Dark Mirror 2 - Dark Passage (2 page)

Terrified, Tory scrambled to her feet. She was still dizzy from the transit and lurched toward the wall. Allarde caught her before she crashed into it. She drew a steadying breath, then moved to Cynthia’s side.

For an instant, Tory had the horrible impression that Cynthia was melting, her features distorted by the difficult passage. But then she blinked and Cynthia was her normal beautiful self, except for her corpselike pallor.

As Elspeth poured in her powerful healing energy, Jack grabbed hard on to Cynthia’s hand, resting his other hand on Elspeth’s arm. Tory and Allarde gripped Elspeth’s shoulders, each of them adding their power. Tory couldn’t see the magic, but she could feel its fierce potency, like a river of white fire.

Learning how to combine their powers was a vital part of what they learned down here in the secret underground school known as the Labyrinth. The aristocratic outcasts of Lackland Abbey studied as equals with talented locals like Jack. Collectively, they were Merlin’s Irregulars, sworn to use their magic to defend Britain.

Tory had a special gift for blending different magics, and she’d needed that as the five of them pooled their power and varied skills to control weather over the English Channel. They’d been aided by twentieth-century Rainfords who were descendants of Jack’s family. Together, they’d enabled the evacuation of hundreds of thousands of Allied troops desperate to escape the Nazis.

This time, their combined power was channeled through Elspeth, the best healer. After an agonizing moment, Cynthia choked, gasped, and breathed again. Opening dazed eyes, she snarled,
“I. Am. Never. Going. Through. That. Horrible. Mirror. Again!”

Tory laughed and sat back on her heels. “You don’t have to. None of us do. We’re heroes and heroines of Britain, even if we can’t tell anyone.” Nor would anyone believe them if they did speak. “Now we settle back into our normal lives.”

She tugged Cynthia’s skirt down so the other girl’s trim ankles weren’t exposed. Probably it was silly to worry about that when all three girls had worn shockingly short skirts and even trousers in the twentieth century. But here, it mattered.

“I’ve had enough adventure for now.” Jack slid an arm under Cynthia’s shoulders to help her sit up. As soon as she was sitting, Cynthia batted his hand away with a scowl. Jack grinned at her. “You’re recovering well, I see.” Which made her scowl even more.

Jack got to his feet, moving with less than his usual bounce. “The mage lights are the same as when we left, so I think you successfully brought us back to the same night, Tory. I’ll see if there’s anyone still in the hall.”

Elspeth made a face. “If this isn’t the same night, we’ll have a lot of explaining to do to the Lackland masters.”

Allarde looked thoughtful. “What would happened if we returned before we left? Could we meet ourselves then?”

Cynthia looked horrified. “That would be awful!”

Tory frowned, wondering how she’d feel about meeting herself. The idea made her stomach queasy. “I’m not sure that could happen. It doesn’t feel possible.”

“I hope you’re right. The idea is just too strange,” Jack said. “I’ll report back as soon as I’ve checked out the hall.” He walked swiftly down the passage, conjuring up a mage light to illuminate his path as he turned the corner.

Cynthia attempted to stand and made it up with the aid of Allarde’s hand. She’d always had her eyes on him. Even though she grudgingly recognized that it was Tory Allarde wanted, she still looked for excuses to touch him. Tory was confident enough of the bond between her and Allarde that she didn’t mind. Much.

As Cynthia leaned against a wall, a small object came flying through the mirror. They all jumped, then stared as a paper-wrapped stone clattered along the passage and stopped near Allarde. He scooped it up, undid the paper and grinned. “It’s for you, Tory.”

She took the paper and called down a mage light from the ceiling to help her read. “It’s a message from Nick,” she said with surprise. “He wanted to see if it’s possible to send messages through the portal.”

“Apparently it is,” Elspeth said. “And much easier than traveling in person!”

The rock and paper looked perfectly normal, unchanged by their journey through time. Tory asked, “Does anyone have a pencil?”

Allarde pulled one from inside his coat. “As my lady wishes.”

She gave him a private smile before scrawling,
“It worked! We all got back safely and never want to travel through the mirror again! Tory.”

After neatly retying the paper around the rock, she faced the mirror and concentrated on the destination she wanted to reach.
1940, Nick Rainford …

When the goal was crystal clear in her mind, she tossed the rock through the mirror. The missile touched the surface of the shining energy and vanished. “We’ll have to check here regularly in case he sends more messages.”

