The Mirrored Shard (31 page)

Bethina shushed me with a wave, so I joined them at the table and bent my head close. The reception was terrible, every third word a burst of static.

“Repeat: Congress has called for an emergency shutdown of the Bureau of Proctors after evidence revealed that its former director, Grey Draven, was caught … using Bureau funds … prison for his political enemies … many prisoners found not to be viral … suspected of consorting with terrorist organization known as the Brotherhood of Iron. President McCarthy has denounced Draven as a traitor, though there are some members of the House also calling for the president’s impeachment, as the full scope of his knowledge of this conspiracy is not yet known.”

I felt my mouth open, and looked up to see that Cal and Bethina shared my look. Bethina shook her head. Her curls, which had gotten longer and more unruly, bounced like a copper waterfall.

“Always knew that man was crooked as a coat hanger,” she said. “My mother said politicians are all crooked at both ends and bent in the middle.”

“They’re actually talking about disbanding the Proctors,” Cal said. “Can you imagine?”

“Might give poor folks some peace for once,” Bethina said. “Always thought virals were the worst thing imaginable, but after everything I’ve seen with the two of you, I feel downright sorry for some. Locked up and tortured. You wouldn’t even do that to a dog.”

She got up and bustled out of the kitchen, throwing Cal a wide, gleaming smile over her shoulder as she left.

He returned it and then looked at me. I raised one eyebrow. Cal had been putting this off for far too long; it was time someone got firm with him.

“You and I are best friends, right?” I said. Cal nodded, brow already wrinkling anxiously. To look at him, you’d never know he wasn’t human. I had that thought at least a hundred times since I’d found out what he really was.

“We are,” he agreed. “And I know what you’re going to say, but I can’t—”

“Cal,” I said, “she’s a smart girl. If she loves you, she’ll understand.”

I started to get up and leave, but his next words stopped me. “I’m scared, Aoife.”

I looked back at him. “You think I’m not, Cal? Every day? I’m scared all the time. The trick is not to show it.”

I sat back down and looked him in the eye. Cal was the one person who’d never questioned me, never left my side, and the last thing I wanted was to hurt him. “You’re my best friend,” I said. “You’re the only person I was able to trust for a long time, and I know that you’ll always be there for me.” I sucked in a breath and chewed on my lip for a moment before continuing. “But you have to be yourself, Cal. I know you want to be human, but Bethina deserves the truth. And if she leaves, she wasn’t right for you anyway.”

Cal looked at the scarred tabletop. Decades of Graysons eating and cooking had made it satin-smooth, full of deep grooves and notches. “I don’t want to be alone, Aoife. Even in my nest, I was always the odd one. I can look like this, and the rest of them can only be ghouls. They don’t trust me.” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “I just don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You’ll never be alone!” I exclaimed. I couldn’t believe Cal would think I’d just drop him suddenly, when I hadn’t even after he’d showed me what he truly was. Then again, he hadn’t shied away from me either, when he’d found out that not only human blood was in my veins. “You’ll always have me,” I said. “We’re supposed to be friends, Cal. Because of who we are, and what we are, and because I know I can trust you.” I pointed to the door Bethina had gone through. “And trust me when I say that you need to go tell her the truth. Will you do that for me?”

Cal sighed, but then he nodded and pushed back from the table. Moving with the greatest of reluctance, he stepped through the door. “Bethina, wait up. I need to talk to you.”

He looked back at me before he walked on, and I gave him a reassuring smile. Cal was lucky. He had someone who loved him, and I hoped it would be unconditional. Not too long before, I would have been jealous of what he had, but now … I got up myself and went upstairs to find Dean.

The small door to the roof-deck was open, cool air drifting through. I climbed the ladder and found Dean leaning on the railing, smoking and looking out over the valley and the village of Arkham. A few people moved on the narrow streets, the first residents to return after the Proctors had abandoned the quarantine.

“You want some company?” I asked. Dean turned and gave me one of the slow, lazy smiles that started a warm feeling in my stomach and spread it everywhere, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

“From you, princess?” he said. “Always.”

I went to him and wrapped my arms around him inside his coat, placing my head on his chest and listening to his heart beat. “I’m so glad you’re here, Dean. Just stay here, all right?”

His breath hitched and I looked up. Dean’s expression was pained. I let go of him, already fearing the worst. “What is it?”

“Aoife,” he said, and I knew it was bad. Usually I was “princess” or “darlin’.”

“Please,” I said. “If I did something, just tell me and I’ll try to make it better. Please don’t just dump me.”

“No.” Dean held up his hands. “It’s not you, Aoife. I could never be ticked about anything you did. You saved
me from that place where I was dead. And even before that, you got me out of the Rustworks. I was going nowhere fast, and you gave me something I needed and didn’t even realize it.”

“But?” I said, feeling the word on the tip of his tongue.

“You made a sacrifice for your ma, and I understand that,” he said. “My mother and I don’t see eye to eye, but she’s still my mother. But you made an even bigger sacrifice for me, Aoife, and I can’t have that. I won’t have you putting yourself in danger for me like that ever again. I’m not worth it.”

He put his hand against my cheek. “You’re destined for greatness, princess, and I’m just going to get in the way. So I’m going to get out of it and head home. I’ll head back to the Mists, maybe finally do what my mom always wanted and serve the Erlkin on Windhaven for a while.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my forehead, even as I felt myself beginning to shake. “I’ll never forget you, princess. But for your own good, I can’t stay with you.”

I pushed his hand away, my heart throbbing so hard it was like the great pistons that powered the Engine. “Dean Harrison,” I bit out, “you’re an idiot.”

