Through the Mirrah Read online

  “A necklace.” Her mother’s hand went to the pendant around her neck. The silver cross with spokes that reminded Aideen of the Zakim bridge. Stones formed the arms of the cross: two emeralds and two quartz.

  “You’ve had that necklace forever.”

  “Since the night your father died.”

  “But he left it for me?” Aideen’s eyes darted around the restaurant. Why is it so hard to focus?

  “I know, and I’m sorry,” Mother said. I felt it was the least he could give me, after everything . . .”

  “What does that mean?”

  Her mother shook her head, leaving the question unanswered.

  “I don’t know where he got it, but he seemed to think it was important. I should have given it to you right away, but . . . Here.”

  “It was your handwriting on the envelope.”

  “He handed it to me the night he died. He said, ‘Give this to Aideen. She’ll need it when she travels.’ He barely had time to put it in my hand before he passed.” She shuddered. “He had a book, too. It was in the box. Anyway, I wrote his message on the envelope and put the necklace inside. I meant to give it to you . . .”

  Aideen had been asleep when her father had passed away, but her mother was reliving the experience as she told it. She hadn’t considered that until now.

  “You’ve never talked about that night before.”

  “And I won’t now.” Her mother removed the necklace and placed in on the table in front of Aideen. “I just came to give you this. I’m sorry I took it.” She stood.

  “Wait,” Aideen jumped up. “I have more questions.”

  “I’m late for an appointment.” The dishonest tone again.

  “Mother,” Aideen called after her as she slipped out the door.

  Aideen looked at the necklace and blinked. She lifted it by its delicate chain and let it twirl before her eyes. It jumped as her hand shook. After considering it for a moment, she put the necklace on.

  Pendant grasped in her hand, she willed herself to feel some residual energy from her father. She felt nothing, except relief that the meeting with her mother was over and the persistent nausea and headache. No closer to a way back to Sterling, Aideen headed for the Green Line, dumping her cold coffee in a trash can as she left.

  AT TEN IN THE MORNING on a Saturday, Heath Street Station was buzzing. Families bustled onto the train, heading for the museums, aquarium, Copley, Faneuil Hall . . . It wasn’t helping her headache any. Aideen kept walking. The foot traffic died out and the car traffic increased. The fools leaving too late to beat the traffic to the Cape.

  As she approached Jimmy’s Bar, she remembered the nip bottle he had given her after kicking her out.

  Strange thing to do, when he wouldn’t let me finish my bourbon.

  She turned toward the bar and walked into the back alley. Jimmy was picking through scattered trash, passing over food scraps and a dead rat. He picked something up and turned, spotting Aideen.

  He spun and ran into the bar.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Curious and a little scared, Aideen followed Jimmy through the back door of the bar. He yanked tables into her path as he ran by them. She dodged the first, knocked against the second, and jumped and slid over the third. She stumbled trying to regain her balance.

  Jimmy raced toward the back office, and Aideen tore down the hall after him. As she reached the door, she heard mumbling. She burst through the door to see Jimmy stepping through a floor-length mirror.

  The mirror wasn’t reflecting the office. It revealed a stark room with two men in Jay Ridge guard uniforms standing at attention. Once Jimmy joined them, they drew their handguns and pointed them at Aideen.

  She stood, frozen in place, until the portal closed. My bartender is an evil overlord.

  She gazed around the room, not focusing on anything until the nip bottle caught her eye. Jimmy must have dropped it before stepping through the portal. It had rolled across the room and was resting against the baseboard.

  Aideen picked it up and studied the label. She now recognized the bird-creature as the D’Nalian version of a wild turkey. The text on the label, translated from the D’Nalese, read, ‘D’Nal Harrim Emeraldcutter.’

  It was an odd name for alcohol. But she remembered reading that Goldschläger—the liqueur with gold flakes in it—was named for the gold beaters, the people who made the gold leaf.

  “Were there actual emeralds in there?”

