by Alice Moss
He nodded, glancing away. “I don’t know why, but yes. I became more than just another person to be used. She trusted me. And then … then something changed. I could work against her, just a little. I suppose her love for me lessened her grip on my soul. Real love cannot help but be selfless, after all. So I began to learn, as much as I could, about her magic, about how she bargained with Annwn.”
“Why?” Liz asked. “What good did that do you?”
“It meant I knew what to offer them. Something greater than anything Mercy’s kind had exchanged before. And that was enough to free me—and those who wanted to come with me—from the curse.” He sighed. “We knew it would be difficult, but we craved the freedom to live our lives as best we could under our own hand, despite the creatures she had made us. And to do no more harm to the innocent.”
Faye felt a cold shiver rattle its way down her spine. “What did you give them?” she asked, her eyes fixed on Joe’s face. “What did you give Annwn?”
Joe smiled grimly. “All of Mercy’s kin,” he said softly. “I twisted one of her bargains, just a little. The spirits of Annwn grasped as many of her family as they could and dragged them down into Annwn. I hid and listened to the screams. They were the most terrified sounds you could ever imagine. Mercy survived, but alone. And in return Annwn freed me of her power, though they didn’t take the wolf from me. Or from any of us.”
“So … so Mercy’s the only one of her kind left?” Faye asked.
“Yes.” It was Finn who spoke this time, the flickering fire casting long shadows across his face. “But she’s determined to get her family back.”
“She keeps trying,” Joe agreed. “She keeps finding different bargains to make with Annwn. So we track and follow her wherever she goes, trying to save as many as we can.”
“One day we’ll find a way to stop her, once and for all,” Finn muttered.
“Yes,” said Joe seriously. “And that day is almost upon us. She’s planning something—something bigger than ever before. We must stop her, or we will all pay the price.”
Chapter 37: Man in the Mirror
Lucas stared at the handprints on the mirror and realized with horror that they were pressed not on the outside of the glass but on the inside. They were too big to have been left by Mercy; they were far more likely to be Ballard’s. But Ballard was nowhere to be seen. The room was empty, the house silent except for the crackle of the fire in the grate.
Lucas stepped closer to the reflective surface, gazing into its depths. For a moment he felt as if he were falling from a great height, down, down, down, deeper and deeper into the mirror. He reached out to steady himself, gripping the edges of the ancient frame. The cold bite of the metal jolted him back to earth, and he blinked. He saw something skitter along the edge of the mirror, spiderlike, a motion that made his skin crawl.
Suddenly, Ballard’s face was in front of him. Lucas leaped backward, terrified. Ballard was inside the mirror. His eyes were baleful, horrified. He looked this way and that, searching for something.
“Help me,” Ballard begged, his eyes finding Lucas’s, his voice distant and pleading. “Please. Let me out. Let me out.…”
“I don’t … what … I can’t …,” Lucas stammered, shaking.
“Please,” Ballard said again. “It’s so cold, so cold.… I’ve learned my lesson. I’ve been here so long … too long.… It feels like forever.”
“Ballard,” Lucas said, trying to shake off his fear. “Ballard, I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know what’s happening.”
“Mercy,” whispered Ballard, his figure wavering in the mirror. “My lady can help me. She … she can release me.… Please … so cold … so …”
Ballard’s words melted into an unearthly scream, his mouth stretching wide in fear as the sound went on and on. Lucas stumbled backward while from even deeper inside the mirror a gnarled arm reached out of a well of deep blackness. Its hand’s bony fingers reached up to grab Ballard, and the man screamed again as he tried to twist out of its grasp.
Lucas watched in horror as the arm dragged Ballard down into the deepest recesses of the mirror, into a featureless, swirling void. Ballard shrank until he was nothing but a tiny, writhing figure. And then, with a final echoing scream, he was gone.
Lucas stood, breathing hard, staring at the vacant mirror. His own trembling face looked back at him, pale and wide-eyed.
