the glade under the silent stars.
I jerked awake, sweating. The sheets had clung to my skin where I was wrapped tight into them. It took me a moment to disentangle myself, wondering whether the briars in my dream had been created by getting tangled in the sheet in my sleep. I wrestled free and then stopped. I looked at my arms.
Where I had tried to pull her from the thorns, my arms were criss-crossed with livid weals and deep scratches. My dream had left its mark.
Going back to sleep was out of the question. The thought filled me with a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. Besides, it was getting light and I had things to do.
I went into the shower and washed the scratches on my arms, drying myself with a towel still soggy from the previous night, dabbing gently at the cuts. The day had dawned wet, heavy clouds hanging low with driving rain coming in off the sea, making the windows rattle and leaving the room in semi-darkness. I left the lights off and opened the curtains, allowing in the minimal daylight through the condensation-clouded window. By the time I'd got clean and dressed, only the worst of the weals remained. One of the advantages of my fey heritage was that I healed pretty quickly, and these were only surface scratches. Even allowing for that, though, they healed with extraordinary speed, as if they weren't really there.
I looked up at the mirror and hesitated. If Blackbird was sleeping then I didn't want to rouse her. They would have swapped watches during the night and she had started out with a sleep deficit. The last thing I wanted to do was wake her when she was getting what little sleep she could. On the other hand, I needed to talk to her and I had no idea whether she would be sleeping now or later. I would have to take my chance.
I placed my hand gently on the mirror and reached within to connect it to the core of power within me.
'Blackbird?'
ELEVEN
Blackbird wasn't happy to be woken by being prodded. 'What?' It had taken her forever to get to sleep and now she was awake again.
'There's something wrong with the mirror,' said Claire.
'What time is it?'
'Just after six.'
'Six? I thought it was my turn at four?'
'I didn't wake you. I'm not going to be able to sleep with all this going on and you looked like you needed it.'
'You're the second person to say that to me,' Blackbird grunted as she struggled upright.
Claire stood by the bed, wringing her hands. 'It's doing that thing again, where it makes noises.'
'Someone is trying to talk to us. It's probably Niall. Give me a moment.'
Claire bustled away while Blackbird struggled back into the smock-top and pulled on clean socks and shoes. She pushed her hair back from her face and scrubbed her eyes with her knuckles. It would have to suffice.
'Listen,' said Claire, returning from the kitchen, nodding towards the big mirror over the fireplace.
There was a random ticking sound coming from the mirror, like an insect compulsively scratching.
'Have you got the portable mirror we used last night?'
Claire fished around in her handbag while Blackbird retrieved the horseshoe she had secreted under the pillow. Blackbird took both items to the fire door at the back of the kitchen. She tugged back the curtain and surveyed the grey morning. There was no sign of anyone on the fire escape, but then she knew she would be unlikely to see them until it was too late. Holding the horseshoe up like a talisman she prodded the fire door open and edged out on to the metal balcony. Checking carefully around, making sure that nothing had been tampered with and that the balcony would still hold her weight, she surveyed the back of the flats. Then she jammed the door open with the horseshoe and opened the mirror compact.
'Blackbird?' Niall's voice came clear through the mirror, making her smile.
'I'm here,' she said. 'Can you hear me?'
'I was beginning to wonder if you were OK,' said Niall. His voice sounded tinny and distant.
Claire made hand signals through the doorway.
'Not coffee,' said Blackbird. 'Tea would be nice, though.'
'What?' said Niall.
'It's just Claire. She woke me when she heard you trying to contact us through the mirror. She's getting me a drink.'
'Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I had no way of knowing whose turn it was.'
'Never mind. Claire was supposed to wake me hours ago, but she didn't feel like sleeping, so she left me. My back aches like a coal miner's. That sofa should have a warning sign on it.'
'It did have a label,' said Claire. 'I peeled it off.' She handed a steaming mug to Blackbird.
'What was that?' asked Niall.
'Only Claire. Stop fretting.'
'You sound as if you're getting on OK,' said Niall.
'Well, there's nothing like shared adversity to bring people together, is there?'
'Any sign of visitors?'
'Not as far as we can tell. If they came, they went away again. Maybe they didn't like the welcome reception.'
'How are you feeling?'
'Apart from the chronic backache? Tired. I'm always tired at the moment. It comes with the territory. How are you?'
'I'm OK. Tired too, but for different reasons. I need your help.'
'My help?
'Yes. I need your advice.'
'Niall Petersen, Warder of the Seven Courts, protector of the weak, vanquisher of the enemy, scion of the wraithkin, needs the help of the beach-ball once known as Blackbird.'
'Are you going to help me or not? What's a scion, anyway?'
'A descendent of a noble family. Has Raffmir been back?'
'No, it's something else.' Niall described how he'd been trying to find the girls through the mirror and how that had somehow led to the encounter with the girl. He recounted the dream and told her about the scratches it had left behind.
'Are the scratches still there?'
'Faintly. They're healing fast, but they're definitely real. It can't be Solandre, can it? She's dead. You killed her.'
'The wraithkin can be very hard to kill. Maybe she was just scattered. Did you feel her presence in the dream?' Blackbird sipped at the steaming mug.
'Not directly, but I've had the dream more than once. When Tate woke me the other night, I was dreaming I was in the glade then as well. I thought it was because Altair and Raffmir had turned up. Maybe I could somehow feel their presence and the dream was my subconscious, warning me.'
'Are you sure you didn't scratch yourself in your sleep?'
'My nails aren't that sharp. Anyway, it's more than that. At first it was just me, but now other people are being drawn into the dream too.'
'Are you sure you weren't just dreaming? You were looking at pictures of young girls and one of them turns up in your dream, all naked and willing. I'm a big girl. I know what men are like. It's not a completely unnatural thought.'
'Blackbird, she's young enough to be my daughter.'
'And I'm old enough to be your great-greatgrandmother. It didn't stop you having sex with me.'
'That's different. You're not old. You've just been around for a long time.'
'Thanks. Now I feel ancient. I know where to come when I want to fish for compliments.'
