Justin Fisher - The Darkening King

“Do you think he – it – will actually be there?” Ned asked his mum.

“I hope so, darling. I’m so tired of all the running and chasing. All the grinning and pretending we’re on holiday.”

“You know, we could lose the grinning? It’s not like everyone’s always happy when they’re on holiday. We could pretend we’ve come down with some sort of tummy bug – you know, from all the exotic hotel food?”

His mum chuckled. “Oh, Ned, we’re on the Isle of Wight, not Outer Mongolia. The food’s good but hardly exotic.”

“You’re right, Mongolia was last week,” smiled back Ned.

“Was it? Oh yes, that dreadful business with the cyclops. Do you know, I thought it was Spain for some reason.”

“That was the week before.”

Ned watched as his dad passed Mavis a brown envelope full of used notes. She peered in and nodded appreciatively, then returned the favour by passing something small over the counter and tipping her head towards a door at the rear of the shop in a way that said, “Over there but I didn’t tell you.”

The happy holidaymakers that were Ned and his family made their way down a cramped corridor, past a loo, towards the door at the back. They walked through and found themselves in a small windowless room with red velvet wallpaper and a pair of long-backed mahogany chairs arranged either side of a tall mirror.

Ned saw it and sighed. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” said his dad.

“I thought we agreed, no more mirrors!”

Olivia Armstrong managed to look quite sheepish, which was not something the ex Mother Superior and Circus of Marvels agent was prone to do.

“Ned, we have avoided mirrors at every possible turn. We have travelled in the cargo holds of freighter ships, aeroplanes, a military troop carrier … even strapped to the bottom of a horse-drawn cart. This is completely unavoidable. Where we’re going isn’t on any map – it’s in the mirror-verse.”

Ned’s few experiences of stepping through mirror-portals had not for the most part been pleasant.

“ In it?!” he shrieked at a far higher pitch than he’d intended.

“Safest safe house in existence. Son, this is the closest we’ve come in months. The last three informants were murdered before we even got there and Spain … well, Spain was an unmitigated disaster.”

His dad was not wrong. The “informant” they’d gone to meet had turned out to be an agent for the BBB, and had it not been for some quick thinking from Olivia, and Gorrn providing cover for a speedy getaway, the Armstrongs’ mission would have come to an end. It had only been after the battle over At-lan that Ned and his family had discovered who the BBB actually were. A josser network of highly trained spies, seemingly with unending resources and a fascination with the Hidden in all their forms. Their goal? No one really knew. But the BBB were getting better, smarter and more cunning. Everywhere the Armstrongs turned the message was the same – they were after Ned and his family and would go to any lengths to find them.

“Yes, it was a disaster, Dad, and your sources could be wrong about this too. We don’t know what’s on the other side of that mirror.”

“Nor what’s behind us.”

For a moment Ned thought about Barbarossa’s assassin still lying unconscious in a wheelie bin outside. And there could be more on their way.

“Fine,” managed Ned.

“Right,” said his mum. “Let’s go and find ourselves some trouble, eh?”

Given that trouble was regularly finding them, maybe turning the tables wasn’t such a bad idea.

His dad held the sliver of glass that Mavis had given him, and the Armstrongs all joined hands. Then quietly and without fuss they proceeded to walk through the mirror.

That was the thing about trying to find a Demon – they always seemed to hide in the most awkward places.

ed had only travelled by mirror a handful of times. Even so, he still had to adjust his brain as he pressed his nose to the glass. His reflection appeared to wrap around him somehow, and the glass had give. It was cold – somewhere between ice and water. Not slush exactly; slush was wet. But not dry either. More like jelly, only without its stickiness.

His reflection warped and blurred and joined with another until, quite seamlessly—

Shluup.

Ned popped out on the other side as though nothing had happened.

“This is it, son,” said his dad. “Mavis’s real tea shop.”

In front of them was a single carved door with images of fair-folk and Darklings all about its entrance. What was strange and very mildly terrifying was that it appeared to float on thin air, just above the red carpet they were standing on. Above and below was a starry sky with no moon to light it but what looked like the aurora borealis – a great dancing show of coloured light playing out around them.

“Wow,” said Ned. “Where are we?”

“Well, son, technically Mavis’s tea shop isn’t anywhere. Those stars out there are actually mirrors, just like the one we stepped through. This is somewhere in between the reflections, between the light. Geographically speaking, ‘here’ doesn’t really exist—”

“Now, Ned, I don’t need to spell out the dangers,” interrupted his mum.

“Yes, son, you’ve not been yourself for a while now, so if there’s trouble in there, you leave it to me and your mum, OK?”

Ned bristled, but he knew he was right. Ned was like a tiger without claws – no more capable of defending himself than the boy he’d been before discovering the Hidden and his powers. His mum saw the look on his face.

“Terrence Armstrong, sometimes your mouth gets in the way of your brain! Ned, darling, you’re finer than fine. It’s just a phase. I’m sure plenty of Engineers before you went through just the same sort of thing, and anyway, I don’t have any powers, do I? There’s nothing strong bones, a highly developed set of reflexes and quick thinking can’t get you out of!” said his mum, clearly trying to sound upbeat.

Ned knew she didn’t really believe it, just as surely as he knew she was wrong, but he smiled as best he could.

“That said, stay close,” urged his dad. “Now …”

They turned to the door. The entrance was completely silent, and Ned wondered whether the mirrored version of the tea shop was as empty as the one they had passed through to get there. A pink neon sign rearranged itself from a jumble of words till it read, MAVIS’S YE OLDE TEA SHOPPE, and then the sign changed again to: NO COFFEE DRINKERS ALLOWED.

Its oak door had the most lifelike carving at its front in detailed knots of intricately tooled wood. Ned had to blink – it looked very much like the Mavis they had seen back on the Isle of Wight, only “woody”, and both younger and a little less full in the face.

“Who are you?” croaked the wood.

Ned gawped – there was little he hadn’t seen behind the Veil, but this was definitely his first talking door.

Ned’s mum paused for a second, quickly recalling the cover story they had decided on before setting out.

“Ahem,” began Olivia in quite the regal tone, “I am the Lady de Laqua, with my warlock and nephew, Tarquin.”

The carving’s wooded eyes peered at them slowly, till the entire door started to shake, before breaking into creasy, knotted laughter.

“Ha ha ha! Come on, dear, no one ever tells me their real name here, but Tarquin?! Looks more like a Cecil to me.”