  Thoughts attached to each other in her mind, as if they were pieces of a self-solving jigsaw puzzle. Her father’s message that she’d need the necklace—the emerald necklace—for traveling. Her head pounded and she shook it, trying to concentrate. Jimmy gave her the Emeraldcutter before she fell through the first portal. The second time she went through a portal, she had the emerald chip she had kept as a memento from the necklace the Ostrich had given her . . .

  “I need an emerald for the portal to open!” Aideen grasped her new necklace.

  Ostrich, if you can hear me, let me come through somewhere safe.

  She recited the incantation, and the mirror blackened. Aideen’s stomach twisted; it could be a trap. But with Jimmy back in D’Nal Harrim, who knew what horrors were in store for Sterling and the others?

  Aideen took a slow, deliberate step through the mirror, toes searching for solid ground. She found firm footing and leaned through the portal.

  The still air on the other side smelled stale and damp, making her stomach twist. At least now I can have a gojoos.

  Aideen took another step, arms searching ahead of her. Her footsteps made no sound. Panic traced its fingertips along her heart, threatening to squeeze.

  What if this is the basement at Jay Ridge? Or a trap Jimmy set for me?

  She had assumed she’d come through in the same place since she had returned home to the same place.

  As she calmed herself, something felt familiar. She crouched and put a hand on the floor. The packed soil chilled her fingers. This was the underground room Sterling had brought her to when she was dying. This was where she met Ash, Gideon, Julie, and Jessie.

  If you could call that meeting Jessie.

  As her eyes adjusted, she saw a seam of pale light filtering around the door. She approached it, groped for the handle, and yanked the door open, hearing the metal squeal.

  It was dark, but a warm orange glow emanated from a distance to her left. Smoke plumed and stung her nose.

  Sterling’s village?

  She ran as fast as she could on weak, trembling legs.

  ROUNDING THE HOUSE at the edge of the village not yet touched by the raging fire, Aideen entered chaos. Back and forth, screaming people scrambled to save each other and their homes. She saw Jonathan, the mason who had helped her destroy the emerald necklace.

  My first emerald necklace. She grasped the jewels around her neck.

  Jonathan strode up and down the main street—the only street—shouting orders. Aideen joined him. “How can I help?”

  “Looks like you could use some help yourself. What happened?”

  “I’ll be fine. I just need a gojoos. What can I do?”

  A man ran to them. “Jonathan, please, my son was asleep upstairs. I tried to get inside, but . . .”

  The man pointed to a modest colonial-style house, painted white with forest green shutters. Flames licked at every window.

  Jonathan turned to Aideen.

  “Give me a hand?” He didn’t wait for her response as he ran into the house.

  Aideen glanced at the distraught dad who was watching Jonathan and wringing his hands. She put her hand on his arm and he jumped.

  “It’ll be okay.”

  She ran after Jonathan, hesitating at the door. The heat was already drying her skin, and the smoke tickled her throat. An infant’s scream cut through the air from somewhere above her. Her headache flared.

  You aren’t going to let a baby die, are you? Of course not. If this was how she could help, this was what she’d do.
She clenched her fists and rushed into the house.

  She tried to recall what she’d learned in elementary school the day the fireman had visited her class. Stop, drop, and roll . . . Stay close to the ground, where the air was clearer . . . She couldn’t remember any tips about saving babies from burning buildings. Granted, that may have been too advanced for second graders, but it would have been useful to know for the task at hand.

  She saw Jonathan’s feet disappearing up the stairs to the right, through what must have been a cozy living room before the fire broke out. Now the flames had eaten away at the plush sofa and over-sized coffee table. She started in that direction but a bookcase fell in her path. She leaped over it, then followed Jonathan to the second floor.

  At the top of the stairs, a hallway stretched in both directions. A single door marked the end of the hall to the right, and to the left stood three doors. One, to the bathroom, hung open; the fire hadn’t reached it yet. The second was engulfed in flames, the finger-painted sun hanging on the door turning to ash. Aideen recognized the smile. It was the same as on the stone she had nearly killed Matt with.

