by Alex Rivers
Of course that would be an important detail to him, though oddly enough, I felt better with Roan here. “I am cold.” I hugged myself. “Let me know if you see a ladder or something. Maybe we can get out through a manhole.”
“Are you going to allow this person continue to control you this way?”
“The abductor? I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“If you allow yourself to become attached to people, you make yourself vulnerable. Others can easily control you, as you are demonstrating.”
My feet splashed through the freezing water. “That’s your theory, is it? What about Elrine? You’re obviously attached to her.”
“She’s the only one.”
I felt an inexplicable twinge of jealousy. “How can you be so old and have so few emotional attachments? What do you do with your time? Just live in the forest in total isolation?”
“I spend time at the court as well.” His icy gaze slid to me. “And what I do with my time is none of your concern.”
“Who is it you wanted me to speak to?”
He cut me a sharp look. “I needed to bring you to the Council. I don’t know what will happen there, except that the Callach said it will help restore Trinovantum to its former glory.”
The fucking Callach again. “What does that mean?”
He took a deep breath. “Have you seen the heraldic emblems in Leroy’s bar?”
I nodded. Phoenixes, ravens, foxglove… “Yeah. What are they?”
“The six ancient houses of Trinovantum. Once, they ruled together. Six kings, who made decisions together. Six kingdoms, each with our own customs and gods. And now there’s just one. The House of Weala Broc, ruled by the High King.”
“The skulls under water, and the king who forbids dancing.” I stumbled in the darkness, trying to hurry. How much time did we have left? “But I only saw five emblems. The sixth was there, but it was defaced.”
“True.” He declined to elaborate further. “In any case, once you come to the Council, your role here is probably over, and you should leave London. Return to your former life across the ocean doing… whatever it is that you do.”
So, apparently, I was the key to restoring these six kingdoms, and no one had a goddamn clue why. If I had to guess, the Callach was full of crap—a weird old woman who uttered cryptic fragments before returning to gnawing on twigs, and everyone treated her ramblings like gospel.
We walked for a few minutes in silence, until the sounds of splashing and shouts echoed from behind us. We moved faster, running through the water. I knew Roan was slowing himself down for me, but I just couldn’t pick up speed in the water. Ahead, I heard the sound of churning water.
“It’s a dead end,” said Roan.
Shit. “Are you sure?” I whispered.
“It’s a wall of water. This is Grendel’s doing. He’s blocked our way. He can make river water do his bidding. He would have drowned us both already, except he probably doesn’t want to lose Lucy.”
“So I didn’t kill him?”
“He isn’t so easily killed. He’s as ancient as the rivers themselves. But you definitely managed to piss him off.”
The sound of shouting guards moved closer.
My heart thrummed. “What now?”
“Now, we hide.” Roan grabbed my arm, pulling me into a tiny alcove in the side of the wall. Brick pressed against my back, and Roan squeezed in next to me.
What was the time now? I didn’t have my phone to check anymore, but I was certain we’d been in this tunnel for over twenty minutes. I’d never get to the docks in time. Tears stung my eyes.
My teeth began to chatter, and Roan whispered, “Shhh,” wrapping his powerful arms around me.
His body warmed mine, and I breathed in his smell—moss and sage, a hint of musk. I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting my body brush against his. He ran a hand down my back, his fingers warm on my skin, and his touch electrified me. I tucked my head into his chest, listening to the soothing sound of his heartbeat.
One of the bodyguards ran toward the alcove, slashing through the water, and I held my breath, certain he’d hear the frantic pounding of my heart. But he ran right past us, followed by another guard a moment later.
I heard one of the guards shout, “I think they got away!”
“I’m telling you,” said the other. “They went down that side tunnel!”
“I didn’t see anything there.”
“There’s nothing here either!”
“The frog will have our heads if we don’t catch them.”
“Don’t call him that!” the other one hissed, horrified. “He’d kill me for just hearing you call him that.”
