Is it all true? About the black hole?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t be sure. If you left before it happened.”

“It was inevitable. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“And my father?”

“Like I said. He’s just one person.”

Jake leaned against the table. “To me he’s everything.”

“You’re so like Venn!” She stared, exasperated. “You’re both obsessed with your own needs. What about everyone else? What about the future?”

He shrugged. “That’s all too big for me. Too far off.”

“You’re lucky, Jake. You haven’t seen what the world will become.”

He wanted to ask her then, about how it was a few hundred years from now, but he knew she wouldn’t tell him, any more than he had told Symmes about cars and planes and computers. So he said, “It’s not up to me. Venn won’t stop. You saw him. He fired that weapon even though he wasn’t sure—not really—that it wouldn’t kill you as well. He’s ruthless. He’d sacrifice any future world to get Leah back. And anyway, the mirror is unbreakable. Maskelyne says so.”

She didn’t believe that. She wouldn’t. “If there is a way, that man knows it.”

She turned as Summer said, “I think so too.”

The Shee queen sat delicately on the bench in the inglenook; she swept her bare feet down and stood
lightly. “I’ve come for my treasure, Sarah. As you promised.”

Sarah glanced around. Slowly, she drew out the diamond brooch from her pocket.

Jake saw her reluctance. “You promised her that?”

“She did.” Summer came and stood opposite Sarah; they were the same height, but the woman seemed oddly younger, with a peculiar, childish petulance. She said, “But I told you, I don’t want it. I want that.”

She reached out a small finger and touched the half coin. Jake saw Sarah flinch.

“Why that?”

“A whim. No reason.
Anything,
you said.” Summer glanced around, smiling. “Should I ask for him instead?” She pointed to Jake.

He went cold.

“No!” Sarah put her hands up and slipped the coin off, quickly. “Have it. It has no value except that it once belonged to Symmes. My father gave it to me, but I doubt that means anything to you.”

“Nothing.” Summer eyed the shining thing; her sideways glance made Jake think of a bird’s sharp, predatory greed. Then she walked calmly to the archway and through it, past Gideon. She touched his hair, lightly.

“Say good-bye to them, human child.”

When she was gone, he leaned against the wall, his thin silky clothes still stained with snow. New swirls of green lichen obscured his skin; he seemed more Shee than they had ever seen him, defiantly alien. He smiled, cold. “You should never give her what she asks for.”

“Come to the fire,” Jake said.

“What’s the point?” Gideon glanced around at the racks of plates, the gleaming pans, the huge hearth with its hanging spits. He glared at Sarah, his resentment erupting into anger. “You used me! You just wanted her help. You made me a promise you knew you could never keep.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Are you?” He laughed, harsh. “I thought I was the one trapped in a spell, but maybe yours is worse than mine. Maybe neither of us can ever go home.”

“It’s not over.” Jake leaned on the table. “I’m not going anywhere. And I make you a better promise. I’ll get you free from Summer, if I have to give—”

Gideon jumped forward, alarmed. “
Don’t!
Don’t make stupid offers. It’s not safe. Whatever you say, she’ll hear it. Don’t promise anything to her, because she’ll take it. Your soul, your father, your life. One thing I’ve learned about the Shee, is that they don’t give second chances.”

Wharton paused in the hall. The doors of the Abbey were shut and bolted, the windows locked, the cameras showing nothing, but there was a murmur of voices from the front entrance, and he went to the window and peered cautiously out. The hosts of the Shee were waiting, but as he watched Summer came out and stood in the deep snow, the moon casting a long shadow.

She said, “Go home. It’s all over.”

He hardly saw them change. They transformed before him, shrank, glittered, shimmered. Their clothes sprouted feathers, their beaked faces shrieked. Only their eyes, bird-sharp, aslant, stayed the same. And then they were up and flying, a great swooping host of starlings, dark and furiously noisy against the starry sky, breaking and re-forming in sudden bizarre patterns, the whooshing of their wings loud as they poured and split.

He stared, amazed, until the last formation fractured and broke.

And then they were gone, in long streamers of darkness over the sleeping Wood.

Summer watched, ankle deep in snow.

Behind her, Wharton saw Venn.

“I could have dealt with the Replicant. Sarah had no right to come to you.”

“But she did. And here is my reward.”

She turned and held something up and it caught the moonlight as it hung on the gold chain. For a moment Wharton didn’t recognize it. Then he saw it was the half coin that Sarah had always worn.

“What use is that?” Venn asked, suspicious.

“No use.” Summer hung it carefully around her own neck. “So. What will you do now, Venn? Go back to your useless experiments?”

He seemed to reach out for her. Wharton saw a sliver of moonlight; it lit Summer’s cool smile as she stepped away.

“Let me use the Summerland,” he begged. “Let me go through…”

“To save my rival? Never.”

He heard Venn say, “You always hated Leah.”

“Did I? I don’t need to. She means nothing. You belong to me. And one day, when you realize that, you’ll come into the Wood and never leave it again.”

