Obsidian Mirror

24

The fate of humanity rests on our efforts. We are only a few against his power, but we have courage. We’re the sacrifice. The avengers. If we succeed we’ll never know it. Perhaps if there is a future we’ll be looked back on as gods, or angels. Believe in your destiny. Let nothing—not hatred, not despair, not even love—stand in your way.

Illegal ZEUS transmission

Dec. 1848

It has taken three days but finally they have found her. The men I employed brought her to the house this morning; a small, tousled, rather ill-smelling child wearing ragged clothes and boots that were too big for her. She was bruised and handcuffed. I fear my agents may have been a little too free with their fists.

She examined the room, stared at me, and altogether showed quite remarkable spirit. She said, “Never thought I’d be in this gaff again.”

Her eyes fixed, as if drawn by fascination, on the mirror.

I have restored the order of the room. The rifled mess Venn had made of my desk is now neat again, and the gleaming brass machinery is silent. In the three days since he and the boy vanished I have not been able to obtain any sign of energy from the device at all.

“Release her,” I commanded.

“She’s greased lightning, guv. She’ll be gone before you blink, like last time, when we broke in. And she’s a biter. Toby’s got the marks of her all down his arm.”

I said, “Then you will please stand outside and allow no one to leave. You, Toby, will be compensated for your…er…injuries.”

After they had gone, taking the cuffs with them, the urchin sat herself in a chair and looked at me with a fixity that made me uncomfortable.

“Cost you, didn’t I?”

“More than you could guess.” I sat opposite. “So, Moll, isn’t it?”

“Might be.”

“Look here, Moll. I have a proposition to put before you. How would you like a warm er…gaff, for a while? Plenty of food. New clothes.”

She said, “Here?”

“Yes. I…”

“I ain’t no trull, mister.”

I blushed. I was appalled. For a child of, what, eleven? her knowledge of the seedier aspects of the world was startling. “My dear child, I assure you…Good heavens…No…Please, let me make myself clear. I need information. I simply need to know everything possible about Venn and the boy Jake Wilde. Everything! Where you fell in with them, what they might have told you. Did they speak about their future world? About flying machines? About traveling to the moon? About cures for diseases? About…investments?”

She eyed me, and I realized in my enthusiasm I had slid forward and was perched on the edge of the chair, my voice hoarse with excitement.

I cleared my throat and drew back.

But I had already shown her what such knowledge was worth.

“Jake said a lot of things.” She shrugged, careless. “Like, you was a pompous old git.”

“Did he.” I tried to smile.

“And other stuff.”

“Such as?”

She wriggled back in the chair and placed her muddy boots one by one deliberately on my velvet footstool. “That depends. I suppose I wouldn’t mind staying for a bit. Skimble’s is too lairy these days. They know it was me what stole the bracelet; they’ve been through my stuff and if I go back there, I’ll get a lammering. Or worse.”

I had no idea what she was talking about but smiled brightly. And for a brief moment sensed the precariousness of her life. “A hot meal. Some fresh clothes. And then you will begin to talk and I will take detailed notes. Because I must discover this bracelet of theirs, Moll. Do you see, it may also be here, in our time. And I must discover more about Maskelyne. Will you help me?”

She gazed at her feet. “Wages too?”

“We might consider a small stipend.”

She looked up. I saw the light of greed in her eye, and confess to a slight doubt as to who would be the shrewder negotiator in this bargain.

With a great show of consideration she said, “Okay.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Okay. That’s future talk. Code. It means I will. Jake said it.” She glanced at the mirror among its gleaming, useless levers. “He’ll come back here for me, you know. Jake. He said so.”

That was also my most secret hope.

“Tea. Cake. Plenty of cake.” She sat back. “And I’ll tell you all the other secrets what I know.”

I was pleased, but I sighed as I touched the bell. This was going to be expensive. And it was not I who was in control here.

Moll grinned.

She really is quite an intelligent little thing.

She will run rings around me.

No one moved.

In the new harsh light Sarah saw they were all staring at her; it was with almost an effort that Wharton said, “No world?”

“In July of 2104 a disaster destroyed…will destroy…the Earth.” She kept her voice calm. “There will be no warning. Janus, his origin”—she pointed at the Replicant—“is to blame. He built the Labyrinth, a government research establishment into heightened human abilities, deep under London. We—I mean ZEUS—knew he had some device of extraordinary power; every time it was used, we detected power spikes of terrifying intensity.”

