Mirror, page 9
She shuddered at the idea that she’d had one of those things in her bedroom. She might never look in a mirror again! She was fairly certain that nothing had come through into her room. There were no soggy footprints or smashed glass. There was no evidence anything had been disturbed at all, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something could have come through. And how many mirrors were there? They’d seen perhaps two dozen or more lightning strikes, but that didn’t mean anything. Were there hundreds of these things out there in the city? Had each one unleashed some sort of Hellspawn into the night?
Her eyes went wide at the thought. She was getting better at Blazing, as she liked to think of it, notwithstanding almost getting both her father and Tommy killed. A few shades or a demon here or there, she might be able to manage. But dozens? Hundreds?
God help me.
Her father, who had been peering into the locked stall, turned back to her, holding up a finger, asking her to wait for him.
What else was she going to do?
Although she’d been standing there less than two minutes, the idea of waiting longer made her instantly bored. She blew air between her lips, making a most unladylike sound, before searching to look for something to occupy her interest while she waited.
“Artemis Schäfer?”
Artemis wrinkled her nose before turning around. This was not the sort of distraction she’d been hoping for.
“Dulcie.”
The girl’s pinched expression grew even tighter, if that was possible, as she coldly surveyed Artemis. Not cowed by the judgement in the girl’s eyes, Artemis met her gaze with what she hoped was casual indifference. She’d been working very hard on that particular expression.
Dulcie shifted her focus to her mother, who was giving orders to two workmen near a very high-end furniture shop.
“We’re redecorating the second salon. It’s been two years since we refreshed it,” she said, as though that were a confession worthy of penance.
“Two whole years?”
Dulcie’s mouth curled up on one side. “I don’t suppose your home has changed at all since you were born, or should I say adopted.”
The word hadn’t ever hurt before; all those years she’d known she wasn’t her father’s biological child. But when she found out the truth, that she wasn’t his cousin’s child, but the child of a brutal serial killer, well, that made it a little harder to stomach. The idea that she had his blood, Jack the Ripper’s demon blood, coursing through her veins was something never far from her mind.
She had to remind herself that Dulcie didn’t know any of that. That her barb was meant to hurt her for a different reason. Despite that, heat flared in Artemis's chest. But if someone like Dulcie ever knew the truth of why ….
“We like things as they are,” she said, hoping to get the conversation off of her parentage.
“I suppose when you don’t have a choice,” Dulcie said, in what she probably thought was an understanding tone. “Well ….”
Artemis bit her tongue and looked for her father, who was deep in conversation with a man at the front of a nearby stall. She glanced into the mirror shop, reminded of why they’d come, before turning back to Dulcie.
“I don’t suppose you bought a mirror there,” she said, wondering why she was worried about a harridan like Dulcie.
Dulcie’s eyes drifted to the mirror stall, and then her expression pinched again. “No. What an odd question.”
Artemis almost told her that she should, that there were very special mirrors just made for her, but she managed not to. No one, not even Dulcie Raycraft, deserved that.
“Well, I should be going,” Dulcie said.
Please do.
“You see, we’re having company for dinner,” she added.
Artemis’s eyes darted back toward her father. Hurry up.
“In fact,” Dulcie went on as if Artemis cared what she had to say, “you know one of them. Liam Parker?”
That got Artemis's attention and, looking at Dulcie’s Cheshire smile, it was just what she wanted.
“He’s such a handsome young man. And so attentive.”
“Yes, he is,” Artemis said through a tight smile.
Dulcie forced a blush to her alabaster skin. “He’s been around so much lately; it’s positively indecent.”
“Then you should send him away,” Artemis said.
That brought Dulcie up short, but only for a moment. “I’m sure you’d prefer that, wouldn’t you? It’s a pity that’s apparently not what Liam wants.”
Artemis's calm was being sorely tested. Liam Parker wouldn’t give two hoots about a girl like Dulcie, would he? He was smarter than that. Wasn’t he?
“What with my coming out next year ….” Dulcie added, letting the implication linger between them.
“Dulcie!” her mother snapped. “Come along.”
“I’ll be sure to give Liam your best,” Dulcie said. “Such as it is.”
Artemis was about to show her what her best really was when Dulcie walked back over to her mother.
Her hands balled into fists as she fought down the urge to stalk after her and get in the last word. Not that she had a last word to give, but ….
“Oh, I hate that girl,” she ground out.
“Who?” her father asked as he came back to her side.
Huffing out another breath, she dismissed all thoughts of Dulcie Raycraft. She wasn’t going to give her any more of her energy, even if she was spending time with Liam, who was apparently being “attentive.” Whatever that meant; and why was he over there—
“Artemis?”
Her father waved his hand in front of her face.
“Sorry.”
He looked at her oddly, then pushed whatever question he had aside.
“The man in the stall next door said that the mirror shop owner is a fellow by the name of Alain Leroux and he hasn’t been in all day.”
“Wonderful,” Artemis said, thinking it had all been a waste.
“But he did say that he thinks he’s got a place over in Vauxhall, near the gas works, he thinks.”
