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“That’s nice and creepy. But I’m with Fletcher.”
“You’ve been with him for a while now. It doesn’t stop you coming to me.”
“Yeah, and that makes me feel so much better about it all. I’m cheating on my boyfriend, who is really nice and sweet and hot, and I’m cheating on him because, let’s face it, I’m really not a good person. I’m a cheating girlfriend.”
“Then never see him again and your conscience will be clear,” he said, taking her hand in his.
She frowned at him. “But I want to see him again.”
“If you wanted him, you wouldn’t be with me.”
“It is possible to want more than one person at the same time, you know.”
“I only want you.”
“And you should really get out more.” Valkyrie disentangled herself from him. “Also, all these proclamations of your undying love for me are getting kind of … It’s a bit much, to be honest. Just hold back a little.”
“But my love for you is eternal.”
“That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about.”
“I need you. I need to be around you. I’m dead, Valkyrie. I’m dead, but when you’re here, I feel alive. Memories are stirred of a pulse, of breath in my lungs, of life in my heart. The more I’m with you, the more I need. My passion burns …”
She made a face. “I don’t need to know about your burning passion.”
“It burns for you, Valkyrie. I’m on fire. My mind is in flames.”
“Couldn’t we just be each other’s bit on the side?”
“You love me. I see it in your eyes.”
“I think you’re mistaking confusion for love.”
“I love you with everything that is me.”
“Remember when you were the strong, silent type? Could we go back to that?”
“It’s too late to go back. You’ve reawakened the old Caelan. Because of you, I remember who I used to be. Because of you, I can push the monster down.”
“And that is very much appreciated.”
“Before you, my life was in darkness. It was hollow and empty and cold. But you shone a light through the darkness. You led me home.”
“Yeah, I’m great. Could we stop talking now?”
“But I want to talk. I want to talk for ever.”
“I think you are…”
“You, Valkyrie, are my sweet agony.”
She held up a hand. “OK, I’m really going to have to stop you there. You say one more thing that sounds like it’s ripped from the pages of a really bad gothic romance and I’m out of here, are we clear? You’ll have talked yourself out of ten minutes with me. Is that what you want?”
Caelan shook his head.
“Good doggy. And never call me your sweet agony ever again.”
(#ulink_6798d582-773b-50be-a94a-fa2c0f319186)
elancholia listened patiently while the woman explained what all the charts meant. Two other Necromancers stood by the door, and Cleric Craven hovered nearby, as was his new habit. He seemed reluctant to let Melancholia out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time.
“The good news,” the woman said, “is that we have established a pattern. If our calculations are correct, you should start to feel strong again sometime in the next twenty minutes, and this strength should stay with you for anywhere between three and four hours.”
The woman had an annoying tendency to wait for some indication that Melancholia had heard and understood, so Melancholia gave her a nod. “Four hours,” she echoed.
“You may experience some dizziness and some fatigue during those four hours, and if you do, don’t worry about it. It should pass within moments.” The woman’s name was Adrienna Shade. She was powerful, and intelligent, and had risen quickly through the Necromancer ranks. There had been rumours that she was to be made a Cleric, a virtually unheard of promotion for one so young. Melancholia used to admire her. But that was before Craven’s experiment, before the Surge. Now Adrienna Shade meant nothing to her. Melancholia glanced around the room. None of these people meant anything to her.
“But in four hours’ time,” Shade continued, “you’ll grow weak again. Very weak. We’ll have IV drips and oxygen standing by in case you sink to dangerous levels. Whatever happens, we’ll be ready for it.”
Melancholia doubted that very much, but she smiled and thanked her nonetheless, and Shade put away her charts and instruments, and left the chamber.
“Cleric Craven,” Melancholia said, “is it OK for me to be alone for the next few hours?”
He frowned. “We need to conduct more tests, Melancholia.”
“But this is a lot to take in, and I think it would really help me if I had the night to myself. I’ll submit to all the tests in the morning, I promise.”
Craven sighed irritably. He had a tendency to get irritated very easily. “Yes, very well. The night, then. Tomorrow, tests.”
“Thank you, Cleric,” Melancholia said, and bowed her head. She knew Craven responded well to things like that.
The Cleric walked from the room, ushering the guards out before him. The door closed, and Melancholia allowed herself a smile. Twenty minutes, and she’d feel that power again. Twenty minutes, and she could have herself a little fun.
(#ulink_1380ccfa-73f6-5b3f-b432-d32818469c7c)
lice woke at a little before midnight, and Valkyrie muted the TV before scooping her out of her bed. Her parents were out. Valkyrie didn’t mind. It had been a long day and all she wanted to do was relax at home with her little sister.
“Hello,” Valkyrie said. “You’re awake, then. Did you have a good sleep? Are you rested?”
The baby looked at her and said nothing. Valkyrie took one of the bottles from the side table, teased it down to Alice’s mouth until she started feeding. Her phone rang.
It was Fletcher. “Are your folks still out?”