Elspeth frowned. “With such a huge war going on, there will be other crises where someone will think our magic is useful. They might want us to come back.”

“They can ask,” Cynthia said tartly. “We don’t have to agree.”

“I don’t intend to. But I’m glad we can communicate with our friends,” Elspeth said softly. “We all became so close when we worked together. I feel like all of the Rainfords are family.”

“So do I,” Allarde agreed. “But I’m another who is in no hurry to travel through Merlin’s mirror again!”

Cynthia straightened up from the wall, looking frail but noble. “I still feel weak, but I want to get back to my own bed.” She glanced hopefully at Allarde.

“Let me help you,” Elspeth said, taking the other girl’s arm. “I can add some healing energy if you need more.” The mischievous spark in her pale green eyes showed that she knew what Cynthia had hoped for.

Cynthia accepted the other girl’s arm with a martyred air and the two of them headed toward the main hall. Allarde offered Tory his arm. “My lady?”

She took a firm hold of his arm with a mixture of pleasure and wistfulness. “I’m going to miss the freedom to be together that we had in 1940.”

“So will I.” The two girls ahead were out of sight, so he paused and cupped her face with his free hand. “But the Lackland authorities can’t keep us here forever. At twenty-one, we’ll be free to leave.” He bent into a kiss.

His lips were warm and full of longing. Tory had to blink back tears or risk disgracing herself. More than four long years to wait before she could leave …

Chaos!

The passageway dissolved into darkness and gunfire. She was in some high, frightening place with a vicious wind tearing at her clothes and deadly peril threatening her. She cried out in terror, “Justin!”

“Dear God, Tory! What just happened?” In the space of a heartbeat she was back in the Labyrinth, shaking in Allarde’s arms while he stared at her, his gray eyes shocked.

Using his Christian name instead of his title was a mark of how upset she was. She struggled for composure. “I had a … a vision, I guess.”

“I saw it, too,” he said grimly. “It was night and you were in a high place with bullets blazing around you. I think I was near, but not with you.”

“Nick’s war again.” She swallowed hard. “You’re better at foretelling than I am. Is that a glimpse of the future?”

He closed his eyes, his face smoothing into detachment. After a dozen heartbeats, he said, “As you know, the future usually appears as possibility, not certainty. I think that scene has a strong chance of coming to pass. But not certain.”

Her mouth twisted. “Do I live to tell the tale?”

“I didn’t feel your death.” He opened haunted eyes and smoothed back her hair with a warm hand. “But that might be too great a horror for me to see.”

She gave a choke of near-hysterical laughter. “Justin, sometimes I wish you were a little less honest and honorable. What I really want right now is for you to pat my back and say, ‘Don’t worry, Tory, that’s just a faint possibility, or maybe a memory of Dunkirk. You don’t ever have to go back to 1940 again.’”

“Don’t worry, Tory, that’s just a faint possibility,” he said promptly as he began stroking her back. “Maybe a memory of Dunkirk. You don’t ever have to go back to 1940 again.”

“That’s
much
better.” She managed a smile. “I prefer to think that wasn’t a vision, just a memory.”

His arms tightened around her. “No one can force you through the mirror without your cooperation.”

“It’s hard to imagine what circumstances might change my mind.” She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling tired. “But I suspect that I should never say never.”

“You’re probably right. But for tonight, we’re home and happy, and we were part of a very great deed.” He kissed her forehead, then resumed walking, this time with his arm around her shoulders.

Tory wrapped her arm around his waist so they were as close as humanly possible while still able to walk. She’d nearly lost him, but she hadn’t. There was no point to worrying about the future so much that she couldn’t enjoy the present.

“Do you hear those voices?” Allarde asked, his voice threaded with excitement.

“Yes!” Tory exclaimed.

They quickened their pace. The heart of the Labyrinth was a wide hall furnished like a shabby but comfortable drawing room. Here the Lackland students and the locals studied and mingled. Now it sparkled with mage lights and happy chatter.

They’d arrived back only minutes after leaving because the people who had seen them off at the mirror hadn’t gone home yet. Jack was in a three-way hug with his mother and his younger sister, Rachel, all of them talking and laughing at the same time.

