“And I felt the touch of your regard as I slept, my Merlin. I am sorry we parted so, but my parents-”
“I understand,” I said. “They thought me demon or vampire.”
“Yes.” She extended her pale hand through the mirror, took hold of my own, drew it toward her. Within the looking glass, she pressed it to her lips. They were cold. “They would rather I cultivated the acquaintance of the sons and daughters of men and women, than of our own kind.” When she smiled I beheld her fangs. They had not been apparent in her childhood. “Gods! You look human!” she said. “Come visit me in Wildwood one day!”
Impulsively, I leaned forward. Our lips met within the mirror. Whatever she was, we had been friends.
“The answer,” she repeated, “lies before you. Come see me!”
The mirror turned red and she was gone. The chapel stood unchanged within the drawer. I closed it and turned away.
Walking. Mirrors to the left. Mirrors to the right. Only myself within them.
Then ”Well, well, nephew. Confused?”
“As usual.”
“Can’t say as I blame you.”
His eyes were mocking and wise, his hair red as his sister Fiona’s or his late brother Brand’s. Or Luke’s, for that matter.
“Bleys,” I said, “what the hell is going on?”
“I’ve the rest of Delwin’s message,” he said, reaching into his pocket and extending his hand. “Here.”
I reached into the mirror and accepted it. It was yet another spikard, like the one I wore.
“It is the one of which Delwin spoke,” he said. “You must never wear it.”
I studied it for several moments.
“What am I to do with it?” I asked.
“Put it in your pocket. A use may suggest itself at some point.”
“How did you come by it?”
“I switched it after Mandor left it, for the one you wear now.”
“How many are there, anyway?”
“Nine,” he replied.
“I suppose you know all about them.”
“More than most.”
“That wouldn’t be hard. I don’t suppose you know where my father is?”
“No. But you do. Your lady friend with the sanguinary tastes told you.”
“Riddles,” I said.
“Always preferable to no answer at all,” he responded.
Then he was gone and I walked again. After a while, this was gone, too.
Drifting. Black. Good. So good…
A bit of light found its way through my eyelashes. I shut it out again.
But the thunder rolled, and after a time the light leaked in once again.
Dark lines in brown, great horny ridges, ferny forests…
A little later the faculty that evaluates perceptions awoke and pointed out that I was lying on my side staring at the cracked earth between a pair of roots from the tree, clumps of grass dotted here and there across the prospect.
… And I continued to stare, and there was a sudden brightness as of a lightning flash followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder. The earth seemed to shudder with it. I heard the pattering of drops upon the leaves of a tree, the hood of a car. I continued to stare at the largest crack that traversed the valley of my regard.
… And I realized that I knew.
It was the numb knowledge of awakening. The sources of emotion still dozed In the distance, I could hear familiar voices in soft converse. I could also hear the sounds of cutlery against china. My stomach would awaken in a bit, I knew, and I would join them. For now, it was so very pleasant to lie here wrapped in my cloak, hearing the gentle rain and knowing…
I returned to my micro-world and its dark canyon… The ground shook again, this time without benefit of lightning or thunder. And it kept on shaking. This irritated me, for it disturbed my friends and relatives, causing them to raise their voices in something like alarm. Also, it stirred a dormant California reflex at a time when I just wanted to loll and savor my fresh-acquired knowledge.
“Merlin, are you awake?”
“Yes,“ I said, sitting up suddenly, giving my eyes a quick rub, and running my hands through my hair.
It was the ghost of my father that knelt beside me, having just shaken my shoulder. “We seem to have a problem,” he said, “with rather extreme ramifications.”