Gabe let his head fall back against the floor with a soft thud. “Really good,” he mumbled, bewildered. “That was… really good.”
Jenna couldn’t help the triumphant grin that spread across her face. She wriggled carefully, settling herself better into his arms. “Take your time,” she said. “I can wait.”
Gabe trailed his fingers lightly along her back beneath the rumpled shirt, up and down the angle of her spine. Jenna sighed, closing her eyes and soaking in his heat.
She wasn’t sure when exactly she fell asleep. All she knew was the dim recollection of him hauling them both up — the stumble back to bed — the satisfaction of peeling off that shirt so she could cuddle herself against him, fully naked.
“Hey,” Gabe mumbled, just when she thought he’d fallen asleep. “Does this mean I’m your favorite person again?”
Jenna smiled blissfully, tugging his arms further around her. “My very favorite person,” she murmured back.
She felt his lips curve up against her neck. “You’re mine too,” Gabe told her softly. “Always.”
Jenna fell asleep in the Looking Glass — and for the first time, she thought it might have felt like home.
Chapter 17
“Rise and shine!” Jenna announced.
Adrian Cloutier was asleep on a café couch when Gabe and Jenna entered the Java Lounge the next day. Or at least, he seemed to be asleep. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jenna saw him open one bleary, red-tinted eye. Slowly, he forced himself upright.
“I hope you know, cappuccinos have now been ruined for me forever,” Adrian mumbled, smoothing out his rumpled shirt. “I officially require a new unhealthy addiction.”
Adrian’s voice was light, but Jenna saw the way he flicked his eyes warily toward Gabe as he spoke. The events of the last few days had done wonders for Gabe’s presence. The casual t-shirt and loose jeans he wore did nothing to mask the unnatural radiance that had begun to seep its way into his every movement. The crown of glass had disappeared for now, but there was simply no mistaking the way the entirety of the Looking Glass seemed to genuflect before him.
“Great,” Gabe said nonchalantly. His golden eyes fixed on Adrian coldly, though he had a friendly smile on his face. “I’ve got something really unhealthy to offer you.”
The words dropped onto the floor between them like dull weights. Jenna winced at the frozen look on Adrian’s face.
“He’s not going to kill you,” Jenna told Adrian with a sigh.
Gabe frowned. “Why’d you have to say that?” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “You could have let him squirm a little more first.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “You literally run the whole world here,” she said. “Isn’t macho posturing beneath you at this point, Gabe?”
“I’ve got a few more days in me before it gets old,” Gabe admitted. He leaned himself back against the glass storefront. “Let’s try this again. You’re a menace to society, Adrian. But you’re not totally unsalvageable.”
Most men would have protested at that, or made at least a token show of defiance, just to save their pride. But Adrian Cloutier had spent the better part of a century learning to navigate social situations to his benefit. He smiled disarmingly. “I’m flattered you think so,” the vampire joked.
“No, you’re not,” Gabe muttered sullenly. It was clear he’d been hoping for a more combative response. When Adrian failed again to offer one, Gabe sighed. “There are two versions of this story. In the first one, you stay in the Looking Glass. Forever.” He smiled thinly. “You’ll be safe and well-fed. But I’m gonna be honest, after a few years with only mirrors and fetches to talk to, I don’t expect you’ll be very sane.”
Adrian’s body tightened minutely.
“…in the second version of this story, you leave the Looking Glass within the hour, and return to your normal life,” Gabe told him. He smiled narrowly. “I like that option better, myself.”
Adrian licked his lips. “You’ve made your point,” the vampire said. “And I have duly noted the irony.”
Gabe shrugged. “It’s appropriate in more ways than one,” he said. “I’m the new Lord of the Looking Glass. Your release is conditional upon you becoming my warlock. I don’t trust you without a proper leash. And I won’t be responsible for you hurting someone else.”
Adrian knitted his brow. “You want me to sell you my soul?” he asked slowly.