That was still a fairly large area and the man, if he was one, might have already bolted. “Well, that’s something, I guess.”
He studied her curiously. “Are you all right?”
She wasn’t. She hated Dulcie. Hated her for being a brat, for throwing Artemis’s lack of social status in her face, for flaunting Liam Parker and, most of all, for making her care about any of those things.
She didn’t. Not really. Pfft.
Dulcie Raycraft was not going to get the better of her. Artemis wasn’t a shallow fluffhead like her, nor did she want to be. She had more important things on her mind. Finding this Leroux person and why he’d opened a portal to Hell was a far sight more important than anything Dulcie Raycraft and her gilded parlor could ever imagine.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just worried about it all. Are we going out tonight?” she asked. “Hunting for whatever else came through?”
He regarded her for a moment and she thought he was going to say yes. He always said yes to that.
“Not tonight.”
She nearly sagged with relief. She didn’t want to show it, but she was tired and unsettled. Not knowing what she was up against was unnerving.
“I’m meeting with Arthur later and I’m hopeful he’ll be able to provide some insight into all of this. No reason to run off blind into the night.”
“I’m all for not doing that,” she said with a small smile, earning a chuckle from him.
He put his arm over her shoulders and led them both toward the door. “Why don’t you telephone Phoebe? Invite her over for the night? I’m sure she’s upset by what’s happened.”
And she doesn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. She couldn’t exactly go to her parents and say, “Oh, by the by, I think my mirror’s enchanted.” The darn thing would probably stay in her room for years.
“I’d like that,” Artemis replied.
Even though her father believed the Veil had closed again and nothing else could come through, there was no way Artemis could have spent another night with that thing in her room. She knew it wouldn’t be so easy for Phoebe to get rid of hers.
Poor Phoebe.
Chapter Nine
Phoebe rolled over onto her back and popped another bonbon into her mouth, indulgently licking the chocolate residue from her fingertips.
“Comfortable?” Artemis asked.
Phoebe sighed contentedly and looked up at the canopy stretched above Artemis's bed. “Very.”
Then she rolled over onto her stomach and held out the box of chocolates to her.
Artemis had already eaten three, and she looked at the small confections with doubt. Phoebe jostled the little box enticingly, causing the candies to shift against their paper cups.
“Just one more?” she asked.
Phoebe was a bad influence. And she loved it.
“One,” she agreed, taking another from the box.
Phoebe put the box aside and shifted herself up to rest against the headboard. Straightening out the skirts of her dress, her eyes shifted to the empty space in Artemis's bedroom where the mirror had been.
Knowing her thoughts, Artemis chimed in, “Next time I’m over, I’ll accidentally break it.”
Phoebe couldn’t hide her grin. “Father will be furious.”
“He’ll get over it,” Artemis said, moving to mirror Phoebe’s position on the bed. “And at least that way it’ll be gone.”
Her light mood gone in an instant, Phoebe kept her eyes fixed on the far side of the room where the mirror had been. They sat in silence for a moment before Phoebe spoke, so softly at first Artemis wasn’t sure she heard her.
“I think I know,” she said.
“Know what?”
Her friend turned to her, her beautiful blue eyes troubled. “What came through the mirror.”
Artemis blinked in surprise. “You do?”
Phoebe looked back at the empty space. “When I was seven, we spent the summer in Bath. Do you remember?”
She and Artemis had only been friends for a few years then, and they were both quite young, but Artemis remembered. She didn’t have enough friends to forget anything about the ones she had.
“My cousin’s family was there with us,” Phoebe continued. “They had a young son about my age, William. We played together, did practically everything together.”
She let out a long breath as the pleasant memories became painful ones.
“There was a lake. It wasn’t very big and it was quite calm. They put the two of us into a little sailboat. I remember he was wearing a little sailor’s outfit, blue and white. We puttered around just offshore, going back and forth. My brother and the others kept an eye on us.”
Her eyes grew distant as she picked up more and more pieces of the memory. “It was warm and sunny. Calm. I laid back and let William do all of the work. We’d just started to make another turn when … out of nowhere the wind came. Strong. It caught our sail and pushed us out, away from the shore. William wrestled the thing back under control and I remember we both laughed. I could hear my brother calling out to us from the shore, urging us back.”
Her eyes glazed over, caught in her reverie, before she spoke again. “And just as we turned back, another gust of wind came. Stronger than before. I remember seeing the sail fill with it and then the boom swung so fiercely across the boat.”
Phoebe’s hands gripped the material of her skirt, bunching it into tight balls. “I can still hear the sound—the dull thud as it struck William on the side of his head. He slumped down, half in and half out of the boat. I screamed and tried to move toward him, but the boat tipped when I did, and he slid out into the water.”
Artemis's breath caught at the image.
“I froze. I was so frightened,” Phoebe went on, her voice shaking. “And by the time I gathered myself and leaned over the side, he was already starting to slip beneath the surface. And … he looked at me.”
The pain of the memory was written in every feature of Phoebe’s face. “His eyes were open and he looked right at me, his hand reaching up toward me.”