“Fine. Let’s check the filthy side tunnel.”
I heard the sound of splashing water as they ran past us again. I waited, breathing softly. Roan’s breath warmed the side of my face, his fingers lightly stroking me just above my hipbone.
Slowly, I pulled myself away from him, regretting the loss of his warmth. I could no longer hear the fae guards, and the sound of churning water seemed to be abating.
“His magic is weak,” Roan said softly. “The iron bullet poisons his body.”
“Good.”
We waited for another minute, until Roan judged the wall of water to be low enough to wade into safely.
And just on the other side, a tiny ray of sunlight streamed into the underground river through a manhole. I could see the rusted ladder that lead up to the opening. I climbed first, gripping the pelvic bone.
At the top, I pushed the manhole aside and hauled myself out onto a narrow alley. Water poured from my dress, and Roan had been right—it was completely transparent.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” I asked.
He glanced at the sun. “Twelve forty.”
My heart stopped. It took an hour and a half to get to Sheerness in a car. There was no possible way we could make it.
Fail to get her there on time,
And Scarlett burns alive.
Chapter 13
For a moment, I just stared at Roan, feeling empty and helpless. If the CIA had given me their support and a charted aircraft, perhaps I could have gotten there on time. But by land? An hour and a half drive—and the original estimate hadn’t even accounted for traffic, which existed in real life. Getting the drive down to twenty minutes was impossible.
Frantic, I looked around me at the brick Victorian buildings, searching for some kind of brilliant idea. Behind us was a newsagent’s, and the man behind the glass stared at us. He probably didn’t see many women in sheer dresses climbing out of the sewers.
And then, a crazy idea bloomed in my mind.
I dashed into the shop, the bell ringing as I flung open the door into a tiny space, crammed with newspapers and boxes of chips. The old man behind the counter glared at me.
“Do you have a map of London and its surroundings?” I asked, breathless.
I heard Roan come in behind me. “What are you doing?”
“Most people use their phones these days.” He rummaged around behind the counter before handing me a map. “That’ll be one pound,” he said.
I ignored him, unfolding the map. It only showed London. Not good enough.
“I need a map that shows the area around London too. Like, the suburbs.”
His eyes drifted down to my chest, taking in the sheer fabric and the fact that I was clearly cold. “Suburbs?”
“Kent.” I was losing patience.
He sighed, then rummaged behind the counter, muttering to himself. I tapped my foot until he handed me another map, then unfolded it as well. Better. It had a large area around London, and showed the Isle of Sheppey as well.
“That’ll be another pound.” He held out his hand.
“Are you going to explain yourself?” asked Roan.
“Please find Gabriel,” I said. “Tell him to get me from the Sheerness Docks.”
“I need more of an explanation.”
“And
I need you to trust me.”
He stared at me, his green eyes boring into me. “You need to know that the way you… travel can be dangerous.”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t have much choice.”
Roan turned, walking from the shop without another word. I had no idea if he planned to do what I’d asked, but maybe I needed to trust him, too.
The old man thrust his hand closer to me. “Two pounds, miss.”
“Do you have a mirror?” I asked.
He grumbled to himself, rifling around in a box of plastic tat until he found a plastic hand mirror. I glanced at the clock on the wall. I had about eighteen minutes to get there.
“Four pound fifty,” he said.
I tucked Lucy and the map under one arm, and I stared into the mirror, letting my mind bond with the reflection. When it did, I searched eastward, as far as I could go. I found another reflection, a mirror in a house. I felt the magnetic pull of the mirror, and I let it tug me into its surface, sucking me in like a black hole. The reflection’s magic shimmered over my body, rippling over my skin.
I tumbled through the wall of liquid magic into an empty bedroom, where light shimmered through a dusty window. Dashing to the window, I opened it and looked outside. I could see the Thames lazily flowing a few blocks away. Good. Was I looking at it from its southern side, or northern? I glanced at the sun. Southern side. East was to my right. I rushed back to the mirror, felt for a bond with the reflection, and searched for another. East.