“Yep. Me and the kid are downstairs. Want to come over?”
“Be right there,” he said, and hung up.
She looked at Alice. “Your sister is a bad person,” she whispered. “Two-timing is not an admirable quality in anyone.”
Fletcher appeared beside her. He peered at the baby.
“Can it do any tricks yet?” he asked.
“I’m still working on it. Want to hold her?”
“God, no,” Fletcher said, laughing. “I’d drop it.”
“It’s not an it, it’s my sister. Go on, hold her. You won’t make a mess of it, I swear. Only an idiot could drop a baby.”
“You always say I am an idiot.”
“But you’re a special kind of idiot. Here.”
She passed Alice into his arms, and he stood there, rigid, a look of intense concentration on his face.
“I’ve got to support the head, right?” he asked. “And the rest of the body, obviously, but mostly the head. The head’s the important bit. Am I doing it right?”
“You’re doing fine.”
“Do you think it likes me?”
“Honestly, I think she has more taste than that. The baby’s like me – she tolerates you.” She gave him the bottle, waited until Alice was feeding again, then stepped back. “Want a cup of coffee?”
“I’d better not, I’m holding a baby.”
“Suit yourself.” Valkyrie went to the kitchen, dumped a spoonful of coffee into a mug while she waited for the water to boil. She looked up at the window, tried to peer through the blackness on the other side, but all she could see was her own face staring back at her.
Fletcher walked in on stiff legs. “Haven’t dropped it yet.”
“You’re a natural,” Valkyrie said, smiling and turning away from the window.
“Do you think so?”
“Oh, yeah. All you need is to wipe that petrified look off your face and you’ll be inundated with babysitting jobs.”
“In that case, I think I’ll keep this petrified look, thank you very much.”
She poured the boiling water into the mug and gave it a few quick stirs, but just as she was about to take a sip, they heard a noise coming from upstairs.
They froze. Fletcher looked at her.
“I thought we were alone,” he said softly.
“We were,” Valkyrie replied. She put down the mug. “Stay here.”
Fletcher shook his head, holding Alice out to her. “You stay here. I can teleport up and back again before whoever it is even blinks.”
“It’s my house. I’m in charge. I’m going up. If it’s trouble, take the baby to the twins, then get back here immediately and help.”
“Valkyrie, for God’s sake—”
“We’re not arguing about this.”
She walked past him, out of the kitchen and into the hall. The lights were on upstairs. It was brightly lit and warm and welcoming. She climbed the stairs. Shadows curled around her right hand.
Another sound, coming from her room. The first thought that entered her mind was that Tanith had lied when she’d said she’d leave Valkyrie’s family alone. Valkyrie hesitated, then shouldered the door open and barged in.
The reflection turned to her.
Relief flooded through Valkyrie’s veins, followed by puzzlement, and then anger. “What are you doing out?”
“I’m sorry?” the reflection said.
“You’re out of the mirror. How the hell are you out of the mirror?”
“You didn’t put me back in.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No. You didn’t. You told me to get into the mirror, but you didn’t touch the glass.”
Valkyrie frowned. “I did. I did touch it.”
The reflection shook its head. “You must have forgotten.”
“I didn’t forget, for God’s sake. It was two hours ago. I climbed through the window, you got in the mirror, I touched the glass and absorbed your memories. I remember everything you did today.”
Now it was the reflection’s turn to frown, a perfect simulation of a puzzled expression. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”
“Oh for God’s sake … I let you out of the mirror this morning, you went downstairs and Alice was crying—”
“That was yesterday.”
Valkyrie stopped. “What?”
“You’re remembering yesterday. Alice was fine this morning. You came back two hours ago, I got in the mirror but you left the room before you touched the glass, that’s all. You just forgot.”
“But I remember touching the …”
“Do you? Do you actually remember? Or do you just assume you did it because it’s what you always do?”
Downstairs, the baby started crying.
“She probably needs her bottle,” the reflection said, and walked past Valkyrie, out of the room. Valkyrie watched it go, still frowning. She looked at the mirror, piecing together the events of the last two hours. She’d climbed through the window and the reflection had been doing their homework for school the next day. Valkyrie had told it to step into the mirror, and she’d changed her clothes, fixed her hair and … and …
She was sure that she’d touched the mirror. She was sure that the reflection’s memories had flooded her mind. She was almost certain of it. It was possible, of course it was, that she was getting mixed up. It was an easy mistake to make, after all. It was like locking the front door before bed, then lying in bed minutes later and wondering if you’d actually locked the door or you’d just thought about it.
Valkyrie went downstairs. Keeping track of two sets of memories had been tricky at first, but she was an expert at it by now – two parallel tracks of experiences, happening at the same time, sometimes even in the same space. It had taken the longest time to get used to sorting through conversations that she’d had with herself. Viewing a conversation from both sides had been brain-meltingly unsettling. And even though there were some flaws in the process, some gaps in the reflection’s memories that she couldn’t access, she had always felt that she had a handle on it all. Until just now.
