Lothaire

how had this one earned her name?

Hag collected what appeared to be hardened blue eggs, then began to grind them with a pestle and mortar. When her apron gaped, Ellie froze. The fey had a cell phone clipped to her belt.

She decided to win Hag over, perhaps talking her into one phone call. With that thought in mind, Ellie returned to the chest-o-meals and ordered, “Two Coca-Colas on ice.”

Two glasses of iced Coke appeared. For someone who loved food as much as Ellie, this chest was like the holy ark.

Ellie carried the drinks back to the counter, setting one in front of the oracle. “You don’t look like a hag to me.”

“And I’d so hoped not to disappoint you.”

“So what’s your real name?”

Silence.

Ellie’s gaze fell on an old book lying near the pestle. “Is that a spell book?” She picked it up, running her fingers over the cover. “Never felt such soft leather.”

“Made from a human devoted to skin care.”

Ellie dropped it with a shudder. “Can you really see into the future?”

“Yes.”

“Can I open a window?”

“No.”

“Your ears are pointy.”

“And your eyes work.”

“I could do that grinding for you,” Ellie offered. “Why don’t you put me to work?”

“I believe Lothaire’s orders were to sit down, shut up, and touch nothing. I suggest you obey them, Elizabeth.”

Her condescending attitude rankled. “I’m not a child.”

“To us, you might as well be.”

“What if I knocked you out and stole your phone?”

The fey rolled her eyes. “Try it, mortal.”

Planning to. “Count yourself warned, Hag.”

“Even if you could somehow wrangle it from me, I have it code-locked.”

Dang it, back to sympathy. In a more conciliatory tone, she said, “You can call me Ellie, if you want to.”

“I don’t want to.” Hag ran the back of a blue-stained hand over a glossy brown curl. “Look. If this is the part where you try to befriend me in order to get me to help you, save your breath. I serve Lothaire’s interests only.”

“And Saroya’s? You don’t care that a psycho killer’s about to be loosed into the world?”

“If that is Lothaire’s wish, then it’s mine as well.”

“You fear him that much?”

“I owe Lothaire my life. Regardless, you’d be crazy not to fear the Enemy of Old.”

“Are you two involved?”

“Of course not. He has a Bride he remains faithful to.”

“But Saroya and Lothaire aren’t intimate.” At least, I don’t think they are. . . .

“I’m not discussing this with you—”

Lothaire appeared in the room, making Ellie jump in her seat. Since she’d seen him last, he’d donned a long trench coat, tailor-fitted over his wide shoulders. He was out of breath, with streaks of dirt along one cheek and mud splashed up his legs. “Has Saroya attempted to rise?”

“She’s not in right now,” Ellie said tartly. “Can I take a message?”

“You vowed to me that you’d allow her to rise!”

“Saroya’s not even trying.” Where’s the fire, vampire? He’d been away from the goddess for years. Now he just had to see her?

“What did you say?”

“Not—a—twitch.”

Lothaire launched his fist into the wall, then disappeared.

Hag sighed over the hole, then got back to work.

“Is he always so . . . intense?” Even when Ellie and Lothaire had shared a somewhat normal conversation last night, he’d been thrumming with something.

“You are stupid to taunt him. If he loses control, you will die—badly.”

Note to self: find out her definition of badly. “What would it take to get you to help me? All I need is one call.”

“Nothing you have. Now, shut up.”

Two minutes later: “You got a bathroom?”

“Thinking to escape?”

“Thinking to pee, actually.”

Hag waved her toward a side hallway. “Do not open the windows or shutters anywhere in this house.”

“Fine.” In the bathroom, Ellie closed the door behind her, pacing. “What am I going to do?” she murmured. “What to do . . . what to do . . . ?”

“Come with me,” a whispering voice answered.

A voice. From the freaking mirror!

Ellie flattened herself against the door. “Wh-who are you?” Open mind!

“The cavalry, here to save you.” A woman’s hand appeared directly beside Ellie’s stunned reflection—it looked as if it came from inside the mirror.

Cavalry? Her heart leapt. But then she remembered what Lothaire’s enemies would do to her. Harems, whoring, and horns.

Ellie whirled around and flung open the door, racing back into the kitchen. “Hag!” she cried. “There’s—there’s something in the mirror, something that wants me to go with it.”

Hag dropped the leaves she’d been sorting. “Mirror?” She collected a machete from a hook on the wall. “Mariketa the Awaited. She must have searched every mirror in the world for your reflection.”

“Who’s Mariketa?”

“She is the leader of the House of Witches, a notorious band of mercenaries.” Weapon in hand, Hag started for the bathroom.

This isn’t gonna end well for Mariketa. Ellie cautiously followed Hag. “Witch mercenaries? You have got to be kidding me!”

“They’ve deciphered our boundary encryption. Or at least part of it.” At the door, Hag said, “Go inside and tell her that you want to go with her.”

“Uh, all right.” Ellie entered, then faced the mirror. “Hey, are you there, cavalry?”

The voice answered, “Don’t have all day, Bride of Lothaire. Got nickel beer and disco bowling tonight.” Mariketa sounded so human, so normal, that Ellie had misgivings. Especially when Hag crept to the side of the mirror and raised the machete.

Mariketa continued, “I can’t breach the plane of the glass, ’cause of the old-skool boundary spell. But you can reach into the mirror and grab my hand. Hup-two, and I’ll do the rest.”

Hag waved her on, so Ellie said, “Yeah, okay, here I come.”

The fey eased her hand inside the mirror, as though dipping it into a pool of water.

Mariketa said, “Gotcha.”

Hag replied, “No, I’ve got you.”

Her machete struck through the glass. A shriek erupted. “Ahhh! You BITCH!”

In a spray of blood, the fey leapt back; Ellie gaped. Hag was holding the witch’s severed hand.

As some kind of beast roared from within the mirror, energy began building in the air, making the fine hair on Ellie’s arms stand up.