Catherine Fisher - Obsidian Mirror

Venn grabbed Rebecca and pulled her away; Wharton hit the floor chest-first. When he looked up, the room was clogged with bitter smoke; to his dismay Jake was clambering up, hand over hand through the cables to the roof.

“Give it to me. Give it!”

Far from dropping the thing, the monkey was fascinated by it. It transferred the glass gun to its back paw and climbed up a little farther. Jake swore. Glancing down, he saw that Janus was dragging Sarah to the door. Venn scrambled up, ran to the mirror, and hauled it over. It was undamaged.

“Give me that!” Jake yelled.

Horatio chattered and jumped. He landed on the floor.

Summer said, “Creature.”

The monkey stopped and stared at her. Then it did something that astonished Jake; it made a spitting, snapping sound he had never heard, all its fur standing up like a ruff of terror around its neck.

She held out her hand. Horatio flung the weapon down and screeched away, high into the roof.

Jake dropped.

Summer picked up the gun and turned, tossing it to Venn. “Deal with him.”

Out in the Monk’s Walk Sarah struggled in the Replicant’s grip. “They believe me.”

“Maybe.”

“And the mirror fell—you heard.”

It laughed. Its small eyes behind the glasses were close to hers. “There is so much you don’t know about the mirror, Sarah.”

It dragged her to the stairs, stopped. “What is that noise?”

She stood triumphant even in his tight grip. “You can’t get out. I’ve made sure of that.”

Venn raced after the Replicant, tearing through the house; Jake and Wharton followed, leaving Rebecca to help Maskelyne up, dazed by the ringing crack of the light.

“Where?”

Venn hurtled through into the Long Gallery. “Downstairs.”

They raced down.

At the foot of the stairs Jake crashed into Venn’s stillness.

The hall was a swirl of snow. The Replicant was a shadow in the drift, holding Sarah tight; she flashed a look at Jake and stood calm. Jake went to move, but Venn grabbed him.

There was no way out. In the snow the Shee waited, an ominous horde, their war drums a pounding beat. Some of them peered in, watching in calm curiosity, never crossing the threshold.

Every window was clogged with their alien, inquisitive faces. The doorway darkened, and Gideon stood there, the horse’s skull on its pole leaning beside him. His arms were folded; he smiled a slanting grin at Sarah. “Don’t fret. You’re going nowhere. You owe me.”

Janus spun.

“Are you ready, Venn?” Summer was standing near the door, even though Jake knew she had not passed him. “Look, my changeling’s even guarding the threshold for you. Here are both your enemies. Why not destroy them together?”

Venn spared her a taut glance. “I think my true enemy is you,” he breathed.

Summer nodded. “I think so too,” she whispered.

Venn pointed the weapon straight at Sarah as Janus held her.

“Let her go.”

“No. Clear the way for us. We escape into the night.” Janus was urgent. “I take her, you keep the mirror. We both win.”

“The Shee…”

“Will do as you tell them.”

Venn hesitated. At once Sarah said, “Don’t listen to it. Shoot, Venn. Do it! Then smash the Chronoptika. That’s what you have to do!” She looked up and saw Wharton watching, Maskelyne a shadow on the landing, Rebecca holding the monkey tight. “All of you. Make him do it. You must!”

Jake glanced at his godfather. Venn’s hand was steady. His grip did not tremble.

“What if it kills you?”

“I’m not even born yet. Do it, Venn. Save the world.”

Tears were blinding her. Through them she saw his eyes on hers. “You don’t know me well enough yet, Sarah. Before I save the world I’ll save my wife.”

He fired.

She screamed. The white bolt of light drilled through her chest like a spear of pain; it passed right through her and struck the Replicant with full force, and for a moment, their faces so close, she saw the glasses vaporize, the ash-gray eyes widen in terror.

It was a weight against her, a hollow outline of brilliance against her retina, a clutch of long fingers.

Then it was gone.

25

“Have you thought,” I once asked him, “that before long there’ll be nothing left for you or anyone else to explore?” We were sitting at a café terrace on the Rue St. Honore in Paris; it was three months before his wife’s death. He said, “The world is finite. Time isn’t. Neither is the universe inside us.”

I thought he was joking.

But he never jokes.

Jean Lamartine, The Strange Life of Oberon Venn

W HARTON PUT THEmatch to the kindling and sat back, watching the small sticks slowly snap and crackle into almost invisible flame. Soon he felt heat against his chilled fingers; as the peats caught, fragrant smoke spiraled into the chimney.

He scrambled up, dusting his hands.

Despite the return of the electricity, Jake had found some candles, and was lighting them obsessively around the kitchen, stabbing them into holders as if the heart of the house had to be made warm and safe again, the snowy night closed out.

Sarah sat by the table. She was staring into the crackling fire, one hand turning the small gold coin she wore at her neck.

Wharton sat opposite. “How do you feel?”

She shrugged. She had no answer to that. How could she explain to him that the weird surge of light from the weapon had not hurt her, not like the angry despair in Jake’s look, the way he lit one candle now from another and would not even meet her eyes. That was the wound. She wanted to destroy his father’s way home. He probably hated her for it.

Wharton must have sensed it. He gave a quick glance at Jake and said, “I’ll just go and help Piers bring the food in.”

When he’d gone, she got up and crossed the room. “Jake. I’m sorry.”

She was standing close behind him. He kept hold of the last candle until the flame caught, then placed it deliberately in the iron candlestick. When there was nothing else to do, he turned.

She looked pale, and shaken, her eyes ice blue. She had changed into warm clothes, but they were still someone else’s, and for a moment he even wondered if Piers had found some of Leah’s for her. But she was still defiant.

He said, “Is it all true? About the black hole?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t be sure. If you left before it happened.”

“It was inevitable. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“And my father?”

“Like I said. He’s just one person.”

Jake leaned against the table. “To me he’s everything.”

“You’re so like Venn!” She stared, exasperated. “You’re both obsessed with your own needs. What about everyone else? What about the future?”

He shrugged. “That’s all too big for me. Too far off.”

“You’re lucky, Jake. You haven’t seen what the world will become.”

He wanted to ask her then, about how it was a few hundred years from now, but he knew she wouldn’t tell him, any more than he had told Symmes about cars and planes and computers. So he said, “It’s not up to me. Venn won’t stop. You saw him. He fired that weapon even though he wasn’t sure—not really—that it wouldn’t kill you as well. He’s ruthless. He’d sacrifice any future world to get Leah back. And anyway, the mirror is unbreakable. Maskelyne says so.”

She didn’t believe that. She wouldn’t. “If there is a way, that man knows it.”

She turned as Summer said, “I think so too.”