Catherine Fisher: Obsidian Mirror

“Can I just suggest—”

“Do what I tell you!”

The small man shrugged at Sarah and went silently out of the room.

She pushed back her hair and walked over to the fire; her bare foot left a trail of mud and leaves.

The warmth of the glowing coals was such a wonder that she crouched by it, trying to stop shivering.

“You’re not dressed for house-breaking,” Venn muttered.

“You won’t tell him. Will you?”

“Why not?” He was colder than she’d thought. Something had frozen hard inside him. She kept her voice low and calm. She said, “Because, for a minute there, you though I was someone else. You said Leah. ”

She thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he said, “My mistake.”

“Don’t betray me for her sake. And because I’m invisible.”

His eyes were as ice blue as the wolf’s. “But I can see you.”

“You shouldn’t be able to. I can make myself disappear. I have this special power. Only this time it hasn’t worked. Perhaps it’s you. Perhaps you’re different from everyone else.”

She had his attention now. A faint change came into his tight, controlled face; he stood up and walked toward her and she saw how thin he was, how gaunt and restless. “Are you insane?” he said.

“That’s what they call it. But what if I’m not?”

“Why did you break in?”

“I’m running away. And I didn’t break in. The window was open.”

“Don’t get smart with me. Who are you?” An anxious look flashed in his eyes. “Which one of them sent you? The scarred man? Or the Queen of the Wood?”

She had no idea who either was, but she kept her face calm. “Hand me over and you’ll never find out.”

Footsteps and voices came down the corridor; she heard the creak of old floorboards. Venn didn’t move for so long, she thought she’d failed. Then he said, “I used to think I could control what fate threw at me. I really used to believe that.” He stepped forward. “You’re on your own? No one knows where you are? What about your parents?”

“I don’t have any.” With a pang of fear she realized that now, in this place, it was true.

He stared at her as if a sudden burning idea had come to him, an idea so brilliant, it eased some deep inconsolable torment. Hastily, he pushed her toward a door in the paneling. “In there.” He tugged it clumsily open with his left hand and she saw the top joints of two fingers were missing. “Stay still. Silent!”

Before she could answer, the door had slammed, and footsteps were loud in the study. Piers’s high voice said, “Detective Inspector…er Janus.”

She spared a quick look around. This was some tiny storeroom, also heaped with papers and books. One small barred window showed sleet falling in the dusk on the neglected lawns. No way out. She pressed her ear against the door.

Venn was saying, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I’m new to Devon.”

At the sound of the voice Sarah clenched her hands into fists and breathed in, frozen with dismay.

They must be desperate to get her back. They’d sent a Replicant of Janus himself.

“What’s the problem?” Venn was nearest, his back to the door. The oak panels were thick, the voices muffled unless she pressed close.

“A missing persons inquiry. I’m sorry to disturb you—I understand you don’t like visitors.”

“I don’t like anyone. Aren’t you a bit young for a detective inspector?”

“Maybe I work hard.” The voice sounded amused, ignoring Venn’s rudeness. When it spoke again it was sharper. “A patient is missing from the High Security Psychiatric Unit at the Linley Institute, about twelve miles from here. A young woman, seventeen, short blond hair, blue eyes, wearing a gray dress and indoor shoes. You’ll have seen the local news…”

“I don’t watch TV.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” The Replicant’s voice was smooth. “A girl answering her description was seen today boarding a bus to Wintercombe. Inquiries are proceeding in the village, but…”

“Why would she come here?” Venn sounded bored. Floorboards creaked as if he had walked over to the desk. “What’s wrong with her? What was her crime? To lock up a seventeen-year-old girl in a place like that, it must have been something horrific.”

The Replicant said calmly, “I gather she’s very disturbed. They don’t go into details, but some of the patients they have up there are a bit extreme. I understand your security is red-hot, but…”

“Piers can see a beetle climbing the gate. No one gets in here.”

Sarah scowled. He was taunting her? His answers were aimed at her, as much as the Replicant.

Suddenly she saw that a small knot of wood was missing near the handle. She knelt and put her eye to the gap.

“What’s her name?” Venn asked.

“Sarah Stewart.” The Replicant was a shadow near the window, hard to see clearly. “If she turns up we advise you to inform us at once, and not to approach her.”

“You make her sound like a wild animal.”

A pause. Then Janus stepped forward and Sarah’s hands went tight on the doorframe. It was a young one. He was wearing a dark, almost military uniform and his hair was lank, and he was so slim! Twenty at most, she thought. But already he had the familiar grin, the small pair of round bluish lenses that hid his eyes. He said, “Mr. Venn, this girl is seriously ill. She has delusions about secret powers, fits of violence. I’d like permission to search your estate. There are so many barns and outbuildings.” He stepped closer, smiling mildly. “And then there’s the Wood.”

Venn had seemed half hypnotized, but that word broke the spell. “If she’s in the Wood she’s beyond your help.”

Sarah saw him glance at the door, as if he could see through it, see her pinned sideways like a moth on a board. She spread her hands on the varnished panel.

“So I’ll just get our men in tomorrow.” Janus had seen. He did not look toward her, did not even flicker, but she knew.

“No,” Venn snapped. “No one’s coming onto my land. If there’s any searching to be done, we’ll do it. If we find any mad girls, I’ll certainly let you know. Piers will show you out.”

A bell clanked.

In the dark, Sarah allowed herself a tiny whistle of relief. Venn was as arrogant as Janus. Then, in the doorway, she saw the Replicant turn. “I hope you don’t regret this.”

Venn stood straight in the firelight. “So do I.”

The door to the corridor closed.

Silence.

Very gently, Sarah turned the handle and tugged. It was locked. Then Venn’s voice spoke near her ear, cool and close. “I think you’ll be staying in there for a while, Sarah Stewart. As you’re such a dangerous ax murderer.”

“Let me out. You can’t keep me here!”

“I can do anything I like.”

She slammed a fist against the paneling.

“Besides,” he said, “what if you managed to make yourself invisible after all? I’d never be able to find you.” The icy humor left his voice. “I have a few things to see to. If Piers brings you some food, please don’t murder him. He gets everything wrong, but he’s useful.”

Footsteps.

She tried the door again and it opened, and she came out into the warm dark study and stood there, listening to the silence of the Abbey, a silence that had its own deep, velvety texture like the heavy brown curtains that hung to the floor, looped back at every window. Beyond, fractured in small glass panes, she saw her own reflections, multiplied as if in some dark kaleidoscope. Only the slow, oily swing of a pendulum in the clock disturbed the stillness.

To be in this house again filled her with wonder, and with a terrible piercing sadness.