Aine Crabtree - The Thief

His grin was unsettling. “To free it, of course.”

“I wasn’t aware that anything needed freeing.”

“You’re woefully misinformed.” He raised his head and called out, “Imp, to me.”

The spindly little monster materialized as if falling through the iron ceiling, to land atop the cage. It blinked its large, yellow eyes at us, clinging to the rim.

“All the hard work you’ve put in taming the thing and now it’s mine,” Hemlock smirked at Gohei. “Come here,” he beckoned the creature.

The imp’s head cocked, birdlike, a sort of trilling sound in the back of its throat.

“You know me,” Hemlock said smoothly. “You know this voice. Now come here and port me out.”

The imp fidgeted, lamp-like eyes wide. Gohei snorted something like a laugh on the floor, and the creature took notice of him. It dropped, landing on his shoulder, tail curling protectively around his neck.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Hemlock said, incredulous. “There’s no way it can tell the difference - ”

He took a step towards them, and the lanky little monster hissed at Hemlock, bat-like ears slicked back, showing a mouth full of slender, needle-sharp teeth.

Hemlock recoiled, expression sour. “Live this long and you can still learn something new every day,” he muttered to himself. He suddenly looked up, as if hearing something I couldn’t. “Oh that’s not good,” he said. He grabbed my hand and began to pull me towards the hallway. “We need to get to the sanctuary, now.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” I shouted. “I want to go home!”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Hemlock said, distracted, eyes on the ceiling.

The imp clinging to Gohei screamed at us as Hemlock pulled me up the stairwell. I struggled in his grip, reaching for the mirror’s opening and the forest beyond.

Hemlock gave me a yank up the stone stairwell instead. “I said the sanctuary. Control yourself, girl, because I can get you out of here just as easily if you’re unconscious,” he snapped.

I stilled, heart hammering. What had happened to the kind man who gave out hot chocolate and looked at Camille like she was the most important thing in the world?

We passed a silent, blank-faced Porter in the foyer. Throwing an anxious glance at the library curtain, Hemlock swept us through the opposite one to the sanctuary.

“All that remains,” Hemlock said, his green eyes glittering, “is the Hearthstone.” He knelt by the base of a pillar, pulling the edge of a tile free.

He was so much stronger than me - I couldn’t overpower him. But my power was to negate power, and almost everything inside this mirror was conjured of magic. I looked up. A row of Rhys’s glass lanterns hung overhead. I focused all my thoughts on them, willing the magic tying them to dissolve. After all, they weren’t real, right?

Hemlock’s fingers curled around something small, with a short laugh, just as a lantern crashed over him. He sat back hard, a trickle of blood running from his hairline.

“Juliet!” he roared.

I ran back through the curtain and nearly collided with Rhys coming out of the library.

“Jul!” he exclaimed. “What - ”

I had no time to feel relief to see him. My heart dropped into my stomach as I beheld the man I’d called father ascending the stairs, eyes on me and clutching the iron sword in a gloved hand. Where on earth had he gotten that?

Instinctively, Rhys and I backed onto the terrace, even as I knew there was no outlet. The high walls were insurmountable. Rhys’s hands were on my shoulders as Simon came through the arch, sword leveled at us.

“You’re too dangerous,” Simon said. “You’ll break everything. You’re just not worth the risk. I should have known when she left,” he said angrily, “that it was because of you.”

Vines curled out from the wall and Simon leapt aside, slashing them away. They withered where the sword sheared them. Hemlock stepped onto the terrace as well, a bright green ring now sparkling on his finger.

“This is becoming vastly overcrowded,” he said. “Goodness, Simon, you’ve seen better days.”

“Who are you?” Simon snapped.

“But then I suppose it’s been a rough night for many of us.” Hemlock went on, ignoring him. “Myself, I’m doing quite well, actually. Best I’ve felt in a hundred years.” With a wicked grin, his hand wearing the ring clenched, and the entire wall seemed to come alive, vines whipping to lash Simon against it, sword and all. He groaned as his back hit the stone, hard.

“Jul, I need you to turn it off,” Rhys said in my ear. “Whatever it is that you do, that Tailor thing - I need you to turn it off!”

But I didn’t know how. I had tried the focus, the concentration, nothing had ever come of it. Our backs were literally to the wall, and Rhys was counting on me.

Hemlock let out a long breath. “Now, where was I...?” His gaze slid to me, and Rhys pushed me behind him. “You do inspire the most loyal friends,” Hemlock commented. “Boyfriends, I should say. You know they only like you because you’re pretty, right? If you had any personality, you’d have garnered some female friends.”

As if he’d forgotten Camille. Anger burned. “Bea and Tailor were right about you,” I snapped. “All you do is lie and steal.”

Hemlock spread his arms, quirking an eyebrow. “Uh, Thief? It’s my nature. I have no more control over it than you do your little...void thingie.” He held up his hand, showing the ring. “Which this counteracts, by the way. Now are you going to come along, or am I going to have to harm the young prince’s pretty face?”

“Jul...” Rhys said, under his breath.

I scrambled for focus. Behind Hemlock, the vines around the Tailor’s sword in Simon’s grip were withering.

“There’s no way out,” I said. “No other way out of the mirror.” I came out from behind Rhys, and Hemlock smirked, pleased.

My hand slid into Rhys’s, and the warmth was steadying. “Not unless you make one,” I say, looking into his eyes. The pale blue is almost clear as they widen. I imagine a switch in my mind, like I’d done with the door downstairs. I don’t feel the barrier fall, but he does.

Hemlock barely has time to look confused before we rise into the air, hoisted aloft by a pillar of glass. He screams in fury, vines twisting up after us. As I look down at him, I see no trace of the man I’d thought he was, and I can’t help wondering: what will happen to Camille now?

Camille

He had to be here. He just had to be. Everything he’d warned me about was coming true - Gabriel would know what to do. He always did, even if he didn’t explain, even if he wouldn’t share his reasons, he always knew how to fix whatever had gone wrong.

We were well past wrong.

“Gabriel!” I shouted, pushing through the front doors of the cafe. “Gabriel, where are you?” The place was empty, the lights out. I streaked up the stairs, taking them two at a time, could have done three if my legs weren’t so damned short. My blood ran hot and I’d never been this fast in my life. “Gabriel!” I cried, throwing open the door to his room. It was his usual mess - bed unmade, clothes in heaps on the floor, stacks of books half-read. His laptop’s screensaver cycled through images of dense forests, throwing a sickly green light around the dark room. But no sign of the man himself.

I cursed loudly, and tore into his closet. There had to be something here, something I could use, something he’d kept hidden for emergencies. I threw aside shoes, boxes of photographs, stacks of magazines. I needed a weapon. He wouldn’t leave me with nothing, not at a time like this. I thought of the bracer - the sword - lost so carelessly.