Jump.
A shopping window reflecting a London street. Passersby screaming as they saw me appear out of thin air. Checked the street name, found it on my map. I was moving in the right direction—east, east, east.
Jump.
Another bedroom. A bleached-blond woman screamed in bed.
“What’s the address here?” I roared at her.
She blubbered incoherently, clutching her pink duvet.
“The address! Now!”
“Thirteen Tarling Road! Please don’t kill me!”
I found it on the map, blocking out her shrieks. I glanced at her clock. Sixteen minutes.
“Which way to the Thames?” I asked, hoping she could easily point it out.
“Take the elevator to—”
“Just point in the general direction!”
She pointed. Gritting my teeth, I turned to the mirror, bonding with the reflection, then searching.
Jump.
The street again, another window, the Thames easily in sight. This time I took more care with my jump, searching for a reflection to the east.
Jump.
On the Thames walkway, people screamed as I leapt out of a dark window. I checked the sun again, pretty sure I could tell which way was east just by its location. I prayed I was right.
Jump.
Another street—a squat brick council estate, empty of passersby, a cool wind kissing my skin.
Jump.
Another shop window, and a man in a grubby T-shirt stared at me, blinking.
“Which way to Rochester?” I asked. Rochester stood between the Isle of Sheppey and me.
“I… Miss…” he stammered. “You can take the bus from the—”
“Just point the direction!”
“I reckon, maybe…” He gestured limply to the right.
Grinding my teeth, I fixed my eyes on the sky, trying to approximate east. I slipped back through the reflection.
Jump.
The next man couldn’t form any words after I jumped out of his rearview mirror while he was getting into his car, but he did easily point the way, his finger trembling.
Jump.
The more I jumped, the more the reflections began feeling strange—sticky, as if I were moving through gelatin. With each jump, I started to feel slightly queasier, my head foggy. I clutched my stomach, letting myself fall through another reflection.
Jump. Jump. Jump.
Nausea welled in my gut as I tumbled through the reflection on the glass of a bus shelter. I’d lost the map during one of the jumps, but I still clung tight to the pelvic bone. Clutching it to my stomach, I fell to my knees on the sidewalk, hunching over. I heaved, puking up a thin stream of brown liquid. The tea I’d had earlier. I wiped the back of my shaking hand across my mouth.
It had to be nearly one now. I didn’t have time to lie here in the street puking.
“Are you all right?” An old woman with silvery curls bent over, gently touching my shoulder.
I looked up at her, squinting in the sunlight. “Do you know which way is Rochester?”
“This is Rochester.” She frowned behind her Coke-bottle eyeglasses. “Do you want me to call an ambulance?”
The Isle of Sheppey was northeast of Rochester.
“Can you point me in the general direction of the Isle of Sheppey?”
She straightened, a perplexed look on her face. “It’s that way, but—”
I rose on unsteady feet, and fell back into the reflection. Jump.
Loud honking pierced my ears. Screeching tires. I’d jumped into the middle of the highway through a side mirror reflection, and a car missed me by inches, the air rushing past me. Another car swerved, nearly lost control, stopping at the side of the road, the driver opening his window, face red with rage, screaming at me. Dodging the cars, I ran to him, clinging to the bone. He stared in fright, rolling up the window. He began driving just as I got to his car. I grabbed the door handle, stared into his side mirror, feeling the bond with his reflection.
Jump.
It was like jumping through thick goo, my body forcing itself through the reflection, no longer quite welcome.
A small residential street, fields of scrub brush. A teenager stared at me, his eyes bloodshot and half-lidded, obviously stoned.
“Which way to Sheppey Island?” I barked, my nerves on fire.
“Mate… you look well mental. Did you just come out of that car mirror, or—”
“Which way?” I screamed, confirming his theory.
