Page 63 of The Mirror of Beasts

“He seeks that which was denied to him centuries ago,” she said at last. “He seeks the soul of his lost beloved.”

I knew my little game was at an end when a victorious smirk slithered across her amalgamation of our faces.

His lost beloved. I’d heard her clearly, but it was as if the words couldn’t fully take root in my mind. Beloved. The word felt hideous in that context. Impossible.

“Oh?” she crowed. “Perhaps there is a deal to be made, then? For it seems you do not know who, exactly, it is you face.”

Her words became a spider in my mind, weaving its web, trying to connect all the various pieces of information I’d been carrying with me since Avalon.

“He is incapable of love,” Caitriona snarled. “He seeks only power and pain.”

“Perhaps as Lord Death,” the being taunted. “But that was not always his name. He was not born a king.”

“Tamsin?” Olwen began, uncertain. I knew what she was thinking. Any sort of deal would involve releasing this creature into the world again, with no doubt more deaths to follow.

“How do we know we can even trust its word?” Caitriona demanded.

The creature drew herself upright, her expression livid. Blue lightning crackled along the surface of the glass as the creature strained against it, the magic activating in an instant, throwing the being back.

She wailed pitifully, pounding her fists against the dark air.

But Caitriona’s question had given me an idea. I licked my dry lips to hide my smile.

“All right. I’ll release you if you tell us the truth about the man called Lord Death—”

“Tamsin!” Caitriona interjected.

I held up a hand, hoping my eyes were enough to convey the message. Trust me.

“You have to tell us everything you know about him,” I continued, “and the soul he’s after.”

When the creature smiled, it was with all her ragged teeth. “First, you must give me a taste of your blood. Just a droplet, to bind our promise and ensure that I can hunt you and your kin should you fail to release me.”

Being the only blood member of my family that I knew of, it was an easy yes. Using the pocketknife in my back pocket, I made a small cut at the tip of my index finger and let the blood run down my hand, into my palm.

Caitriona caught my wrist. “Think about this …”

“Together to the end, right?” I said.

After a moment, she nodded.

Coming as close to the mirror as I dared, I flicked a droplet of blood at the glass, watching in horrified fascination as the blood seeped through the magic to the other side and the creature greedily lapped it up with a soft sigh of pleasure.

I wrinkled my nose, disgusted, but the creature’s own face did the same, her mouth twisting at the taste.

“It’s … sweeter than I remember,” she said, rubbing her tongue against her teeth, as if to dispel the taste.

“Well, you’re the one who asked for it,” I answered, offended. “Sorry it’s not to your usual standards.”

A strangely contemplative look crossed the creature’s mockery of a face. She licked her gray lips again, as if seeking the last traces of the taste.

“The information?” Caitriona cut in.

Whatever the creature had been stewing over vanished like mist in the morning sun.

“Oh, yes. Lord Death, the King of Annwn.”

“That is hopefully the one and only Lord Death,” I said flatly.

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