Page 48 of The Pactbound Angel (The Soul Mirror Duet #1)

Voices in the Dark

We squeezed through the partially open doors of the Grand Hall. The doors wouldn’t open the rest of the way due to their weight, but we also didn’t try too hard. In this place, if the hinges protested, the squeal would certainly echo.

We passed between skewed broken long tables and chairs that had not been used in quite a while.

Broken plates and crumbled bits of stone dotted the floor.

Dust motes floated in the still air, dancing in the shafts of light that filtered in through the dirty, damaged windows above.

The enormous hearths on either side were cold and caked in layers of soot.

I held my longsword in front of me as I crept, careful of the shattered stone amongst the debris of the expansive room.

Slow footsteps at my back assured me my companions followed closely behind.

Up on the raised dais at the far side of the room sat an older fey man and woman on thrones. They wore dusty crowns covered in cobwebs and resembled older versions of those in the large portrait. I couldn’t tell if they were alive or dead from here; they did not move at all.

“Your Majesties?” I called out and immediately regretted my decision, as the sound bounced off the bare walls. I closed my eyes, inwardly cursing myself.

“Yeeeees?” a high-pitched voice, like silverware scraping on a plate, replied.

The eyes flew open, and terror stiffened my limbs. That voice. I remember that voice.

A short creature with squinty eyes and a twisted mouth far too large for her face peeked out from behind the two thrones, as though playing. She had not changed even a scraggly hair on her bulbous head. “Boo!”

She giggled, and my stolen breath left me in a wheezing gasp.

Suddenly, I was a child again, screaming, demanding she leave us alone. I sucked in a shaky breath, and the mischief hag, my mischief hag, gave a rotten smile.

“I remember your scent, girl. Come to give me another gift?” She sniffed the air and groaned. “You have so many now, far more than you had when you were younger. Oh, you are ripe for plucking. Mmm, and your sweet sister too. What gifts you may give to me in tribute.”

Ramiren snapped me out of my fog. “You’ve taken enough, hag. We’ve come to reclaim.”

The hag chortled, clapping her spindly hands together. “Oh, you have gifts as well. Gifts aplenty!” She sniffed the air again. “Mmm, what a banquet you have put before me.”

I blinked and then recoiled at the sudden brightness enveloping me, like stepping from a dark tunnel into overwhelming sunlight.

I held my hand up against it. My eyes slowly adjusted, and I realized I was in the Hall of Mirrors again.

And alone. Spinning this way and that, all I could see was myself reflected in the mirrors an infinite number of times.

Panic rose. I swallowed hard through a nearly closed throat and shut my eyes, remembering Leraska’s words.

I whispered, “She makes you see things. She makes you see things. I am not here.”

There was an echoing cackle that seemed to come from all sides. Then, the scent of blood hit me as a coppery tang filled the air and coated my tongue. My eyes opened again, and a horrified scream erupted from me.

At my feet lay Ramiren, his red, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling, a hole in his chest where his heart should have been.

Beside him was Raewyn, her twisted body laid out and bloody.

Off to the side was Georgina, hanging from M.A.L.C.O.L.M.

’s scissors, impaled, while M.A.L.C.O.L.M. twitched uncontrollably.

How long was I in the Hall of Mirrors? Long enough for her to kill them?

Stumbling backwards, turning my eyes away as bile rose in my throat, I couldn’t tell if this was real or illusion.

The trickle of gore from Georgina’s corpse pooled under her, resonating in a loud, constant drip.

My sister’s delicate mask was broken with the shards scattered around as though it had burst. I could feel the anguish and fear on Ramiren’s face, frozen in death, as though it were my own.

Clenching my teeth, I covered my ears when a voice that sounded like Ramiren’s thrown whispers came from his still form, but my hands couldn’t stop me from hearing it. “You failed.”

“No… This isn’t real. This can’t be real. He needs to speak to whisper.” I shook my head to clear it. “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

But he didn’t need to speak to call for you before, in the tent.

When the scene remained the same, a whimper, then a cry of pain broke from me as I crumpled to the ground next to Ramiren and pulled him into my lap. Rocking back and forth, I placed my lips to his forehead gently as a sob wracked me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

My creativity wasn’t worth this. Nothing is.

My whole body felt numb except for the agony piercing my chest like a white-hot poker. Another sob had me gasping, and I held him tighter .