“Just up that road.” He pointed.
Turned around to look at the car’s window, bonded with the reflection, searched another one.
Jump.
The reflection pushed back, thick as molasses. I nearly couldn’t get through. I could now glimpse the world between reflections, a world of nothing, and it gnawed at the inside of my mind. I could get trapped here, and I needed to push on. My body moved through as if swimming through drying cement. At last, I broke through, gasping for breath.
I tumbled to my knees, spewing more tea. Standing shakily, I turned around, getting my bearings. I’d jumped through a shiny metal fence and now stood by the side of a large road—fields on one side, and some sort of warehouses on the other. I needed to find out where the fuck I was, exactly.
A car was driving in my direction, and I stepped in front of it. The driver slammed on the breaks, screeching.
“How far to the docks?” I shouted.
A woman with frizzy brown hair stuck her head out the window. “Get out the road, you daft cow!”
Panic ripped through my body, and I waved Lucy in the air, marching toward her car. “I am holding a human pelvic bone, and I will kill you! Where’s the fucking dock?”
“It’s just a ten-minute walk that way.” She pointed, her bottom lip quivering.
I stood by her window, staring down at her. “What time is it?”
“Twelve fifty-seven.”
No time to get there on foot.
I bonded with her rearview mirror.
And I jumped.
Chapter 14
The reflections clung to my body, trying to hold me there. My world tilted. I knew that staying in this world between reflections meant death. My death, Scarlett’s death. I couldn’t let that happen. I wasn’t going to let Scarlett burn.
With what little willpower I had left I pushed through, my blood roaring in my ears, breath ragged in my throat, head throbbing…
I landed on my feet, and water shimmere
d in front of me. Dizzy, I tried to get my bearings. An abandoned brick building, broken windows… broken pieces of wood in the sand.
Was I in the right place? I tried turning my head to survey my surroundings, but a wave of vertigo hit me. I dropped to the ground, trying to throw up, nothing left in my stomach.
I raised my arm to my eyes, my vision blurry. It had to be nearly one o’clock.
Had I made it? The world blurred and darkened, but suddenly there was someone standing over me. I tried to ask which way the Sheerness Docks were, but couldn’t speak.
The figure kneeled and plucked something from my hand. The bone. Lucy.
My mind whirled, and I struggled to stand up. I needed the bone. It could save Scarlett somehow.
The voice sounded far away. “Well, you made it. I’m surprised, I admit.”
As my world dimmed, I heard the sound of footsteps moving away from me.
“Stop,” I mumbled, and then everything went black.
* * *
“Horace, don’t!”
A wheeze, a gurgle, my mom’s lungs bubbling as blood flooded them. I shut my eyes, suffocating in the cramped space. I was too big to stay under a small bed.
“Couldn’t you save her?” It was my chief’s voice, full of disappointment.
I opened my eyes, looked at him. He was shaking his head sadly.
“You’re an FBI agent, Liddell, what were you doing under the bed?”
He was right. I should have saved my mother, but instead I’d hidden under the bed like a coward. As I crawled out from the bed, I let out a sob.
“Stop that! I want you to report back tomorrow, you hear me? Get on the first plane and report back about what you did.”
My mom lay on the floor—in my room, for some reason. A trickle of blood ran down her chin. She opened her mouth to yell at me, but all she managed to get out was a wheeze, and a gurgle.
“I’m sorry!” I blurted.
Gabriel looked down at me, eyes full of regret. “I shouldn’t have helped you, Cassandra.”
My blood roared, and guilt pressed on my chest like a thousand rocks. “But…”
“Cassandra!”
Gabriel’s deep voice pierced the nightmare and my eyes flickered open, the afternoon sun blinding. I squinted, and a figure knelt over me, blocking the harsh light. It took me a moment before my vision focused on his deep, hazel eyes. Gabriel.