She shook her head. “I was part of the group, I joined because…well, my parent were lecturers in the Academy…until they were arrested.” She frowned. “I shouldn’t talk about any of this.”

“Arrested?” Jake whispered.

She hurried on. “We were just a small secret group—crazy kids with wild imaginations. They had given us strange abilities, so we used them. Those that survived. It got so that there were only a few of us left, and we were scared, because time was running out and no one—no one—was listening. So we made a plan. We would break into the heart of the Labyrinth and get evidence that the world couldn’t ignore.”

Janus snorted. Jake saw Wharton take a stealthy step nearer the Replicant, holding something behind his back.

“Six of us got through the wolves, the razor-wire, the security. We found, linked to a network of computers, an ancient, black glass mirror.”

Venn came up to her, fascinated. “It still existed?”

“Yes. But it was brittle, dangerous.” She glared at Janus. “He had been using it, burning it out, replicating himself in vain journeys. Speculating, forestalling inventions, making himself rich. But there was a price. It was clear to us that the mirror wouldn’t last much longer. It had begun to break down, and it was sucking matter and light into itself at a terrible rate. When it exploded—and that would be in hours, maybe only minutes—it would create a black hole that would engulf…who knows what? The world, the solar system, the universe? Because whatever the mirror is, it holds a terrible darkness at its heart.”

She looked at Jake. “It was too late to destroy it then. Don’t you see? We had to enter it, to go back. To get some time. Each of us made a vow that we’d enter the past, there and then, with no guidance, no safety, no bracelet, and wherever we found ourselves, in whatever time, we would seek out the Chronoptika and destroy it. So that there’d be no Replicants. No Janus. None of it would ever have happened.”

Venn said, “You can’t.”

She shook her head, fierce. “They were my friends. My only friends. We shook hands, we kissed. I was the last to go. Alarms were ringing—the wolves were out. We only had seconds. I don’t know if the others made it. But it’s true, what that creature says. I’m sorry, but it’s true. I’m here to destroy the mirror.”

Jake shook his head, struggling with the paradoxes. “But if you do, in the future it won’t exist, so how could you return…”

A small sharp laugh interrupted him. Summer sat on a stool, knees up. “What fools you are with your reasons and your fears. So all-in-a-straight-line! We could tell you about time. Time is a circle, Jake. An eternal now. A drop of dew falling from the bracken. Time is only there if you say it is.”

Jake stared at her, then back at Sarah. He was so devastated, he couldn’t think. “How do we know it’s true?”

She shrugged. “You don’t. But if it is, what’s finding your father—or Leah, even—against the fate of billions, Jake? Think about that.”

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

The Replicant smiled, mild. “Well. Perhaps we can make an arrangement here.” It took a step toward Venn. “Let me deal with her. Take her off your hands. You—”

“Don’t move another step,” Wharton said.

“If you think some crude shotgun can…” The Replicant turned and saw the glass weapon. It stared, curious. “What is that? Some sort of primitive Victorian firearm? Do you really think it can injure me?”

“I know it can.” It was Maskelyne who answered. He moved past Rebecca. “Because it was designed just for that purpose. To kill Replicants. To obliterate reflections.”

Did Janus believe it? Possibly, Jake thought. He edged forward.

“You can’t kill me, fool. I’m not even here. I’m three hundred years in your future, sitting in a steel-lined bunker under the ruins of Parliament.”

It moved, turned, grabbed Sarah and pulled her in front of it. She struggled, but the wiry strength of its hands held her tight.

“Fire it,” Maskelyne shouted.

Wharton stared. “I can’t. She…”

“It won’t hurt her! Only him. Fire it, now!”

Wharton glanced at Venn. He raised the gun. His finger tightened on the frail trigger. Sarah stared at him, frozen in mid-fight, the weapon pointed straight at her heart.

His hand trembled. I can’t do this, he thought.

Instantly, out of nowhere, a small dark object swung from the shattered webbing, snatched the glass gun, and swung away with it, screeching with delight.

Wharton yelled. Jake stared up. “Horatio!”

