Page 10 of The Eternal Mirror (Lucifer’s Mirror #3)

Khaos

I step through the mirror into total darkness and lift my face to the sky. There are no stars. It reminds me of Hell. But I’m not in Hell. I’m on Earth and the sky is obscured by clouds. I never liked this place. Too many people, too close together.

The night is damp, with the promise of rain.

I look around and recognize where I am. I’ve been here before.

It’s Amber’s old home on Earth, where she hid Lucifer’s mirror, and where we came—Gods, was it only a day ago?

It seems like a lifetime—when we were heading to Hell.

And I was pretty certain we weren’t coming back.

I’d accepted that. But at that point, I couldn’t not go with her.

No way could I let her face her father alone .

Against all odds, we survived. And for what? To be hurled into the next steaming pile of fucking shit. We can thank the gods for that—I’m pretty sure they hate me.

Grimlet tugs at my hair to remind me he’s there.

“Grimlet doesn’t like it here,” he says. Considering Grimlet has spent the last five thousand years in Hell, it doesn’t say much for Amber’s old home. But he’s right; there’s a sense of desolation about the place.

“We won’t be here long,” I say, lifting him from my shoulder and placing him down on the ground. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

I’d been planning to head to Manchester, a city a couple of hours away—I have a headquarters there where I can get a vehicle and weapons. But I’d prefer not to waste my time going in the wrong direction, and the black truck parked in the driveway gives me an idea.

I very briefly met Amber’s foster father the last time we were here.

He appeared, she kicked him in the chest, he fell backward, and we slammed the door on him.

This time, I may need to make his closer acquaintance.

By all accounts, he made Amber’s life hell.

Not that she talks about him at all, but Zayne let one or two things slip when we were training.

He said Pete was a complete piece of shit.

So I think it’s time to balance the books.

The house is in darkness. I’ll have to wake them up. After all, if he’s going to lend me his truck, he needs to give me his keys.

The place is a mess; the garden overgrown, and the paint peeling on the doors and windows. There’s a feeling of neglect. I hear Grimlet muttering behind me, but he’s better off where he is for now.

I come to a halt in front of the door and bang my fist. For a long time, nothing happens. So I bang again. A light goes on in one of the upstairs rooms. A face appears at the window, looking down. Then the window is shoved open.

“What the fuck do you want?” the man asks.

He’s an ugly bastard. Maybe in his mid-forties, with pale skin and dark hair. “I have a message from Amber,” I say.

He swears loudly. “I don’t want no message from Amber. I want nothing from that little bitch except to forget her. Now fuck off.”

“I wish I could. But she asked me to give you this message,” I say. “It’s important. She asked me to pick up some money from her room.” I suspect that’s the one way he’ll let me in—money.

“Any money in this house belongs to me.”

“She told me where she hid it. I’ll split it—half and half,” I say.

“Wait there.” I hear him talking to somebody behind him, then he slams the window shut.

I wait patiently. Well...not so patiently. There’s a tic jumping in my cheek. I want to be on my way. I need to keep moving, to feel I’m doing something toward getting back to Amber or my head will explode.

Finally, the door opens.

I don’t give him time to speak. I just punch him hard in the belly.

He almost flies backward, crashing to the floor without uttering a word.

I follow him inside the house. A woman with lank blond hair is standing on the stairs.

I take it this is Lissa—Amber’s foster mother.

Not evil, but not good either. I ignore her.

Pete is blinking up at me, as if he doesn’t understand what’s happening. I see the moment he recognizes me from my last visit.

He swallows, then spits. “What do you want?” he says.

“Well, not to give you any of Amber’s money, that’s for sure,” I reply. “Actually, I’d like to take your truck.”

He shakes his head as though I’m not making sense. “Why would I lend you my truck?”

“Not lend. Give. I won’t be bringing it back.”

“I can’t do that. Not happening. I can’t let you have my truck.” He sounds almost bewildered.

I step closer and stare down at him, letting the dragon rise in my eyes and peer out. His eyes widen, and he slithers back as far as he can go. I give in to an urge and kick him in the ribs. He curls into a ball and whimpers.

“Car keys,” I say. “Where are they?”

When he doesn’t hand them over straight away, I kick him again. He coughs and splutters, then uncurls one hand and waves it toward the door. “On the sideboard...by the door,” he croaks.

I look across and see the car keys in a chipped bowl, exactly where he said. What a surprise. He’s a bully, and they’re always the quickest to cave.

I have to go.

For a second, I stare down at him and contemplate whether I should finish him off. For Amber. I can tell her about it when we meet. But I realize that if she’d wanted him dead, then we would have killed him the first time we came. And so again—I’ll abide by her wishes.

All the same, I can’t resist one last kick.

“For being such a fucking awful father,” I say, and turn around to head for the door.

“Wait,” the woman calls out.

I turn around slowly.

“Amber—is she okay?”

“No,” I reply, then turn back. I reach across and pick up the car keys as I pass, and then I’m out the door. Thank the gods.

I find Grimlet on the doorstep. He’s clutching a stone in his hand. “Grimlet came to help,” he says.

“Thanks, but we’re good.”

I reach down, and he drops the stone and takes my hand. I swing him onto my shoulder. We head out of this place.

And we will never come back here.

I open the truck and climb into the driver’s seat. I’d never seen any vehicles before I came to Earth three years ago. I’d spent my whole life prior to that on Astrali. There are no machines there. Or on Valandria.

I prefer horses.

When I turn on the engine, Grimlet gives a squeak and leaps off my shoulder onto the passenger seat. “What...?” he splutters.

“It’s a truck,” I reply. “It will take us where we need to go.”

I grip the wheel and let the engine idle for a moment, the low hum vibrating through my bones. Then I shift it into gear and pull out of the driveway .

For a long minute, Grimlet just stares out the open window, wide-eyed. Then, with a shriek of what I think is delight, he sticks his head out into the wind like some demented terrier. His long ears flatten against his skull, and his laughter trails behind us.

“Grimlet likes it! Faster!” he yells. “Faster!”

I give him what he wants.

The road curves out of town, the streetlights thinning, swallowed by trees and night. I drive without thinking, just letting the engine and the motion carry me forward. But my body’s starting to protest.

The adrenaline is long gone. What’s left is the drag of exhaustion...and something else. Not fear exactly. Not quite pain.

It starts in my chest, a throb just beneath the breastbone. Then a heat, low and slow, blooming like fire in wet leaves.

I grunt, easing my foot off the gas.

“Grimlet,” I say, my voice rough.

He glances back at me, ears flattened, eyes alert. “What is it?”

“I need to stop.”

I pull off the road onto a narrow verge, cut the engine, and drop my head back against the seat. The silence rushes in like a tide.

And then it hits.

Not pain—this time it’s something deeper. Older.

A thread tightening between worlds.

I close my eyes, and her name echoes through me like a storm rolling across a wide black sky.

Amber.