Mirror: Book One of the Valkanas Clan (29 page)

“Can you all feel this too?” I asked, turning back towards the room.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, then came over and placed a hand on the slender trunk. Damian did the same. I watched the miniscule signs of both of them relaxing, though the effect seemed far subtler on them than it had on me.

“Interesting.
This must have been where the elf stored her emotional extra reserves as a protection against great drains on her well-being. To have stored so much in such a small plant would take a great deal of skill, or power—perhaps both. How someone as young as Cesar has managed to bond someone this powerful is curious indeed,” Marcus said, and his inquisitive glance deepened, sweeping both Damian and I.

It was all the confirmation I needed that Damian and Valerie had stuck to their plan of not telling Temora about the possibility of the
Sringara
, information I tried to mentally forward to Tom so neither of us would slip and mention it in front of Marcus, Jade, or Orchid. If Marcus suspected us of hiding something, however, he showed no other sign of it; he stepped away from the tree and made himself comfortable on the couch, the destroyed coffee table in front of him not serving as a deterrent in the least.

I was reluctant to step away from the tree and the sense of peace it gave me, but I realized the sooner I fully explored this room the sooner I could leave it, and the nasty feelings it contained, behind me. I carefully picked my way through the broken pieces of wood and clay scattered across the floor, holding each one briefly and then dropping it when nothing happened. Next, I turned my attention to the bookshelves lining one wall. I lightly swept my hand across their contents, not taking the time to pick anything up. I felt nothing until I reached a collection of curios on an upper shelf midway across the room. My hand began tingling, faintly, and I slowed, standing on tiptoe to better see the contents of this section of the bookcase.

“Have you found something?” Damian asked.

“I’m not sure—is there a footstool, or something else handy I could stand on?”

Damian left the room, returning a moment later with a sturdy wooden chair. He set it down beside me, and I stepped up, now eye-to-eye with the strange collection. Some of it seemed like it could be priceless, while other items looked like complete junk. There were at least twenty pieces, a mixture of wooden, stone, and metal sculptures. I moved my hand across them, discovering the tingling sensation grew strongest towards the back left corner. I had to slide a few pieces to the side to even see what was hiding back there. It looked like some kind of incredibly gaudy tree, with a curved wire-wrapped trunk and bits of wire sticking out in rather shoddily constructed “branches” at odd intervals. It was only a couple inches tall, and the trunk itself was very slender.

As I grasped it to pull it towards me a mild shock traveled down my arm, causing me to release it suddenly. It fell on its side, and as it did I saw that the bottom of the trunk, the only place on the tree not covered in wire, was some kind of clear stone.

Oh my god, it’s the Sringara!
I realized suddenly, freezing. Then I heard Marcus stand up behind me, and I quickly flipped the tree back into an upright position.

“What have you found?” he asked mildly, peering over my shoulder.

I know you don’t like to, but now is the time to
lie
,
Tom’s voice slipped into my mind suddenly.

“Oh, nothing," I said, "I must have gotten a false alarm because my mom had a statue just like that when I was growing up. I lost it in a move a few years ago though, and I always hoped to find another one to replace it.”

I gestured at the tree, praying he’d see only what I first saw: something gaudy and poorly made. I was willing to bet Cesar wrapped it in copper himself to conceal it from Marielle, and couldn’t take it when they came back for fear of alerting her as to what it was. Still, leaving it here seemed incredibly foolish, given that Temora had claimed the property as her own.

Focus,
Aly
,
Tom reminded me, just as Marcus finished eyeing the copper tree.

“That tacky thing?
Your mother must have had exceptionally poor taste,” Marcus said, and I resisted the urge to slap him, reminding myself that I’d wanted him to buy my hasty story. “If you want it for sentimental reasons, take it—I can’t imagine Temora would do anything but thank you.”

Temora was certain to do anything but thank Marcus if she discovered what he’d done, but given how much I disliked him, I couldn’t exactly regret that possibility.

“Thank you,” I said, trying to look quietly grateful rather than over-excited as I lifted the tree off the shelf, gripping it around the bottom so none of the quartz would show through. “Do you think there are any bags around here I could use to carry it out with me?”

“We can check the kitchen before we leave,” Marcus said.

“Actually," I said, "if you don’t mind I think I’ll check now—I don’t want to accidentally damage it.”

In reality, the tingle had resumed the second I picked it up again, and it was only growing stronger with time. I was afraid I’d be hopping around like an electrified frog if I maintained direct skin contact with it for too much longer.

Marcus rolled his eyes, presumably annoyed by my desire to protect something so ugly. Then he spun on his heel and marched out. A few seconds later I heard him opening and closing cabinets rapidly.

As soon as he was gone, Damian turned to fully face me. The look on his face indicated that he hadn’t been fooled in the least by my story and wanted to know just what was going on. I only had time to mouth “I’ll explain later” before we heard Marcus’s steps in the hallway, and he returned holding out a plastic grocery bag.

