Page 78 of The Mirror of Beasts

I ran for the stairs and flew down them, my arms pumping at my sides as I burst into the cellar. The magically cloaked opening to the warehouse buzzed against my skin as I broke through it.

This is stupid, I thought, bending to pick up a large fragment from a champagne bottle. So, so stupid …

Olwen had lifted the mirror upright again and was pacing anxiously in front of it, her hands tangled in her ink-blue hair.

“—if you release me, I won’t eat mortal flesh for a year,” the hag was saying, watching the priestess. “All right, you have me. A fortnight, then. Well, perhaps three days.”

Olwen stopped. “I don’t think that’s how bargaining works.”

“I’ll take that deal,” I said, rushing toward them.

Olwen gasped in horror at the sight of me. “What’s happened?”

“Neve and Emrys—they’re hurt, they’re in the library—”

She didn’t need to hear anything else. Pressing her bag to her hip to keep the bottles inside from rattling, she ran back the way I had come.

Leaving me alone with the hag.

The primordial creature eyed me, licking her lips at the blood staining my skin and clothes, edging ever closer to the surface of the mirror. The shard of glass cut into my palm as I drew in a deep breath and curled my fingers.

“You said you prefer the taste of magic-born creatures, right?” I asked.

The hag nodded eagerly.

“If I let you out—right now, right this second—will you swear not to eat any humans—any mortals—for at least a year?”

“A year?” the hag bellowed, her breath fogging up the glass between us. “I’ll swear to three days—”

“A fortnight,” I countered.

“Fine, a fortnight, I agree!” the hag countered quickly.

“Do you vow it?”

“Yes!” Saliva was already dripping from her eager fangs.

“Good,” I said, reaching around the back of the mirror to claw through the sigils there with the glass. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Upstairs, in the aftermath of the hag, it was frighteningly quiet again.

I moved slowly, as if walking through yet another nightmare. The mirror pulsed beneath the velvet cover I’d wrapped it in. After the hag had wrenched herself free of the glass, the floor-length mirror had shrunk down to the size of a handheld one, solving the smallest of our problems. Its insubstantial weight was a relief to my exhausted body.

Rosydd had scorched the air with magic as she’d fled the warehouse. The power was different than the others’ I had felt. This was a deep, ancient magic, one that gave birth to worlds and tore others asunder. It vibrated in my bones, my teeth, as I traced its path up the stairs and back into the library.

I counted the others as I saw them.

One—Caitriona standing on the remains of the bookshelves, staring through the missing door into the hall. A glob of viscous blood fell from the ceiling onto the floor in front of her, and as I neared, I could see where that same monstrous blood had painted the ceiling. In the grand hall, only a scattering of bones was left of the Children.

Two—Neve sat beside three, Nash, watching as he bent over four, Emrys. His shirt had been torn open, exposing the horrifying wounds and the way the claws had reopened some of his scars. The bridge of Nash’s nose was still swollen from where I’d hit it, and the bruise only seemed to add to the seriousness of his mien. His brow furrowed in concentration as he used a needle and thread to try to sew the gashes shut.

I’d seen him stitch himself up countless times after run-ins with unhappy business partners and close calls with curses, but seeing him do it to another person—and a Dye at that—only added to the surreal quality of the moment.

“There, dove, you can apply it now, just be quick and gentle with it,” Nash murmured.

Neve screwed a small jar of ointment open, and its soft, minty fragrance somehow cut through even the vile stench of death around us. Her fingers shook as she dabbed it onto the row of stitches Nash had just finished before moving on to the next.

I chewed on my lip as fear swallowed the rest of my thoughts. Emrys’s skin looked like wax, as if all the life had drained from it. But somehow his heart was still beating. Somehow he was still breathing.

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