Then he made up his mind. Whatever his mother was, whatever she had done, he had to know. He had no idea when she would return, but right now, the house was empty. If he was to act, it must be this instant.
The door to his mother’s bedroom was unlocked, as he’d known it would be. Mercy never locked her doors—she didn’t believe she needed to, and before now, Lucas would never have dreamed of ransacking his mother’s private rooms. But now his fear had been replaced by anger and a desperate need to know. Somehow he realized he was closer to the truth about his life than he had ever been before. The constant moving around, the strange companions, the everlasting money that Mercy never seemed to earn …
He pushed open the door. His mother’s room was opulent, decorated in rich colors and expensive fabrics. The huge four-poster bed and the floor were covered in furs.
Under the bay window was a desk. It was old, another piece of furniture that Lucas remembered from his childhood. It had followed them around like the mirror, but he couldn’t remember ever having seen inside it. Its surface was a large slab of deeply carved wood, and beneath it were four drawers with worn, ornate handles. Lucas tried them all in turn, but they were locked.
He rummaged among the papers on top of the desk, but there was no sign of a key. Looking around quickly, he saw his mother’s vanity table on the other side of the room. What he needed was a nail file, and sure enough, she had several.
Sliding the thin blade into the first lock, Lucas twisted it hard. He heard a soft pop as the metal sheared, and then the desk sprang open. He pulled the drawer out, looking through the objects his mother had locked away. There was nothing significant—what looked like some dried flowers, a lock of hair and several old books. Lucas flicked through them but found nothing interesting inside. They were old and fragile, printed roughly in a language he didn’t recognize, and someone had signed both at the front. He moved on to the next drawer, finding more of the same, and then the third.
His hands froze on an old, yellowed envelope stuffed with photographs. He pulled them out, settling on the edge of his mother’s chair and laying them, one by one, on the desk in front of him. The photographs were all old—some of them looked like they were from the dawn of photography. The people in them wore elaborate gowns and suits, bow ties and top hats. Some of the photographs were so old it was hard to make out the people’s faces. Lucas leaned close, tracing the brown images with his eyes. He wondered if these were relations of his, like a photographic family tree. And then he realized something.
He could swear that his mother was in every single one of these pictures.
Her face stared serenely from each image. In some, she was with a single other person, usually a good-looking guy. In others, she was with a group of people, most of whom seemed to be gazing at her adoringly.
Lucas sat back, his heart and mind racing. How could these old photographs show his mother, who couldn’t be more than forty? She looked exactly the same in each picture. That just wasn’t possible. And why did she have them at all? He thought back to the screwed-up image of Faye he’d found tucked away in that old jacket.
“They’ve got to be fakes,” Lucas muttered to himself. “Digital manipulations. Maybe … maybe they were taken at one of those amusement parks where you can dress up.”
But even as he said it to himself, he didn’t believe it. There was something horribly real about each picture, from the color and the fading to the dog-eared edges. He pulled out another one and held it up to the light. His mother stood in the background, a cold smile frozen onto her hard, beautiful face. But it wasn
’t his mother who had caught his attention. Beside her, tranquil, equally beautiful, was another young woman. He’d seen her before, and he’d thought about her often.
It was Faye McCarron. It had to be; it couldn’t be anyone else. But she was dressed in old-fashioned clothing again, a prim lace collar and a dark, full-length dress, and the photograph was as old as the others. And she was standing with his mother.
Lucas stared at it, growing colder and colder. None of this made sense, but now at least he knew who could help him. Shoving the rest of the photographs back into the drawer, he slammed it shut.
If Faye was in the picture, she must know what was going on.
Chapter 38: Secrets
“But how does it work?” Liz asked, looking at Jimmy’s pale face as she held his hand. “I mean, I get the bargaining thing. But how does Mercy contact Annwn without having to go there herself?”
