Page 7 of The Mirror of Beasts

“Okay, what in all the hells is that?” I said, stalking over to the door. By the time I had the cold knob in my hand, Caitriona was right behind me.

“Didn’t Nash explicitly say we should run if we heard that sound again?” Neve asked.

We were seven years past the point of him being able to tell me what to do.

If that was even him …

The wind shoved the door open against me. I threw up an arm, trying to shield my face from the biting cold and the sharp flecks of ice that swirled through the dark air as the storm fell upon the city. I slipped down the icy stoop.

The neighbor in the unit to my right had stuck her head out of the door, only to retreat inside once the sleet turned to outright hail. A gasping “Holy sh—!” from the side of the converted town houses told me my upstairs neighbor had made a similar decision and bolted back up their private stairwell.

“This storm is—!” I could barely hear Caitriona over the whipping winds. Olwen covered her head with her arms, protecting it as she made her way back into the apartment on unsteady, sliding feet. Come morning, I thought, the city would be frozen solid.

“Do you see anything?” Caitriona shouted to me.

I turned my gaze up, cupping my hands around my stinging eyes. The sky still bore that sickly shade, glowing with a hideous fluorescence as lightning snaked across it, splintering the mirror-like surface of the gray clouds.

“Come on,” Caitriona said, tugging at my arm. Ice crusted in my hair, only flinging itself loose when I shook my head. Neither of us was wearing a coat, and the chill had turned unbearable. A stop sign tore loose from its post, hurtling through the air until it smashed into a nearby car window.

“Go in!” I told her. “I just need—!”

I couldn’t bring myself to say it, but she understood. Her freckled hand gripped my shoulder as she passed me, carefully making her way back to the stairs. Snow collected on my lashes, in the folds of my clothes. The longer I stood, the easier it became to convince myself that it wasn’t the wind that was howling.

I strained my ears, searching for the thread of it again, the monstrous chorus of baying voices.

A crash sounded from inside the apartment. I spun, sliding back toward the stoop. The lamp near the window flickered, then went out.

The wind pushed the door open for me, nearly sending me sprawling to the floor with the force of it. The dark living room greeted me, silent as I struggled to shut the door again.

“Guys?” I called, venturing toward the bedrooms. My heart rose into my throat. “Hello?”

I turned the corner at the kitchenette and stopped dead.

Caitriona lay prone on the floor, her eyes shut, a broken flowerpot from the kitchen in pieces around her. A figure in a dark hooded robe bent over her and wrapped something around her hands.

“Don’t touch her—!” I surged forward, wild desperation exploding in my chest. I drew my arm back to shove the intruder away, but my joints locked and I slammed onto the floor.

“Don’t!” I gasped, trying to crawl toward Cait. Where were the others? Where was—

Pain exploded across the back of my skull as something cracked against it. The stench of warm blood flooded my senses as it dripped through my hair into the puddle of melting ice and snow beneath me. A low, scornful laugh curdled my blood.

The floor pushed against my cheek, rattling with approaching footsteps. Somewhere, Griflet yowled. The shadows of the hall grew long, spreading across the floor like a spill of tar, devouring Caitriona, devouring all.

And hard as I fought, when the darkness reached me, I was gone.

A drip of icy water struck my cheek.

I woke slowly, my skull pounding in time with every other ache in my body. Another drip, this one against my brow, made me crack an eye open, but it was an echoing voice nearby that finally pierced the black veil of unconsciousness.

“—haven’t had word yet, they want us to keep them here until the Council’s voted—”

My mind sparked, sputtering back to life as it seized that single word. Council.

There was only one council I knew of.

“Can’t they just make a bloody decision for once?” another woman complained. “They’ll have to drag the elder crones out of those crypts they call homes.”

“By whatever stringy wisps of hair they have left, hopefully,” the first answered. “I’d pay my last gold coin to see it, the old goblins.”

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