“It comes with plenty of perks,” Gabe said, his eyes narrowed. “I suspect you won’t need to feed ever again, if you’re careful. A shard of Arcadia should sustain you sufficiently, as long as you don’t over-exert yourself.” He paused. “But I’ll tell you now — I intend to forbid you from using your hypnosis, even for therapeutic purposes. You can do without it for a few years, at least.”
Adrian pressed his lips together. There was a brief flash of red in his eyes, before he managed to get it under control again. “I’ll be ostracized,” he said shortly. “Unwelcome in every supernatural community. No one trusts warlocks.”
“You can make new friends out there,” Jenna told Adrian, in a purely reasonable tone. “Or I guess you can make friends with your reflection in here. But I know which one I would choose, if I were you.”
Adrian’s eyes flickered over toward her. A hint of irritation crossed his face. “I helped you accomplish what you wanted,” he said. “Was this your idea?”
Jenna raised an eyebrow. “It was,” she confirmed. “You should be happy about that. The only idea on the table before I suggested this one was Adrian the crazy Looking Glass hermit.” She crossed her arms. “I’m taking you at your word. You told me having to feed was what broke down your sense of ethics. And you know what? I’m not gonna fight you on that. I’ve never been starving for years at a time, so I can’t possibly know what that’s like. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs makes a pretty good argument for you.”
Adrian frowned at her. Jenna saw the suspicion in his eyes, and she sighed. “Healthy communication 101. I’m listening to what you’re saying. I’m offering a solution to the problem you outlined. If that’s not the real problem, then you’ve got some serious soul-searching to do.”
Another brief flicker of shame came and went behind his eyes. The vampire considered her for a long moment. “I know very little about Gabriel either way,” he said slowly. “I don’t know that I want to give my free will away to him forever. It’s possible I could become something even worse, in that case.”
“You might not know Gabe,” Jenna said. “But you know me, and I’m not interested in making any monsters.” She paused meaningfully. “And let’s be fair: it’s an easy ultimatum. You’re not really going to choose to stay here forever.”
Adrian sighed, rubbing at his face with the heels of his hands. “That is true, in the end,” he muttered. He straightened again, and forced himself to his feet.
Gabe stared the vampire down with an admirably cool expression as he approached, though Jenna knew he was probably worried. Gabe thought he knew how to make a warlock, he’d said, but the idea of binding someone else’s soul to the Looking Glass made him understandably uneasy — to say nothing of the idea of adding another servant to his roster. I was never supposed to be management material, Gabe had told Jenna glumly. I don’t want people swearing oaths to me like some weird feudal lord.
But he’d agreed, in the end, that turning Adrian into a warlock was the best way to let him leave without worrying about who he might hurt. Jenna had, after all, been inspired to the idea by his deal with Mourning Glory.
Change the pattern, she thought, as Adrian looked into Gabe’s eyes, searching for some kind of encouraging certainty. Maybe he’s stuck in a bad pattern, and maybe it’s just who he is. Either way, we’re going to find out.
“You’ll have to give me your name,” Gabe informed Adrian.
That didn’t go down terribly well. Jenna saw the extra flinch in Adrian’s body. But he must have already resigned himself, because he said: “M
y name is Adrian Cloutier. What do you intend to do with it?”
Slowly, the crown of shattered glass reformed itself above Gabe’s head. Light flickered upon its burnished gold shards, dancing along the café walls — wherever it touched, the façade of the Looking Glass gave way in brief flashes of gold and silver glass.
“Adrian Cloutier,” Gabe said, his eyes burning with golden light. “I offer you a warlock’s pact, in return for your departure from the Looking Glass. Do you accept?”
Adrian fell abruptly to his knees, his eyes wide and staring. The weight of Gabe’s mantle had fully manifested, leaning upon the Looking Glass. Echo’s little special effects display had been a parlor trick by comparison. Some part of Adrian must have been screaming that he ought to be burning under the gaze of that bright, coruscating light — but he shuddered, and forced two clumsy words from his lips.
“I accept.”