  Jonathan was picking his way past this door to the third, behind which coughing punctuated the boy’s shrill cries. There wasn’t much time.

  Aideen joined Jonathan as he paused outside the last room. He put the back of his hand to the door and nodded.

  “Should be clear, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t fire in the room already. Be prepared for a back draft when I open the door.” He reached for the doorknob.

  “Wait!” Aideen held out her hand. “What’s the plan?”

  “We grab the boy and get out.”

  “And what if there is a back draft?”

  “Then we hope the boy is okay and try to get him out. We don’t have many choices here.”

  The heat closed in from behind them, and the air was thick with smoke. Aideen lowered her hand and nodded. It wasn’t much of a plan, but Jonathan was right: leave now without the kid or try to save him. Aideen knew which she’d rather do.

  She turned away and shielded her face with her arm as Jonathan opened the door. There were no surging flames, so that was a win. She followed Jonathan into the room, where the little boy stood in his crib, tears streaking down both cheeks. Smoke thickened the air and the heat of the floor radiated through her shoes.

  Jonathan grabbed the boy and he and Aideen turned toward the door. The fire from the other door had spread across the hallway carpet.

  “We can’t get out this way.” Panic gripped Aideen’s heart. She tried to calm it by taking a deep breath, but that only introduced more smoke to her lungs and triggered the nausea. She coughed as she looked around the room. There was a window.

  “Not again,” she groaned.

  “What?” Jonathan asked.

  “That may be our only way out.” Aideen pointed to the window.

  She approached it, slid it open as far as it would go, and looked down. “Help! Can anyone hear me? We need help!”

  The villagers were too caught up in saving themselves (they weren’t paying any attention to her at all) until one man limped into view.

  Aideen beamed at him. “Sterling! You’re okay!”

  “I was at the Bo. Why are you up there?”

  “I’m helping Jonathan save your neighbor’s son. This window is our only escape. Could you find something to help us out of here?”

  “Sure. I’ll be right back.” He started toward the street. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Funny,” Aideen grumbled as she stood back and turned to Jonathan. “Sterling’s going to help.”

  She looked back at the door. Jonathan had closed it to stall the fire’s spread, but smoke was seeping in from under it. Aideen grabbed the mattress from the crib and covered the gap. The boy, whose tears now came silently, coughed into Jonathan’s shirt. Jonathan placed his hand on the boy’s head, whispering to him.

  “I hope he can find something fast,” he said to Aideen.

  Sterling returned with a ladder and leaned it against the house. It came up about four feet short.

  “It’s not long enough!” Sterling called.

  “What do we do?” Aideen called back.

  “I’ll come up for the kid.”

  “Could we hurry this along?” Jonathan asked.

  Hearing the catch in his voice, Aideen looked back into the room. Flames had eaten through places on the door, and she swore the doorknob was glowing.

  Just my imagination.

  But was it? How much did she know about D’Nalian doorknobs? She held her arms as if to shiver, though she wasn’t cold, and turned back to the window. Sterling was waiting for her at the top of the ladder.

  “Pass me the baby.”

  “Are you sure you’re steady?”

  “I’m steady.” Sterling tried to wobble the ladder, as proof. An onlooker below ran to hold the ladder. He seemed as nervous as Aideen felt.

  Aideen turned to Jonathan. “You need to pass Sterling the baby.”

  Jonathan eyed the window. “I’m not sure I can.”

  “I’m sure I can’t.” Aideen held up her shaking hands.

  Jonathan went to the window and peered down. He turned back to Aideen.

  “He’s too far down for me to just hand the child to him, but my shoulders are too broad to lean out the window. You need to do this.”

  Aideen stepped back and shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “There are no other options.”

  “What if I drop him?”

  “Don’t.” He held the baby out to her.

  “But I—” A crash in another room made Aideen jump.

  “We don’t have time for this.”

  Aideen held back tears as she reached out for the child. She went to the window and looked at Jonathan. “Grab my waistband.”