My fingers clutched at the jacket, at his breast, to cover the gruesome wound. I didn’t want to see it. When my fingers touched something cold, I looked and saw the luck stone my mother gave to me, that I then gave to Ramiren.

He wore it.

Rubbing the jewel with my thumb to clean it of blood, something about it caught my eye.

Wait…

I leaned in closer and squinted, but the color did not change.

The stone was no longer a smokey gray with a plain setting, but pure onyx with gold filigree surrounding the gem.

The numbness I’d felt was immediately replaced with coldness, as though I’d been dunked in ice water. My jaw dropped as the chain jingled in my shaking hand.

The coldness evaporated, leaving the warmth of hope behind.

She got a detail wrong.

I carefully placed Ramiren’s body down on the ground.

In my heart, I knew it was an illusion but still couldn’t bring myself to throw him off my lap.

Picking up my sword and standing, my next words were spoken as a statement of fact and not a desperate plea.

Not a question. “This isn’t real. I deny it. ”

When nothing happened, I screamed, shrill and defiant, echoing my rage, “I deny it!”

The bodies disappeared. Even the smell of blood went away.

A battle in progress faded in. Panicked yells merged with amused cackles in the vast chamber.

Ramiren was forced to continuously dance away from a barrage of green bolts shooting from the hag’s hands, making a strike with his rapier almost impossible.

M.A.L.C.O.L.M. swung his fists at something only he could see.

Raewyn appeared to be in a trance of some sort.

The mischief hag must have bewitched her too .

Georgina stared at me, wide-eyed as she loaded another bolt into her crossbow. “Oh. Good. You’re awake now.” She aimed and fired, but the icy shot went wide. It hit one of the crooked tables behind the hag, splintering the wood in a small explosion.

The hag dodged Ramiren’s sudden lunge and tsked at Georgina. “Naughty, naughty! How the tables turn!”

Georgina shrieked and wheeled her arms when the table she was standing on tilted, sending her tumbling to the ground in a pink-haired heap.

Tightening my grip on my longsword, I stalked toward the hag, who was playfully twirling in a grotesque imitation of a dancer’s spin.

I pushed M.A.L. out of the way firmly with my shield and bashed it into the back of the hag’s skull. She stumbled and swung around to look at me. Her face lit up at the idea of a new toy to torment. “Oh, welcome back, sweetie!”

Without looking, she used one hand to continue her attack on Ramiren as black lightning danced along the yellowed fingertips of the other, but before her incantation could complete, I stepped closer and struck, slicing halfway through her wrist with my sword’s well-honed edge.

The lightning fizzled out as her amusement became screams. She gaped at her hand, now hanging limp and useless.

Her face, already sallow, paled even further and a look of fear passed over her eyes.

She cried out pitifully, “Mistress, you promised!”

There was no verbal reply. Nothing pithy or clever or even angry. No taunts or mocking comments. I merely raised my longsword and bore it down on her as hard as I could. The sound of a sharp crunch, of bones snapping under my blow, did not satisfy me.

My sword lifted again, and swung down again.

Again. And again. And again. Green blood splattered across my face, though I felt no sting.

My strikes quickened, lifting up then swinging down.

Distant sounds of a feral scream, accompanied by the sound of wet cracking, harmonized with my assault as I drove my steel into her over and over.

This was no longer a fight but an exorcism. A purging of misery and loss. Eighteen years of living with half a heart channeled through me and fueled my blade now. Tears blurred my vision. I could only see the vague shape of her, but it was enough of a target to continue.

I heard my sister’s voice, as though she were far away, “Nat? Nathalia!”

I felt strong hard hands, metal fingers scraping against the metal of my armor, on my shoulders, but I roughly shrugged them off.

She still hasn’t paid for all she’s done.

I heard Georgina yell, a little clearer than Raewyn’s call, “Nathalia, she’s dead! Gods, you can stop now!”

No, not enough. Not near enough.

Ramiren’s gentle question finally broke through the cloud in my mind. “Angel?”

I halted my swing, sword raised above my head and primed for another downward strike, and realized I was out of breath. Feeling almost confused, I looked around but said nothing, and neither did anyone else.

I peered down to see the pile of bones, sinew, blood, and offal that had once been the mischief hag, now mutilated beyond all recognition. My sword finally lowered then dropped from my hand, clattering to the floor when Raewyn ran towards me.