The resulting flash was bright enough that Jenna had to close her eyes. Had she opened her Witchsight, she was sure she would have seen something rare and unique — but she might also have burned out a piece of her sanity in the process, so she decided not to watch with any sort of sight.
She didn’t immediately realize when the light had faded. The afterimage of that flash lingered, slowly dissolving into swimming black spots against her eyelids. Eventually, Jenna cracked open her eyes anyway.
Adrian had dropped further to the floor, leaning forward onto his hands and knees. His face was strained, and his breathing was sharp — but there was a surprised, bittersweet smile on his lips, and Jenna couldn’t help but wonder what he’d felt, accepting a piece of the newly-mended Looking Glass into his soul. His dark hair was faintly tinted with silver already, and his eyes were now a burnished golden-red — which, even as she watched, began to fade to a gold-speckled deep blue.
Gabe blinked down at the vampire, clearly caught off-guard by the image of a warlock — his warlock — kneeling before him.
“Well,” Adrian murmured, pushing slowly to his feet. “That’s… different.” He reached out tentatively toward one of the walls; as his fingers brushed its surface, glass rippled into being, trailing his touch.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Gabe told him wryly. “Including that hypnosis of yours.”
Adrian turned to consider him again. This time, there was a subtle, instinctive hint of respect to his manner. “Of course. I have no desire to end up stuck in this place again. The coffee isn’t that good.”
Jenna glanced at Gabe uncomfortably. He didn’t meet her eyes. They’d both decided it was time for her to go straighten out her life. Now that the moment was here, she had to fight the irrational temptation to do the exact thing that Adrian feared, and stay forever.
“I’ll need you to come back every once in a while,” Gabe told Adrian. “But for now, you and Jenna will be heading back to Toronto.”
Adrian glanced at Jenna. “You haven’t accepted a warlock’s pact,” he observed. “Was that in your plans?” There was a hint of suspicion in his voice, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d foisted something on him that she had no intention of doing herself — at least, not immediately.
Jenna shifted on her feet. “Someone has to stay a neutral observer for a while,” she said. “Lord Blackfrost doesn’t think the Looking Glass will fundamentally change Gabe. But if it does, I’ll be the first to notice.”
Adrian nodded slowly. “And you’ll be keeping an eye on me as well,” he guessed. “To make sure I keep to terms.”
Jenna shrugged. “Trust, but verify,” she quoted. “It’s not like it’ll be hard to stay in contact.”
“Without a warlock’s pact, you’ll lose all your memories of the Looking Glass as soon as you leave,” Adrian said slowly. “The last thing you’ll remember will be…” He paused uncomfortably, and Jenna snorted.
“Yeah, you threatening to kill me. Don’t worry about it — I planned ahead. I’ve stored a bunch of my memories where Arcadia can’t get them.” Jenna touched the surface of her silver and moonstone necklace absently. She’d had to repurpose the entire thing just to save a few precious memories. All those memories would come back again each time she returned to Arcadia, of course, but there were some things she didn’t want to leave behind at all.
Gabe reached out to take Jenna’s hand, threading his fingers through hers, and Adrian turned for the door. “I’ll be outside,” the vampire said quietly.
The bell jingled at his departure… and then, they were alone in the empty Java Lounge.
Jenna closed the distance between them, resting her cheek against Gabe’s chest. He sighed, and she could feel the tension in his form.
“I kind of want to just stay,” she admitted in a mumble.
He wrapped his arms loosely around her, and she did her best to absorb his scent, his warmth, the very idea of him.
“You also want to finish your thesis,” Gabe murmured with a smile. “I’m not going to kidnap you to faerie — even if you kind of want to be kidnapped.” He paused. “Anyway, it’s not like I’ll be far.”
“I really hate being a responsible adult sometimes,” Jenna grumbled. She leaned up to kiss him delicately on the mouth. It didn’t stay delicate for very long, of course — he curled his hand around the base of her neck and deepened the kiss. Life was about to turn awfully mundane again for at least one of them, and it was going to be harder to steal time together for a while.
