Mage Heart. Jane Routley
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crunching of bones, the sticky flaccid feel of that sea.
And the being on the rock, its leather wings and scaly hands. I could almost see it, red eyes gleaming in the light of those cold, swirling stars. Fascination returned. If only we could have talked, if only I could have asked it...
The candle went out.
My scalp tingled and I groped quickly about for the matches. I hated total darkness. Simultaneously with that thought, I heard heavy breathing somewhere in the room behind me. Heavy, rasping breathing.
I whirled around and filled the room with the blinding white of magelight. There was nothing there, nothing.
Yet still I could hear the breathing. Resting the magelight on my fingertips, I crept slowly around the room, trying to find the source of the breathing. I looked quickly under the bed and opened the wardrobe.
God and angels! It was coming from the corner, behind the mirror. No. From under the cloth that covered the mirror. I stood there not daring to touch it for a moment and then, in what seemed like the longest moment of my life, I reached out and twitched the cloth away.
Nothing. Only my reflection.
And still the breathing.
I leaned over cautiously to look behind the mirror.
Bang! The whole mirror shuddered as a wave smashed hard against the glass. I jumped back. The wave seemed to suck the glass back and then, slimy and clinging, it slid slowly away. I caught a glimpse of little mouths, puckered, sucking the glass and little, flashing pink tongues. Behind was darkness, the cold, whirling stars, the heaving mass of the jelly sea and a rock. On the rock was the dark outline of bat wings and a huge craggy head with red lizard eyes that stared straight at me.
A hand, huge and spiky, reached out. A terrible voice that sounded like the voices of a multitude rolled into one said, "TAKE MY HAND."
Oh Angels, the pull of that voice.
My hand reached out, was dragged toward that hand. No. I must not. I shook my head, snapped out of it, pulled my hand back to my side. A terrible power was pulling me into the mirror. It was making my hair and my dress stir as if in the wind. But, like a wind, it was superficial now and could be resisted.
The demon's craggy head moved, straightened. For a moment I almost thought I had surprised it. The cold stars were the only light inside the mirror. The magelight in my hand made it even darker in there. I held it behind me, so I could see better.
There was no way it could get out of there. It would require enormous magics to bring it through, magics that I had no idea how to perform. Yet I was frightened. It really felt as if there was only a thin glass wall between me and its almost-limitless power, and there was that terrible magnetic pull toward the mirror. It couldn't get through itself, but what if it could pull me through? It really felt as if it could. Could I have taken its hand? What would have happened if I had? My knees went weak just thinking of it.
Pull yourself together, Dion. Dignity. That was what was needed. That was how Michael had taught me to deal with supernatural beings. Make it respect you. Like a horse, let it know you are in control. I quickly suppressed the memory of what a terrible rider I was.
I was a mage. I stood up straight and demanded in my best haughty mage's voice, "Who are you?"
"I am Bedazzer." The voice was deep and terrible and textured. And it pulled.
"What do you want here?"
It had become lighter inside the mirror. I could see the demon crouched, enshrouded almost completely by its huge bat wings, except for the thick sinewy arms resting lightly on its knees. It smiled, drawing its lips across a fanged mouth. A firm pink tongue appeared between those lips. It ran
that tongue slowly down its finger. It was as if it licked my own flesh. "Why don't you come in here and find out, little girl?"
I shivered. Its expression changed. It frowned.
"What were you doing walking on my beach, little girl? TELL ME!"
I jumped. "I don't know," I said before I could stop myself.
"You don't know," it repeated. It seemed to roll this round in its mind for a moment.
"I followed you back, little girl. I like the look of your moist little world. I want to come through and explore."
It lashed out suddenly with its huge claws. Brought them slowly screechingly down the glass. The mirror shuddered.
I screamed out the words of dispelling. It snatched its hand back under its wings. Definitely disconcerted this time.
It hunched over and its eyes narrowed.
"You like demons don't you, little girl? What sort of wicked little girl likes demons? But you do, don't you? I know. I can see into your little mind. You came because you were curious."
It seemed best to say nothing. We both knew it was right. "I'm ... curious, too," it said. "An alliance, little girl. You could help me. And I could please you."
I didn't know what to say.
Suddenly it reared up and flung open its wings so that its strong, perfectly formed body was fully displayed. It swayed its hips from side to side, lifted its head, and cried to the sky. "I am Bedazzer. Lord of Pleasure. Render of Virgins..."
Lord of All. His... thing. It was huge. And spiky. I musn't look. I couldn't pull my eyes away. I'd never actually seen a real one before. I was so embarrassed, I blushed all over. I couldn't help it. I giggled, horrified, my hand over my mouth.
"What?" he screamed. "You laugh at ME? You stupid little virgin." He flung himself at the glass, fists out. The mirror shuddered with the impact, tottered, keeled over.
I leaped back screaming.
There was a smash of breaking glass as the mirror hit the floor. Glass flew everywhere. Then silence. I stood shaking, staring stupidly at the shattered glass, clean and silver and flat on the floor. I poked it tentatively with my foot and was oddly amazed that there was no sign of the demon. No slime, nothing.
The door slammed open. A figure rushed in like a wave. I threw myself back against the wall screaming and cast a light spell again.
It was Kitten Avignon carrying a drawn sword.
"What's going on?" she yelled "Are you all right?" Her eyes darted from side to side in the brilliant white flare of the witchlight. She held that sword as confidently as any swordsman.
I stared amazed, and she stared back at me.
"Oh," I said. "Yes of course. I'm fine."
"What happened?"
"Oh... nothing really. I ... broke my mirror."
"So I see. Well." She breathed out heavily "Phew! You gave me one hell of a fright. I was expecting a band of rampaging Soprians at least." She poked the glass with her foot. "What a mess!"
She was wearing a frothy white gown. It looked like a cloud of swans down. I was transfixed by the sword in her hand. "Nice sword, isn't it?" she said with a grin.
Suddenly another figure barreled in through the door. There was a flash of steel. It was Simonetti. Sword drawn, wearing only his leather breeches. He was dripping wet and the witchlight gave his skin a ghastly pallor.
"False alarm," said Kitten. "She's safe."
"Shit," said Simonetti. "Took years off my life. What's been going on?"
"Dion broke her mirror." "Sweet Tanza, how'd you do that?"
"Trouble?" asked Genny, poking her head round the door. She, at least, was not carrying a sword. Her head was covered with a frilly, white nightcap tied like a bonnet under her chin. She wore a long nightdress and a printed cotton wrap over it.
"Aye," said Simonetti. "Our little mage just broke her mirror. That'll be seven years bad luck, girl, and you know who's going to have to protect you from it, don't you?"
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