Joe stood, stretching as he swallowed the last of his coffee. “She has the Black Mirror, the oldest in the world. She’s owned it for centuries. It was taken from an ancient castle in the easternmost part of Romania. Mercy discovered that it was a connection to Annwn—a passageway between the two worlds.”
“It’s why the weather’s been so cold around Winter Mill since she arrived,” Finn added quietly. “The Black Mirror doesn’t just suck in whatever offering Mercy gives it. It takes whatever energy it can get. It’s like a sinkhole, leading to Annwn. And right now, she’s drawing more power than she ever has before. This is the worst I’ve ever seen it.”
“Doesn’t that make it incredibly dangerous?” Faye asked.
“Oh yes,” said Joe. “Not even Mercy can control the Black Mirror. All she can do is possess and use it. Long ago her kin developed complicated methods of their own to limit the physical contact they have with both the victims and the mirror.”
Liz felt herself shudder. Just a couple of days ago she’d thought Mercy and Lucas Morrow were the two most perfect people she’d ever seen. Now every time she thought about either of them, it felt as if someone were walking on her grave.
“What are we going to do?” she asked. “If she’s so powerful, what can we do to stop her?”
Joe smiled. “We’re working on it. Somewhere there’s a way, and we’ll find it.”
Liz nodded, looking down at Jimmy and biting her lip. He seemed so pale. “What about Jimmy? What’s happened to him?”
“He got caught up in one of her hunts,” Joe explained. “I’m hoping we stopped them just in time.”
“What do you mean, ‘just in time’?”
Joe sighed. “Usually, when a hunt attacks, it is to feed, or to gather new members. We stopped them from feeding, but …”
Liz put a hand over her mouth in horror. “Omigod. So he is going to turn into a werewolf?”
“That’s what we’re trying to stop,” Finn told her gently. “It’s looking good so far, but he does still have some of the wolf in him. That’s why he looks so bad right now.”
Liz felt her eyes filling with tears as she looked down at Jimmy. “Are you sure we shouldn’t take him to the hospital? What did he mean when he said everyone in town could be hers by now?”
“Mercy doesn’t just take victims outright,” Finn explained. “She uses her powers to control them, too. She enchants people, controls them by affecting their minds, their judgment. Then she can use other mirrors, ordinary ones, to give them instructions, or to nudge their thinking in whatever direction she wants.” He shrugged. “It’s amazing how many mirrors you look in every day without realizing it.”
Liz looked at Faye. Her friend was shaking her head, and Liz knew exactly what she was thinking. That all of this was crazy, unbelievable. And yet, after everything both of them had seen recently, how could it not be true? Liz remembered the night of Candi’s party. Had Liz been quite … herself? She reached out a hand and touched Faye’s. Faye turned to look at her, lacing her fingers through Liz’s and squeezing her hand gently.
“Pretty wild, huh?” Liz said.
Faye nodded. “Oh yeah.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to help them,” Faye told her firmly. “Mercy has to be stopped, and if there’s no one else to do it—”
Liz nodded. “You’re right. We have to help them.” She looked at Joe. “You will look after Jimmy, won’t you?”
The big biker nodded. “Of course we will. And you too, Liz.”
“Me?”
Joe glanced at Finn, who nodded. “We think your dad may have been turned by Mercy,” Joe explained quietly. “She always targets the most important people in town as soon as she arrives. I’m sorry. I think it’ll be safer if you stay here with us, at least right now.”
“But—but what about my mom?” Liz asked in a whisper. “She—she’s still there, with him.”
Joe nodded. “Don’t worry. She’s not a threat to Mercy, so she’ll be safe enough. But Mercy must know by now that you helped Finn, Liz. That makes you a target. In fact, your mom will be safer with you out of the way.”
Liz nodded, feeling a numbness in her chest, spreading out from her heart. She blinked, tears blurring her vision. “He has been acting very strange recently. And—and we’ve got this big mirror. In the living room. I found him, a week or so ago, just standing in front of it. Staring.”
Joe sighed. “Had he spent any time with Mercy before that?”