“One of his humans must have been saving these for some ridiculous reason—I found a whole cabinet full of them, should you need more,” he said.

I took the bag, thanked him again, and carefully placed the statue within it. Then, holding the bag in my right hand while using my left to continue sweeping the shelves, I made my way across the rest of the bookcase. Nothing else struck me there, or throughout the rest of the room—except for the slowly creeping return of the sludge. Once I’d touched everything I could think to touch, and moved across every area in the room without further incident, I beat a hasty retreat to the doorway, relieved.

Marcus, however, appeared less than impressed.

“Nothing?" he said, eyes
slitted
and voice cold. "We—
I—
come all this way for you to find nothing but an elf’s tree and a ridiculous reminder of your childhood?”

He marched past me and through the hallway, returning to the front door.

“Jade, Orchid, to me," he snipped. "This has been a waste of our valuable time, and we are leaving.”

They left quickly, Marcus’s loud steps and complaints standing out in stark contrast to Jade and Orchid’s continuing silence.

“That could have gone better.” Damian said, sighing.

Then, he stepped outside and called everyone else in. Once everyone was gathered in the foyer, he turned to me.

“So what was it you really found, and why did you lie to Marcus about your discovery?” he asked.

I glanced at Tom.

Tell him. He’ll figure it out anyway—he always does.

“I think this tree is actually the
Sringara
,” I said.

“What?” Valerie gasped, and snatched the bag out of my hand. When she opened it, her face fell. “But this is copper,” she said.

“Pick it up and look at the base,” I said.

As soon as she turned it over, her face lit again. She lifted it out slowly, reverently, and began pulling at the wire branches.

“Wait,” Damian stopped her. “
Its disguise has served us well—let’s leave
it for a while longer.”

Her hands stilled, but she kept a firm grip on the tree. I didn’t bother trying to retrieve it; I wasn’t the one interested in getting pregnant, and I certainly didn’t want it to accidentally ensure my fertility. As long as she agreed to use it to help break the bond between Marielle and Cesar, I didn’t care if she kept it on her person every second of the day.

I leaned back against the front door, tired and relieved. At least something useful had come out of this trip, and I was glad Dorothy’s warning about a trap had proven false. I shifted my weight, my back brushing against the door knob.

And everything went black.

I swam back into consciousness slowly, heavily. As I did, sensations flashed through me. The scratch of fabric being yanked over my head, hands on my back pushing me down the hall, pain exploding against my chest as I was shoved down onto something that splintered into
me,
and then one sharp blow across the back of my neck.

Then there was only blackness, stillness, and I realized I was dead.

Aly
, you’re not dead.

I had no idea why someone would be talking to me when I was clearly dead. I felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing—all my senses were gone.

You’re not dead
Aly
—wake up!

If this wasn’t death, then what was it? Where was I? It made no sense.

You’re still in the hallway at Cesar’s. It’s only been a few minutes since you passed out. Damian thinks you’ve entered some kind of coma, but I can hear you thinking
Aly
—so wake up!

It was Tom, I suddenly realized. He was here with me. Which either meant I wasn’t
dead,
or we both were.

Suddenly, pain shot through me, and with it came a wash of sensation.
Carpet burning under my bare hands, voices rising all at once, and the sweet taste of blood in my mouth.
Unconsciously, I began
drinking,
sucking at that wonderful flavor like my life depended on it. Then it was ripped away, and I opened my eyes to see where it had gone—and saw everyone staring at me, Tom cradling a bleeding wrist as it healed.

Slowly, I sat up. Damian offered his hand to me, but I shook my head. I wasn’t prepared to stand yet. Instead, I stared at my knees, trying to figure out what had happened. I realized I was unconsciously running my hands across my chest, feeling for the source of the splinters that had been digging into me moments before. I found nothing, though, and no-one standing before me would have blinded me and shoved me down a hallway.

Then, suddenly, it clicked. By brushing against the doorknob, I’d triggered Joseph’s last memories—Cesar must have blinded him, shoved him into the living room and across the coffee table, and then decapitated him. How Cesar could have gotten the jump on one of Temora’s knights was beyond me—if
Jade
and Orchid were any indication, they were not easily trifled with. Still, since I was clearly alive and unharmed, it was the only thing that made sense. The only thing I didn’t understand, however, was why Cesar had gone to the trouble of forcing him into the living room and breaking things in the process when he could have simply killed him in the foyer. Why would he want to damage his own house, his own stuff?

He didn’t damage anything anywhere else though—just the living room. So what’s special about the living room?

As soon as Tom asked his question the answer was obvious: the
Sringara
. That’s what was special about the living room. And as soon as I realized that, other thoughts began to click in place.

I stood, careful not to brush against even the door frame as I did so, not wanting to trigger any more sensory impressions. Then I had an idea, and looked at Tom.
Could you bring me the
ficus
tree from the living room?