  He held onto the waistband of her jeans with both hands. Aideen leaned out the window, the baby cradled in both arms. For once, she was glad she had put on a few extra pounds.

  If I had lost weight like I keep promising myself I’ll do, I may have slipped right out of my jeans. We’d be a splattered baby sandwich on the ground.

  Sterling reached up with one hand. Murmurs and gasps suggested a crowd had gathered to watch, but Aideen didn’t dare take her eyes off Sterling and the baby.

  “How are you going to take him with only one hand?” Aideen asked.

  “Very. Carefully.” Sterling spoke and moved in slow motion, and Aideen wondered if that helped.

  She cradled the sniffling baby in both of her arms as long as she could before allowing Sterling to grab the back of his onesie. As she transferred his weight to Sterling, the boy squirmed and grabbed on to Aideen’s shirt.

  “Shh . . . Sterling’s got you.”

  The boy whimpered, building up to what Aideen feared would be a meltdown. How were they going to pull this off? She kept hold of the infant’s arms.

  “Are you sure you’ve got him?”

  “On the count of three, you’ll let go, I’ll grab him with both hands, and lean into the ladder. Then I can adjust my grip and climb down. Once I’m down, you and Jonathan can follow. Ready?”

  “What happens if he doesn’t let go of my shirt?”

  “Brace yourself.”

  Aideen breathed slowly. Her arms trembled as she tried to keep herself from imagining what would happen if this didn’t work. Please, God or Ostrich, let the shaking stop.

  The boy’s cries grew louder.

  “Hush, baby. Sterling will bring you to your daddy.” She released one of the boy’s arms and eased his fingers off her shirt. “Let’s do this.”

  “One . . . two . . . three!”

  The crowd below gasped. The boy’s father wailed, but Sterling didn’t falter. He cradled the baby, crying again, in his right arm as he made his way back down the ladder.

  “Bring me in,” Aideen said to Jonathan. “The baby is safe.”

  Aideen stood, head spinning. As soon as she was out of there,
she was going to find herself a gojoos. Or two.

  “You need to hurry,” Jonathan said. “The fire isn’t waiting.”

  He nodded to the door, where flames had eaten most of the way through the crib mattress. As smoke filled the room, Jonathan motioned for Aideen to go first.

  She sat on the windowsill, legs dangling outside. She had to turn over so she could keep hold of the sill as she searched for the ladder with her feet.

  “My arms are shaking. I don’t know if I can do this. You should go first.”

  Jonathan laid a hand on her arm.

  “There’s no time. You need to go now. Let me help.”

  He held onto her as she flipped over and found her footing on the ladder. He kept a firm grip on both of her wrists as she caught her balance.

  “I won’t be able to keep a hold of you. Don’t lean back.”

  “Don’t let go!” Aideen tried to grip his wrists, but his grip on her was too tight.

  “I’ve got you.” A hand rested on her lower back as Sterling’s voice reassured her. “I’m right here. I won’t let you fall. Lean forward and step down.”

  Aideen felt Jonathan’s grip loosen, forcing her to follow Sterling’s instructions. Holding her breath, she did as he said.

  There was a split second of panic. She was sure the next rung down had disappeared. But the sturdy wood caught her foot, and she let it take all her weight. Sterling’s hand moved up her back as she took one more step down.

  “Are you okay?” Sterling asked. “Do you have a grip?”

  Aideen nodded, her voice stuck in her throat. She climbed down after Sterling as fast as she could with trembling arms and legs. At the bottom, some onlookers patted her back and arms. They were speaking, but she heard no sound. She stood and waited for Jonathan.

  “We’re down!” Aideen called up to him.

  There was a terrible creaking from inside the house.

  “Back away!” Jonathan shouted. “The roof sounds like it’s about to collapse!”

  “Get out of there!” Aideen’s voice rose.

  “My shoulders are too broad. I can’t fit through the window.”

  “But there’s no other way out. You must try.” Aideen’s legs were shaking so hard her teeth were chattering. “Can you kick out the upper sash? Make more room?”