The marmoset leaped from cabinet to vault and down to the ropes of the web. It clung on with its tail, hung upside-down, and with one long arm brought the weapon up and sniffed at it.

“Oh God,” Jake gasped. “Don’t!”

The shot blasted out like a white laser. It cracked across the room and they all leaped aside; the beam hit the mirror and instantly with a great snap it was reflected everywhere, a vast spider of light that exploded across the room. The mirror shuddered from its frame and fell, with a terrible crash, glass down.

Venn grabbed Rebecca and pulled her away; Wharton hit the floor chest-first. When he looked up, the room was clogged with bitter smoke; to his dismay Jake was clambering up, hand over hand through the cables to the roof.

“Give it to me. Give it!”

Far from dropping the thing, the monkey was fascinated by it. It transferred the glass gun to its back paw and climbed up a little farther. Jake swore. Glancing down, he saw that Janus was dragging Sarah to the door. Venn scrambled up, ran to the mirror, and hauled it over. It was undamaged.

“Give me that!” Jake yelled.

Horatio chattered and jumped. He landed on the floor.

Summer said, “Creature.”

The monkey stopped and stared at her. Then it did something that astonished Jake; it made a spitting, snapping sound he had never heard, all its fur standing up like a ruff of terror around its neck.

She held out her hand. Horatio flung the weapon down and screeched away, high into the roof.

Jake dropped.

Summer picked up the gun and turned, tossing it to Venn. “Deal with him.”

Out in the Monk’s Walk Sarah struggled in the Replicant’s grip. “They believe me.”

“Maybe.”

“And the mirror fell—you heard.”

It laughed. Its small eyes behind the glasses were close to hers. “There is so much you don’t know about the mirror, Sarah.”

It dragged her to the stairs, stopped. “What is that noise?”

She stood triumphant even in his tight grip. “You can’t get out. I’ve made sure of that.”

Venn raced after the Replicant, tearing through the house; Jake and Wharton followed, leaving Rebecca to help Maskelyne up, dazed by the ringing crack of the light.

“Where?”

Venn hurtled through into the Long Gallery. “Downstairs.”

They raced down.

At the foot of the stairs Jake crashed into Venn’s stillness.

The hall was a swirl of snow. The Replicant was a shadow in the drift, holding Sarah tight; she flashed a look at Jake and stood calm. Jake went to move, but Venn grabbed him.

There was no way out. In the snow the Shee waited, an ominous horde, their war drums a pounding beat. Some of them peered in, watching in calm curiosity, never crossing the threshold.

Every window was clogged with their alien, inquisitive faces. The doorway darkened, and Gideon stood there, the horse’s skull on its pole leaning beside him. His arms were folded; he smiled a slanting grin at Sarah. “Don’t fret. You’re going nowhere. You owe me.”

Janus spun.

“Are you ready, Venn?” Summer was standing near the door, even though Jake knew she had not passed him. “Look, my changeling’s even guarding the threshold for you. Here are both your enemies. Why not destroy them together?”

Venn spared her a taut glance. “I think my true enemy is you,” he breathed.

Summer nodded. “I think so too,” she whispered.

Venn pointed the weapon straight at Sarah as Janus held her.

“Let her go.”

“No. Clear the way for us. We escape into the night.” Janus was urgent. “I take her, you keep the mirror. We both win.”

“The Shee…”

“Will do as you tell them.”

Venn hesitated. At once Sarah said, “Don’t listen to it. Shoot, Venn. Do it! Then smash the Chronoptika. That’s what you have to do!” She looked up and saw Wharton watching, Maskelyne a shadow on the landing, Rebecca holding the monkey tight. “All of you. Make him do it. You must!”

Jake glanced at his godfather. Venn’s hand was steady. His grip did not tremble.

“What if it kills you?”

“I’m not even born yet. Do it, Venn. Save the world.”

Tears were blinding her. Through them she saw his eyes on hers. “You don’t know me well enough yet, Sarah. Before I save the world I’ll save my wife.”

He fired.

She screamed. The white bolt of light drilled through her chest like a spear of pain; it passed right through her and struck the Replicant with full force, and for a moment, their faces so close, she saw the glasses vaporize, the ash-gray eyes widen in terror.

It was a weight against her, a hollow outline of brilliance against her retina, a clutch of long fingers.

Then it was gone.