Eluned, you impulsive fool,I thought, closing my eyes briefly.What have you done?
#
Before I could strategize, I needed to know if my sister was still alive. The question gnawed at me, a distraction I couldn’t afford while trying to formulate a plan.
The moment Eluned stepped foot on that estate, her life was forfeit. The only question was,how longbefore it ended.
Good thing I’d thought to palm Mother’s silver mirror while we were in her office. Mother had acquired it from a Russian witch who specialized in divination tools. I hesitated before opening it, my reflection wavering in its polished exterior. It was easily the most powerful scrying tool in Mother’s collection, which gave me a sliver of hope that it might pierce through Evermere’s defenses, but it had cracked when we used it to watch the hawk hex’s attack on Serafina.
It was dangerous to use a broken mirror for scrying.
“I don’t have a choice,” I told myself at last and opened it, only to find Mother had repaired it. “Hmm. What did she scry for?”
Mother liked her secrets. Always had, always would. She never fully revealed her plans to anyone, although I liked to believe she trusted me more than Eluned. With good reason, as proven by my sister’s current escapade.
As I’d hinted to Foster, this was far from the first time I’d had to clean up after one of my twin’s messes, but it was certainly the most dangerous. Mother’s wrath was not to be taken lightly, and I had no illusions about who would bear the brunt of it when she returned to find one daughter missing. After all,Iwas supposed to be the responsible one. The planner. The one who kept Eluned’s mayhem in check.
I stared at my own face in the mirror. High cheekbones, sharp brown eyes, full lips. We looked so alike, my sister and I, but where I wore my hair smooth and controlled, she preferred hers wild and untamed. A fitting metaphor for our personalities, I’d always thought.
I closed my eyes, centering myself. Anger wouldn’t help me scry. I needed focus, precision. Drawing a deep breath, I passed my hand over the mirror’s surface and murmured the incantation Mother had taught us years ago.
The mirror’s surface rippled like disturbed water, then began to cloud with swirling gray mist. I leaned closer, holding my breath as I waited for the fog to clear and show me Eluned.
But the mist didn’t clear. It churned and roiled, occasionally thinning enough to give the impression of a form or shadow, but never solidifying into a true image. After several minutes of this frustrating almost-revelation, the mist began to dissipate, leaving only my own reflection once more.
Nothing.
I stared at the mirror in disbelief, then tried again, this time with more power, feeding my own energy into it.
Again, the mirror clouded. Again, the mist swirled without forming an image. Again, I was left staring at my own frustrated face.
I slammed my palm onto the desk, causing my shelf of potions to rattle precariously. Either the wards of her prison were too powerful to penetrate or…
Eluned really is dead.
A pang that went through me at the thought; we’d been so at odds lately in how we wanted to achieve our goals, but she was my twin. We’d been made together, brought into this world together, and spent the last eighteen years being two halves of a whole, my sharp intellect and her tumultuous fire balancing each other.
And now, because of her stupid impulsivity, she might be dead, and there was nothing I could do about that, regardless of how I feared Mother’s fury.
No,I told myself.She’s not dead. Those damn dhampirs’ wards are simply too great for scrying. Dammit!
There was no choice now. Foster was right. I would need to go to Evermere myself.
I glanced at the clock.
Thirty-four hours left to figure out how.
If you’re not dead when I get there, El, I might be tempted to do the job myself and save the Cimmerians the trouble!
#
I arrived at Ondine Filcher’s shoreline cottage as dawn broke over Lake Erie, the water’s surface a mirror of pink and gold that made my stomach clench with revulsion. Every ripple, every lap of waveagainst the rocky shore sent a chill down my spine that had nothing to do with the early morning air.
I hated water, its unpredictability, its smothering embrace, the way it seemed to whisper of drowning with each soft splash. But I needed Ondine, needed her connections and her magic if I had any hope of finding Eluned before Mother returned.
The old water witch opened her door before I could knock, her gnarled fingers wrapped around the frame like twisted roots. Time had not been kind to Ondine; her skin hung in loose folds from her jaw, and her spine curved like a question mark beneath her black dress. Her eyes, too-large and the color of lake foam, remained sharp and knowing, though.
“Back again so soon, Harrow girl?” she croaked, voice like pebbles shifting underwater. “Your mother won’t be pleased, although I daresay she might be impressed you survived to return.”