Liz felt the tears slide down her face and nodded again. “Yes. He’d been to see her earlier that day.”
She felt Jimmy’s hand move and looked down to see that his eyes were open. He was watching her with concern and offered a smile. “Don’t worry,” he said hoarsely. “They’ll help him if they can. And I’ll look after you while you’re here. Promise.”
Liz smiled back and nodded, trying to be brave. “OK,” she whispered. “OK, Jimmy. I’ll stay right here.”
#
Faye watched Liz and Jimmy. For a second, they both seemed oblivious to everything else around them, and Faye felt a pang of loneliness. She wished she had someone like that, someone who could make the rest of the world and all its troubles fade away, if only for a moment.
“You should go home, though, Faye,” said Finn’s soft voice behind her. “Pam will be worried.”
She tore her gaze away from her friends and stood up, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I’ll take you,” said Joe, getting to his feet. “It won’t take long.”
“No, Dad, it’s fine—I’ll go.” Finn got up. He looked a little stiff but otherwise OK.
Joe shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Finn. You need to recover. That was quite a beating you took.”
“I’m fine. It’s just a few scratches.”
“Even so, I don’t think—”
“Dad,” Finn interrupted. His voice was calm and low but brooked no argument. “I am taking Faye home. I won’t be long.”
Joe narrowed his eyes and looked at Finn for a second before nodding. “All right. Just be careful. Understand?”
Faye caught a look between Finn and his father that suggested Joe was talking about more than just the journey into town, but she didn’t know what it meant.
She went to Liz, and the two girls hugged tightly. Faye still didn’t like the idea of leaving her best friend alone with these … werewolves. She couldn’t even believe she was using that word!
“Are you sure you’re going to be OK, staying here?” Faye asked Liz in a low voice.
Liz nodded. “Really, Faye, I think we have to trust them. And I feel safe with Joe. Don’t you with Finn?”
Faye smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
She knelt down to give Jimmy a gentle hug while Finn got her helmet ready.
Her friend still looked weak, but less pale than a few hours earlier, though that might have had something to do with the way Liz was insisting on holding his hand.
“I’m relying on you to take care of her, you know,” Faye whispered. Jimmy gri
nned back, nodding.
Faye was tired, but once she was on the back of Finn’s bike with her arms wrapped around his waist, exhilaration took over. They careened through the woods, bumping onto the road in minutes. Below them, the lights of Winter Mill shone brightly, and Faye wondered how something so terrible could be happening here, in her peaceful little town.
Finn slowed as he reached the town center, careful not to wake any of the inhabitants as he turned toward McCarron’s Bookstore. Faye could see a light burning upstairs and hoped that Aunt Pam hadn’t stayed up waiting for her and worrying.
They slid to a stop, the engine idling as Faye swung her leg over the bike and jumped off. Finn watched as she pulled off her helmet. She handed it to him with a smile, but he didn’t smile back. He was staring at her again, in that way he had—the way he had stared the very first time they’d met in the mall, and every other time they had seen each other. Her heart turned over, but it also ached. There was something heartbreakingly sad in Finn’s gaze. It didn’t ease the loneliness that Faye was feeling—it just made it worse. He hadn’t tried to kiss her again, and it didn’t look like he was going to now. He was just looking at her, as if trying to sear every detail of her face into his mind. Faye felt something inside her tugging her toward him, a tie she couldn’t cut alone.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re always staring at me, as if—I don’t know—as if you’re seeing more than I can. I can’t—”
Finn looked away sharply. “I’m sorry. I just … it’s difficult. Every time I look at you …” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
“No—I want to know. Tell me.”
He shook his head again, as if trying to find the words. “Every time I look at you, it’s like seeing the picture of someone I haven’t seen for a very, very long time,” he said, so softly that Faye had to lean forward to hear him. They were very close, and his breath danced along her cheek as he spoke. “Except you’re not just a picture. You’re real. You’re real, Faye, you’re right there, and you look so much like—”