Cynthia and Elspeth were talking excitedly with Miss Wheaton and Mr. Stephens. The teachers were both powerful mages, and they risked their jobs by tutoring students secretly in this mass of ancient tunnels that ran below the abbey. They looked fascinated and deeply relieved to have their students back safely.

Tory sighed happily and leaned into Allarde. They’d had the adventure of a lifetime and made it home. She hoped she never had such an adventure again.

But as she thought back to her chaotic vision, she felt dark certainty that Merlin’s mirror wasn’t done with her.

CHAPTER 2

Bong … bong … BONG!
Tory awoke in her Lackland bedroom as the bell boomed from the chapel tower. Usually the sound was jarring, but this morning the familiar clanging made her happy. So much nicer to hear a chapel bell than Nazi bombers.

“I’m so glad to be home,” she said as she threw the covers back, wincing at the bruises she’d acquired when she landed on this side of the mirror.

It was cold at the end of November, and would be colder soon. She swung her feet to the floor, glad for the rug her mother had sent.

Cynthia was already out of bed, brushing out her glorious golden hair. By the time they’d finished their work in 1940, she’d looked pale and exhausted, though still beautiful. A good night’s sleep had completely restored her looks.

“How do you do it?” Tory asked enviously. “Always look so perfect.”

“It’s a gift,” Cynthia said smugly.

Tory almost laughed. Though Cynthia had proved herself a trouper in 1940, it was too much to expect humility. As a duke’s daughter, Cynthia was the highest ranking girl at Lackland, a fact she was not shy about pointing out. Tory also ranked high as the daughter of an earl—but not as high as Cynthia. “Now that we’re back, it’s hard to believe we were away, much less that we had such adventures.”

“Like a dream, or a nightmare.” Cynthia made a face. “But I’m glad I wasn’t born in such a vulgar era.”

Tory sighed as she brushed out her straight dark hair. Her older sister, Sarah, said that Tory’s petite figure and exotically slanted blue eyes made her very winsome and attractive, but next to Cynthia, Tory always felt plain as a muffin. Thinking of Sarah, she said, “I wonder what Lackland is like over Christmas. I thought I’d be going home for the holiday, but … that won’t happen.”

She splashed icy water from the china washbasin on her face to cool her stinging eyes. Her father had told her she couldn’t return to Fairmount Hall even though Sarah was to be married at Christmas. Tory hated knowing she’d miss the wedding.

“There’s a long, boring church service in the boys’ chapel since it’s larger than ours. That’s followed by a joint Christmas dinner for both schools. It’s one of the few official occasions when boys and girls mingle.” Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Under the gimlet gaze of the teachers, of course. But the food is usually decent, and there are some students who are brothers and sisters, so they get to visit.”

“You’ve been here for Christmas?” Tory asked, surprised. She’d always had the impression that Cynthia’s father would want her home when possible.

Cynthia turned away to select a gown from her clothespress. “My family’s seat is too far north to make returning for Christmas practical.”

There was a note in the other girl’s voice that made Tory wonder if the duke was as fond a father as Cynthia claimed. Not a subject she dared ask about, especially before breakfast. “After the other students leave, we can go into the woods and gather holly and ivy and other greens to decorate the room. I’ll ask my mother to send a Christmas pudding. We can also leave the abbey through the Labyrinth and visit some of the Irregulars who live in the village.”

“They are
commoners,
” Cynthia snapped. “Why would we want to visit them?”

“Because they’re our friends?” Tory asked mildly. “Jack is a hero, and I’ve learned so much from others like Alice and Rachel.” She’d learned not only magic, but that being wellborn was less important than character and personality.

Cynthia coiled her hair at the nape of her neck and stabbed in a long hairpin. “That doesn’t mean one joins such people for Christmas dinner.”

There was no point in arguing with Lady Cynthia Stanton when she was in this mood. Changing the subject, Tory asked, “Do you need help fastening that gown? We’ll have to hurry to get to chapel on time.”

“Please,” Cynthia said grudgingly. Tory’s Lackland wardrobe contained only garments that she could put on without help, while most of Cynthia’s clothing required the assistance of a maid. Usually one of Cynthia’s adoring acolytes, Lucy, came to help her dress, but Tory remembered that the other girl had a streaming cold and had stayed abed for the last several days. Strange to think that Tory had lived over two eventful weeks between her today and her “yesterday”!