She raised her small lips to his, and Wharton felt a cold shiver travel up his spine as Venn stood still as a ghost and was kissed by her.

Far off and deep and sonorous he heard the bells of Wintercombe church, chiming for Midnight.

The effect on Summer was instant. She drew back, like a snake. “What is that?”

“You know,” Venn said quietly. “It’s Christmas Day.”

She shivered, and turned lightly in the snow. “So
it is. I’ll be back, Venn. Now that I can get in, you’ll never know what I might do.”

She took a step, and seemed to become in an instant nothing but an edge of the moonlight that fell across the blue-shadowed banks of snow.

Wharton swallowed his gasp and kept still.

So did Venn, for at least a minute, a tall, remote figure on the snowy steps, as he gazed out at the night. And then he said, so quietly Wharton barely heard the whisper,
“I love her more than you, my lady.”

Gideon looked up, eyes sharp. “Hear that?”

“What?”

“Bells. The church bells. I can’t stay.”

“Of course you can.” Jake came and grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t go back to them! Stay here. They can’t get at you.”

“Can’t they?” Gideon laughed his practiced bitter laugh. “You have no idea.” He watched Piers come in, carrying a tray of hot spicy drinks. “Enjoy it, Jake. Enjoy it while you can. The food, the warmth, the people. Do everything, taste everything. Enjoy your life because outside is only the cold and the dark.”

“We’ll release you. I swear.”

“To be just dust and ashes?” Gideon shrugged. “Maybe that would be better. Better than this.”

“I won’t let you go,” Jake said, angry.

But even as he said it, Gideon wasn’t there; the frail green velvet faded from between his fingers, and he held only air.

He looked up to find Venn standing by the fire, watching. “You can’t hold them, Jake. It’s like trying to hold the wind. She’ll never let him go.”

Wharton came in. The teacher seemed a bigger man, somehow, than he had in the school, and his glance at Venn was oddly measuring. He said, “The house is sealed now. The mirror is safe. Maskelyne and Rebecca are in the drawing room, but we can’t keep them here. Tomorrow, when it’s light, you’ll have to let her…them…go.”

Venn said to Piers, “Get them.”

In the silence the fire crackled, smelling richly of applewood. The room had grown warmer; Sarah went and stood by the flames. She felt as if the water of the lake had chilled her forever, as if a splinter of cold had reached her heart and lodged there, like failure.

Wharton piled a plate with the sandwiches Piers had made. His hunger was suddenly an unbearable pain.

Maskelyne came in and stood by the table, Rebecca behind him. She looked at Sarah.

“Are you…okay?”

“Fine.”

“You and your secret friend are free to go,” Venn snapped. “Don’t let us keep you.”

“Surely,” Wharton muttered. “Not in this weather.”

Rebecca looked at Maskelyne. “Don’t worry about us. The car is by the gates and if the snow is thick, we’ll walk. It’s only a few miles.”

The scarred man stood dark and brooding in the red flame-light. He turned and looked at Venn and Jake. “First, I have something to say to both of you. In private. Please.”

He seemed agitated; he went out into the passageway and walked down it, waiting for them like a shadow under the coiled bells.

After a moment, Venn followed. Jake glanced at Wharton, and went after them.

Maskelyne waited until they were both close to him, then gazed back at the lighted kitchen, where he could see both the girls and Piers, pouring out tea.

“What?” Venn said.

“Listen to me. Sarah wears a token around her neck. The right half of a coin.”

Jake, alarmed said, “But she gave it—”

“Shut up, Jake,” Venn said quickly. “What about it? Was it the token Symmes had?”

“The one I gave him long ago.” Maskelyne leaned against the wall, his head back. He looked very tired. “But you don’t know its significance. I have no choice
but to tell you, because you need the mirror safe now as much as I do. I have to trust you.”

It was as if he was arguing himself into it.

Venn said, “The coin is a danger?”

“The mirror cannot be broken. Not by force or fire, by wind or water. There is only one way to destroy the mirror.” Maskelyne’s haunted eyes flickered to Jake. “The Zeus coin was forged in ancient times as a safeguard by the original creator, in case the power of the mirror should ever threaten the world. It contains enough energy to obliterate the Chronoptika, to destroy it utterly.”

Venn said, “How do you know this?” but Maskelyne ignored him, talking in a low, rapid voice. “It was cut in two, and the halves separated widely in time and space, so that they would never be brought together by accident. The left half is lost. It has been lost for centuries. But if it should be found—if they should ever join, and the crack be sealed…” His voice was a whisper now, his lips barely moving. “A wave of terrible intensity would be generated. The coin holds the only power in the universe that could do this. Or so I believe.”

Jake stared, appalled. “If Sarah knew…”

“She doesn’t. She never must.” Maskelyne looked at them, his eyes dark. “And you must somehow get that coin from her.”

He stopped, as if he was too weary to go on, as if everything he could say had been said.

Jake looked at Venn. There was nothing to say. Silent, the three of them watched Sarah talking to Rebecca, stirring sugar into her tea.