Finally — reluctantly — Jenna pulled away. “I’ll be back to steal your bed again,” she told him.
Gabe’s eyes flashed with humor. “Anything but that,” he said in mock horror. But his grip lingered on her for a second longer before he was able to let her go.
It took an inordinate amount of willpower, but Jenna made her way outside to join Adrian. The scenery had shifted in between her entrance and exit from the cafe — they were now standing in the false Dundas Square, where shifting green pools of water collected beneath the fountains.
Adrian was circumspect enough not to comment on the situation, as Gabe exited after her. Instead, he frowned down at one of the glittering green pools of water, clearly sensing that they led elsewhere.
“It’s not daytime in the real world right now, is it?” he asked.
“I think it’s about three in the morning,” Gabe said cheerfully. “Dark as anything. You might need a cab, though.”
Jenna reached out with her magic to open the Hidden Path back to Toronto. As they stepped through to the other side, she glanced back and caught a glimpse of Gabe standing in the Looking Glass, his golden eyes looking after her.
Epilogue
Jenna wasn’t tired.
It was still a bizarre feeling, even after so many weeks. She slept well. She made it to appointments on time. She hadn’t had to call in a sick day to work even once.
“You’ve been a machine today,” Marie observed. The freshman blinked over at Jenna as she headed back toward the counter of the Java Lounge, snatching up another drink order. “Do you think your doctor can give me some of that new medication? Geez.”
Jenna grinned. “I don’t think it’d work quite the same way for you,” she said. “Anyway — I’m gonna bring out this one and then I’m done with my shift. You’re machine-less for the next bit.”
The bell jingled at the door. Marie glanced over Jenna’s shoulder, and her expression turned sly. “Oh, I see,” she said.
Jenna turned to follow her gaze, and blinked. Gabe had just come in off the street, into the coffee shop. Tall, lean, and magnetic, he’d thrown on a light t-shirt with a reversed Yankees logo and a faded pair of jeans. He exuded a deeper, subtler power than before, though it also felt more comfortable. His silvered hair and golden eyes seemed to carry their own light within them — but it was the smile he shot toward Jenna that made her heart leap all the way into her throat.
He raked his fingers nervously through his hair as he headed over toward her, and Jenna belatedly remembered that he had good reason to feel nervou
s. She set down the coffee mug in her hand, just before Gabe got close enough to wrap his arms around her.
“Hey,” he breathed, as Marie grinned broadly nearby. “God, I missed you. How long has it been on your side?”
Jenna flushed, burrowing into his embrace. “Two weeks and four days,” she said. “But who’s counting?” Everything in the Java Lounge smelled like coffee, but Gabe also smelled like Gabe, with that clean male scent and familiar soap. Her body shivered with such relief at his presence that she nearly forgot more pressing matters. “I tried to send a text to Adrian’s phone, uh. I guess he didn’t come back with you, though?”
Gabe tugged back with a quizzical look on his face. “Adrian stayed to help Echo keep an eye on things while I’m gone,” he said. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Jenna winced. “Not wrong, exactly,” she managed. “I know I warned you Mom was gonna be in town. It’s just… she came to see me at work.”
Gabe blinked very slowly. The words took much longer to penetrate than they should have done. She saw the moment that it all came together though, as he let her go and turned to look over the rest of the café.
Kaitlyn had risen from the chair near the window, her face utterly pale. There were new streaks of grey in her short auburn hair, and deep lines on her face — but she still wore the comfortable-looking old blouse and skirt that had served her through many years of teaching high school. Obvious tears threatened in her eyes, and she lifted her hands to press them against her mouth.
Gabe swallowed hard. An old, familiar panic fought at the back of his eyes, and Jenna knew that in the moment he wasn’t thinking of the otherworldly mantle on his shoulders or the literal world that he’d inherited. He was, if anything, a little boy staring down his past.
“Um,” he managed, in a choked voice. “Miss Wright.”
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