Her hand opened and reached out as if reliving the memory for him.
“I tried to grab his hand, but he was too far away … I didn’t jump in after him. I didn’t try to save him. I just sat there and watched him disappear under the water.”
The wet footprints in her room. Oh, Phoebe.
She reached out and took hold of her hand. Phoebe’s chin quivered as she fought back tears.
“I could have done something,” Phoebe said, tears pooling in her eyes, eyes that begged for forgiveness. “I didn’t do anything.”
Artemis squeezed her hand. “You were only seven, and frightened. It was an accident. It’s not your fault.”
Phoebe couldn’t accept the kind words and shook her head, not ready for the absolution Artemis so desperately wanted to offer. “David swam out and found him, but it was too late.”
Artemis's heart broke for her friend.
“You never told me.”
She’d always known that Phoebe was afraid of the water, but never why, and felt an irrational pang of hurt at the thought. They were best friends. She thought she’d known everything about Phoebe.
“I was ashamed,” Phoebe confessed. “I still am.”
Her own wave of shame overcame her flash of jealousy that Phoebe had kept a secret from her. Everyone had secrets.
“I’m sorry.”
Phoebe sniffled back her tears before turning back to Artemis. “Do you think he’s come for me? To bring me down with him?”
Artemis suppressed a shudder at the thought. Oh, God. What if she’s right?
“I don’t know,” she replied, honestly. “But I do know that we’ll figure it out.” She tugged on Phoebe’s hand, urging her to look at her. “I promise.”
Phoebe still seemed unsure, but gathered herself.
“And you’re safe here.”
Phoebe exhaled deeply and managed a small smile, but it was short-lived. “What do you think came through Lady Quill’s mirror?”
Artemis wasn’t sure, but judging from the damage to the window, whatever it was, was big. And if they feared Phoebe’s horror might come back, wasn’t it logical that Lady Quill’s might as well?
Abruptly, a wave of guilt rose up inside of Artemis. She’d promised to keep Phoebe safe, but would she be able to live with herself if she sat here eating bonbons while something happened at the Quills’?
“I’m not sure,” Artemis said, trying to keep her worry from her voice.
But Phoebe knew her too well.
“But you’re worried,” Phoebe said, “aren’t you?”
She couldn’t deny it.
Phoebe pressed her lips into a line before she spoke. “You should be there.”
Artemis looked at her in surprise. “But—”
“You’re the Blaze,” Phoebe said simply.
I am.
Maybe Phoebe would be safe here, even though her father had gone out with Mister Darvill, and Tommy would come with her. There was no evidence anything had come out of Artemis's mirror—they’d checked the house from top to bottom twice—not that there were any guarantees. And the wards hadn’t been reset yet.
Artemis was torn between keeping her friend safe and helping the Quills. Ultimately though, Phoebe was right—she was the Blaze. She couldn’t sit here and do nothing if someone needed her. She somehow doubted Lord Quill would be much help in protecting his wife; he was far too concerned with himself.
“All right,” Artemis said, pushing herself up off the bed, Phoebe following close behind.
“Good. I’m tired of moping. It’s not good for the complexion,” Phoebe said and then indicated her dress. “Is this appropriate?”
“For what?”
“For demon hunting.”
Artemis nearly laughed, but then caught herself. “You’re not thinking of coming.”
Phoebe scowled at her. “Of course. I can help.”
“You can help by staying here.”
“You’re very bossy as the Blaze.”
Artemis snorted. “You have no idea.”
“I promise to stay out of the way, but I might be able to help,” Phoebe said, as she wrung her hands. “I need to do something.”
This fell under the heading of Very Bad Ideas. Phoebe should stay here. She’d be safer with Mrs. Perry than out on the street with her and God only knew what else. It was madness to even consider it.
“Please?”
“No.”
Phoebe grabbed onto her arm, imploring her to agree. “I promise to do what you say. I won’t get in the way. I swear.”
If she were honest with herself, she hated the idea of going out there alone. She might grouse about her father being with her, but secretly she was glad of it.
Her resolve began to crumble, but she held firm. It was absurdly dangerous. Was she so selfish that she’d risk Phoebe just to have company?
Phoebe must have sensed her indecision and presented her coup de grâce.
“I feel safer with you.”
And the last bit of resistance fell away.
Artemis pointed a stern finger at Phoebe. “You promise to do everything I say?”
Phoebe made a cross over her chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die,” she said, adding, “Just not tonight if that’s wholly avoidable.”
Artemis couldn’t help but laugh, but there was honestly nothing funny about what they might find.
“Nightmares.”
Victor swallowed and leaned against the back of the hard wooden booth in the tavern.
“You’re certain?” he asked, his eyes briefly focused on his half-empty glass as he contemplated what Arthur had said.
Arthur Darvill’s cherubic face crinkled in thought. “I think it’s quite likely. They’re not technically nightmares, of course, they’re quite real. Whatever creature or demon a person fears the most is drawn to them, through the Veil and into our world.”
