The Mirror Sliver (Legends of Green Isle Book 2)

by Constance Wallace

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  One Year Later

  Her mirror showed a reflection that she didn’t recognize. She looked hollow. The markings had faded somewhat but weren’t gone completely. They wouldn’t ever be. When she returned to Green Isle, they would recharge.

  Miranda touched her cheekbones. She didn’t have a mirror on Green Isle. The weeks of travel, limited food, and the stress of her merger with the spirits of the sword had taken its toll. Even after a year, she still looked ill. It didn’t help that the town treated them all with suspicion. The stress of the medical and mental tests frayed her nerves. She resembled a specter. A ghost of her former self. The dark circles surrounding her eyes were etched deeper than they should have been. It made her face look skeletal. Had she aged?

  The only time she found solice was at night. In her dreams, Lug would come. He found a way to speak to her across the worlds. “Don’t come back yet. It’s bad here,” he told her one night. “The magic spell Bera layered on top of the other is creating havoc on Green Isle.” She worried about him and longed to be with him.

  Taking her fingers, she smeared them across the glass, wiping her image into nothing but a blur. Her soul was tired of mirrors. Everything had changed since the four of them followed Lily, Chester and DaGon through the mirror portal in the hedge maze. None of the innocence that had surrounded them then remained. Who were they now? She didn’t even know herself somedays.

  A tap at her bedroom door brought her mind forward. She went and unlocked the mechanism that kept the world away. Opening it a crack, she saw her mother standing there. “Sweetie? The sheriff is here. He wants to ask you a couple of questions. Can you come downstairs?”

  Whispering her acknowledgment, Miranda opened the door further and followed her mother down the twelve small steps to the parlor. She pulled at the long sleeves of her blouse, keeping the markings hidden as much as possible.

  “Sheriff? Here she is,” her mother said. Her mother drew her forward toward the young man who stood in the middle of the room with his hat in his hand. Her mind tried to focus on his face. She didn’t remember this man. Was he new to the job? Yes, the voices said. Your disappearance effected the whole town.

  “Miss Gay? I’m Thomas Malby, the new sheriff. I wondered if you had a moment to answer a few questions.”

  Instinctively, Miranda drew back. She remembered the turmoil of their return. And Matt. Her mind said it loudly. Yes, she couldn’t forget his anger and the way they trapped him to take him away to the State Hospital up the road. His screams still haunted her memories. No one believed them. Idril, not Matt, the voices reminded. Who would believe the stories they told the town and their parents?

  Seeing her withdraw, the sheriff put up his hand, his voice becoming gentle. “I’m sorry if I scared you. There was an incident at the State Ward last week and Matt Kelly disappeared. We just wanted to see if he contacted you. Or if you’ve seen him.”

  Miranda shook her head. She and Toby were the only ones that hadn’t spent time in the State Ward. The voices had kept her safe. They told her to be silent. Legends had grown old, they warned, only myths now. No one on Earth understood the ancients, the old magic.

  “Have you any idea where he might go?” the sheriff asked. His voice was quiet and careful.

  “No,” she replied. “Maybe home?” Her words, offered in reflection, weren’t going to be understood by this man.

  “I’ll leave my number with your mother, so if you do hear from him, have her call our office as soon as possible. All right? His parents are very concerned about him.”

  After nodding her understanding, Miranda moved out of the room when her mother and the man began speaking in hushed tones. She recognized the signals. The whole town thought the children were crazy. Even when they said they knew where the Knox twins had been taken. Her heart felt heavy. She didn’t save all of them. Not like she wanted.

  Wanting to escape the stale stuffiness of her house and the whispering from the parlor, Miranda moved out on the front porch and stood still. Her boney arms hugged her thin frame, wishing that it was Lug’s arms around her instead.

  School had ended about an hour ago. She could hear the loud laughing from the park as many of the students gathered to play ball or other games. Her mother had a tutor brought to the house for her as fear gripped Miranda anytime she stepped past the gate.

  “Miranda?”

  Her name was whispered softly, but she could still hear it. Turning toward the large elm that stood guardian at the gate, she noticed Toby standing in its shadow. Running to the boy, she bent down and hugged him tightly.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “The sheriff is standing in our parlor at this very moment looking for your brother and all.”

  “I know,” Toby said. “I’ve got something for you. Matt said to bring it to you today.” Toby placed a box in her hands. Wrapped in brown paper, its weight seemed oddly familiar. Miranda squinted briefly at the package. What would Matt have sent to her?

  “I’ve got to go,” Toby said. “Mom gets worried if I’m not home right away.”

  Miranda nodded her understanding. “Be careful,” she whispered.

  Before Toby went out the gate, he turned around and gazed at Miranda in a weird sort of way. “I remember, you know. All of it,” he said sadly. “I just didn’t want to tell anybody. Makura told me not to say anything. She takes care of me now.”

  Miranda felt his sadness. It was in her, too.

  Once he disappeared around the corner, Miranda went into the house. Did they notice Toby? She glanced into the parlor. Her mother and the sheriff were still absorbed in their conversation. Luckily, they didn’t see her go up the stairs with the package.

  In the solace of her bedroom, she locked the door. Placing the brown paper package on the bed, she stepped back and regarded it. Some part of her wished Matt had delivered it himself. Sighing, she carefully opened the paper and then stood back in shock when she saw the content. Trembling, her fingers reached out and touched the steel pieces of her sword.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Constance Wallace is a graduate student attending Clemson University, absorbing history, as she researches collections of WWI and WWII letters. Calling home for the Moment the Mountains of North Georgia, she writes in her spare time when she is not researching for a history paper or article. Recently, her horror story, “Vengeance” and a poem “The Death of Me” won a literary award from Young Harris College in Georgia. She has collaborated on a romance/mystery book called "Small Town America" (chapter 12) published by Chainbooks Publishing and is in the midst of creating a middle grades series which centers on the First World War and Interwar period, along with the Young Adult Fantasy Series, Legends of Green Isle.