He blinked and looked down at me. “I don’t—”

“I
love
you,” I said, feeling myself start to cry. I kept talking, not caring that hot tears were pouring forth to cool against my cheeks in the cold spring wind. “I crossed life and death to be with you, Dean.” I swiped furiously at my eyes, trying to clear away the blur of tears. “Guess what? It’s not
up
to you to decide whether or not I want to
be with you. It’s
my
choice, and I choose you. Only you, Dean. Forever.”

Dean pulled back, and pushed a hand through his hair. “I had no idea you felt that way, darlin’,” he said.

“Do you love me?” I demanded. The initial shock had worn off now, and I was focused only on keeping him by my side. I needed Dean. I’d learned that much. Without him there was a void that nothing could fill, a void as deep and black as the universe.

“Of course,” he said softly. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, princess. I love you so much sometimes I can’t think of anything else. I love you so much it makes it easy to get up in the morning. When I was dead, I remembered that I loved you and it agonized me that we’d never be together again.” He dropped his gaze from mine. “Some spirits tried to forget, tried to get deliberately torn apart so they wouldn’t think of their lives anymore, and it hurt so much down there that sometimes I wanted that. But every time I got close, I’d think of you and how you’d want me to keep fighting, and it was you that kept me going in that place.” He squeezed my hand. “So yeah, I love you.”

“Then there’s nothing else to talk about,” I said. “We belong together, Dean. I can’t imagine my life without you. I want to see what’s coming with you.”

He shivered inside his jacket, putting his arm around me and pulling me close. I molded myself to his side, sharing his warmth. “Storm’s what’s coming, princess,” Dean said as we watched the clouds roll across Arkham Valley, the mist covering everything, hiding the monsters and the people alike.

“I know,” I said. “And I’m going to need you, Dean. The only way we’re going to survive it is together.”

Dean turned me toward him and kissed me gently. “I’m not worried about the future, princess. Not as long as you’re by my side.”

I smiled at him, the first genuine smile I’d felt in some time. “Then neither am I.”

The Vastness of Stars

T
HAT NIGHT
I slept the first real, deep sleep since I’d lost Dean, but when I woke I found myself standing and staring down at the same gray spires, the same terrible configuration of an ancient city that I’d visited far too recently.

“It’s a terrible sight,” Crow said, as if he’d been summoned by the wind to stand next to me. One moment he wasn’t there and the next he was, his robe swirling around both of us like errant smoke.

“It looks just the same to me,” I said. “And I really wish you’d stop showing up in my dreams. I didn’t give you permission to invade my sleep whenever you want.”

“This is no dream,” Crow told me. “Look again.”

I sighed but looked back at the unfamiliar city. I saw that the tall spires were crumbling, that many of the odd angles of glass had shattered, leaving jagged mouths where windows used to be. Shoggoths and nightjars crept among
the ruins, and strange, many-winged birds flapped from place to place.

Again we were in the cold, and I felt it in my bones. Crow took off his robe and put it around me. “It’s a cold place, the bottom of the world.”

“Outer space is colder,” I said.

Crow sighed and looked up at the darkening spot in the sky. “They want to speak with you, Aoife.”

I also followed the spot, which had grown a bloodred corona as it got larger and larger, the Old Ones boring through space and time to reach the Iron Land.

“I did what they asked,” I said. “I used the Elder Sign to take Nylarthotep. I’m not doing them any more free favors.”

“They gave you safe passage when you left the Deadlands,” said Crow, “and they must be repaid.”

I glared at him, even though his face was as guileless as a child’s. “Is this coming from you or them?”

“I’m merely their voice,” Crow said. “I’m the aethervox for things so old they were created before voices.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” I told Crow, even though I was really speaking to the Old Ones. “I released you because I was desperate. I never
asked
you for anything.”

“We require the way prepared,” Crow said, his eyes going blank and rolling back in his head. “We require a Gateminder to resurrect our ruined city, to make us whole again and give us a place to dwell while we bless the mud-crawling humans with our presence.”

I took a deep breath. This time, I wasn’t backed into a corner. This time, the lives of people I loved weren’t
hanging over my head. There was only my own fear, my own feeling of helplessness in the face of something so vast.

For the first time, I knew I had to fight that feeling with everything I had.

“No,” I said, raising my chin. “I’ve done enough to help you come back. More than I ever wanted to. From here on out, you make your own way.”

“We are old and vast beyond imagination,” Crow croaked. “We will return, and we will gift the humans with our knowledge and humble them with our incomprehensible power. We ruled once, and we will rule again, Gateminder. Do not test us.”

“I’m not much for being ruled,” I said. “And neither are the rest of the humans. This world isn’t yours. You may have laid the foundation, but humans built it up. They made the world. Tesla discovered the Gates. Not you.”

I straightened my spine and looked into Crow’s vacant eyes, raising my voice so it echoed back from the terrible spires that rose like skeletonized fingers from the city of the Old Ones. “Go back to the stars,” I said. “I released you because I had no choice, but I will
not
stand by and let you conquer my homeland.”

Crow started, his face composing itself into its usual lines. “Oh, Aoife,” he sighed. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

I looked up at the spot in the sky and felt a curious vibration through my body, as if something were reaching across the aether, tapping the frequency directly into my mind. I looked back at Crow as the sensation grew and grew, building to a shriek inside my skull. “Yes,” I said. “I do. And I’m not afraid.”

We will not be swayed
, the Old Ones’ voice rumbled inside my head. It was a voice before there were voices, the sound of an eldritch thing born of star fragments and the vacuum of space, of a place beyond space, beyond dreams, beyond all matter and reason. I knew such a voice should break me, turn me into nothing but a gibbering shell of flesh racked with madness, but I stood firm. I would not be bowed, not this time. Not threatened.
I
was the Gateminder, the protector of the ways between the worlds, and not even the oldest power in the universe could move me.