“That is correct as well. The male symbol as you know it is often used to represent Mars and the element of iron. The female is used for Venus and copper. And the circle with the dot in the center is the Sun and gold. These all can also correspond to days of the week as well as organs in the body, such as the heart, the gallbladder, and the kidneys,” she said as she pointed at the Sun, Mars, and Venus symbols.
I scrubbed my hand down my face.
She nodded at my reaction. “That is how I’ve felt many times while studying what the symbols may or may not mean.”
“I see why you’re hesitant for me to use it for the lidérc.”
Leaning back in her stool, she sighed down at the mirror. “According to your great-grandmother, a long time ago—long before the mirror was created with its gem-inspired protection—we had a magistra in our family who also practiced alchemy. She was successful when it came to the transmutation of base metals and created several weapons during her life. These weapons were kept in the family for years, but later they were melted down and blended together to form this frame.”
“Transmuted again,” I said, wondering if another alchemist had been at work here.
Aunt Zoe nodded and continued her story. “Initially, there was another cruder mirror that the frame surrounded. Combined, they formed, as Mr. Black said, a ‘gateway.’ Unfortunately, the gateway was not carefully fortified with the right wards and symbols, and we lost an Executioner who tried to use the mirror during a battle.”
“A battle with what?”
“Your great-grandmother did not know and I haven’t been able to find reference to this battle in our family history volumes … yet.”
If there was a reference, it had to be in one of the volumes from the Dark Ages written in Latin that Aunt Zoe hadn’t translated.
I clasped my hands together. “Does that mean the Executioner was killed?”
“She didn’t know that either. What your great-grandmother did know was that the Executioner tried to use the mirror as a trap and somehow ended up stuck on the other side of it, never to be seen again.”
That reminded me of warnings I’d heard about another Executioner using a Timekeeper to help change the past. She’d also ended up lost forever, stuck somewhere in the dark between realms.
“So, there’s an Executioner stuck in this mirror?”
“No. Since that time, the mirror has been replaced, as I explained to you. However, this mirror does not come with instructions. You could use it and end up lost for good as well. Or you could find success and trap the lidérc within the mirror, as Layne mentioned with the demon in the movie. I just don’t know.”
I frowned at her. “Disclaimers aside, what do you think the mirror can do?”
“Like I said, according to what I’ve read—”
“I’m not asking about what you have read or what Grandma-Great said. I’m asking what you think the mirror might be able to do after all of the time you’ve spent researching and pondering it.”
She ran her fingers along the bottom of the frame. “I think it can protect the bearer, which is you. How it will protect you is where I get fuzzy, and that makes me nervous.” She covered my hand with hers. “Someone went to a lot of work to make this mirror, and many others have safeguarded it for generations. My question is, if you use it, will it destroy you along with your enemy?”
I picked up the mirror and stared into it, seeing nothing more than a cloudy-edged version of me.
“At this point, I’m running out of options when it comes to the lidérc. I’m thinking it can’t hurt to try the mirror on the tricky bastard.”
She frowned up at me. “But what if it does?”
* * *
An hour later, I’d steamed my head under hot water while thoughts of that mirror and frame percolated through my tired brain. After towel-drying my hair and slathering myself in lotion, I returned to my bedroom no more certain of what to do than before, dang it.
While I dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a green sweater of Doc’s that I’d permanently borrowed, an idea took seed. It wasn’t a warm-and-happy idea, but it was something, at least, which was far better than all of the “nothing” that had filled my idea piggy bank previously.
Although I wasn’t sure anyone else would like my seed.
The smell of bacon wafted up the stairs, luring me down to the kitchen. Doc and the kids weren’t back yet, judging from the lack of squeals and giggles, and Aunt Zoe had been pulling on her glass mitts when I left after our talk, which meant either Reid or Harvey was cooking in the kitchen. I didn’t care if it was Count Dracula standing at the stove right then, so long as no bacon was burned when I dished it up.
I made a couple of quick phone calls that went along with my not-so-great-but-potentially-okay idea. Then, after doing a rotten job of combing my hair with my fingers, I hurried down to see what was cooking along with the bacon.
I rushed into the kitchen, skidding to a stop next to the table. Turned out it was Count Harvey up and out of his coffin this morning. He was flipping over sizzling strips of bacon on a broiling pan. His gray hair was slicked back, his Moon the Cook apron was tied with a bow, and his whistling was full of high notes. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes on scene to deduce that Harvey’s date last night had ended successfully, and that was as much as I wanted to know on the subject.
Harvey being here played along with my post-shower idea—a notion that I’d bet my purple boots he wasn’t going to like, especially since his name specifically had come up in one of the calls I’d made.
“Hey
